#tagging the thieves since they all feature

[bxttxrflybxddie]

|Dating Mime Bomb|

a/n: GOD i love this mime skdjlsbdksbdks pls let me be self-indulgent lmao please enjoy

pairing: mime bomb x gn!reader

post type: headcannons

requested: yes!

word count: 750+

warnings: thieving, major fluff, brief mentions of past bullying, possibly brief mention of monogamy? (mentioned how you're his fav person), might make a pt. 2, or a drabble, or a continuation that isn't safe for minors lmao idk it's 4am!

Mime Bomb adores you! There’s no use hiding how you’re running through his mind all day. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t, since anybody could guess from the lovestruck expression on his painted features. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

He’s your biggest supporter, for better or for worse. He’s always up for tagging along on any mischief (preferably criminal) you’re up to. He keeps an eye on you since you’re his favorite person, but invite him anyway! It's the thought that counts!!

Working together on missions is a blast. (Both of you working for VILE or not.)  Between romantic gestures and getting some needed alone time, the beautiful scenery changes the setting from an expedition to a date. Even if VILE doesn’t land their sticky fingers on a prized artifact, you and Mime Bomb never leave the area empty-handed. (You’re holding each others! And perhaps stolen property.)

Indulging in his interests is one of the best ways to make him feel appreciated. Get him some merchandise from a musical and he’ll reward you with either mimed kisses or a gift in return! You don’t need to tell him what you’re interested in, he knows from his pining before you two got together. (Tell him anyway, he’ll love that you want him to know your passions.)

Downtime is the best time. As much as he likes his mime getup, and how loveable you may find it too, Mime Bomb bare-faced in ordinary clothing is a beautiful sight. He can rub his face on your chest/lap/head/shoulder/etc. without worrying about redoing or transferring his foundation, you get a peek into his everyday style, and you can finally see how red he gets after flustering him.

Tease him, be relentless. He’s been bullied, picked on, and made fun of his whole life. He can take just about anything you give him out of pure experience. Lovingly satirize him but give him the space to do it back to you. Not only is this great for inside jokes between the two of you, but it’s almost healing for him. To laugh with someone instead of being laughed at is something he never processed since he was always the butt of the joke. It’s like rough-housing but with words and actions instead of physical contact. Physically tease him too, lingering touches and featherlight kisses make him swoon.

Kissing him, lipstick on or not, is an art form between you both. It’s sacred and cherished, with the everlasting fear that each lock of lips might be the last. Holding hands is also attached to sweet moments. Since he normally wears gloves, it’s not often you’re allowed to feel the skin of his palms or the bones of his knuckles. He’ll allow you to paint his nails, but he normally chooses black so prepare to stock up.

He does daydream about a future with you. Either by a continuation of your relationship now or maybe something big and new. He wants you by his side and him by yours through thick and thin. You’re his person; his rock, and he tries to let you know in every little shared moment. 

Mime Bomb is arguably the stealthiest operative that VILE has had, which means that he’ll be completely silent without always meaning to. You’re jumpscared constantly, but you learn to get used to it since it’s an accident. Little do you know that he purposefully shocks you sometimes, he thinks it’s cute. He also lets you get away with a lot more than he should just because he thinks you’re adorable. Stolen items, deceiving others (not himself, to make that crystal clear), even possibly joining Team Red, He’s turning a blind eye. If your actions carry a heavy burden to conceal, he’ll expect a prize. (Date Night is now THRICE a week!!)

Unsurprisingly, not a bad significant other. What he lacks in experience is made up in enthusiasm. Your dear mime is a theater kid and a hopeless romantic, so he’ll sometimes pull actions or lines (nonverbally) from scenes of movies, musicals, and even a few shows. If you know what he’s referencing, act out the corresponding part to see him stumble before regaining his confidence. 

He feels incredibly special that you’re in his life and your presence is doing wonders for his mental health. Knowing that someone is in his corner after so many years is a comfort he’s never known before. However, he’d like to learn and repay it if it’s with you.

© BXTTXRFLYBXDDIE

[existentialcrisistime]

D&D: Honor Among Thieves (Xenk/Edgin) fic rec list:

These are just based on those I've read and loved so far. There are so many incredible works coming out of this new fandom that I'm sure I'll have enough recs for a second post in another month or so.

Because this turned onto a bit of a long post, the recs are below the cut.

I've marked the rating by each fic, but please do mind the tags!

Curse of the Green Hag by @moorishflower (E, 16k)

Xenk contracts a fuck-or-die curse and turns up on Edgin's doorstep for the first time since Neverwinter. Also contains an excellent cameo from Holga, a bit of bondage, Xenk's first time, and A Lot of emotions. And of course the actual smut is top tier. Already wanting to read this one again.

