#silver blankie
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Gay. Homosexual. Gay.
Anyway. Blue Blanket x Silver Circle is already taking over my brain
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#ok to reblog#digital art#my art#reblogs encouraged#mlp#mlp fim#mlp g4#mlp art#mlp oc#my little pony#mlp fanart#my litte pony friendship is magic#silver circle#blue blanket#silver blankie#oc character#ocs#oc art#my ocs#original character
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I guess it's already my mission now to find as many Hol Horse merchandise as possible. So I already have his 3 Medicos figurines, and one Banpresto keychain...
Today arrived this little tiny baby; again with that smug face:
It's a Cutie Mascot figurine, meant as a keitai (flip phone) strap, released about 10 years ago. It comes in a mystery box thing, which, since I bought it from a collector, I don't have the box to show.
Also, Polnareff ♡
Two Polnareffs, actually (my smol horse is a happy boy with his two polpols)
Of course, the whole gang:
I think I'm missing...Dio, The World, Hierophant Green and another version of Jotaro. Do I want to scavenge for the remaining 4 one day? We'll see.
After all, I only bought the set for Hol Horse. The rest were pretty much a happy bonus.
#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba#jojo figurines#hol horse#jean pierre polnareff#silver chariot#jotaro kujo#star platinum#iggy the dog#the fool#joseph joestar#noriaki kakyoin#mohammed avdol#magician red#holpol#i'm actually impressed by the details even the paintjob is decent for most of them#also kinda funny that the only villains in the whole set are just dio and hol horse#i guess hol horse was the shit back in 2012-2013#also i used my cat's blankie as a backdrop + holder because these babies cannot stand on their own
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Halloween offer. Scaramouche in a costume: ulona, Scream, Vampire any to your taste. Wants to kill us trying to find us in a big house where they threw a party. 🎃
Posts have been slow today and I'm sorry for making you and everyone wait.
(it was my laundry day ☺️ it took a bit but now I can write in clean/lavender scented sheets. Plus my favorite blankie is soft again 🥰❤️)
So here is your request.
(Albeit a bit behind schedule) ( please forgive me 🥺😖)
Jealousy was a nasty emotion. An unsightly feeling that made any respectable human look stupid and deranged. At least that's what Scaramouche had originally believed before he discovered that a certain brother of his had done the unthinkable. No. The unforgivable.
Kabukimono KNEW that Scara liked you. And yet he STILL accepted your confession and started dating you.
He didn't even attend the same university as you and still just believed he could have you when CLEARLY Scaramouche would have been the more convenient pick! It's not that they looked any different anyways...Scara could EASILY act more whiny and insufferable if he needed to, since you APPARENTLY had a type.
The audacity of the little pipsqueak.
He wouldn't let this betrayal slide.
No.
Kabukimono would pay.
YOU would pay.
And so Scara quickly began to set everything up for his revenge plan.
Getting rid of his triplet brother would be the hardest part. But he decided that it would be easiest to frame his end as a tragic accident.
Adding something he was allergic to in his food would be easiest. Especially if he hid it well and convinced kabukimono to eat after he took his medicine.
The police would see that he was already under the effects of sleeping medication. And conclude that in his dreary mental state, he must've accidentally eaten something that was deadly to him and rule his death as an accident.
It was perfect.
However, just before Scaramouche pulled it off, fucking WANDERER nearly messed it up completely by asking Scaramouche why he offered to make dinner and clearly added something to the pot that Kabu couldn't have.
He brushed it off as a mistake and assured his other kin that he would make something else but as soon as Wanderer left, Scaramouche went back to scheming.
He knew he succeeded when he got a call from the local hospital with Wanderer on the other end screaming his head off about Scaramouche being a piece of shit and accusing him of purposely harming their baby brother.
Scara just hung up.
That little shit had it coming.
But now his attention was back on you.
Beautiful, funny, charming... STUPID...you.
No. He had to remain strong.
You were clearly in the wrong. How could you not have seen the way he looked at you? The way he'd leave little gifts on your desk? The way he'd always drop EVERYTHING to spend time with you if you just as much as mentioned that you were lonely.
You did this on purpose just to fuck with him huh?
You'd regret that.
One of the most popular men on campus (Aether) had recently announced that he was going to throw a huge Halloween party at his house. Everyone who wanted to come could as he and his sister (Lumine) were well regarded for their kindness and easy going attitudes socially. Therefore the event wasn't exclusive and they made it clear that everyone going was to just have fun and have a few drinks regardless of anything going on in their lives outside.
This opportunity couldn't be better for Scara. He relished in the idea of being handed such a perfect chance to get you alone practically on a silver platter.
Now he just needed a fucking costume.
A day had passed since the party announcement and eventually Scaramouche found the time to shop for a costume. A typical store bought vampire outfit. Nothing special, he didn't plan on staying honestly. Just wanted to get you and then leave. There was no need for an elaborate or expensive costume.
However once Scaramouche arrived at the party, he realized that finding you might be more of an issue than he originally considered.
Aether and Lumine clearly came from a well off family to put it simply. Their home was nothing short of an old money mansion that had more square feet to it than the number of citizens in the town. And as Scaramouche crept inside the painted giant oak doors along with the rest of the crowd, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he took in the giant foyer and circular iron staircase as well as the high ceilings and marble floors.
Where the hell were you in this absolutely unnecessary amount of likely inherited living space?
Scaramouche slowly made his way through the crowd of guests and made it upstairs safely. Pausing to look below only once as his heart practically stopped.
Wanderer had just entered.
He wasn't dressed up either and he had his phone out which meant only one thing.
He was looking for Scara.
Quickly Scaramouche fled from the stairs to the upstairs hall. A long corridor with six doors lining the walls in total. He could hear voices and the muffled sounds of people fucking, however as he crept closer to the end of the hallway, he managed to catch your voice finally.
However it was coming from the stairs.
Fuck.
Scaramouche crept back towards the top. Careful to not make much of a scene as he tried to blend in with everyone else he passed and appear nonchalant.
What were you wearing?
He heard you laughing then. Sharply turning his head to face the group of people that were drinking and chatting near the railing. However he couldn't spot which one was you. He saw two men dressed as a cartoon character and an actual banana. The rest of the group consisted of 5 women. Three were wearing generic witch costumes while the other two were some kind of robot and a maid.
Scaramouche tried peering at their faces but was quickly given a look and was forced to look away. Not that he had had much time anyway as he glimpsed Wanderer coming up the steps too.
Scara hurried away.
He guessed you were probably one of the witch girls he didn't see very closely and ducked into a closet nearby to wait out Wanderer while also spying on you and your two friends.
You sounded drunk. But oddly enough it was almost cute to him. The way you laughed at stupid things and sang along to the music playing downstairs. Going as far as to poorly mimic the sound of the instruments with your own voice as you gave little care to your surroundings.
Eventually you wandered off. And so did Scara's brother thankfully.
He tried to trail you now. The knife he had brought still safely tucked into his pocket as he struggled to guess which room you were in now.
Scaramouche couldn't wait to make you pay for playing with his emotions like you did. Just the idea of seeing your pretty face contorted with fear as you struggled to move underneath him while he pinned you down. He could just hear the sounds of your adorable shrieks of pain and terror as he plunged the blade into your chest. The satisfaction he would feel, knowing that HE had been the last face you saw. The last man that would be in your mind as your eyes dulled and your body slowly bled out beneath him.
Finally you would know how he felt when he saw you with his brother at that stupid park that day.
The suffering he had been put through. The pain in his chest that YOU had inflicted upon him.
Scaramouche crept into the first empty room. Nothing. Just some random girl that lay passed out on the floor. Some other girl was clearly high as she sat on the bed staring at the ceiling blankly.
He shut the door angrily.
He heard you talking again.
The end. She's near the end of the hallway.
However before Scaramouche could head that way, he glimpsed a blue and white hoodie out of the corner of his eye and immediately ducked back into the room he had just left as Wanderer passed by the door and greeted you as you spotted him.
"Wawan! You came! Wait where's Kabu? Is he busy or something? I really needed to see him today."
"he's fine. He just had a really bad allergy attack yesterday. He's at home resting now. By the way, have you seen Scaramouche anywhere? I need to discuss something with him but I can't find him."
"no. I haven't. I thought he didn't like parties so I didn't bother looking for him."
