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haee-elia · 1 year ago

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spence-tober: day 21 - woodworker

pairing: woodworker!spencer reid x fem!pregnant!reader

summary: in which your husband has worked on your nursery tirelessly, so you give him a surprise of your own

word count: 1736

warnings: lots of mentions of pregnancy, the body detailing pregnancy, lots and lots of descriptors.

spence-tober masterlist

You had wanted to host a small get together with your friends and work together on decorating and putting some finishing touches on the nursery, but that hadn’t exactly gone to plan.

When you first announced that you and Spencer were pregnant, people offered their congratulations and a few even warned you of a few things you should be prepared for as your trimesters went on. One of those things was nesting, or getting your home ready in preparation for the new baby.

No one, however, warned you that your husband would be the one that was nesting. As soon as your belly ballooned and the nursery plans started, Spencer insisted on doing almost everything for you.

Mug on a top shelf? Spencer would grab it for you.

Cooked pasta needs draining? Spencer would do it for you.

You left your computer charger in the other room? Spencer would get it for you.

At first, it was endearing. You thought it was his way of caring for you since you were carrying the baby for nine months. Then, it started getting slightly annoying. You started pointing it out every now and then, but Spencer’s mother-hen mode wouldn’t turn off and you gave up on it.

Having a woodworking husband with a baby on the way is a nice thought. During your first trimester, you always found your husband hand-carving some wooden toy for your unborn child.

Then, when the nursery plans were underway, Spencer started designing furniture and figuring out what he could contribute with his skills.

Shelves, crib, table, dresser, chairs, nightstands, changing table, you name it. Spencer was working on it in his garage workshop.

That is why, while Emily, JJ, and Penelope are sitting awkwardly with nothing to do, you don’t blink an eye at Spencer darting around the nursery with his tool kit. He’s currently working on hanging up his handbuilt wooden shelves that you had planned to do with your friends today.

JJ was sitting on the couch with Penelope, awkwardly watching Spencer with nothing left to do. She looks to you, unfazed in the handbuilt rocking chair Spencer had also made, “Can I get you some more tea?” She asks you, seeing as your mug is empty and abandoned on the small wooden table (also made by your husband).

Spencer whips his head towards your direction. his eyes locking onto your empty mug, “I got it!” He claims, stepping down from the small stepstool and putting down the hammer.

“Okay…” JJ says as she sits back down on the couch. Funnily enough, the couch was one of the few things not made by Spencer in the nursery. Even the sage green panel wall details were all Spencer.

You fear Spencer would have attempted the couch if you hadn’t caught him looking up springs on the Home Depot website.

Emily leapt up from her place on the floor, going over the instructions for the temporary pack and travel crib you had bought for the baby, much to Spencer’s chagrin.

“I can finish up the shelf.” She offers, already heading over to the array of tools Spencer has laid out on the floor.

Spencer hesitates for a moment, caught between a shelf and a tea mug. You see him pause, his brain strained to make a decision on what to do.

“I can go get some more tea, don’t worry.” You say to him. You could get yourself more tea, but Spencer hated when seeing you struggle or take a while to do something he could do himself much quicker. He simply didn’t understand why he would sit back and watch you strain or tire yourself when he could just help you. You were carrying his child, afterall.

“No,” Spencer shakes his head, already taking the mug from the table next to you, “I’ve got it. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” He says, quickly leaving the room. Not before pressing a kiss on the top of your head and a caress of your baby bump, that is.

As he leaves the room, Penelope sighs adoringly, “He’s so sweet!”

Emily scoffs but has a smile on his face, “Sweet? If he did that to me, I’d go crazy.”

JJ nods her head, “He is being more attentive than usual.” She comments, “How do you deal with all the attention? Aren’t you going stir crazy?”

“Of course I am. I’m eight months pregnant and can’t see my feet to put on shoes anymore.” You answer honestly, “But it makes Spence feel better about the pregnancy and the baby coming. I think he’s nesting.” You muse outloud.

You brace yourself and rock forward in the chair to get yourself back up on your feet. Penelope and JJ watch to make sure you make it while Emily is working on getting the shelf to be level and straight against the wall before nailing it.

“Alright, let’s get the paint out!” You cheer as you waddle over to the wooden cabinet that Spencer also built for the nursery.

After Spencer had built it and attached it to the wall, there was no reason for him to open it again until you actually had something to put in there. You told him you wanted to leave it empty for storage, but you actually had taken a trip to Lowes to grab some fun wall paint colors for a small mural.

You did this while Spencer was at his workshop helping a few of his clients load some furniture away. Ever since you had hit your second trimester, Spencer had been taking more and more time away from actively going to work so this was really the only time you could sneak away to buy paint for this planned surprise. Lowes was your pick because the Home Depot employees knew your husband very very well.

Penelope leapt up to help you, “Yes! I am so excited! I want to paint the stars!”

You had gotten some paint for a small cartoony mural of a cresent moon and stars.

“Pen, you can’t just call dibs on all the stars.” JJ objects while still on the couch, nursing a glass of white wine.

“Watch me.” She retorts. You all laugh. Penelope hoists the paint cans on top of the tarp you unrolled to lay on the floor. JJ soon joins the two of you to open cans and brushes.

“Why moon and stars?” Emily asks as she grabs a hammer and nails, preparing to attach the shelf finally.

You smile at the memory of why you chose it, “Spencer mentioned to me when we first found out that we were pregnant that Diana had painted a cresent moon and stars on his wall when he was a baby.” You inform the girls, “I wanted to do the same for our baby. I just thought it would be a nice surprise, especially after he’s done so much for me. I wanna do something special for him too.”

Someone sniffles and you look up from swirling a stirrer in the small colorful paint samples.

“Penelope, are you crying?” You ask with a chuckle.

She sniffs again, “It’s just so romantic and sweet!” She fans her hand at her eyes to wave off tears, “You two are going to be the greatest parents in the world!”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” You tell her. It isn’t a lie either, this final trimester has made you super in tune to all emotions.

JJ gets the paint ready in small cups with brushes, “And we can’t make the pregnant lady cry. Now, let’s start painting before Spence comes back.” She says.

You all do as she says and choose the wall opposite from the window so the natural light can come and illuminate the mural after its been painted. Emily finishes up hanging up the shelf and you don’t tell her that as soon as all the girls leave, Spencer would double check her work. It was inevitable.

Penelope is already finished with three stars and JJ is nearly done with the outline of the crescent moon when Spencer joins you four once again, now with a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

His eyes are trained on the cup in his hand and with his free hand, he’s waving the steam away to cool down the hot liquid tea. “Okay, it’s really hot so you might wanna let it cool off for a bit.”

When he gets no response, his eyes flicker up to the four of you working on a pretty night sky on the wall.

There’s no reaction at first and you get a little worried, so you waddle over to Spencer who’s still hovering at the door. “Spence?” You ask your husband, waiting on any kind of response.

It’s only when you go to take the mug out of his hand that he reacts.

“Be careful.” He instinctively says, slowly moving the mug away from your hands and carefully putting it down on a coaster on the small table next to the rocking chair.

When he turns back to you, his eyes still stare at the half painted wall mural. Penelope is still working on stars, JJ has moved onto coloring in the moon, and Emily finishes up a cartoony cloud you were working on.

“Y-you did this for me? The moon and the stars?” Spencer asks you softly, adoration twinkling in his eye just like the stars being painted on the wall.

You nod and can’t help as the tears well up in your eyes at his reaction. “I wanted it to be a surprise.” You say.

Spencer comes up behind you with an embrace and rests his hands on your stomach, something he’s gotten into a habit of doing since you started showing.

“Are you surprised?” You ask him. When you turn your head to look up to your husband, his eyes still are on the wall.

He nods and presses a gentle and sweet kiss to the top of your head. “I am.” He answers, “I could cry.”

You smile up at him and when you hear a sniffle, you half expect it to be your husband with tears coming down his cheekbones. But when he meets you with the same confused expression, searching your own face and coming up with an absence of tears, you know who it belongs to.

“Penelope, are you crying again?”

a/n: i enjoyed writing this one and i see you all are enjoying pregnancy and dad blurbs so i decided to give you all a few more! honestly though, i had no idea how to end this.