High Praise Indeed by enchantedsleeper (T, 3k)

Xenk stops by Holga and Edgin's cottage to find Edgin in the throes of a breakup. In the process of trying to persuade Edgin of his many worthy qualities, he accidentally reveals a little too much. Short and very sweet, with cameos from Holga and Kira. Would recommend for fans of pining idiots.

in the absence of truth by @floralprintshark (E, 13k)

Five times Ed says that he hates Xenk and one time he doesn't. Yes, a 5+1 things, but oh it's so much more than that! There are heists and hijinks, accidental asshole Edgin, uncertain and inexperienced Xenk, and a hint of polyamory between Simon and Doric, but the whole party are featured and written perfectly here. Also contains Many emotions. I sent this one to the group chat, and we were ALL screaming about it (in the best way)

Universal Glue by Korwwa (E, 10k)

A rescue mission goes wrong, and Xenk and Edgin get caught in, yes, a glue trap. The premise may sound like a crack fic, but it's definitely taken seriously, whilst still being very fun. Plus a wee bit of angst for (delicious) seasoning.

Scraping the Moss Off the Standing Stones by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (E, 4k)

Established relationship, Xenk comes home after a long time away and Edgin takes care of him. Oh boy, this fic sure packs a lot into just 4k words, and I feel like the author just Gets how I imagine Xenk - always seen as holy or evil, but just wanting to be treated like a person. Also very hot - I'm weak for some well-written dirty talk and this is perfect.

When the well runs dry by demon_faith (G, 2k)

Part one of the Time Heals All Wounds series, which can either be read as a series or as stand-alone fics. Established relationship, Edgin is badly injured, and Xenk is unable to heal him. A classic hurt/comfort with a good bit of Edgin whump, and Xenk struggling with the reality of that.

On the edge of a blade by demon_faith (T, 3k)

Part two of the series, again established relationship. This time, Xenk gets badly hurt, and it's up to Edgin to take care of him. Heavy on both the hurt and the comfort.

lay on hands by @hauntedfalcon (E, 2k)

A getting-together/first-time fic, with a healthy dose of body worship. Xenk gets off on Edgin's metaphors. Beautifully written, and also my initial thoughts were - this is an author who sure is clued up on the names of medieval clothing/armor.

half your life (you've been hooked on death) by roundtriptojupiter (T, 2.5k)

Edgin struggles to process the events of the past six months, when Xenk turns up at his doorstep. Or, Edgin and Xenk process grief together, then kiss about it. A great exploration of Edgin's emotions, not only regarding Zia and Holga, but of the other people he may have harmed along the way.

We can burn much brighter (if we don't look back) by enchantedsleeper (T, 6k)

Xenk apprehends Forge and learns of the events that transpired at Neverwinter. Grappling with the fact that his past almost repeated itself while he was too far away to help, he encounters Edgin. Such a lovely post-movie fic, exploring just how Edgin and Xenk are processing their feelings in the wake of it.

Do you know you'll never fly alone? by MayGlenn (T, 1.2k)

Something a bit more light-hearted to end the recs list on: a fix-it of sorts, but for the poor undead guy in the post-credits scene. Xenk takes Edgin on a late night ride, to fix an issue he'd left behind, but maybe for something more also...

And that's that for now! Please do feel free to recommend your favourite D&D: Honor Among Thieves fics in return, or yell about which of these you loved the most. My comments and inbox are always open :))

And to the fic writers (and all fic writers out there), thank you so much for sharing these stories with us! You're all absolutely wonderful, talented people <3

[wexhappyxfew]

WOMEN OF SILVER BULLETS

the OCs of B-17, Silver Bullets (featured in MOTA-verse writings) and various masters of the air adjacent writings

all these OCs will be featured in various one-shots and prompts in the coming months. can be found under tags with all their names or #mota writings or #silver bullets. please enjoy!

ANNIE BRADSHAW

-> replacement 1st lieutenant and pilot for Silver Bullets, fresh in from Fort Des Moines, trying to patch up the holes in a crew suffering from the loss of their beloved captain birdie faulkner. hailing from mankato, minnesota, she is a wonderfully receptive listener and stoic presence - but don't go overstepping it with her crew. makes it her very mission that the women of Silver Bullets and captain birdie faulkner are remembered. can play a tune on a trumpet (if warranted).

FRANCIS MONTEZ

-> copilot of Silver Bullets grieving a loss she is taking harder than she thought, wrapped in sorrow and guilt that she tries her best to hide. a good-hearted californian, she wrangles with this new era of her life with the help of replacement pilot, annie bradshaw, and steps up in more ways than one. carries a cigarette pack around like it's strapped to her very being. will give you a nickname that she'll call you any chance she gets.