"don't worry about it then. It's no big deal anyway. Just text me if you do see him. Have fun Y/N. I'll see you next week."
Finally he left after that.
Scaramouche quickly made his move.
However you were fucking gone AGAIN by the time he got to the end of the hall and picked the lock on the furthest door.
Swearing to himself and turning back around, he spotted your hat above the crowd and quickly stalked after you as you went back downstairs.
Several people were suspicious of him now as he had done nothing but creep around and hide since he had arrived and as he followed you into the kitchen, more heads turned his way.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This was NOT as easy as he thought it would be.
Scaramouche quickly put on a fake smile as he pretended to be grabbing some pizza and ate it in the corner as he kept his eyes glued on you.
Your long dark hair fell over your plump ass in the most sensual way in his opinion. Your smooth skin glistened in the harsh bright lights. The way your soft voice sounded so breathy and kind even now as you slurred your words and tried to hug someone only to spill your drink on yourself.
Your thin black dress clung to your hips and emphasized your full figure beautifully as you struggled to wipe off the excess beverage from your chest with a napkin someone handed you.
Gods how Scaramouche could just feel his cock harden in his pants at the thought of being able to yank down that tight dress and expose your fat tits to him as he leaned down and gently bit one of your nipples between his teeth.
But no. He couldn't. You didn't want him.
You wanted his lousy and probably terrible lay of a brother instead.
Scaramouche struggled to understand what you even saw in that brat as he followed you out the back of the kitchen and through the small hallway behind it. You were heading for the bathroom at the end and he knew it was now or never.
If Scaramouche couldn't have you.
No one would.
You stumbled through the door just as he lunged in after you. Quickly shutting it and locking you both inside.
You had no idea what was going on.
"oh Scara! I thought you were at home with your brothers. Sorry I really need to pee. Can you wait outside for your turn in the bathroom? I don't feel comfortable with you while I'm here too.
Suddenly Scaramouche grabbed you by your shoulders and flipped you around. Pinning you against the bathroom wall as he swiftly pulled out his knife and held it to your throat.
"I'll bet you would be just fine if I were Kabukimono though hmm? You'd let HIM be in here with you wouldn't you?"
Scaramouche's hand shook as he pressed the blade into your tender flesh. A thin crimson line forming as he continued.
"so did you have your fun? Did you and him just LAUGH it up as you joked about how PATHETIC I must've looked trying so hard to get your attention for so long?"
"S-Scara... please you don't understand! We're not together!" You pleaded.
He just rolled his eyes.
"yeah right. I SAW you two meet up after evening class last month. DON'T fucking lie to me bitch."
"I'm not lying! Check my phone if you don't believe me!"
Scaramouche paused. Inching the blade away from your neck just a little.
"what? What do you mean?"
"just look. I didn't know how else to try and talk to you. So I befriended Kabu in hopes that he'd help me figure out how to spend more time with you." Your voice trembled. You shook physically as Scaramouche felt his entire inside grow cold.
No way.
He pulled your phone from your purse and easily unlocked it. Scrolling through your messages. His entire face went blank.
Shit.
He fucked up.
BEYOND fucked up.
You suddenly began to cry.
"please don't kill me! I didn't mean to make you mad! I thought you hated me because we never talked! Please just let me leave! I wanna go home!"
Scaramouche's heart raced.
No no.
This was bad.
You'd NEVER talk to him again after this.
You'd probably even call the police.
Wanderer would hear the story and put two and two together as to what happened to Kabukimono.
He'd absolutely beat the shit out of him and that was if Scaramouche DIDN'T get the shit beat out of him in prison first for two counts of attempted murder!
He knew he was fucked.
And so he gave in to the thoughts in his head.
"I'll let you go. But first..."
Scaramouche pulled you back against him as he continued to hold the knife to your throat. His free hand grasped your boob as he leaned in and gently nibbled the side of your neck.
"If I never get the chance to touch you after this, I want to enjoy myself tonight."
Using his blade, Scaramouche then brought the weapon downward and cut open the front of your dress. Your nipples grew hard as the cool air hit them. Your pussy getting wet despite the circumstances.
You tried to push Scara away from you but he clung on tightly. His entire arm wrapped around your waist as he pushed you towards the floor. Once down, he slapped your ass HARD as he pulled down the back of your dress next and exposed more of you to his predatory gaze.
His eyes linger on your curves as you feel his hand carefully trace the outline of your sex through the fabric of your panties. Cupping your pussy as he pulled your hair aside and kissed your neck again. Leaving a small trail down your back as his lips stopped on your ass cheek. He then gave it another slap before suddenly cutting away your underwear too.
Your glistening sex was a sight to behold. So wet and plump. So warm and inviting. Scaramouche couldn't help but give your lower lips a little lick as he dug his hands into your hips and pulled you against his face.
"Scara~" you whine. His tongue is deep inside of you then. He doesn't stop.
He laps at your delicate inner walls greedily even as you writhe on the floor. Your drunk body doing very little as you slump against the bathroom tile. The pleasure being too much for you in your current mental state.
You hear him sigh and moan a little against your cunt as he gives some attention to your clit next. Licking in a small circular motion as he makes your legs shake. Only stopping when you cry out and your juices squirt into his mouth.
Scaramouche swallows every drop hungrily as sits up and then flips you finally. Settling between your thighs as he frees his cock and teases your opening with the head.
"Scara you can't...I could get pregnant ~" you moan. Your words simply go in one ear and out the other as he slides into you roughly.
"good. If you do, everyone will know who this pussy belongs to and no one will DARE take you from me. Besides..." He picks up the pace. Yanking your knees up further as he fucks deeper into you.
"I think you'd look so cute all swollen with my child." He places a hand on your lower abdomen as he begins to go even faster now. His climax quickly approaching.
You moan and gasp as he hits your sweet spots repeatedly. Causing your lower body to tighten as you feel yourself cumming again. This time alongside Scara.
He takes a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out of you. Your body limp from the assault as you lay completely spent on the floor before him.
Fuck.
There was no coming back from this.
Scaramouche pulled out his phone and shot Wanderer a quick text. Telling him everything before tossing it over his shoulder and going back to focusing on you.
You were clearly still intoxicated. But your face was glowing as the aftermath of your orgasm still has you relaxed and tired. Scaramouche knew he'd be in deep shit for this. All of this.
But he still had one plan in mind.
He slid himself back into your tight heat and began to thrust into you once more. Your soft moans already driving him wild. And this would just be the beginning.
Before the night was over either Wanderer or the police would arrive for him. Or maybe both. But that didn't matter anymore.
Scaramouche still had a good 45 minutes with you before anyone would find you both.
That was plenty of time to ensure that at least when he was behind bars, that you and your body would be forever marked by him.
And that he'd have a new son or daughter waiting for him upon his release.
#genshin impact#wanderer#wanderer x female reader#smut#wanderer smut#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#wanderer x reader#genshin wanderer#scara x reader#scaramouche smut#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#genshin scara#scara
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Just some baby ideas that I (hopefully) will (eventually) draw!
Riddle as a little baby and kid was in and out of the hospital. I feel he was a premie baby, and really struggled for a few years. He’s obviously better now, but a lot of his younger years were spent in hospitals and sickly.
Trey working the counter, and younger Crewel buying something, and just fawning over the cute baby! And Trey being like “can I takes you order!” And “fank you!” As he waves at Crewel with his arms FULL of baked goods! He bought them out, just so he could stay with the baby longer!
Cater playing with a camera, I bet he LOVED being his sisters camera man much more than their dress up doll. He liked pictures cause he can go through them and remember stuff!
Deuce just being a mama’s boy. Helping carry anything and everything, though the grocery bag drags on the ground, trying to cook and burning the eggs, picking flowers for her.
Ace just following his brother like a duckling, copying whatever his big brother does! (Silver doing this with Lilia too!)
Leona also having a nice relationship with his brother, but his brother is probably a little overbearing as many kids can be. Leona is such a cat he needs his space sometimes, but Falena just loves his baby bro so much!
Ruggie helping granny with laundry, and cleaning. Also crying cause he ate all the food, and it’s gone, he knows he ate it, but he wanted more! Oh! Ruggie was probably a messy eater, sprinkles and frosting everywhere!
Jack doggy paddling, Jack chasing his tail, Jack playing with squeaky toys, just Jack being a little puppy!