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid x reader #dr. spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #dr. spencer reid x you #spencer reid au #dad!spencer reid

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joshym · 10 months ago

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Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 5 (teaser)

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

*STRUGGLES WITH EATING/FOOD RESTRICTION, arguing, cussing, drinking, recollection of hickies, (lol) some good sexual tension.

“Guess I didn’t see the need in telling you what really happened, you know, since I’m not yours to claim.”

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The last chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ has at last come to an exuberant end, with Josh throwing a few dramatically loud vocal runs on the last note to be sure his is the last voice heard at the end of the classic tune.

Thank goodness you share a birthday with Malachi, so you’re not standing in front of everyone by yourself as they serenade you, this being the first time you’ve ever been serenaded on your birthday. (You’re kind of glad you’ve not had to experience this torture every year; it’s awkward as hell.)

It seemed Malachi could sense your discomfort throughout the whole thing, so he kept his arm wrapped around your shoulder until the song ended, squeezing you every so often so you knew he was there with you.

And Jake could sense it, too. He smiled at you the entire time, winking when they vehemently sang your name after Malachi’s and you could feel the warm blush painting your cheeks.

The party has been far more than you could’ve ever imagined. Josh, being the master designer he is, spared no cost when decorating their apartment for yours and Malachi’s shared birthday bash.

It’s truly so beautiful, not that you expected anything less from Josh. You and Malachi both have an adoration for plants, and this being something Josh also loves, there’s no shortage of greenery flowing throughout the space. (More than usual, that is.) He’s even put together little potted succulents for everyone to take home.

Aside from the vines and ivy splayed throughout the apartment, there are balloons galore of white and green floating freely, along with a few clear ones complete with wildflowers inside them.

And, your favorite part; your very own birthday cake, decorated in sage and white with “Happy birthday, y/n!” in off white buttercream, written in perfect calligraphy on the top.

It's so incredibly sweet that you and Malachi both have your own, personal birthday cakes, that Josh made sure you both feel special tonight. It’s all so much more than you could’ve ever asked for, right down to the gorgeous spread of sushi along the bar in the kitchen.

Though, as if they can pick and choose when to weave their way in, the thoughts are yelling at you to not partake in the incredible dinner that’s been provided for the night once Josh invites everyone to the kitchen to come eat.

You want to eat. God knows you do. But, the voice telling you not to is nearly overpowering the hunger you’re feeling. You’d spent all day convincing yourself that the turkey sandwich from earlier was more than enough to sustain you for the day. (Though, you know that isn’t true.)

You’ll feel guilty if you eat, you’ll feel guilty if you don’t eat…but choosing to not eat would perhaps raise a few questions that you’re not in any place to answer right now.

So, what the fuck do you do? You’ll be miserable no matter what, but what will make you the least miserable?

Your silent contemplation seems to have garnered a bit of attention from Josh, his gentle touch to your forearm dragging you away from your thoughts.

“You okay, darling?” His sweet voice, quiet and unassuming, is just what you needed to help make up your mind.

You’ll eat, but only a little. Not enough that your stomach will feel full and bloated, but enough that you can show Josh the gratitude he deserves for putting all of this together for Malachi and you.

“Just fine, Josh,” you confirm with a genuine, sincere smile. “Thank you so much for all of this. I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.”

He cloaks his arm around your shoulder, similarly to the way Malachi did just moments ago, melting a sense of comfort into your body. “You’re deserving of all of it and then some, my dear.”

And with that, he leads you arm in arm to the kitchen, as though he could hear the burgeoning thoughts you were struggling with, knowing you needed someone to go with you.

“Nat told me, by the way,” he says, handing you a plate as he begins filling his own with a few spider and rainbow rolls.

“Told you what?” you ask as you scour the spread for the California.

“That this is the first birthday party you’ve ever been thrown,” he admits through a warm, tender smile. “We really wanted to make this special for you, my brothers and I. And Natalia, of course. I certainly hope it’s met your expectations,” he winks, nudging you softly with his shoulder.

“It’s beyond my expectations, Josh.” The words are a little choked, your throat becoming tightened due to the tears welling in your ducts. It does feel special. So special. The fact that they would go through so much, simply to make sure you feel included. After a lifetime of feeling utterly invisible, this whole thing is wildly new to you— new in the most wonderful way.

The emotions are rising, though you’re able to swallow them down. But, Josh can tell it means a lot to you. He simply smiles, planting a sweet kiss to your temple as he finishes filling his plate.

“But, I must say,” you begin, sniffing away the last of the tears that tried to form. “A giant ass sushi bar is a bit cliche, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ah, right you are,” he says. “This is not the meal fit for a queen, is it?”

You both break out in a fit of giggles together, and you’ve finally found the damned California rolls.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re one of those people,” he scoffs, watching as you put a few on your plate.

“What do you mean, one of those people?” You ask, chuckling.

“Those who only eat that fake sushi,” he jests. “If you can even call it that.”

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The drinks have been flowing freely for the better half of the evening, lively chatter now filling the air after a few intense rounds of charades.

Something you weren’t prepared for (though you absolutely should’ve been) was the sheer amount of competitiveness between the twins. And that was very apparent when they both got more than a little carried away during the last round, nearly getting physical with each other.

But, things have since quieted down, and now it’s almost as if nothing had happened in the first place. They’re right back to joking around with each other, laughing almost as loud as they were yelling only moments ago.

You're always left in sheer awe by the way these two can fight as though they wish the other dead, then seemingly forget about it a few minutes later when they’re completely back to normal.

“How about a little game of never have I ever?” Josh questions. “I’m up for some revealing truths tonight,” he chuckles while positioning himself on Malachi’s lap, landing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Only if you and Jake behave your-fucking-selves,” Danny answers, laughter sounding throughout the room at his quick wit.

“We always do, Daniel,” Jake remarks, walking back into the living room with his freshly topped off drink. “Couldn't imagine what you’d be talking about.”

He takes his seat in the Nova Lounge chair, while you’re nestled in the plush cushions in the corner of their sectional next to Danny and Natalia. The way Jake is sitting, he’s directly across from you, perfectly within your view and you in his.

He’s hardly spoken to you tonight, save for a quick peck to your cheek when you walked in and when he told you you’ll receive your gift from him on your actual birthday. (It’s pure torture to have to wait an entire week to know what he got you.)

You’re learning to not take his distance too personally, though it does sting a bit. At least Stacy isn’t here tonight to take up all of his attention like last time. (Thank god for that.)

“We’ll behave. Won’t we, Jacob?” Josh insists, lifting his glass in a dramatic ‘cheers’ to his twin, who does the very same thing. “So, who’s the brave soul willing to go first?”

Everyone is exchanging glances around the room, waiting for someone to volunteer, and you breathe a sigh of relief when Sam offers to be the first one.

But the relief suddenly dissipates when you and Jake make eye contact, and you can tell by the way he’s rubbing his chin with his pointer finger that he has something to say.

“No, I believe y/n should go first,” he claims, his attention entirely on you by this point. “What do ya say? Up for the challenge?” He continues, a self-satisfied grin on his lips.

You’re most definitely not too keen on going first but, you’re also not willing to make yourself look bad by turning him down. So, you’ll do it. Get it over with.

“Sure am,” you respond to Jake, mirroring the same smug look he’s wearing on his face. “Are we doing the classic put a finger down if you have, taking a drink instead?”

“Definitely taking a drink,” Sam says through one of his notable giggles.

“Got it,” you say, switching your attention back to Jake as he stares your way. “And, um, just how personal are we getting with these prompts?”

Jake nearly chokes on his drink after you ask your question, and while you manage to contain your laughter, Josh and Sam most definitely do not.

“Whoa there, Jakey!” Josh exclaims, eyes wide and mocking as he brings his hand up to his mouth. “I thought you could handle your whiskey a little better than that!”

“Yeah,” Sam joins in, hardly able to speak through his incessant chuckling. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to drink it, not inhale it.”

But even amidst his brother’s joking antics, Jake’s devilish eyes haven’t left you, and the only ones who seem to notice this (aside from you, of course) are Natalia and Danny.

His brothers remain oblivious, and Jake doesn’t seem to care too much about them making fun of him, which is quite out of his character. Clearly, what you said has struck some kind of nerve within him. And you’re absolutely relishing in this power you’re holding.