BESSIE CARLISLE

-> navigator for Silver Bullets, with the brightest smile the sun's ever seen from the skies (says her boyfriend). hailed all the way from queens, new york with the intention to get her hands working on the mechanic floor of a factory and got a gig flying planes instead. got placed in navigation one day and ever since then, has made it her duty to make sure every mission goes right down to the degree.

CARRIE ACHTERBERG

-> german-american bombardier on Silver Bullets making sure the enemy pays in any way they can for the costly damage of a horrid war (enter: norden bombsight). grew up in brooklyn, new york, had some run-ins with bessie carlisle and the two became thick as thieves when working on planes. blowing the enemy to shreds seemed to be the cherry on top.

MARJORIE ‘MARGIE’ HARLOWE

-> flight engineer on Silver Bullets who grew up in a large family with at least four dogs all named after flowers, on the shores of lake michigan, wanting to go to school for physics ever since she felt herself get the knack for mathematics. only up until then, did she find herself on a plane with her cousin (who nearly crashed it) that she then got herself in line for flying in B-17s and looking to the skies above (and calculating vectors from the ground).

PAULINA STAGLIANO

-> italian-american radio operator for Silver Bullets, who came in from philadelphia, pennsylvania with radio operator experience in the WAC before getting the call for a job with captain birdie faulkner, and finding herself up in B-17s on the regular. she's passionate, a loyal friend and if you talk bad about the phillies -it's on sight (usually has sports arguments with kennedy farley - they keep bickering to a minimum).

VIVIAN RATCLIFF

-> hailing from fort collins, colorado, viv ratcliff comes with a wealth of knowledge and experience as a gunner on Silver Bullets, with a father who was in the army and her boyfriend in the navy. 'calm, cool, collected' are the best words to take her in as, usually found collecting flowers after missions for the boys who didn't get a chance to make it home. keeps a tally of german fighters that go down on the wooden pole beside her cot.

KENNEDY FARLEY

-> irish-american gunner on Silver Bullets, opposite viv ratcliff, coming in from boston, massachusetts, raging red sox fan with a family of brothers going on to military or sports (much of the same). close friends with margie harlowe because she 'softens her up a bit', and always willing to stick around for a drinking game or two. passionate friend (margie told you so).

JUDY RYBINSKI

-> polish-american farm girl and turret ball gunner for Silver Bullets from hot springs, north carolina, growing up near the french broad creek, summers spent on the river, catching fish and milking goats for her families business. went hunting with dad a few times, and grew up with her older brothers going off to the military or college and wanted a hand at it all. captain faulkner was her opening (and the person she needs most now).

MARIANNE SALINGER

-> french-american aspiring painter from rochester, new york, now a tail gunner for Silver Bullets. thought she was signing up to paint planes, but ended up finding a knack for guns on turrets and credits captain faulkner for her 'in' on flying. has a pet cat that roams the base as he wishes (he's named frank, after her one true love, frank sinatra), usually getting into trouble by pissing off a husky named meatball.

[gojocp]

tangled

cw: tangled au! reader wears a dress and has VERY long hair, geto as flynn ryder, reader as rapunzel featuring: geto suguru | 1 | 2

a/n: hello!! i hope you enjoy this au, i've loved this movie since i was a kid and rewatch it all the time! lmk how this is!!

the sound of running footsteps could be heard as geto suguru ran across rooftops and into the room holding the crown in the royal castle. right before entering, they go over the plan once more.

"okay, tie me to the rope, when i get the crown i'll tug on it. pull me up," he states with his arms out, waiting to be tied.

with a shared look, the twins nod and tie geto off. removing the roof's tile, they slowly lower him in.

nearing the crown, geto is about to grab it but a guard's sneeze interrupts him. "allergies suck, right?" geto asks, taking the crown and placing it in his satchel.

"yeah, tell me about it." the guard agrees, with a light laugh. "hey! wait-" he yells, realizing the questions came from behind him.

"see ya!" geto calls out, and takes off with the satchel, the twins following close behind. "we got the crown, let's head back."

but of course, stealing the royal crown is never easy. because when the guards eventually catch up and corner the three thieves, they have to turn and run in the opposite direction.

they eventually reach a dead end and are forced to climb.

"boost me, and i'll pull you guys up." suguru says, turning to look at them. they share a look and say,

"give us the satchel."

"wh- are you serious? you don't trust me?" suguru says, with faux-betrayal shown on his face. the twins just stare at him with a blank stare.

"ow." he continues, handing the satchel to them.

they put their hands together and boost him onto the hill, one arm out in expectancy.

"sorry," suguru starts, "my hands are full." he shows the satchel and speeds off.