Azul helping cook, and run the restaurant! I like the idea that he would make pretend food and feed the customers the “special” he cooked up! Showing people to their tables, and helping taste test food! As well as his first Father’s Day present for his step dad!
Jade And Floyd just being brothers, fighting, stealing, arguing, but also just having so much fun together. Being silly and having fun.
Kalim chewing shiny jewelry, and just being a silly baby. I also like the idea he would run through the fountain with his nice party clothes, right before the party!
Jamil probably adored having his hair done by his mama, and would try to do his sisters hair, but as a baby she had short hair and he couldn’t do much. Put bows all over her! I also be as a little little kid he was allowed to shine, and liked showing off to his sister.
Vil just being a cutie! He’s adorable no matter what he does! He probably wasn’t a big model as a kid, and his dad tried to protect him, but man! Holidays are fun, and he does share his holiday pictures with Vil. Not to mention Vil’s Halloween MEGA photo shoot, cause his dad is a Halloween lover!
Rook being in his outdoorsy family, learning to fish, and track, helping garden. I have a headcannon that as a toddler, and he was mad, he would go eat the mint plant (his mother’s favorite) as like a gotcha! He always felt bad and would help heal it, but three year olds don’t think far ahead.
Epel helping Granny in the kitchen, covered in flour, carefully carrying the eggs! I also bet he was a big helper with picking the apples! On his dad’s shoulders, reaching as high as he can for the shiniest apples!
Idia and Ortho! Idia holding baby Ortho, showing baby Ortho his favorite games, and his toys! Crying when Ortho drooled on his favorite stuffies, and his mama comforting while she dries the toys.
Malleus learning how to shift to his human body, and him having hiccups that make him blow small fires!
Silver and Lilia! Omg! So many ideas! I love the idea of Lilia struggling with baby Silver, as a new parent, exhausted from baby cries, panicking over every little thing, ect! Lilia also crying and having to be comforted by Silver on Silver’s first day of school.
Sebek with his little crocodile tail, and teething! I bet his home has a lot of teething damages on chairs and table legs. Bet he had a favorite blankie too! Oh! And him and Silver being friends!
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sex enjoyers poll part 2!!!! My bad for not putting Blanky on the first one, apparently there’s a cuntiness limit we hit last time 😔😔
personally I would want to fuck Francis Crozier when he was better but if I couldn’t… I’d fuck him again but when he’s going through the alcoholism withdrawals so I can sensually nurse him back to health like a baby bird except he’s a sad sweaty man (..Jopson…. I get it now….)
#francis crozier#the terror amc#terrorposting#amc the terror#tumblr polls#thomas blanky#henry collins#graham gore#stephen stanley
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Wonder in Winterland - Part IV
Hallmark!Joel x f!reader | wc: 3913 | masterlist
Series Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.
Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy, with a occasional foul language and lots of banter in the AU style of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Matchmaker!Sarah. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie.
AN: This is it, my friends. The finale to this little mini series. I wanted to have this out by Christmas Eve, but my hubs surprised me with a PS5 and a zombie apocalypse game (Days Gone) that I haven't played before. Had to pry myself away to finish this lol. Hope you enjoy and Happy New Year's to you all!
Part IV
The fire burned out overnight, leaving you chilled despite the pile of blankets covering the bed. With hurried motions, you added kindling and wood, stoking the fire until it burned steadily. Back under the covers, feet snuggled in a wonderful pair of cabin socks you picked up at the general store yesterday, you gazed at the fire, recalling the moments you shared with Joel the night before.
The moon hung high above the mountaintops, its silver glow illuminating the snow-covered fields and casting shadows on the inn’s wraparound porch. It was quiet save for the occasional creak of the wooden boards beneath your boots and the distant hoots of a Great Horned Owl. The air was crisp, but you barely noticed with Joel sitting beside you on the porch swing, the heat of his body like a furnace where it touched yours.
“I’ve been thinking about it, you know,” you said with a wistfulness to your voice, breath visible in the frosty air.
Joel’s dark eyes flicked to you, the moonlight catching the warmth pooling in those rich brown irises. “What’s that?”
“About staying,” you admitted, shifting your body to face him more fully. “I want to, more than anything.”
“So, what’s stopping you,” Joel responded with an unreadable expression.
You glanced down, twisting your fingers in your lap. “I don’t know. An over-inflated sense of responsibility, maybe. Self-inflicted expectations. My life, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is back in the city.”
He eyed you for several long moments. “Is it?” Joel’s voice was gruff and tight, the question hanging in the air between you.
Your eyes darted upwards, breath catching at the intensity in the gaze that met your own. “What are you trying to say, Joel?”
Shrugging, he glanced down at his boots. “I’m just saying,” he began, voice softening to a near rasp, “maybe your life’s wherever you decide it is. Doesn’t have to be one place or another, one thing or another.”
His words settled over you like a blanket, comforting but too thick to fully wrap your head around. “You make it sound so simple,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course, it ain’t, darlin’,” Joel replied, leaning in with an earnest expression on his handsome face. “But sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones worth makin’.”
The swing slowed to a stop as the two of you sat there, the night air thick with more than the chilly temperature. Joel’s hand rested on the edge of the swing right next to yours and you both stared as his pinky reached out, tangling with your own.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in slightly, his unique scent brushing against your senses. Joel’s eyes flicked to your lips; his breath warm against your cool skin the closer he got.
“I probably shouldn’t do this,” he murmured, yet he didn’t pull away.
“Why not?” you murmured with a trembling voice. His large hand gripped yours fully now, other fingers tangled along with your pinkies.
“Because if I do,” he said, his lips curved into a faint smile as they almost brushed yours, “I might not let you leave.”
Your eyelids just fluttered closed when the sound of the door creaking open broke the moment, and the two of you pulled back as Maria’s voice called from inside. “Joel! Are you out here? Sarah’s ready for bed.”
Joel’s eyes lingered on you as he sighed. “Guess the universe has other plans tonight.”
You laughed, the tension easing slightly as you stood and led the way inside. “Goodnight, Joel.”
“Night, darlin’,” he replied with a soft smile, watching as you climbed the stairs to your room.
Heart fluttering madly at the memory of a mere almost-kiss made you wonder how it would feel to actually kiss Joel. With his pouty lips and the bristles of his scruffy beard, you imagined kissing him would be akin to satisfying a long-held craving. You lost yourself in daydreams for a few minutes before forcing yourself from bed and down to the dining room for breakfast.
The morning sun filtered through the inn’s frosted windows, creating a soft glow in the cozy common room. You sat on the couch in front of the hearth, letting the heat from the fire lick your toes until they were nice and toasty. The other guests were still asleep while Maria hummed in the kitchen, and Tommy shuffled through the door with a sleepy greeting, his hair askew and a bundle of firewood in his arms.
You phone buzzed loudly against the wooden end table, the screen lighting up with the absolute last person you wanted to talk to – your boss. A sense of dread settled in your chest as you answered the call.
“Hi,” you said, forcing a neutral tone.
“Good morning,” your boss replied, his no-nonsense tone immediately setting you on edge. “Nice work on revamping the campaign.”
“Thanks. Is that all you called to say?” You stood from the couch, restless, glancing toward the window. A fresh layer of snow made everything seem softer, kinder, pulling once again at your heart.
Your boss scoffed. “Are you on the road yet?” he snapped, his impatience slipping through any pretense at pleasantries.
Dread flooded your gut. “Uh, not yet. My truck should be ready this morning though.”
“The owner of our largest account getting married and personally inviting you to the wedding is a big fucking deal and we cannot afford for you to miss it. Why you didn’t just get a rental car and go instead of staying in that Podunk town is beyond me—"
“Hey!” you interrupted, not caring if you cut him off. “I love that truck. My dead father left me that truck and you damn well know what it means to me.”
He caved a little, shifting to a placating tone as he said your name. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I need you back on track, your focus where it should be.”
With a heavy sigh, you gripped the phone tighter. Silence hung in the air as you prayed for patience, before you finally huffed a defeated, “Yeah, I know.”
“I’ll expect an update from the road later today. You’ll barely make it as it is,” your boss replied before the line went dead.