“Uh, as personal as you want, I guess,” Danny interjects, breaking the tension he and Nat are sensing and effectively lulling Jake from his silent glares.

“That’s right,” Jake continues Danny’s thought, flipping a middle finger at his brothers, but aside from that choosing to mostly ignore them. “You set the stage, doll.”

Doll.

Fuck. You can’t deny what that little pet name does to you. And he knows that. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s trying to regain his control over you, (doing a pretty good fucking job at it.) but you have an idea of what you can do to get it back.

Two can play at that game, Jake.

“Okay,” you begin, pretending to be deep in thought about the first prompt, though you know just how to start this whole thing. “Never have I ever given someone a lot of hickies.”

Keeping your eyes fixed on Jake, he winks at you as he takes a big drink. You don’t even bother looking around the room to watch anyone else take a sip, though you’re sure at least a few of them are. It may not be the most revealing prompt, although that wasn’t entirely your goal. You knew asking this would ignite a specific memory in Jake, and it appears it worked just how you intended.

“Ah, what a lovely start,” Josh inserts, unaware of the growing tension occurring between you and his twin. “Who’s nex–”

“My turn,” Jake interrupts, cutting his brother off. “Never have I ever received a lot of hickies.” The prompt flies out of his mouth seemingly without a second thought.

Touché, Jacob. Touché.

You snicker to yourself while you make sure to take a sip of your drink. His eyes have become a little heavier, darker… like they were the night he decorated your body with the very same hickies you’re referencing.

And now, as the two of you have your eyes set on eachother, the rest of the room is finally catching on to whatever you have going on between you. You hear Josh clear his throat, attempting to move on from this (sexually) tense air you two have brought in the room.

“Uh… next?” Josh hesitantly asks, exchanging a few confused looks with Sam.

“I’ll go!” Nat offers after a bit of delicate silence in the room, bringing everyone’s attention back to the game.

Well, almost everyone.

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The night has finally begun to calm down, and Josh proposed the wonderful idea to prepare some hot chocolate and relax with a movie. This is his favorite way to end any night, and you couldn’t love that more about him.

Everyone knows Josh is perpetually in charge of choosing the movie you’ll watch, so no one says much of anything when he asks for requests.

“Anyone in opposition to a little hair-raising thriller this lovely eve?” he asks, using the Roku to pan over to their shared Prime account. When no one voices any objections, he clicks through their purchased movies, stopping at The Shining.

Being the Kubrick fan you’ve discovered him to be, you’re not shocked in the least. More often than not, movie nights at the Kiszka’s almost always result in a film under his direction.

Not that you’ve felt the need to complain; you’re quite the fan yourself. And of this movie, especially.

“Ah! Splendid choice,” Sam shouts from the kitchen, pouring himself yet another glass of Camarena, choosing that instead of the hot cocoa you’ve all opted for. “This one should make y/n happy.”

Oh fuck.

Suddenly, a flood of anxiety ripples through you, tightening your lower stomach into hundreds of tiny knots when you realize what he’s referring to…

Sam knows about your tattoo. Your Shining tattoo. And Jake knows about your tattoo, as well.

But Jake doesn’t know that Sam knows. In fact, you’re the one who told him as much. You are the one who lied to him.

You're hoping to god that Jake, by the grace of the entire universe, didn’t hear what he said. And if he did, that he won’t put the pieces of this insane puzzle together.

But, given the instant flare of his nostrils and the sudden clench of his jaw, it’s all but confirmed.

He heard. And his mind is going exactly where you were hoping it wouldn’t.

“And what makes you say that, Sammy boy?” He asks with a stern, knowing tone. His body is facing Sam, but his eyes, hard and dark, are fixed on you. His glaring stare is piercing through your being, and it is not a happy one.

“This has got to be one of y/n’s favorite movies,” Sam proclaims, the alcohol in his system keeping him from reading the tense, irate tone in Jake’s voice. (Or, maybe he’s just used to it by now, doesn’t think to bat an eye at it anymore.)

“Uh huh,” Jake huffs, keeping his eyes on you while running his tongue angrily over his bottom lip. “Am I to presume that’s what she told you?”

He knows. He fucking knows.

“Well, not exactly,” Sam answers, his features encompassed in his innocent smile, taking a big swig of the honey toned liquid in his glass and spitting out the ice cube that passes his lips.

You’re almost sure Jake can hear the erratic beat of your heart rate. You’re holding your breath, keeping it locked tight in your lungs, afraid that letting it go will result in Sam revealing your secret.

But it’s not working. Not one bit.

Sam takes a breath as he begins to speak, and you’re mentally pleading with him to keep quiet, hoping that he’ll somehow hear the voice in your mind that’s begging him to not say it.

“She’s got that Redrum tattoo on her chest, so I assume that means she’s a pretty big fan. Am I right, y/n?”

Jesus Christ.

Jake hasn’t stopped glaring at you, only becoming heavier in his vexed stare. His anger is very much evident by the change in his breathing, the sharp air inhaling and exhaling through his flexed nose.

“No way!” Josh interjects, obviously blind at the sudden tension between you and his twin. “I would love to see it!”

“Don’t you dare,” Jake whispers through gritted teeth, silent enough that it’s hardly legible, but you heard it as it was only meant for your ears.

There’s no fucking way in hell that you’re about to show them all your biggest secret. It’s bad enough that Sam had to announce it the way he did, especially after you swore to Jake that no one, specifically Sam, knew about it.

You’ve been horribly caught in your lie. A lie that you didn’t even mean to lie about; it just happened, as if you had no control over the response you gave him. You can’t be blamed. It was in the heat of a moment that you had waited for for so long. You didn’t want to risk fucking it all up.

If he were to ask you any other time, you wouldn’t have lied the way you did. It just felt like the right thing to say in that specific moment.

But you’ve a feeling the tattoo isn’t what Jake is thinking about; it’s the fact that he now probably thinks you lied about way more than just that.

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“It’s not what you think, Jake.” The words fall from of your mouth before you can even close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah?” He challenges, throwing his phone on his bed, but with such force that it bounces off the mattress completely and lands screen first against the floor. But that is very clearly the least of his worries right now, as it seems he didn’t even notice his phone taking a tumble. “Tell me what I’m fucking thinking, then. Since you know so well what’s going through my mind.”

He’s not yelling. But you almost wish he was.

The deep grovel in his voice is coming from a place of pure anger, perhaps even hurt?

God, you hope not.

No matter how many times he’s hurt you, you can’t stand the thought of possibly causing him any sort of pain.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” you insist, maintaining your innocence with your stern tone and eye contact.

“Then explain how he knows.” He quickly paces across the room back toward his bed, kicking his phone out of his way. “And I would like to know why you felt the need to lie to me.”

“I didn’t mean to, I just…” How do you even begin to explain your thought process? That you wanted to fuck Sam to get to him? That the only reason his brother is privy of your tattoo is because you were willing to go to the ultimate length with him, all for the purpose of making Jake jealous?

No. He can’t know about that.

Although…

You hate to admit, but you’re kind of enjoying this jealous streak from him. How his cheeks have become flushed in a bright red, the way his nose is twitching, his hard and stern that carry the weight of a man deprived…

You didn’t sleep with Sam. You and Sam both know that.

But Jake…

He thinks you did.

And instead of tripping all over yourself in an attempt to tell him the pathetic story of what actually happened, you may as well keep him on this jealous leash for a bit longer. See how far you can take it, how far he’ll let you take it.

Perhaps he’ll take his little envious, self loathing party out on you.

He doesn’t own you. You’re nothing “exclusive.” What you choose to do (or not to do) with your body is none of his fucking business. He isn’t allowed a say. And his pissy fucking attitude is absolutely unwarranted.

But however unwarranted, you can’t deny what his angry demeanor does to you…

It turns you on in ways you can’t explain. His body language is always sexy to you. But when he’s mad…

“He just saw it. Simple as that,” you spout, keeping your tone cold and composed, your arms crossed tight over your chest. “The night of the spookhou—sorry, haunted house, before you had to take me home. Sam just wasn’t in any condition to drive that night, that’s why you had to.”

It’s not a lie.