"geto!!" the twin yells, cursing said 18-year-old as he runs away.

.・。.・゜✭・.

suguru runs and runs and eventually finds a tree to hide behind. he looks to his left and sees a 'wanted' poster of himself.

"oh, no. no, no no. this is terrible," he mumbles to himself. "they fucked up my nose. so badly."

before he has the chance to mourn over the god-awful poster, a palace horse catches him and decides to play tag, chasing after him in an attempt to retrieve the stolen satchel.

the horse catches up and the two wrestle for the satchel, tripping over a log and running off the cliff in the process. they hold onto each other but are eventually broken apart when the log they're on hits a large branch.

.・。.・゜✭・.

at the same time somewhere else:

"(y/n)! let down your hair!" you hear your mother call out from below the tower.

"coming!" you yell, swinging your hair over a very strong nail in the door and letting your hair down.

your mother ties herself up, tugs on the hair, and you pull her up.

"oh (y/n)! doing the same task every day without fail must be so very tiring, right dear?" she says, twirling your hair around her finger.

"oh, it's nothing mother!" you respond cheerfully.

"then i don't know why it takes so long!!" she quips. "i'm just teasing, dear. loosen up!"

"uh, haha" you let out a nervous chuckle. "anyways! i have something very important thing to tell you!" you share, gleefully.

"(y/n), look in the mirror. do you know what i see? i see a very beautiful, responsible, and intelligent young woman." your mother starts, staring at herself. "oh, you're there too!" she laughs teasingly.

"oh! okay, well as i was saying-"

"(y/n), mother's feeling very run down, how about i comb you're hair." she half asks, half demands.

"of course!" you say, quickly setting up a chair for her and a stool for yourself. as she walks closer, you push her into the chair, shove a comb in one hand and your hair in the other.

"flower gleam and glow let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. heal what has been hurt, change the fate's design, save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine." you sing in one breath, your hair glowing and quickly fading to it's natural colour as quickly as it appeared.

"anyway! since you kinda keep cutting me off, i'll just say it! tomorrow's my birthday!!" you gleam, hugging your mother's arm.

"no, no, no, no. i clearly remember, your birthday was last year," she states, matter-of-factly, lightly shoving you off her arm.

"that's the thing about birthdays, they're an annual thing." you smile. "and what i really want for this birthday, and what i've wanted for every birthday..." you begin, mumbling.

"out with it." your mother demands, fed up with the mumbling.

"i want to see the floating lights!" you exclaim. "actually, i was hoping you would take me to see the floating lights." you correct, using you hair to pull back the curtains on the wall to reveal your painting.

"ah.. you mean the stars." she smiles.

"that's the thing. i've charted stars, and they're always constant. but these.. these happen on my birthday, and only on my birthday. and.. i can't help but feel they're meant.. for me.." you say, pulling back another curtain and showing a painting of stars.

letting out an exasperated sigh, your mother sits on the chair and states, "the outside world is a dangerous place (y/n), i've told you."

"i know but-"

"i knew one day you would want to leave the nest.." she starts, getting up.

"i knew someday you'd want to go explore.." she continues.

"but-"

"soon! but not yet, trust me pet." she interjects. "mother.. knows best." she finishes, leaving your questions unanswered.

"oh.. i see.." you respond, dejectedly. this causes her to pull you into a tight hug.

"(y/n). don't ever ask to leave this tower, again." she commands, coldly.

"okay.." you say.

"mother loves you very much dear," she sighs, wrapping her cloak around herself.

"i love you more," you respond, as she prepares to leave.

"i love you most." .・。.・゜✭・.

"i'll see you in a bit my flower" she calls out, waving as she reaches the bottom of the tower.

"i'll be here.." you mumble, resting your face on one hand and waving with the other.

.・。.・゜✭・.

after what feels like an eternity of running, suguru stumbles upon an empty tower in the middle of nowhere.

'perfect' he thinks, taking two sticks and climbing up along the wall.

"finally.." he starts, opening his satchel and pulling out the crown, staring at it lovingly. "alone at last.."

with a hit to the head from a frying pan, he's knocked out cold.

[nightclimes]

Bloodstains, by bowblade

Fandom: Overwatch Relationships: Ouihaw (Ashe/Widowmaker) Rating: M Wordcount: 118,214 (27 chapters, complete) A gothic romance Junkenstein-verse fic featuring Countess Widowmaker, a vampire, and Warlock/Little Red Ashe, cursed to be a wolf. Featuring fairy tale curses, pining, falling in love and a defiance of the fate bestowed to you... and vampire bites, of course.

Preview of Chapter 1 and full list of tags/warnings below the read more. Read at AO3.

Thunder looms, and out on the lake through the floor to ceiling window lightning strikes. The room illuminates for but a single solitary moment, but it's enough.