The temperature dropped mid-morning, the cold more biting than ever with the wind cutting through the layers you’d bundled yourself in to pick up your truck from Jimmy’s garage. The old hunk of metal, held together by little more than the blood, sweat, tears, and unending love poured into over the years, rumbled to life as Jimmy went over the repairs made.
With a heavy heart you drove back to the inn, feeling like your choice was made for you, parking the truck in the driveway to make it easier to load up your belongings. Snow started falling again, rubbing salt in the wound of having to leave. You left the truck running, wanting to make your goodbyes quick in fear that you’d cave to any pleas to say.
Maria stood by the door, her arms crossed tightly and your packed luggage at her feet. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice tinged with reluctance.
You nodded, barely able to meet her eyes and voice tight. “I’ve got to make it to San Francisco. My boss is already breathing down my neck and has made it clear what will happen if I don’t make it to this wedding.”
Tommy leaned against the porch railing, grinning despite the melancholy air. “You’ll be missed, sweetheart. You certainly left your mark, especially on that brother of mine.”
Before you could respond, Joel’s truck pulled to a stop in front of the inn and Sarah burst out of the backseat like a whirlwind. Her red beanie sat askew atop her head, and her arms clutched tightly to something as she ran toward you, “Wait! You can’t leave yet!”
You knelt to meet her as she barreled into you, holding up a small bundle of pinecone ornaments tied with a ribbon. “I made these special for you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, a sheen of tears in her eyes. “So you’ll always remember us.”
Heart clenching painfully, you clutched the young girl to you and sniffled, careful not to break the thoughtful gift. “Thank you, little bug. I could never forget you, but I will treasure these always.”
“Will we ever see you again?” she asked through a debilitating sob. “I sure hope so, bug,” you replied fighting back tears of your own. Oh, how you hoped so.
When you pulled back, Joel stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. Wide, coffee-colored eyes held yours, both of your gazes filled with a potent cocktail of emotions. “Mind if I walk you to your truck?” he asked softly. “I’ll load up your bags.”
Words failed you and you nodded, following him down the path while the others lingered on the porch pretending not to watch while they gave you the illusion of privacy. The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound for the too-short walk to the truck. Joel turned toward you, a guarded expression marred his brow, yet his eyes gave everything away – the longing, the thought of what could have been, all of it.
“You sure about this?” he asked in a low, mournful voice.
No. No, not at all.
You looked away, the ache in your chest making it hard to breathe when you looked at him. Once again reminded of all the things you have given up for sake of this damned career – this loss would be worst of them all, you knew it. “I must – you know that. I can’t just…”
Joel nodded slowly, his jaw tightening at the words you didn’t say. “I get it, I really do. But I wish—”
“Don’t say it,” you whispered, the tears brimming in your eyes spilling over. It was all too much.
He stepped closer, his presence a warm haven against the cold. The world went still, disappearing until it was only you and him under the falling snow as he took your hands in his larger, calloused ones. Your breath caught as he leaned in, dark eyes peering into your soul as he kissed the tear tracks scattered across your face.
The press of his chapped, warm lips against your cool skin made you weak in the knees. You turned your head suddenly, catching his lips with your own in a searing first kiss, one you would never forget. Forgetting yourselves, the kiss deepened, his tongue dancing along the seam of your lips until you gasped, and he licked into your mouth.
The sparks flew like nothing you ever experienced.
How could you walk away from this?
How could you afford not to?
A whoop startled the pair of you apart, chests heaving from the heady mix of want and lack of oxygen. When you peeked past Joel’s shoulder, you saw Sarah dancing across the porch, cheering and signing out your name followed by, “and Daddy sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…”
Laughter bubbled from deep within, a watery smile spreading across your well-kissed lips as you met Joel’s amused yet bittersweet gaze.
Clearing his throat, Joel pressed his lips against your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and your lips once more before stepping back to help you into the truck. Once settled, he handed you a slip of paper with his phone number and address written in block print. “Please, drive safe. And don’t forget us because we will never forget you, darlin’.”
“Thank you, Joel,” you breathed, “for everything. You and your family made an impression, I could never forget you. I’ll call, I promise.”
He shut your door with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, patting the hood of the truck as you threw it into reverse. Your vision swam as you backed out of the driveway, rear tires slipping a bit in the fresh powder. You couldn’t look back, tapping the horn twice as you drove off, tears cascading down your face.
The winding snow-covered road stretched for miles ahead, flanked by towering evergreens that seemed to close in on you the further you drove away from the Millers. The ornaments Sarah made for you sat on the passenger seat, a bittersweet reminder of what you were leaving behind. The town’s charm and warmth that once loomed large, now grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and with it, your spirits. A bittersweet ache built up with every mile that separated you from the life and people you didn’t want to leave behind.
What the hell were you doing?
You thought it was the right thing, to get to that wedding, to return to your life back in NYC. So, why did it feel so wrong to leave Winterland and all it offered behind? The pit of your stomach ached.
Your phone buzzed with a text notification – your boss sending another sharp reminder of the importance of what awaited you in both San Francisco and New York City. You glanced at the screen only long enough to read the first few words, your blood pressure already spiking from the stress of everything weighing down on you. When your eyes returned to the road, a massive shape appeared in the middle of the road in front of you.
A moose, more massive than you thought any North American four-legged animal had a right to be, stood stock still in the road, enormous body taking up both lanes, dark form stark against the white snow.
“Holy shit!”
You pumped the brakes like your father taught you, the old truck not equipped with antilock brakes, your mind racing in the milliseconds that passed. There was no way around the moose, and you hoped you could stop the truck in time, the thought of hitting the breathtaking creature shattering your already fractured heart. The brakes locked up after all, the truck skidding on the icy road.
The moose bolted into the trees as you fought valiantly to regain control and the vehicle fishtailed, but it was a lost cause. Every movement of your hands on the steering wheel an over-correction, the truck spun sideways before slamming into a snowbank with a sickening crunch. Your head whipped to the side, striking the driver’s side window hard enough to make stars explode behind your eyes.
The truck shuddered before dying, and for a moment, everything went silent except for the faint hiss of the hot engine against the cold precipitation. Pain pulsed through your head, sharp and disorienting, as you struggled to regain your bearings.
Shaky hands searched the cab for your phone, finding it wedged in the bench seat, as the adrenaline drained from your system. You fumbled to unlock it, pulling the slip of paper Joel handed you earlier to type in his phone number, the numbers blurring. You had just enough signal to call for help.
“’Lo?” Joel’s crisp, deep voice rumbled through the phone, and you were both relieved and pained to hear it. Your head hurt so damn much, competing with the pain in your heart.
“Joel?” You fought to keep the tears from falling, but the effort strained your throat, clouding your voice.
“Darlin’? What’s wrong?” The urgency in his voice steadied you somehow. Sucking in a deep, rattling breath, you replied, “I need help.”
You needn’t say any more, already hearing Joel unlock his truck as he demanded, “Where are you? I’ll be right there.”
You gave him the closest approximation of your location, out by the highway. You hadn’t gotten too far in your failed attempt to leave Winterland.
“Stay put, sweetheart. I’m on my way.”
“Shit! Tommy!” Joel yelled frantically for his brother as his truck pulled up behind yours with a spray of snow and ice. The two men jumped out, boots crunching against the ice as they ran to you.
“Darlin’?” he called, his voice urgent yet strong as he wrenched the driver’s side door open. Tommy fetched your belongings while Joel helped you, stowing them away in Joel’s truck.
You blinked at Joel with slightly blurred vision. “I’m okay,” you mumbled, though the knot on your forehead and the associated throbbing suggested otherwise.
Wide, dark eyes scanned your face, his expression tightening when he noticed the bump, a small gash visible in the center. “You hit your head,” he replied, voice low and soft like he was handling a hurt puppy. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“Joel, I’m fine—”
“Can you stand? Walk?” he questioned doubtfully. Joel helped you out of the truck, large hand steadying you with a warm and reassuring grip. You wobbled, head spinning, proving his point that you needed to go to the hospital. “No arguments, darlin’. We’re going to the ER.”
Tommy climbed into the backseat with your luggage as Joel helped you into the front passenger seat. You were shaking, half from the cold and half from the dissipation of adrenaline, and Joel reached over to turn your seat warmer on and covered you with his warm coat after buckling you in.
“The hospital is in the next town over. Shouldn’t take long to get there though,” Tommy assured while Joel worked his way around the truck to climb behind the wheel.