But perhaps what it implies is. There are a few tiny details you’ve purposely opted to leave out, a few you’ve chosen to embellish…but you’re not lying.

“That so?” You can see the gears turning in his mind as he’s staring blankly at his bed in front of him, keeping his arms closely held against his sides. “Care to tell me how he saw it?” He continues, looking back over to you as you’re still standing near the closed door. “And you have yet to tell me why you fucking lied to me about it.”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you carefully contemplate your next words, knowing that what you’re planning to say could potentially set him off. (But in the best way.)

“Guess I didn’t see the need in telling you what really happened, you know, since I’m not yours to claim.”

Even you tense up at your statement, and the way his body has suddenly stiffened tells you that your words did exactly what you intended them to do.

True as it is, that you aren’t his, (although you desperately wish you were) you only said it to get even more of a rise out of him, to test him in brand new ways, see how far he’ll let you take it.

You’re not lying, so there’s no actual validity in his accusations, but fuck…the veins in his arms are making your pussy ache with pure fucking need for him.

And his jealousy is clearly backed with a need for you, or else he wouldn’t give a fuck about Sam seeing your hidden ink.

“How do you think he saw it, Jacob? Seriously, I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.”

He aggressively pushes his hair, dampened with irate sweat, before glaring at you with a vexed expression. His eyes are almost as dark and heavy as they were that night, where his fingers made home inside of you. And fuck, the things it’s making you feel…for him to look at you like this again.

“Fuck you, y/n,” he spits through the beginings of a smirk that he’s attempting to hide.

You should be fucking pissed at the disgusting words he dares to speak to you, but the feelings they elicit throughout your being only cause your need for him to grow even stronger.

He’s being an asshole. But all it’s doing is lighting the flames of your desire ten fucking fold.

You’ve come to learn that the shit that comes out of his mouth, the rude shit he says to you, comes from a place of pure lust, of absolute need.

You can see it in his eyes— the way he’s breathing through his nose, the very obvious tension in his body that clearly needs relief in some way.

And it’s as though he’s not even trying to hide it. His body is speaking the words his mouth refuses to. You can tell by the way his eyes scan over your body, and how he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth each time he does.

There’s a chance he’s in need of it as badly as you are. It’s built up inside of him; it’s been built up.

The way he talks to you, it just…

It doesn’t piss you off the way it used to, doesn’t make you feel worthless anymore.

It does something different to you now. After that night with him, after filming when he got so upset over your scene with Sam, it changed everything for you.

Now, when he’s angry like this, you know there’s something different behind it.

So, the only thing you can confidently think of to respond…

“Fuck me? Seriously, Jake?” You assert, crossing your arms across your chest, pushing your breasts up in the process. His eyes follow. You take a few steps towards him, the room silent as your next words leave your lips. “I wish you fucking would.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: what are we thinking is about to happen?🤔 it's about to get a little...spicy. this chapter will include the most smut i've ever written. so, be prepared for that, i guess. lol

extra special thank you to those of you who follow/interact/comment on my work. 🥺 i can't begin to express the sheer amount of gratitude i have for the love i've received. it truly keeps me going. ♡

extra extra special thank you to my sister, @jakeyt. this chapter has been hard to write, & it’s only been possible because of her.

so, thank you all. so much. ♡

Le Morte d'Arthur Masterlist

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added! also if i've forgotten you. (so sorry if i have))

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @klarxtr @watchingover-hypegirl @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflameforgoinghome @heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf

@audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon @gretasfallingsky @i-love-gvf @kiszkas-canvas @mackalah @gvfmarge @sarafrusciante2 @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @highway-tuna @vikingsisthenewsexy @louiseecraig @hippievanfleet @citylight-delight @blacksoul27

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka #le morte d’arthur

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kimberlyannharts · 8 months ago

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LAST TIME ON RANGER ACADEMY: Turns out Sage wasn't the only one with a tragic backstory, as Tula had an older sister from the Academy, a Green Ranger, who died in a shuttle crash with her entire class (you know, for kids!). Unfortunately if there's one thing Dark Specter loves it's the angst from a tragic backstory, so now he's here. Sage is going to need the power of every dead dad and dead sister that ever stepped foot in the Green Campus to beat him!

It's Ranger Academy #8!

= Is Lindy blushing in that second panel because that's just confirming to me this scene is gay as hell and Sage/Lindy WILL dodge the sisterzoning allegations and they WILL be canon!!!!!!!!!!!!

= That being said we couldn't go this issue without some classic red/green gays as well

= Yeah Lindy's definitely going to end up Blue

= well I guess if it's that easy

= Okay Katie I love you but what are you doing here. What is your position in this school. In a later scene she orders the Pink Sirian Ranger around which has me like???????? What is the hierarchy here!!!!!!!!

= Also Mathis isn't so much a "yellow ranger" as they are a......yellow ochre ranger. Especially when they're right next to Katie's suit like that

= Technicalities like "so what does this mean about Greens on other teams" or "what about non-MMPR colors" aside, I do think the explanation for why the Green Campus is closed and why the Academy refuses to talk about it is good (which we'll get to later on). But this whole thing does make me realize we have no explanation for how Dark Specter is like. still around. Especially now that we're confirming this isn't meant to be tying into the main series and he's popping in from that timeline. He's just. Still a thing. Over 3000 years after he died. BOOM I need you to stop acting like Dark Specter is a bigger deal than he really was. He died when a spaceship exploded on him

= This scene is really good and I'm glad Sage and Lindy aren't going to have a dramatic friend breakup over this situation but I do kind of wish Lindy had responded to the whole "MAYBE I'M EVIL BECAUSE I'M GREEN" with "dude, why was that the first conclusion you came to. it's literally just a color"

= Kind of a skill issue by the Academy to not realize the kid was infected like. We know what infected people look like from Darkest Hour; how did they miss the glowing red eyes and the black veins and their speech balloons being all gray and wobbly

= Speaking of Darkest Hour, as stated, we know from that and Power Rangers Universe that possession by Dark Specter isn't a death sentence. But I do have to admit even just the characters believing it is makes the whole concept a lot darker than it was it both of those series. Which is funny considering this is the book marketed more for kids

= Don't make that face while brushing off a student's death by another student's hands Headmaster people might start to think you're evil or something

= also hi Baby Sage

= god forbid girls do anything

#mmpr comic #mmpr comic spoilers #RA 08 #comic recap #text #power rangers

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shatteredvioletnuzlocke · 9 months ago

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Chapter 11: Olive Harvest Tournament

Patch couldn’t tell what kept them up that night. Was it the pressure to win? Their constant need for productivity? Tamarind’s snoring? Suffice it to say, on the morning of the Olive Harvest Festival, Patch spared no time sleeping in.

As the sun rose, larger crowds joined to visit the bustling village in its festivities. The streets were more decorative than they were before. Olive-shaped balloons were tied to each lamp post. The doors of cottages were adorned with wreathes made from olive leaves and branches.

Patch and Sage walked among the crowd, searching for the booth to enter the tournament.

“Do you think all these people are entering the tournament too?” Patch wondered.

“I’m not sure,” Sage answered, “Tournaments only allow for twenty-four participants, so we better hurry.”

Oh man I hope I’m not to late! The Harvest Tournament was offering $15,000 P to the winner, and Patch owed 10,000 P to the village in property damage. Sage had already loaned them the first 2,000 P, but they have to pay her back at some point.

Finally, the two trainers found a tent with a Pokeball logo. A woman sat at the desk, collecting names on a clipboard.

“Are you both here for the tournament?” The woman asked adjusting her glasses.

“Yes,” Sage spoke for the both of them.

The Tournament Volunteer eyed Patch, “Are you the one who broke our orchard trees?

The hair on the back of their neck stood up, they almost felt violated, “You… know who I am?”

“I was told you might be entering,” she playfully smiled, “Let’s get you signed in. Name?”

“Patch Callune,” Patch replied.

“Where ya from?”

“Nacrene City, Unova!”

“Ah nice,” the volunteer said, jotting every word, “How many Pokemon will you be using? We have a 500 P fee per Pokemon.”