A shock of white hair and flecked deep red on her clothes to match the lipstick on her mouth, and the white of her teeth as the human wolf grins up at her.

"Now that wasn't very nice of you."

Feminine. Werewolf. Bandit. Thief.

"Outlaw," the countess recognises. Another defender of the Door in it for the money, who had vanished into the darkness of the night the moment Adlersbrunn was saved – or to the depths of the dungeons and quite a few vaults, given the immediate spate of petty robbery in the days after, written off as inevitable after zomnics take the town prisoner.

Her doing, as it happens. Her doing still. The outlaw had asked her, once, if she'd run into any thieves, and she'd told her hounds had.

It makes sense now why that doesn't and didn't bother her.

Another crash. Boom, boom, boom, like shotgun pellets. The outlaw does a dignified miniature rolling wave with her good arm, only it's not so good, as she winces and cradles it back toward her body. Her shirt hangs limp across one shoulder, with the majority of it wrapped around her torso, covering her ribs. Even she's surprised by how many scars she has. Wrapped around every bone and healed over, a thorn patch of ivy or roses. Yes, the perfume's odour makes sense, now. She vaguely recollects the fondness with the ink of a vine around her forearm, about the one place that isn't scarred. Clearly, this isn't the first scrape the outlaw hasn't perished in and lived.

No matter how much she heals, the reminder never fades.

It's different to a vampire. Or maybe just the same. The wounds on her neck pulse, faintly, and the countess rolls her shoulder. Regardless of her scars or her underdressed state, that still doesn't explain what exactly she's doing in her chateau and her parlour other than getting blood all over the upholstery.

"Why are you here?"

"Because someone," she labours, clicking her tongue, "shot me."

"I shot the wolf that stalks the town," the countess says cooly, folding her arms as she stalks into the room but stays standing, and the outlaw is still quite at home despite her presence, and she has the gall to shrug. She wonders why she tore her shirt to bandage herself, and not the intact hood and cape, still up over her head. "You are not innocent in this."

"I'm not here to talk innocence," the outlaw sniffs, dismissing her with a flick of her fingers. "I'm here to patch myself up. And I know an opportunity when I see one. I wondered how you'd been keeping since the door incident. So. Whatever scheme you're running, I want in."

[arisenreborn]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.  REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG, with the information of your muse,  including headcanons, etc.

Pawn & Arisen Edition!

Tagged by: @sangre & @lesbianbreastmilk - thank you!! :D

Tagging: @fangbangerghoul, @bearlytolerant, @linashirou, @ritens

name: Olivia Tramont nicknames: Liv, Livi, Livia (Emrys preferred only), Princess, Crow (no relation lmao) age: 22 race: human, distant elven ancestory orientation: bisexual. zodiac: Leo moral alignment: neutral good - chaotic good class/subclass: "warfarer", a fighter first and foremost, she later took a shine to the style of thieves and the mystic spearhand. (her magic capability is... 'weird', and her aim is atrocious.) background: A daughter of nobility, Olivia defied the expectations of her station (and gender 😒) to join the military with romantic dreams of becoming a knight of legends and hoping to be of service to the people. Instead she got her heart ripped out and saddled with Arisenhood and a pawn with an attitude problem. interests/hobbies: dressing up/fashion/etc., masquerades/parties/festivals, dancing, buying shiny things (coughcrow-codedcough), generally being a social butterfly hitting up taverns and the like. though she never had an aversion, she grows to have a deeper fondness for traveling during her journey. spoken languages: common, some broken elvish, draconic profession: ex-soldier of Vermund, Arisen, (future Sovran), in some verses: Former Arisen colors: sapphire blue, emerald green, blue goldstone, iridescent opal, amethyst purple - deep, rich, colors that look good in the latest fashions fruits: strawberries!!!!!!!! drinks: She'll drink teas but they remind her of her mother, she'd prefer coffee and probably overdoes/runs herself ragged on it. alcoholic beverages: on one hand she's not too picky... on the other she does have rich tastes - and the money to back it up, so she'll commonly take the most expensive stuff a place has got. she's a social drinker and has terrible self-awareness/bad at knowing her limit, but is truly the life of the party. smokes: it's not her inclination, but she'd probably smoke of whatever herbal mixtures Emrys uses for pain/relaxation in the comfort of their home with him. drugs: nothing more than the above. drivers license: she knows how to ride a horse and holds the record time among her peers (when they were younger) for managing to stay on an ox without getting thrown off....... it's just she couldn't get off at all and they had to get a bunch of people to coral the ox to get her off........ ever been arrested: nope. I think most in Vermund would recognize/be confused/buy whatever cover story she sold them (maybe with some actual coins on the side) without any further fuss. HOWEVER when she oh-so-accidentally snuck across the border... The Battahli guards certainly tried. Alas, she was too fast for them.