The ride was quiet except for Joel occasionally checking on you and the soft rumble of Tommy’s voice as he updated Maria. Joel’s grip on the steering was tight, knuckles white and jaw set as if holding back a storm of worry as he navigated the icy roads with precious cargo.
The small-town ER was surprisingly empty when Joel pulled up, rushing inside to get a wheelchair for you as Tommy helped you out of the truck. Once inside, the staff whisked you into an exam room, collecting information along with your vitals.
The sterile brightness of the hospital room felt jarring, and you scrunched your eyes against the harsh light. A nurse held an ice pack to your head with gentle pressure while Joel hovered nearby. His concerned smiles were a constant, grounding force.
“Looks like you have a mild concussion,” the doctor diagnosed after some assessment. “I’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”
Opening your mouth to protest, Joel jumped in. “She’ll stay,” he said firmly, holding your gaze as he spoke to the doctor. To you, he added, “No arguments this time.”
You fell back against the reclined hospital bed with a sigh. “Fine,” you muttered, the edges of your irritation softening when Joel pulled up a chair and sat beside you.
After receiving some medicine for the pain, you were allowed to doze off for short periods of time. The nurse came in at various intervals to check vitals as the day turned to late afternoon, Joel never leaving your side.
The buzzing of your phone stirred you from a light doze and you grumbled. It felt like you just fell asleep, dammit. Joel picked the phone up, scowling at the screen. “It’s your boss,” his deep voice a rumbling whisper as he handed you the phone.
Dread coiled in your stomach as you answered, turning the volume down to ease the lingering headache.
“You didn’t check-in,” your boss snapped in lieu of a greeting. “How far along are you?”
Teeth clenched, you spat back, “I was in a car accident. Didn’t get very far. I’m still in the hospital.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said under his breath, though you heard every word. “That’s unfortunate. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve let me – and our biggest client, I might add – down. If you would have gotten back on the road when I told you to, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Silence settled for several long moments as you fought back tears and wracked your staticky brain for a suitable response. When nothing came, your boss heaved a frustrated sigh.
“If you can’t handle your responsibilities, maybe this isn’t the job for you,” he said with finality.
His words cold and detached, they struck harder than the crash. You sat there, phone pressed to your ear and staring into Joel’s kind eyes, as the weight of everything pressed down until something finally snapped.
“You know what?” you replied, voice calm yet firm. “You’re right. This isn’t the job for me.”
“What?”
“I quit,” you said simply, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders even as the words left your mouth. “Consider it one less thing to worry about.”
Joel’s eyebrows shot up, and though he tried to hide it, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“This is ridiculous—” your boss began, but you cut him off. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Brad,” you spat, ending the call before he could respond.
Joel stared at you, eyes sparkling with barely concealed joy, the worry that clouded them earlier giving way to something brighter. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and sweet, the weight of unspoken relief slipping through in his tone.
“Never better,” you said, the realization dawning even as the words left your lips. “I think this accident was a sign that I shouldn’t leave. And him calling to scold me over it just sealed the deal. I’ve wanted to tell Brad to fuck off for so very long.”
Joel’s laugh was low and warm, his hand reaching out to brush yours in a gesture so simple yet full of meaning that your breath hitched. “Good,” he said, smile growing until the corners of his eyes crinkled. “That guy sounded like a real horse’s ass.”
A surprised burst of laughter filled the room, the sound breaking the tension that had been building in your chest for days. “He really is,” you admitted, your fingers curling slightly against his.
Joel’s hand tightened around yours, his expression turning serious, yet the warmth of his gaze never wavered. “So, you’re really going to stay?”
“I am,” you smiled at the warm, certain feeling in your stomach. “I just need to find a job and somewhere to live and move all my stuff from New York and…”
Joel didn’t let you finish. He moved with purpose, slipping into the hospital bed with you. His broad form barely fit, but neither of you cared. His lips met yours in a kiss that was soft yet full of promise, sending warmth cascading through you.
When he pulled back, his voice was low and steady. “We’ll figure all that out after the holidays, darlin’. Until then, you can stay with me and Sarah to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s the way you’re supposed to – with family”
The mention of Sarah made your chest tighten with joy. “She’s going to be over the moon,” you murmured, the thought of her bright smile filling your heart with a new kind of warmth.
Joel smiled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “So am I.”
Hope bloomed in your chest, mingling with the beginning flutters of something a lot like love. You clung to it with every fiber of your being, realizing that maybe this was the moment your heart had been waiting for all along.
What else, other than the magic of Christmas, could be responsible for turning a simple traffic delay and breakdown on a snowy highway into something so special?
the end
tag list (i included anyone who previously commented, requested, or I thought might like to be added, but please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @abirdsnest @brittmb115 @harrysrosetatto @carolineesnell @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @lovely-vamp-princess @kyberblade @bluestar22x
#hallmark christmas movie inspired#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fluff#fluff and humor#ppcu fanfiction#hallmark!joel#BlueChristmasWritingChallenge2024
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silver but hes in blanky. and cozy
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"Welcome, this is Yokohama News. I'm your local host, Kurata Aketomo!"
"Now onto our recap! Welp, today's been very chill!
Just as it has been happening frequently in recent times, @mama-bird-kyola is still adopting people left and right!
@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency let an alien (@the-better-hedgehog) into the agency!
@bloody-storm arrived in Yokohama and has already aquired two new employees who... seem to not get along-? Oh dear, battle of the simp anons! Did I get the cool-kids-slang right?
@flawless-curry seems to have shaved! @discourse-on-decadence is in shambles! They're also discussing their kids!
@the--heeler--sisters have revealed they don't know where their parents are! Poor kids...
@currentlyeatingrocks has begun smoking!?
@akikohakamura arrived in Yokohama! Good luck on getting back to Tokyo!
@nosamu-dontzai is sick and being visited by @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency!
@tiny-silver-dragon and @there-might-be-demons have been shrunk!
@yoshiko-and-the-hikikomori is still rotting in front of his 'puter! Someone please force that one to touch grass...
@groves-meadow is still failing at scaring people! Her latest victim was @leaderofthemafia!
@yoshiko-the-blankie ate fish tank gravel again! @fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency is not amused...
Someone named *checks notes* Shiji has died and @fuck-it-go-my-fyodor-rp-blog took his place!
@leaderofthemafia found yet another kid!
@fallbackin-time has found out that @watch-time-flow won't pay child support for their cat!
Special shout out to: @dial-operator, @la-matrone, @redpaintingsonawhitewall and @soakeduniform who are quite new to the city! Welcome in Yokohama!
Did I miss any news? Feel free to send in a message!"
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Hi I am Exceedingly Curious about leg theory but tumblrs search function is the only search bar that exclusively shows you things that AREN'T what you're looking for. May I have a link to an explanation of Leg Theory?
leg theory is the brainchild of the excellent and esteemed @catilinas and in short it is A Collection of Thoughts regarding Seafaring, Identity, Curses and Rituals, Sacrifice, and a Significant Leg Injury or Incident!
notable incidences of leg theory include: odysseus when scar on leg, john franklin's / thomas blanky's / ???'s legs in the terror, john silver's leg in treasure island & black sails, a good 45% of what's going on in moby dick, and that time my dad fell through a hatch on a sailboat and fractured his tibia in a way that was quite interesting for his character development.
other and perhaps more coherent explanations about leg theory can be found here, here, and here, and for Grasping At The Vibes of When It's Leg, I highly recommend perusing the 'leg theory' tags on either of the fine blogs I have linked!
#answers from the cupola#leg theory#I Highly Suspect this ask is pertaining to That One Hornblower Fic which is Me Trying To Apply Leg Theory Concepts to William Bush#because hornblower Has leg theory but it does not have Quite so much leg theory as some of these other things#but actually. if you start brainstorming and saying sentences hornblower can be really really leg theory if you Believe#hornblower/bush as the mind/flesh dichotomy and following through with that on the phrase 'weaknesses of the flesh'#if bush is the mortal man and hornblower is the detached mind then bush is vulnerable to physical injury in a way that hh is not#thus -> leg#hornblower removing the stitches from bush's leg wound -> grounding himself as the priest in this sacrifice#& in a way the instigator of the issue#And Also I am playing on that in the fic what with hornblower actually being the god of the sacrifice as well / the paragon of the navy#something something demeter and pelops. I Don't Know.#<- this got long and weird but it is a better explanation of leg theory that way I think. 🦵
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ffrmc day 24: short and sweet
heart in hand by aes3plex
g | fitzier, james & blanky | 1k | post canon, secret marriage, reunion
A glint of light off Fitzjames’s hand and Tom turns his head to see it better—a ring, sure enough. Nothing special: silver; hands, heart and crown. Fitzjames seems a gold-seal man but there it is, not especially well made or lovely, on his finger. (Or: Thomas Blanky has a keen eye, an open mind, and an extremely exasperating friend.)
one of Thee fitzier starter packs imho. so simple and well-studied, with an astonishing blanky voice. the prequel too is a gem, and one i read to give me all the warm fuzzies.