Aw man, there’s always a catch, Patch rolled their eyes. I can’t afford to pay for my whole team when I’m already low on cash. I have to use Tamarind… but using one Pokemon is too risky! The clock in their head was ticking forward, it was almost as if there was a bomb strapped to their chest. Who else, who else? Kombucha? Too stubborn! Flumpfy? I don’t know how well electric types do against bug types! Maybe a poison type will give me a bigger advantage?

“Mx. who are you battling with?” The woman tapped her finger on the wooden table.

“Tamarind and Arturo!” Patch exclaimed as an imaginary timer went off, “My Fuecoco and Shroodle,” they clarified.

They went ahead and handed the lady half of what Sage gave them in cash. In return, she handed Patch a large sticker labeled 15. They peeled the sticker off the wrapper and stuck it on their aquamarine shirt for all to see.

“Go to the corral at the right end of the street, and wait with the other trainers,” the volunteer shooed them away.

Patch followed her instructions and located the large. It wasn’t hard to miss, given little more than a dozen trainers were waiting inside. Some already had their Pokemon out to warm up, as Sage predicted most of them were bug types such as Venonats and Heracrosses. One trainer even had a Scyther sharpening its blade-like arms to presumably slice the competition.

I have a fire type, Patch reminded themselves, I’ll be fine.

The corral was wide enough to fix eight small battlefields for the Pokemon to fight on. Patch wondered if it was normally used for holding majestic horse Pokemon. At the end of the corral, a stage had been set up with speakers and a banner in the correlating olive green shade. It read 37th Annual Cortondo Olive Harvest Tournament, Sponsored by Pasterie Soapberry and The Cortondo Gym.

This village has a Gym?! Back in Unova, Gyms were expensive to manage. Only the largest cities were able to receive proper funding to keep their Gyms afloat. Perhaps Cortondo’s olive trade paid off more than met the eye. Now Patch had more of a reason to win, otherwise, the village would go bankrupt.

It wasn’t long until Sage caught up with them, he was labeled as 4.

“Wow, great turnout,” Sage commented on the other trainers, “I’m glad I caught that Fletchling yesterday when I did, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Aren’t you nervous?” Patch gulped, “Some of these guys look tough!”

“A little bit,” Sage admitted, “But don’t let them intimidate you, some Pokemon aren’t as tough as they look.”

I sure hope so…

After a while, a women in a flowy dress walked onto the stage and adjusted the microphone stand to meet her height. As she tapped the microphone three times it echoed of the speakers and everyone’s attention was placed on her.

“Buenos Dias, and welcome everyone to our 37th annual tournament!” the lady announced.

She received a polite round of applause and cheering from the twenty-four participants awaiting for the tournament to kick off.

“First, and foremost I want to thank our Gym leader, Katy Soapberry, for sponsoring this event!” the announcer read off her clipboard.

The aforementioned Katy entered the stage. She had a chubby yet curvy build with ivory, pale skin. She fashioned a chocolate-colored chef’s outfit, with a minty green ponytail sticking out of her hat.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly as the microphone elevated her southern charm, “I wish all of you luck in this year's tournament, and may this year’s winner triumph!”

“Without any further delay,” The announcer flipped to a new page, “We shall begin the primary rounds, each round will consist of three emlimnary rotations where you will only move on to the next round after victory in battle. An assigned referee will supervise you under League standards, so don’t try anything risky!”

Thats smart, Patch thought. They saw a person dressed in the same volunteer uniform standing at each court.

She began to list the first groups, “May Trainers one through eight make their way to their respective courts!”

“That’s me, I better go!” Sage chimed in.

“Good luck,” Patch wished.

Patch stood on the sidelines with the rest of the trainers, while Sage stood at the court on the farthest right. They could barely see if the battle had even commenced or if their friend was winning.

Sage is way better than me, maybe just as good as Nemona… Patch could just picture Sage as Paldea’s next Champion rank trainer. That would make them a friend to two champions.

The battle court in front of them had a white Squawkabilly gliding away from the blades of the ferocious Scyther.

“Use X-Scissor!” their trainer commanded.

The large mantis swung their blades with precision which the Sqwawkabilly was unable to dodge. It reminded Patch of their defeat yesterday, and the loss soon to come. Even with a fire type I don’t stand a chance…

The onlooking referee held a flag toward the Scyther declaring him the winner. Please don’t make me fight that.

“Hiya!” Sage startled their highly strung friend, “Good news, I passed!”

Sage’s Fletchling, Scorch, perched on his shoulder. Their feathery, gray down remained unscathed.

“Oh good,” Patch congratulated, “I knew you would!”

Once the last pair concluded their battle it was time for the next rotation of trainers, “May trainers nine through sixteen make their way to their assigned courts?!”

This was it, their moment was finally upon them and they could not feel more unprepared.

“Go on that’s you!” Sage encouraged them, “Don’t worry you’ll be fine!”

Patch strode out to the courts with referees calling out to their respective trainers.

“Trainer twelve, Report to court A!”

“Where are you fourteen?!”

“Number nine! Can I get number nine?! Vominose, number nine!”

A referee with a shaven stubble called to them, “Fifteen, over here!”

Patch marched up to their court before they were declared to be disqualified. To their surprise they recognized their opponent, it was the cranky biscuit vendor! He scowled at the anxious trainer, it was clear that Patch wasn’t forgiven.

“Get to it, Wheatley!” The old man threw his Pokeball.

Out of the Pokeball, a large Fidough appeared and Patch was instantly smitten. Aw man why did have to be something so cute! Snap out of it Patch! It’s a fairy type… I still have a type advantage!

Patch retrieved Arturo’s Pokeball from their bag, making sure it had the right markings. “Go, Arturo!” They launched it into the air.

Arturo popped out, “Shree, shrew!” he squeaked.

“Battle begin!” the referee waved his flags.

Patch was quick to call the first attack, “Arturo, use Acid Spray!”

The cranky old man followed suit, “Counter with Fairy Wind!”

“Bowww!” The Fidough summoned a sugary gust of wind.

As Arturo spat his attack at the dog, the acid was blown back toward him and burned into the ground at the dog. The odor of it filled the air with putrid, overwhelming fumes.

Patch covered their nose, “Try again, with bite!”

“Shrooo!” The shrew launched himself in the air with open jaws.

This time he landed a hit on the Fidough’s pillowy, soft body. Granted, he was small enough to shake off. But now a purple bite mark was present on their opponent's neck, and Patch almost felt guilty. I hope I won't get in trouble for that!

“Focus, Wheatley!” the old man complained, “Use, Mud Slap!”

Oh Arceus! “Dodge it, quick!” They ordered.

With each splash mud, Arturo effortlessly scampered away from being hit. Nice speed!

They decided to use Arturo’s energy to their advantage, “Now, Fury Swipes!”

A pair of white glowing detracted from the Shroodle’s nubby little paws. He swiped at his opponent heavily landing more than one hit.

“Use Covet!” the old man hollered.

However, Fidough didn’t follow his order and only panted with a huff.

The referee spoke, “Fidough is exhausted to battle!” he held a flag toward Patch, “Shroodle is the winner! Victory goes to Trainer Fifteen!”

Patch stood awestruck, they won! They won an official battle! “Arturo!” they wiped a tear from their eye, “You did it!”

“Shroo Shroo!” Arturo squeaked back, hopping into his trainer’s arms.

As the old man sprayed his Fidough with a potion they heard him murmur, “Keep it on a leash!”

That must be his answer to everything, Patch jokingly thought.

…

After the third rotation concluded their battles, sixteen trainers remained. But Patch knew it was only the beginning, their next opponent would be their real battle.

The next round was split into four groups of four trainers battling at a time. This time Sage and Patch were called up together, thankfully fighting separate people. To their surprise, their opponent was the same Scyther trainer from before, the one they feared the most.

The Scyther had an exoskeleton the color of wild grass. Its ivory blades were dented at the tip of its past battles. Meanwhile, its cream-colored wings were clean from any wounds. Despite it being a bug type it had a vicious, reptilian head that struck fear into Patch’s delicate heart.

Their trainer was not much better, he was a slender man with long brunette hair and a scar treading across his face. His posture was gangly and slouched. To Patch, this would be a horrific battle. To their opponent, it was another Wednesday.

Without any hesitation Patch called out Tamarind, hoping the light of his embers would guide them through the dark path ahead of them.