name: Emrys Venor nicknames: Em, Emmy age: ??? race: human, cycle-dependent displays draconic features orientation: bisexual. zodiac: Gemini moral alignment: chaotic neutral-chaotic good class/subclass: archer first and foremost, has dabbled comfortably in thievery (give me back my weapon swapping gdi) background: An older pawn with a sordid history, he contracted the dragonsplague while traveling with his original master, resulting in their death. Since then he has been 'different' from other pawns, loathing his lot and the Arisen he comes into the service of, though he puts on a friendly face all the while. interests/hobbies: drinking, occasionally gambling, visiting the Rose Chateau - though he does enjoy these things, they seem to be things he assimilated into his 'mask'. More genuinely: traveling (note: not in Battahl), hunting, generally living off of the land. spoken languages: common, bits of elvish and dwarvish that he could get through an encounter, draconic - oddly enough. colors: rusty red, faded gold, earthy browns, natural greens, bruise purple, dragonsplague red fruits: a little partial to strawberries vicariously through Olivia, raspberries drinks: Coffee for sure. He generally thinks tea is too weak but he does have a couple of brews for pain relief/relaxation (that he'll sometimes spike for an added kick lmao) alcoholic beverages: Yes, please. He'll drink anything just about. smokes: that fat rimworld blunt primarily stuff he gathers himself, and usually only for pain/to help him sleep. drugs: nothing more than the above

driver's license: tbh, he could manage a carriage just fine ever been arrested: not recently, he's good at keeping a wide berth of such inconveniences, but he's probably been arrested a time or two a long time ago - maybe got in a drunken bar fight or some such.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.1:

No Risk, No Reward

Next: Ch.2 - All Eyes on Us Fic Masterpost

Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,781

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: I have nothing to say for myself other than that Brynjolf is one of my favorite Skyrim characters, and this is an excuse for me to flesh him out both as an individual and in relation to the player. Has this probably been done a thousand times? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not. Thanks for reading! (and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates, I'll do so if you like!)

--- --- ---

Brynjolf had a headache.

He’d had a faint one building behind his eyes for most of the day, but after listening to Keerava complain- loudly- that the Guild was asking more than she could afford for protection and that if he knew what was good for him he’d jump of the pier…his head was well and truly pounding. 

“Want me to top that off for you, Bryn?” 

Brynjolf blinked, and looked up to see Vekel looking at him expectantly, a flagon in his hand. 

“Sorry lad, what was that?” 

Vekel chuckled, and filled Brynjolf’s tankard with ale. 

“You’ve been distracted lately, my friend. Better not let Mercer catch you staring off into space like that.” 

“Now there’s an earful I don’t need,” Brynjolf agreed, lifting his tankard in acknowledgement before taking a swig. 

“Well, go on then,” Vekel prodded. “Tell us what’s going on in that big brain of yours.” 

“It’s nothing lad, just a headache,” Brynjolf said, but Vekel shook his head.

“I’m not just talking about today, Bryn, you’ve been off ever since you pulled that job on Brand-Shei.” 

“Have I?” Brynolf asked, and Vekel nodded.

“You have. Which doesn’t track,” Dirge piped up, walking over to the bar. “Because you said that the job went off without a hitch.” 

“So if you’re not thinking about the job, what are you thinking about?” Vekel asked. 

A face came to Brynjolf’s mind unbidden, bright eyes and sharp features framed by dark hair, but he pushed the image away. 

“You know as well as I do that the Guild’s seen better days, lads,” he said, taking another sip. “Just trying to work out how to bring her back to her former glory.” 

“Aaaah, so that’s why you’ve been distracted these past few days,” Vekel said knowingly. “You think you’ve found another recruit, don’t you?” 

“So what if I have?” Brynjolf demanded, arching an eyebrow at the barkeep. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: what this outfit needs is some fresh blood.”

“Except the last three recruits you tried to bring on board washed out before they could make any serious coin,” Dirge pointed out, and Brynjolf frowned.

“At least I’m actually trying to solve the problem,” he said. “If we ever want to get back on our feet, the Thieves Guild needs to actually employ some master thieves.” 

“Aaaand, the last few kids you pulled into this mess were ‘master thief’ material?” Dirge asked, and Vekel snickered. 

“Give it up, Brynjolf,” he said. “Those days are over.” 

Brynjolf sighed.

“I’m telling you, this one is different…” he began, but Dirge scoffed.

“We’ve all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to reply, but paused. Beneath his friends’ ribbing and the quiet clinking of cups on tables and forks on plates from the Flagon’s few other patrons, there was another sound. The sound of boots on stone, the steps slow and cautious as they approached. 