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Here at Fort Blankie, dedicated to the saintess of A Full Eight Hours of Sleep, we don't really have guards. If someone invades and they look a little cranky, we just flip a switch that floods the halls with dream mist and collectively pass out. With the invading army. Everyone deserves a nap, okay, either they'll reconsider when they wake up or they don't and we just kind of nudge the bodies into the peat bog of eternal oblivion. Technically we're supposed to be guarding this huge shiny silver bow until a champion of our Lady comes along in her hour of greatest need, but it's a pretty cozy job? And there's like. Fifty thousand traps in here that also trigger the dream mist. Most of them even work.
And if someone does steal the bow somehow... they still have to get out, right? And the lights are really dim, and the bodies in the marsh sing very softly. There's really nothing to worry about. Coziest job in the world.
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6, 18, and 20 for your regressuary project pleeeease? c:
THANK YOU SCHNUGGS I AM LIVING FOR THESE QUESTIONS!
6. Are they a stuffie or a blankie kid?
Silver is most definitely in possession of both, but I think he favors stuffies when sleeping, but blankies when out and about. He definitely feels less guilty about putting a blankie through the washing machine than putting a friend (stuffie) through the same process.
18. Do they take naps?
Ohhhh, Silver definitely needs them but rarely takes them, especially at first! He’s scared of being seen as “too babyish” and therefore wants to come across as a big kid whenever possible. But Lance loves it when Silver feels small enough to simply cuddle up into Lance’s side and just take a nap. Silver just needs to gain that trust first!
20. What is age regression to them?
The important, all-encompassing question. Silver regresses for a combo of reasons, and most of them are related to the disconnect from his father. It’s not that he wants to relive his childhood, but he wants to be a kid in a space where that’s allowed and encouraged, which was never around his father’s space. He loves when he’s allowed to just be himself, whoever that is, he loves coloring and drawing and creating without a very clear, intent purpose. He’s a little insecure about it, poor baby, but Lance will always make sure he feels safe and secure when he goes little.
Thank you for these! I love getting to talk a little about the project (not necessarily spoiler-free, but certainly not detailing how spoiler-heavy it might be)!
Ask me about my Regressuary Project!
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DCC Challenge, Day 11
Time To Floor Collapse: 19 days, 5.1 hours (give or take)
Time for the recap episode!
Crawler @quartzandsundry
New Achievement! What's Going On?
When the chaos has ramped up to Threat Level You Better Run, the only place you want to be is ...not there. Or at the very least, not visible.
Reward: A gold Makes Me Wanna Holler box! Inside, an enchanted ring of Invisibility, a tome of Personal Shield (casts a sphere of radius 1.5 meters from caster's center mass, diameter can be extended 1 meter per 5 points of caster's INT with a corresponding increase of 30% mana cost over previous level) and a scroll of Moveable Feast (grants up to 30 party members/allies a full day of nutrition and Good Rest.)
Crawler @kathrynalexao3:
New Achievement! Spa Day!
Congratulations, it only took your party threatening to misappropriate Cairfrey's Yog's Special Chain and Oreniaa's heirloom William Shatner handcuffs to get you to address that Exhaustion debuff! You CAN take a hint! (when it's applied with a warhammer)
Reward: A gold Crime and Unwind box! Inside, an alchemical candle of Sleep (area of effect 1000 cubic feet, duration: 6 hours, scent: Authentic Common Scents Campfire), a Bed Upgrade to an Ultra-Stabilized, Size-Adjustable, Race-Adjustable Alleviating Sleep Apparatus, a really soft blankie in Mongoliensis Magenta, and a bottle of glitter Claw Polish in Purple Pain! give plus +5 to climbing and other skills related to navigating challenging terrain. And also raking people with them. Don't forget your toesies!
Crawler @king-ofconfusion:
New Achievement! Mass Extinction Event!
So that extremely elusive mob you were hunting? Has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, they've realized that you're a walking expiration date? Good job, crawler! You have materially decreased the number of Curly-corded Earworm Ringers in the dungeon!
The reward for good work, alas, pretty much always involves more work. Keep grinding away in that training room on those Track and Locate skills, and maybe yet you'll find the alchemist - or at least, components - you're after.
Reward: A silver Tommy Tutone box! Inside, a tome of 8675309 - a variant on Ping, 8675309 keeps a location active on its target. Also includes scrolls of Angel Say No, a shield against Bless/Banish actions from hostile cleric-class NPCs and crawlers, and enchanted Gym Socks of Runnin' Down a Dream, allowing skills related to motion to train 50% faster when worn (on your FEET. No shenanigans to try and get your own Legendary weapon. We've patched that.)
Crawler @oreniaa:
New Achievement! Snake Eyes!
The lunar New Year of the Snake is a year of looking past unfortunate associations to the beauty and wisdom beneath, to see as an oracle does, what is true and beautiful in a world that very seldom values truth or beauty when it comes in an unexpected shape (snortgasplaughs "comes" gigglesuncontrollably).
Go forth and as an oracle, delight and amaze with the wisdom right before everyone's eyes, if they could only see (that's highlighted for your party, who may not have witnessed the oracle)
(ten YEARS, oh my god. someone get that guy a crate of Sliquid.)
Reward: A gold YEARNING box! Inside is a tome of Charm Critter, Enhanced Pet Biscuit x3, and the earnest hope that all your communications are received with the clarification you intended them. And a very short red A-line dress and knee-high black boots. While I tend to appreciate more the NATURAL beauty of the foot, unencumbered, I have to say, that's a LOT of boot. Mreow!
Crawler @cairfrey :
New Achievement! Gone Girl!
There's something so much more frightening about what people come up with in their own mind, when a scrape of a pebble, a breath of air current, a passing shadow. Everything looks more mundane in the light.
What you can't see has SO much easier a time of killing you. But goddamn, does it make coming up with the clip show a pain in the ass. People don't want to just see the mess left behind, they want to see the magic happen!
(it is hard to disagree with success though)
Reward: A gold Invisible Touch box! Inside, an enchanted Leather Hauberk of Silence, granting Dexterity +5 and additional 15% bonus to Pass without Trace and Stealth skills, and an enchanted Explosive Shrapnel bolt! Once loaded, until removed will continunously reload a crossbow/mangonel style shooting weapon. Targets will receive the Suffering Bleed and Blood Trail debuffs.
Crawler @deathdovesong
New Achievement! "One of our best surgeons. A real killer!"
While as has been noted before, I tend more towards disassembly than repair. But I do respect hustle. And still having the energy, and frankly the give-a-damn, after a long day grinding trash mobs, taking the time and your own Exhaustion debuff to get an allied crawler to treat their Curse debuff before getting yourself to a saferoom is good recap, crawler. Everyone likes a good nail-biter!
Reward: a legendary Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happy Hour box! Includes a Heavy Unicorn mount with tack and carrier in Army green, and enchanted patch of the M*A*S*H 4077th, granting an increase of 20% efficacy of any healing scrolls, bandages or potions used for yourself or fellow crawlers, and resistance to the Shitfaced debuff (warning: this does not, however, decrease the risk of the Addicted condition.)
Crawler @clearbrightlight
New Achievement! The Sin of Empathy!
Much as chainmail turns aside a stab, soft words turn away a blo--no, no they don't. Which means you need big, brass ones, a big stick, or both to be kind in the dungeon.
which is probably even more than the tumbling furry hordes cavorting on the beach in your vanguard the reason people should get the FUNK outta your way. Get blessed, idiots!