As soon as the referee lashed their flags, Patch attempted to declare “Use Emb-

“Dieter, Air slash!” The opponent interrupted.

In a flash the mantis beated it’s wings into the air and created glowing discs from swiping their scythes.

Oh man that’s not good! “Tamarind, use Disarming voice!”

“Fueyye!” Tamarind chanted a honeyed pitch and unleashed an array of soundwaves.

Alas, a disarming voice couldn’t penetrate through the air slashes, and the Fuecoco was hit. He slid down the court with his nails scratching against the surface.

“Tamarind,” Patch knelt to their Pokemon, “Are you okay?”

Tamarind didn’t turn to face his trainer, instead, he marched back into his fighting position, “Fuey!” he growled.

Patch readjusted themselves, putting full faith in their starter, “Okay..” they pushed their hat out of their eyes, “Use em-”

The gangly man cut them off once again “Use slash!”

The Scyther flew towards Tamarind and raised his blade. Then it dawned on Patch, He’s interrupting me on purpose! He knows that Scyther is weak to fire!

“Tamarind, bite its arm!” Patch retorted.

Thankfully the Fuecoco was quick enough to grab the blade with his jaws as it came toward him. The mantis tried to shake him off but Tamarind latched onto them like a lock.

Realizing they took both the Pokemon and trainer off guard Patch took the upper hand, “Use ember!” They finally proclaimed.

Hanging by the edge, Tamarind unhooked his jaw to sputter a surprise flame. Now the Scyther’s blade-like membrane had a charred rip. Patch couldn’t tell if this was against the League's rules, but the referee didn’t comment or even seem surprised. Less than their opponent was.

They went on while they were still ahead, “Tamarind use-

“Wait until, number eight gives a command!” The referee finally stepped in, “Will you continue?”

The trainer’s posture was more crooked than before, “I-I…” He whimpered, “I will not…” He recalled his Scyther instantly.

“Victory goes to fifteen!” The referee raised a flag in their honor.

Patch couldn’t process the outcome. Of course, bug types were vulnerable to fire but their opponent was quick to withdraw as soon as a flame was lit. Did it only take one super-effective attack to win a fight? If they kept going would the Scyther become a pile of ash? What mattered was that they met the league’s standards. But Patch would keep Tamarind far away from any water Pokemon.

…

With each new round, the number of trainers shrank, until Patch had to face one more challenger and fate saved the worst for last.

“We’ve gotten quite the interesting match-up folks,” the announcer declared, “Our last remaining challengers came a long way both figuratively and literally!”

Patch tried to focus on why they were fighting in the tournament in the first place. Just one more battle, and I get my prize money. It would all go fast but not in their favor.

“Number fifteen’s from Nacrene City, Unova, and a Uva academy Student,” the Announcer hyped them up, “They are in a a severe amount of debt, so please give it up for Patch Callune!”

They muffled out the loud applause with the comforting texture of their hat. They walked toward a larger battle-court made just for them. Former participates and festival stood around them, expecting Patch to win.

“Next up, a trainer also hailing from Unova in Icarius City and a Student of Naranja, please give it up for… Sage Winchell!” The Announcer riled the crowd up.

Sage entered the court, holding his cane with both hands. He was clearly bothered by the crowd gawking at him and yet when he looked at Patch he smiled in solace. As if he found comfort in the battle.

I’ve been lucky to make it this far, let’s hope my luck doesn’t run out!

The referee stood at the sidelines, “Challengers choose your Pokemon!”

Patch threw Tamarind’s Pokeball onto the court, and the fire croc came out yawning. Please don’t be to exhausted to fight, I need you!

Sage followed with their Pokeball, and his shinx appeared, placing his opponent in a frenzy. Damn, I should have chosen Arturo! Why didn’t I teach Tamarind any ground-type moves?! Patch stared fearfully at the shinx’s bristling fur. I’ve made Zia surrender before maybe I could do it again?

“Zia use Thundershock!” Sage raised his cane.

Oh fuck we’re starting now! “Tamarind use… Round Voice!”

Tamarind turned his head toward Patch confused.

“UH DISARMING VOICE! I MEANT-”

Before they could finish their command a thin bolt of static struck the the Fuecoco’s hyde.

Luckily, enough he followed through, “FUEY!” he sang agonizingly with sharp soundwaves.

It kept the Shinx in place, but also irritated Sage. “Thunder Shock, again!” He raised his voice against the volume.

Zia shook off another bolt as soon as Tamarind ended his song. The Fuecoco didn’t seem all too phased by the electric attacks.

“Try Round!” Patch told their Pokemon.

“Use bite!” Sage followed up.

“Maur!” Zia lunged with sharpened teeth and went right for the Fuecoco’s throat.

Crap, Patch worried remembering their battle yesterday, I should have seen this coming!

As the little Shinx sank her teeth into the Fuecoco’s scales, he began to cry out in agony, “Fuey- fuey co,” his voice became shriveled, “FUEY,” he choked out a large ember.

Zia was caught in the smoldering flame, taking damage but her voltage spared her pelt from sustaining any scars. The Shinx fell backward releasing the fire croc from her grasp. Patch was compelled to give Tamarind a potion after that nasty blow, but they realized Sage would do the same. Now was a better time than ever to make the first move.

“Tamarind use Disarming Voice!” Patch shouted.

“Fuey-eyye aye ay!” The fire croc warbled, his voice still scratchy from the bite to his throat.

Maybe he needed that potion after all?! Tamarind’s soundwaves were misshapen but raw with power. It was enough to keep Zia from coming any closer.

After that, the two Pokemon were out of breath, equally as exhausted. Only the referee had the authority to claim the victor. Patch prayed for Tamarind to keep standing, heavily regretting the gamble they made to keep fighting.

Finally, at that moment, Zia collapsed to the ground. Immediately the referee raised a flag in Patch’s honorary victory.

“And it looks like our runner up is Patch of Nacrene City!” The announcer declared.

The sound of cheering faded out as the supposed “winner” retreated deep within the confines of their mind. I won… a whole tournament. All by myself… well almost… my team did most of the work.

They felt nudge by their side, “Way to go, Buddy,” Sage congratulated them with Zia in his arms, “You did a great job!”

Zia was panting heavily and Patch felt a little remorseful, “Is she okay?”

“She’s not hurt, she just needs a potion,” Sage explained.

Potion! I almost forgot! Patch tended to Tamarind immediately, who was barely keeping his balance. They spritzed him down with a potion for a job well done.

“Fueyyy,” He slowly smiled.

Proud of you big guy!

“Just you wait folks, the excitement isn’t done yet!” The announcer exclaimed over the speaker.

Not over, but I just won the tournament and all the prize money! What more could be left?

“Our tournament will conclude with one final round! Tomorrow, our remaining challenger will face our very own Gym leader for the cash prize!”

“I’m going to what?!” Patch demandly asked the woman with applauding canceling out their voice .

Of course there was a catch.

#pokemon #fanfic #nuzlocke #pokemon violet #pokemon fanfiction #paldea #fuecoco #shroodle #fidough #scyther #pokemon katy #cortondo

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tanz0mattic · 1 year ago

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Fall had struck my town not too long ago. With the colorful leaves, cool weather finally rolling in, and the festivities, it wasn't hard to miss. Except it was hard to even acknowledge the season when your town is obsessively focused on hunting witches during the three months.

I had ignored and refused to participate in a lot of the "attempts" to find witches. I had assumed for as long as I could that my town had simply gone crazy and dominated the fall season just so they could forcefully involve others in their shenanigans.

As I walked down the dirt road, crunching some orange-red leaves under my boots, I heard the jury bell ringing in the distance. That bell usually signaled those awaiting jury duty to come to the judicial department and begin their case. However, my sister had tugged at my arm and dragged me over to the building.

When we had got there, I shook my head in order to focus on what was going on. Hundreds of the townsfolk were all crammed together inside of the small building. I shoved through the crowd to the front to see what commotion my sister had dragged me here for.

There was a judge, and two people holding a woman by the arms whose hands had been tied together with rope.

"We sentence the witch Hyacinth La Croix to death by fire. She must return to the town of Oakwing by next Sunday to await her execution."

I couldn't believe it. They had finally caught a witch? The woman had disheveled, ginger hair with a deerstalker sat on top of it. She also was wearing a plaid smock-frock that had a sage green bow on the collar.