“It’s time to face the truth, old friend,” Vekel said. “You, Vex, Mercer…you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!” 

Brynjolf turned, saw exactly who he’d hoped he would, and a smile spread across his face. 

“Dying breed, eh?” he repeated. “Well what do you call that then!” 

The woman was slight, an Imperial by the looks of her, and she had a bow drawn, one arrow knocked loosely on the string.

“Well well, color me impressed, lass,” Brynjolf said, nodding to her. “I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.”

The woman’s eyes flitted around, lingering on Dirge for a moment before eventually slinging her bow over her shoulder.

“Getting here was easy,” she said, stowing her arrow in its quiver. 

Brynjolf chuckled.

“Reliable and headstrong? You’re proving to be quite the prize. The name’s Brynjolf, lass.” 

“Ariene,” said the Imperial.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Brynjolf said. “So... now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

Ariene frowned, shifting her weight.

“Deadbeats?” she asked. “What’d they do?” 

“They owe our organization some serious coin, and they’ve decided not to pay,” Brynjolf explained. “I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.” 

Ariene nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds good…who are they?”

“Keerava,” Brynjolf said, ticking the marks off on his fingers, “Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“And…how do you want me to handle it?” Ariene asked carefully.

Brynjolf sighed, his mind drifting back to the insults that Keerava had thrown at him that morning.

“Honestly? The debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across that we are to be ignored.” He frowned, and looked pointedly at the bow strapped to Ariene’s back. “A word of warning though…I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

To his surprise, Ariene’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and she nodded.

“Will I get a cut?” she asked, and Brynjolf laughed.

“Of course you’ll get a cut. We take care of our own.”

“Then consider it done.”

“Alright then lass, get going. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The woman nodded and turned without another word, heading back into the ratways the way she came.

Brynjolf grinned, and turned back to Dirge and Vekel.

“Anything to say now, lads?”

“Sure, she made it down here,” Vekel said dismissively. “But that doesn’t make her a master thief. A hundred septims says she’ll turn out just like all the others.”

“I told you Vekel, this one is different,” Brynjolf insisted.

Still, as he sat back down at the bar, it was hard to ignore the facts. He’d been trying to breathe new life into the Guild, but Vekel and Dirge had a point. Previous recruits hadn’t stuck around long. Some didn’t keep up a high standard of work, others realized how poor the Guild’s standing really was and abandoned it. A few had even been caught and either killed or imprisoned. 

Brynjolf knew Mercer was running out of patience with his attempts, but he didn’t see any other options. They couldn’t rely solely on Maven forever, and the way Brynjolf saw it, their dwindling reputation and cash flow needed to be addressed, or the Guild, and everyone in it, would be history.

You’d better come through for me, lass, he thought, bringing his tankard to his lips. Because I’m putting my last bet on you.

--- --- ---

Despite his high hopes, part of Brynjolf was worried that the woman would simply take the money for herself and disappear after shaking down her three marks. After all, it’d taken her several days to reappear in the ratways after the job on Brand-Shei, and Brynjolf had been doing this for a long time. 

His gut told him that she would pull through, but having a contingency was just as important as having good instincts. He’d put the word out to his contacts within the city guard to alert him if an imperial woman fitting Ariene's description tried to skip town, and he had a few others keeping eyes on the docks and weak points in the city walls in case she tried to slip out that way. 

Mercer had given him the usual grief about wasting manpower, but Brynjolf knew that if the coin came through, he’d let the matter go. And as the day drew to a close and no runners came bursting into the Flagon to tell him that his recruit had killed one of the marks or vanished with his gold, the more sure he became that this had been a good call. 

“I still don’t know about this, Bryn,” Delvin grumbled. “Even if this new recruit of yours is as good as you say, that don’t mean that the curse ain’t gonna affect them, same as the rest of us.”  

Brynjolf rolled his eyes. 

“Mentioning the curse in every other conversation isn’t going to make more people believe you, old man. It’s just going to make them think you’re crazy.”

“You can call me what you like,” Delvin said, shrugging. “Don’t change the facts.” 

“Brynjolf,” Dirge called, and Brynjolf looked up to see Ariene walking towards them, a sack of gold in her hand. 

“Well well, look who’s back,” he said, shooting a smug look over his shoulder at Delvin, who just shook his head and took a sip of his ale. 

“So lass,” he said, getting to his feet. “Job’s done, and you even brought the gold.” He spotted movement behind her, and saw one of his runners slip into the Flagon. They flashed him a quick hand signal, and he smiled. “Best of all, you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.” 

Ariene nodded, and held out the coin purse. 