Reward: A Gold Love Hurts box! Inside, find Enchanted Fae Scale Chausses of the Fleet (Biped Edition, basically chainmail chaps), +5 to Dexterity, and enchanted Bracers of The Amazons (casts I Need My Personal Space when crashed together) Because the best armor? Don't get hit in the first place!
Crawler @lazyscience:
New Achievement: Delores Don't sPlAT!
So you made the rounds, checked on allied crawler morale, settled down to some grinding and just when you thought the PAT was defeated, it Cockroaches back up and you have to beat it AGAIN in a different form! Fuck! U Can't Touch This is still roaring up from the south!
Reward: Knock some shit out tomorrow, and do your taxes, and you can buy blitz sticks. It's a stupid thing to do, but who said developing better coping skills were a linear process?
ATTENTION, all partied crawlers! Don't forget to update me on mobs, quests, or parties (defined at link) so I can award you achievements! Please let me know either in the replies to this post, reblogging with additions, or hit my askbox/DMs!
(please, do this, even with small and silly mobs/quests, it makes giving achievements so much easier!)
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Aim True (Bridglar)
The runner-up of the "country loves songs" prompt poll was: Trick Shot
Virginia City gets cheesier every year. John is just glad the worst of the Nevada heat hasn’t made an early appearance; last year, it reached triple digits in spite of it being only May.
“Mr. Bridgens!” Three of his students wave to him from in front of the “Olde West Shooting Gallery.”
Why they’re attempting a middle English spelling in a state that never saw a British colony is beyond him, but he waves back as he crosses the road to join them.
Ostensibly, this field trip is to cap off the senior year with a celebration of Nevada history. John doubts more than a handful of students see it as anything other than a chance to spend the day browsing souvenir shops, daring each other to go into the plethora of haunted hotels, and gorging on ice cream and caramel apples. But they look forward to it, and he does like seeing the young minds he’s shepherded through AP or standard English have a day to just be young and carefree.
Principal Franklin sets only three mandatory events for the day: getting to the bus on time, getting back on the bus on time to depart, and seeing the live “Wild West” show.
The trio of students tells him all about the Silver Queen as they find seats in the open-air theater. John ends up between Franklin and James Fitzjames, the drama teacher. He wishes he’d taken a cue from VP Crozier and brought a large hat; the sun is baking his scalp, and the flies keep buzzing past his ears.
“Ladies and gentlemen, cowpokes of all ages, prepare for the wildest show this side of the Rockies!”
The crowd cheers with mild enthusiasm; it’s only the 11am show, after all. No one has had time to imbibe from the saloons lining the street. Not that John would anyway; he’d sooner die than be a derelict chaperone.
A stetson-bearing figure bursts through the central curtains and the staff, and a few of the seniors, hoot and clap. Thomas Blanky, former and much beloved shop teacher, gives an exaggerated bow before launching into the same speech he gives every year.
“Howdy folks! We’re just plum tickled you could join us all on this fine, Friday mornin’. We got a real fine show for you today full of sharp shootin, trick ropin’, and the prettiest face in the west” he winks, “the rest of my troop ain’t bad either.”
Bad accent aside, John enjoys seeing his old colleague acting the ham. Blanky runs through a handful of mildly impressive trick shots, including popping balloons taped to the hats of his fellow performers.
Next is a comedy act involving a literal dog and pony (and a cockatoo), the handler going by Irving insisting that the routine is wholesome while his co-presenter and the exotic bird do everything they can to undermine this assertion.
The third act earns an incredibly loud cheer from James and Francis, as well as from the rather odd duo behind them of Goodsir (biology) and Collins (P.E). Lady Silence, as Blanky calls her, steps onto stage, and John is tickled to see she’s sporting period-accurate Shoshone clothing. Her act consists of more elaborate trick shots, all of which she does without uttering even a peep of fear while permitting a tarantula, then a scorpion, then a rattlesnake (“really a gopher snake” Francis mutters, only to be elbowed by James) to climb on her arms and hands.
When Lady Silence is done, she’s followed off stage by the loudest cheers so far, including a “Brava” from Goodsir.
Act number four sets John's heart beating quicker; knife throwing has always struck him as one of the more dangerous endeavors one could pursue. It doesn’t help that Mr. Irving is back, looking a bit too convincingly terrified as one Mr. Hickey outlines his silhouette with knives. When both men exit in one piece, he relaxes and listens to Blanky introduce the final act.
“And now, to close out our show, the amazing, whip-smart, hawk-eyed, Harry Peglar!”
John’s heart speeds up again.
The man smiling out at the crowd with quiet showmanship and earnest excitement has the most handsome face he’s ever had the pleasure to see.
Harry tips his hat and proceeds to shoot smaller and smaller targets from the air. The coin shot is so impressive that he even hands it to Crozier to inspect before and after the shot. As he straightens and tucks the coin into his pocket, his eyes fall onto John
“For this next trick, I need a charming assistant. How about you, sir?”
John blushes, his instinct to demur, but both Franklin and James urge him forward, and so he allows Harry to pull him up onto the stage. Some of his students cheer, and he can tell without looking that many phones are pointed his way.
“What’s your name, sir?”
God, does the man have to address him that way? He can only pass so much pink off as
sunburn.
“John.”
“Tell me, John, do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Good man.” Harry claps him once, friendly, on the shoulder, “you do, however, know what one of these are?” He produces a cigarette from his pocket.
“Yes.” He smiles, “I said I don’t, not that I never.”
Audible shock from some of the students earns a laugh from the crowd.
“Are you willing to hold this in your mouth for me? It won’t be there very long.”
John obligingly parts his lips only to realize, belatedly, that Harry meant for him to take it from his fingers. Without missing a beat, the trick shooter places it against his lower lip with a grin.
“Now, John, I have another question. Do you know what this is?”
He holds a bullwhip up to the crowd to “oohs” and “ahhs.” John, slightly distracted wondering where the man had been hiding the implement, nods. He’s fairly certain James is cheering extra-excitedly; he did make John watch all four Indiana Jones films.
“Here’s what I’m going to do, John. I’m going to light that cigarette for you. And before you even have a chance to inhale, I’m going to put it out from all the way over there.” He gestures eight feet to his right.
Harry looks over his shoulder, still audible to the crowd but with clear sincerity, “Do I have your permission, John?”
He nods again, trying not to imagine all the other things he’d grant Harry permission to do if he gave him that same look once more.
“Wonderful! Let’s have some cheers for my brave volunteer!”
He uses the cacophony to huddle in close to John, who steadies the unlit cigarette steady with his fingers so the younger man can click a tarnished Zippo beneath it. Then, in a blink, he’s out of reach, unfurling the whip and testing it, bantering with the crowd but keeping his focus clearly on John.
“Ready, John?”
Not knowing what else to do and feeling too tense to nod, he offers a thumbs up.
“Hold still now, I’ll have that out for you in three, two, one.”
Crack
His ears ring, though the claps from the crown and the lack of any blood on his face tell him Harry managed his trick beautifully. He holds up the remainder of the cigarette, increasing the cheers.
“Well done, John!” Harry practically bounds up to him, “let’s give him one more round of applause, folks!”
John means to leave the stage to the performers once more, but before he can, Harry grabs his hand and brings him down into a bow along with him.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
There’s an hour left to go on the field trip, and John is an extremely icy cold brew that Fitzjames treated him to. Most of the students are staying close to main street, finishing up their last purchases and taking endless pictures of each other.
“They were a fun crowd.”
He turns to find Harry leaning against a streetlight, still in his cowboy costume, ten times more handsome than anyone who ever played the role on screen “school groups can be hit or miss.”
“I’m glad as well; an excellent show deserves an appreciative audience.”
“Easy to put on a good show when you’ve got good help. I, um” he reaches into his pocket, “I have to go get ready for the show at two, but I meant to give you this before you hopped off stage. I always like to give it to my volunteer for that trick. This time I was a little flustered and forgot.”
Harry holds out the coin from his sharpshooting trick, dropping it into John’s palm.
“Oh, I-” He’s not sure if he means to protest, or say thank you, but Harry cuts him off by closing his palm for him, keeping his own hand around it.
“Something to remember me by.”