"But, sir, she doesn't even look like a witch." I attempted to object. "She looks like a normal woman."

The judge gave me a glare and I felt myself shrink a few inches. Everyone was dismissed and all began to spill out of the building like a leak had sprung in a water balloon. I left a bit later than the rest, noticing the woman had given me a glance before I left out the doors.

I couldn't sleep, knowing that in a week I'd be forced to watch the execution of a woman I barely knew and could be innocent. I finally was able to sleep at some point.

However, what I woke up to was the smell of smoke. I could hear the crackling of fire as I forced my body to get out of bed and rush outside. The entire town was ablaze. People were screaming, desperately trying to get out of their homes in time before the flames smothered them to ashes.

I froze, unable to focus due to the noise and temperature from the fires nearby. I was grabbed by the forearm by someone forcefully. I snapped my head over, realizing it was the woman who had been in the courtroom the other day.

My wide eyes fixated on her. She stared at me with dark green eyes that held unknown intention.

"Run," she said. "I've spared you for a reason."

#unnamed story

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dystini · 2 years ago

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Indycar Driver Lore

Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist

Conor James Daly

Birthdate: Dec. 15, 1991 Hometown: Noblesville, Indiana Residence: Indianapolis Height/Weight: 5’9”/150lbs

Rookie year: 2016 Rookie Indy 500: 2013

Team: Dreyer & Reinbold Racing/Cusick Motorsports (Indy 500)

Follow him on: Instagram Twitter Twitch YouTube

Career Stats 2012: Tested with A.J. Foyt Racing 2013: Debut @ Indy 500 w/ A.J. Foyt Racing - 34th Overall 2014: N/A 2015: 4 races w/ Schmidt Peterson Motorsports, 1 race w/ Dale Coyne Racing - 28th Overall *2016: Dale Coyne Racing - 18th Overall 2017: A.J. Foyt Racing - 18th Overall 2018: 4 races w/ Harding Steinbrenner Racing and Dale Coyne Racing - 29th Overall 2019: 7 races w/ Andretti Autosport, Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports, and Carlin - 24th Overall 2020: Ed Carpenter Racing (Road/Street) and Carlin (Oval) - 17th Overall 2021: Ed Carpenter Racing (Road/Street/500) and Carlin (Oval) - 18th Overall 2022: Ed Carpenter Racing - 17th Overall 2023: 7 races w/ Ed Carpenter Racing, 3 races w/ Meyer Shank Racing, 1 race w/ Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing

*Official Rookie Season

Podcast: Speed Street

Nascar 2018 Xfinity Series Road America 2020 Nascar Trucks series Las Vegas (teammates with Travis Pastrana) 2021 Nascar Trucks series Las Vegas 2022 Cup Series Charlotte Roval 2023 Cup Series Daytona 500, COTA 2023 Xfinity Series Charlotte Roval 2023 Truck Series Mid Ohio

Nitrocross 2023–24 Dreyer & Reinbold Racing

-A second-generation race driver, Conor is the son of Derek Daly, who reached the pinnacle of the sport, competing in Formula 1 and the Indycar Series for well over a decade. His mother, Beth Boles, won a Novice Jet Ski World title in 1990 and his stepfather, J. Douglas Boles, is the president of Indianapolis Motor Speedway. -Appeared in Season 30 of CBS’ “The Amazing Race” with fellow NTT Indycar Series competitor, Alexander Rossi. The pair finished fourth in the adventure reality show. Also competed on American Ninja Warrior. -Ambassador for esports team named Lazarus. -Favorite color is green. -Likes his coffee black -collects Pokemon cards (still does it, started as a child) - played American football in middle school. -Still owns the first car he ever bought, a Subaru WRX. It's blue, lives in his garage, unregistered in 2022, doesn't work right. He says he will keep it forever. -Pescatarian (eats fish but not meat) Isn't strict about it and makes exceptions for things like Alex Rossi's smoked brisket and ribs. Went back to eating meat over the 2022 off season, unknown if he's gone back to pescatarian for the 2023 season. -Diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at age 14, he wears a Dexcom Continuous Glucose Monitor, and uses inhalable insulin. -Tattoo: 41 on the inside of his right wrist. His first Indycar car number

has the unfortunate record of having driven with every Indycar team except Ganassi and Penske

The Way It Is/ Conor Daly aims at Europe and F1

Iconic/memorable moments

Doug and Drivers: Conor Daly Inside Job: Conor Daly's Hot Tub Bamboozle The culprits: Alex Rossi Sage Karem Full Explanation 2017 balloon and glitter prank (The culprits were Conor's team) Colton goes to Mars from an Iracing stream Conor leads laps at the Indy 500 First pole 2020 Iowa The INDYCAR Off-Season with Marco Andretti, James Hinchcliffe, Josef Newgarden and Conor Daly INDYCAR Test Drive Episode 4: Conor Daly (The ending. That's actually James Hinchcliffe's house) INSIDE THE RACE // CONOR DALY AT WORLD WIDE TECHNOLOGY RACEWAY Why Indianapolis Motor Speedway is Conor Daly's favorite place on earth | Motorsports on NBC Conor Daly: Pursuit of an Indycar Ride INSIDE THE RACE: CONOR DALY // BIG MACHINE SPIKED COOLERS GRAND PRIX Conor Daly | INDYCAR Driver 2018 Indy 500 Victory Celebration: Conor Daly RIDE TO THE TRACK // CONOR DALY AND RINUS VEEKAY Touring Conor Daly's camper ahead of the Indy 500 Conor Daly & Alexander Rossi Visit Space Camp Racing Helmet Collection Tour! - Part 1 Conor Daly Helmet Collection Tour- Part 2! An Inside Look at Conor Daly's RV From the Indianapolis 500 Conor Daly American Ninja Warrior Training IndyCar Driver Conor Daly Joins Us at Indy 500 Media Day INDYCAR FANswers: Conor Daly Conor Daly's epic reaction to Alexander Rossi vs Santino Ferrucci! Conor Daly and Ed Carpenter Racing part ways IndyCar's Alexander Rossi and Conor Daly on their The Amazing Race experience 104th Indianapolis 500: Conor Daly, Oliver Askew caught up in Indy 500 restart | Motorsports on NBC Conor Daly test for AJ Foyt Enterprises Q&A with Conor Daly at 2020 IndyCar Spring Training Interview with Conor Daly and Rinus VeeKay Conor Daly hangs out in the Snake Pit before the race Conor Daly Joins Andretti Autosport for 2019 Indianapolis 500 What is the Aeroscreen on Indy Race Cars? Drive Conor Daly Breaks Down the New Safety Improvements Drivers Eating Donuts with Conor Daly

Conor is very much an underdog story. After an unsuccessful attempt to break into F1, he returned to the states to try his hand at Indycar, his first love. This meant many years of one-off races, subbing for injured drivers and the occasional single season contract with a team. in 2020 and 21, he managed deals that allowed him to race full time, albeit with two teams, Carlin for ovals and ECR for road and street courses. In 2023 he is in the second season of a two year full time contract with ECR.

There is a 'what could have been' story. In 2011, Conor juggles duties between IndyNxt (then known as IndyLights) and GP3 in Europe, competing in 5 IndyNXT races and winning two of the first three, putting him in the championship lead. He then returned to GP3, only making it back to the states for 2 more races. His teammate, Josef Newgarden went on to win the championship and rose to Indycar the following year. If Conor had stayed and put the funding he had into IndyNXT instead of chasing what was ultimately a futile European dream, would he have had the opportunities Josef had? Won more races? Taken the championship from Josef? We will never know.

It could be said that Conor was born and bred for motorsports in general and Indycar in particular. His father is Derek Daly, F1, Cart (later became Indycar), and IMSA driver. His mother, Beth Boles, was an Indy 500 Festival Princess in 1978, as well as worked at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in several different roles. His stepfather, Doug Boles, is currently COO of Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Some of his earliest memories are at that track and others, as his father transitioned into being a TV broadcaster after he was born.

Conor is considered the friendliest guy on the grid and usually does the most to welcome newbies. He is something of an acquired taste, often over the top with his American patriotism (but doesn't really step over into the negative aspects of it). He's fond of using the weirdest phrases instead of swearing (lying sack of potatoes, cheating snake, etc), but does swear normally in unguarded moments (such as the radio during a race). He's a hometown boy, growing up just outside of Indianapolis. He knows the city inside and out. He has a self-deprecating sense of humor, making fun of all aspects of himself. A favorite descriptor he uses for himself is "A ginger diabetic with a bowl cut."

Fanfic Lore

Good friends with James Hinchcliffe, Alexander Rossi and Marco Andretti. The four could be considered a 'band of brothers'. Conor lived with James for several months in 2016 (as did Alex Rossi) before moving in with Alex Rossi for a few more months (into 2017) once Alex had found his own place.

Often paired with one of the others of the band, most frequently Alexander Rossi

Historically paired with Josef Newgarden. They raced together in karts and lower series cars.

#indycar rpf #indycar #fanfic #driver lore #conor daly

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toyworldinc · 1 year ago

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Why Are Balloons Considered as The Best Decoration?

Since the beginning of time, balloons have been and continue to be a popular choice for ornamentation, and the reasoning for this preference is very easy to grasp. Balloons are versatile, inexpensive, and easy to transport. These yellow and blue balloons offer a novel and adaptable approach to boosting the aesthetic appeal, enjoyable qualities, and lively nature of various events or settings. Whether it's a birthday party, a wedding reception, or a business event, balloons can transform the environment and create an upbeat and festive mood.

Benefits Of Balloons

Low Costs

The low cost of emerald green balloons is the key factor that has led to their broad acceptance as a superior alternative to other decorations. Balloons are a comparatively cost-effective alternative to other ornamental things, such as flowers and lighting fixtures, when considering their level of decorative potential. Because of this aspect, they are more affordable for people of varied financial capacities and foster greater freedom in interior design.

Number Of Variety

Various options are accessible regarding balloons' forms, sizes, and hues. The inherent adaptability of decorators enables them to customize the designs they create to correspond to the intended atmosphere or theme they are attempting to create. Yellow balloon decorations cover many options, from simple arches and columns to sophisticated sculptures and centrepieces. These possibilities can be found across the spectrum of the balloon decoration world.

Everyone's Favourite

In addition to the aesthetic appeal they provide, balloons can evoke sensations of joy and excitement. The bright colours of these products immediately lift one's mood and encourage a sense of celebration in one's surroundings. Children, in particular, have a high affinity for participating in recreational activities involving balloons since these objects can serve several purposes, such as facilitating various games or serving as desirable keepsakes during celebratory gatherings. Since this, children have a strong affinity for engaging in recreational activities that involve balloons.

Environmentally Friendly

It is important to point out that balloons have a higher level of environmental friendliness when compared to other decorative materials such as plastic or paper streamers, which commonly wind up in landfills after being used and are, therefore, not as environmentally friendly as balloons. Balloons can be deflated and reused on several occasions before being disposed of appropriately.

In conclusion, dark green balloons appear as a superior option for decorations due to their ability to generate happiness and enthusiasm, their cost-effectiveness, their adaptability in design possibilities, and the fact that they retain an environmentally sensitive approach. It is highly recommended that you consider the use of balloons when planning future events or trying to improve the overall aesthetic appeal of your living space. For more details, please click here.

#Yellow balloons #yellow and blue balloons #Green balloons #sage green balloons #emerald green balloons #dark green balloons #balloon arch

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yuri-cocaine · 1 year ago

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ffxivwrite 2023: ring

Sharlayan cake was just like every other kind of Sharlayan fare—bland. Even this wedding cake had about as much taste as chewing on cardpaper. The pastel pink fondant was as hard as dried clay, and it wasn’t even sweet. Yuma nibbled on the driest slice of cake she had ever had in her life, and she was reminded of the hardtack she used to have in Rabanastre.

Professor Tankin and Hinageshi decided to host their wedding in the Searcher’s Meet, and everyone was invited to the impromptu celebration. It was charming in a clumsy, bookish way. Instead of fancy glassware, guests had paper cups full of iced tea and juice. The wedding cake was appropriately pink with fondant roses and fondant doves, bought for about thirty gil at a random greengrocer’s at the last minute. An alchemy student loomed over the punch bowl, stirring something neon green and fizzling. A cluster of anthropology TAs were furiously huffing and puffing into balloons, and a department professor confident in their tenure let loose a dozen mammets blaring wedding ballads at maximum volume.

The food was mostly take-out from the Last Stand, and along with her slice of boring cake, Yuma also had a small plate of popoto wedges and a paper cup of fizzy green drink. She took a curious sip, and found that it was flavored like grapes of all things.

Hinageshi, the beaming bride, looked radiant in her wedding dress. One of her friends wore a moogle hat and acted as the officiator moogle. She brought out the rings, and the bride and groom put them on. They were silver bands fitted with gently glowing crystals, elegant in their simplicity.

After the Scions publicly disbanded, Yuma had helped around the Studium gathering samples for various professors, among them Professor Tankin and Hinageshi. Hinageshi had always apologized profusely for asking Yuma to travel around, but Yuma was sick and tired of the sages at Physis Technon constantly fussing over her wellbeing, and was more than happy to have to any excuse to get away. When the party died down around midnight, Tankin and Hinageshi loaded Yuma with all the leftovers as well as a good chunk of the wedding gifts as thanks for the help she provided them. There were gift cards for various shops in the Agora, as well as practical items such as new pens, pencils, notebooks.

Yuma smiled, and wished them a blessed and eternally happy marriage. Her eyes flicked to Hinageshi’s ring, and some strange emotion bubbled in her throat and caught there.

Back at her room in the Baldesion Annex, Yuma brushed her hair and thought of what to call this feeling twisting within her. It was bitter, and it stung behind her nose and eyes, and it made her ears flatten back. There was something wrong with that shining ring. There was something wrong with that happy little wedding in the Studium, surrounded by peers.

When she slept, Azem’s memories bled through her soul and into her dreams. Yuma hated witnessing bits of Azem’s life. She always awoke the next morning overcome with the most terrible grief, gasping and sobbing with ice-cold despair. Her, the so-called Bringer of Hope, having the gall to despair alone after promising hope to the greatest manifestation of despair in the stars. Azem had been dead for millenia, but her emotions still haunted her favorite shard like a bit of food stuck between teeth.

This time, the dream had engagement rings. There were three boxes: one contained a ring with a yellow diamond, one contained a ring with a gleaming amethyst, and one contained a ring with shimmering ruby. They were simple golden bands, too simple for two Convocation members and the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, but the three of them agreed that these rings were the ones they wanted.

“Well, I think our matching earrings should more than suffice,” huffed a familiar voice.

Someone laughed beside her. “Oh, come now! Rings will make it official. Er, more official than it already is, of course.”

Themis would be invited, and Erichthonios, but maybe not Lahabrea. Although if Erichthonios was going, there’s no point in not inviting Lahabrea. And if Lahabrea was going, then so would the rest of the Fourteen. Venat was going to be there too, and she would probably bring along her archivist friend from Anamnesis. It would be so funny if they just held the wedding in Akademia Anyder, maybe in Mitron’s spacious lecture hall, and gave party hats to all the shark concepts.

They split up to personally deliver invitations to everyone. Azem headed to Venat’s home with a bounce in her step, admiring her new ring.

Yuma jolted awake in filmy gray morning light. Her face was wet with tears, and she felt a desperate presence pulling at her limbs. Groaning, Yuma pushed herself up out of bed.

“Shut up,” she muttered. “Just shut up. Stop crying.”

Yuma knew what both of them wanted. The aetherial sea was right there beneath them. Every day was the same tired song and dance. They would go to the Aitiascope, ask to take the lift down into the sea, and Fourchenault or whoever was on shift would say no. Then they would leave, and come back another time. Leave, and come back.

She couldn’t even find Emet-Selch’s earring on the Tempest floor after she killed him.

Later that day, Yuma found herself at the Agora with her gift cards. She stared at the display of fashion rings Tataru sold at her boutique. With a discount, they sold for just three gil each.

#ffxivwrite2023 #emethythazem #when you write the ship name out like that it sounds like an antidepressant #yuma: i don't care if something good happened to you #it shouldve happened to me

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