A flash of a smile, followed by someone shouting his name from across the way, and then he’s gone. John stands, watching him walk toward the theater, and savoring the ghost of those fingers around his own.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Late June finds him back in a much hotter Virginia City, the sun refusing to drop behind the mountains quickly enough to provide a much needed respite from the glare. He hadn’t expected to visit again so soon, but Silna and Goodsir invited him to meet them for dinner; the Delta Saloon has begun serving a special, twice-monthly menu of period accurate fare and he’s very excited to see if it’s any good.
Arriving early–there’s been bad traffic the last two days so he erred on the side of caution–leaves him ample time to ponder the historical artifacts tucked away in the corners of the saloon. He’s reading the plaque on the “suicide table” when a figure steps beside him.
“Anticlimactic, I always thought.”
Harry smiles when John looks his way, the undercurrent noticeably changing from friendliness to hope when John smiles back. He’s dressed in modern clothing; a black tank top, tan shorts, and ankle hiking boots (much better protection against the dust, pebbles, and sunburn than the sandals of most of the visitors).
“The story” Harry continues, “that it’s named that when what happened is one or two people might have killed themselves because of losing money at it, not because someone used it in one, or died right on the wood. Besides, if that’s the bar for calling something a suicide table, I’d bet half the slot machines from here to Vegas need the same plaque.”
“Agreed. Though I do enjoy the thought of preserving some piece of the past, even if it’s to make salacious signs about it.”
“Did you come all the way back just to read our signs?” Harry says with a hint of cheek.
“That depends on if there are any you think I’d like.” He turns full-on toward Harry, who aims for a subtle looking him over and fails.
When his phone buzzes, he considers dropping it in the nearest pitcher of water.
“One moment, I’m meeting Silna and Harry, other Harry, that might be them.”
H. Goodsir: Running late, courtesy of the majesty of nature.
Attached is a photo of a herd of mustangs, who seem utterly disinterested in moving from both lanes of Highway 50. He shows it to Harry, adding, “That’s not sarcasm; the man is delighted any time he sees the native wildlife. Which doesn’t always end well; we were driving to a conference in Tahoe once and he stopped to look at a large black bear. Still in the car, of course, but poor Mr. Collins was still rather stressed by the proximity.”
Harry laughs, then tilts his head towards the bar, “Sounds like we might have time for a drink?”
“I’d say so.”
John orders a gin and tonic, paying for Harry’s lager with a playful, “they don’t pay teachers that poorly” when the younger man tells him he doesn’t have to.
“What do you teach? I didn’t get the chance to ask and I’d been wondering.”
“English, two classes of honors and the rest for seniors and a handful of juniors.”
“I hope they get on better with you than I did with mine; we got into an argument over Tess of the D’urbervilles and I’m not sure he ever got over it. The dyslexia didn’t help; he thought I wasn’t applying myself.”
“That’s a shame. There are lots of ways to assist students who struggle with reading, for any reason. And as a teacher, I’d argue it’s part of the job to make sure you do.” He sips his drink, “may I ask what the argument was?”
“I just thought it was worth talking about how Hardy has a lot of opinions on farming and morality for a man who probably never did any farm work. All well and good to talk about the evils of modernization taking us away from nature, but acting like the things that make running a farm ten times easier are evil because they don’t match your imagined idea of the life seemed…shallow. And I thought that might be an interesting angle to look at the book from. Mr. Thompson disagreed.”
“I happen to think it’s an excellent point.”
A shrug and a sweet smile, “Might have just come to me because I grew up on a farm. You grow up shoveling cow shit, you have some thoughts on the pastoral.” He flinches, “pardon my french.”
“Harry, I was in the navy for ten years, I’ve heard profanity that would make the devil faint.”
“That’s why you have tattoos. I noticed them during the show and, um” he takes another sip, licking his lips after in what’s either an automatic motion or a bid to drive John mad with desire, “I’ve been thinking about them ever since.”
He forces himself not to say that if he’s a very good boy, Harry might get to see the rest. This can just be a friendly drink. If Harry wants it to be more that’s for him to decide. John won’t push it.
“None of your own?”
“Not yet. I want to get a line of poetry but I haven’t decided on which.”
John is very glad for this; if he’d managed to get Harry into bed only to find lines from one of the greats etched into his skin, he might have fainted.
“Who are the contenders?”
A snicker, “Thomas Hardy, for one. I do love his poems about nature. I like Whitman too, but it’s so hard to choose…”
They spend a good half-hour discussing the merits, and ironies, or tattooing varies stanzas onto oneself. By the time Goodsir taps him on the shoulder, they’re leaning far enough towards each other that his glass nearly hits Harry’s jaw when he jolts in surprise.
“I was starting to worry you’d be stuck there all night.”
“I’m sure.” Goodsir says with a smile and a glance at Harry that suggests he doesn’t fully believe him, “they eventually realized there were better places to rest their hooves. I got some wonderful pictures though.”
“You’re going to run out of memory at this rate. Again.” Silna keeps her amused look as she adds, “do you want to eat with us, Henry?”
“Oh no, I don’t want to intrude, I was just keeping John occupied while you got here. I ought to be going, it’s not the longest drive back to Dayton but I’ve got a mountain of chores to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Silna. Nice to see you, Harry, and it was wonderful talking with you John.” He offers a final, parting smile. John watches him go once more, wondering if doing so makes him lecherous, or if he even cares if it does. At the door, Harry pauses, looking back, and his face brightens when he sees John is looking at him. Then he winks and steps into the finally cooling air.
“Your right pocket.” Goodsir murmurs as the waiter leads them to a table.
John ventures a hand into his shorts and finds a slip of saloon napkin next to the coin, the one he’s been carrying like a lucky charm for a month.
Give me a call
It’s followed by a phone number. Harry didn’t have a chance to write it while they were talking, which means he must have done it the moment he saw John in the bar.
Silna shakes her head, “I told him I could just give it to you for him.”
“You trick shooters, you do have a flair for the dramatic.” Goodsir pulls out her chair.
“If we didn't, no one would watch.”
John lets them banter for the moment. After all, he has to attend to the pressing matter of asking if Harry would like to join him for coffee tomorrow.
#bridglar#john bridgens/henry peglar#john bridgens#henry peglar#amc the terror#yeehawgust 2024#modern au
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[Image ID: A long haired, black and silver tabby loafing under sheets being suspended like a tent by two legs on either side of the photo. The cat has big yellow eyes and she looks up at the photo taker. End ID]
mommys working but i ask her to move into nana's room to snuggle under the blankies
i cannot snuggle in mommys room for secret reasons
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Baby Pictures
Ollie: You have pictures of Livia as a baby?
Lilia: You wish to see them?
Aura: YES!
Oz: GIVE ME A REASON TO TEASE HER! SHOW US!!!
Lilia: *Beams and runs off*
Livia: PAPA NO!!!!
Silver: At least it isn't me....
Kuro: Me neither...the others got lucky as well..
~~~~
Lilia: *Beams* This was when Livia first crawled!! She kept rolling over onto her back and side! It was so precious!
Oz: HAHAHA! Look at that cute bonnet! Liv, who knew you were such a cute and small baby!
Lilia: This was when she tried fruit for the first time! The way her eyes lit up when she tasted a strawberry!
Lilia: Oh and this one was from the first time she went outside to her mother's garden!
Aura: Oh, look at the smudge of dirt on her cheek
Ollie: Awwww!
Sebek: Her ladyship looks so adorable!!
Livia: *Trembles covering her face* This is so embarrassing....
Silver: Better you than us
Kuro: Yeah!
Lilia: These two are from when she turned two and went swimming for the first time! Aren't her swimsuits adorable!
Oz: *Laughs* She was still so small!
Malleus: *Smiles as Aura passed him the photo next* Cute...
Lilia: Oh look at this one! When she was a baby she'd cuddle up with her blanky!
Livia: *Looks up her face turning bright red* PAPAAAAAAAAAA!!!
#twst livia#twst oc#disney twst#livia vanrouge#twst lilia#disney twisted wonderland#twst silver#twisted wonderland#twst malleus#twst disney#lilia vanrouge#lilia#lilia twst#twst lilia vanrouge#twisted wonderland lilia#lilia twisted wonderland#malleus draconia#malleus#malleus twisted wonderland#malleus twst#twisted wonderland malleus#twst malleus draconia#silver#silver twisted wonderland#silver twst#silver vanrouge#twisted wonderland silver#twisted wonderland sebek#sebek zigvolt#twst sebek
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