“Here’s what they owed us,” she said, and Brynjolf took it. 

“Well done, lass. And it would seem I owe you something in return.”

He turned and picked up a few potion bottles from the table behind him. 

“Here you go, I think you’ll find these quite useful.” 

Ariene took them, examined them for a moment, then nodded, slipping them into a satchel at her side. 

“What’s next, then?” she asked.

“Well,” Brynjolf said, hefting the bag of coin in his hand. “Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I’d say you’ve done more than simply prove yourself.” 

He looked back at Delvin and raised an eyebrow. The man nodded, and Brynjolf smiled at Ariene. 

“We need people like you in our outfit.” 

Ariene looked around, and Brynjolf saw her eyes linger on the rickety tables, on the grime covering the tankards, and the empty seats covered in dust. She looked up at him, and after a moment of meeting his gaze, she nodded.

“If there’s more gold where that came from, then I’m in.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Brynjolf said, grinning. “Larceny’s in your blood…the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you’ll do more than just fit in around here.” 

Brynjolf turned to lead her to the cistern but she hesitated.

“Before we go, I have to ask…” she trailed off, and looked around the room again.

“What’s on your mind?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Word is your outfit isn’t doing…well.” One side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile, and she gestured vaguely around them. “True?”

Brynjolf chuckled. 

“You’re a sharp one, lass. Aye, we’ve run into a bit of a rough patch lately…but it’s nothing to be concerned about.” He let out a sigh, then flashed her a small smile. “Tell you what. You keep making us coin, and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?” 

Ariene nodded slowly. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Now, if there are no more questions? How about you follow me, and I’ll show you what we’re all about.” 

Brynjolf led Ariene through the back room, sliding away the false panel in the storage cupboard and stepping through to the passageway beyond.

“So everyone in the tavern back there, they’re all members?” Ariene asked.

“Not everyone is,” Brynjolf explained. “Vekel owns the Ragged Flagon, and Dirge works for him. Tonilia, well, she’s got her own business. But they all work closely with us. We keep coin in each other's pockets and watch each other's backs.” 

“And you lead the Guild?” asked Ariene, and Brynjolf scoffed.

“Me? No, lass. I’m just a lieutenant. I keep things running as smooth as I can, but I’m no Guildmaster. Mercer is the one who makes the decisions around here. And speaking of…”

He led her into the cistern, where Mercer was waiting for them on the dais in the center of the room.

"Mercer?” he called. “This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit."

Mercer sighed and folded his arms.

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," he said. 

He turned to Ariene, and looked her up and down slowly. A frown spread across his face, and he folded his arms.

"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, addressing her. “If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say.”

Ariene raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, mirroring Mercer’s pose.

“Do I make myself clear?" Mercer demanded, and Ariene glanced over at Brynjolf. 

“Rules?” she asked, looking back to Mercer. “We’re thieves. What’s the point of rules?

Mercer took a slow step forward, stopping only when he was mere inches away from her face, and Brynjolf grimaced. 

“I'll let that comment go because you're new here,” Mercer growled. “Ask things out of turn again, and we have a problem. Now, are. We. Clear?" 

Ariene, to her credit, didn’t react beyond a slight tensing of her shoulders, and she nodded once. 

“Crystal,” she said evenly.

“Good,” Mercer said, stepping back. “Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."  

“Wait a moment,” Brynjolf said, frowning. There was only one job going on at the moment that Mercer was concerning himself with…a job that Brynjolf had not intended for a fresh recruit to try and take on all alone. “You’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you?” he asked, and Mercer nodded. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get in!”

Mercer just raised an eyebrow. 

“You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.” 

“Goldenglow?” Ariene repeated, and Mercer turned back to her. 

“Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,” he explained. “However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details." 

He turned, clearly signaling that the conversation was over, and Brynjolf folded his arms. 

“Mercer. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm?” he looked back at them, and Brynjolf looked pointedly at Ariene. “Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.”

He turned and strode away, and Brynjolf blew out a breath before smiling at Ariene with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. 

“Well he’s cheerful,” Ariene said quietly, a grin playing at the edge of her mouth, and Brynjolf tilted his head.

“How much of that ignorance was on purpose?” he asked, and she shrugged. 

“I wanted to see how he’d respond to confrontation. Evidently, not well.” 

“Well, I could have told you that,” Brynjolf said with a quiet laugh. “But never mind that now. You’re in. Welcome to the family, lass. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

Ariene nodded. 

“So how do I get my cut of the spoils?” she asked. 

“Simple,” Brynjolf replied. “Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing.”

“Fine by me.” 

“You should talk with Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the Flagon... she'll set you up with your new armor.” 

“Speaking of the Flagon, I could use a drink,” Ariene said. “Let me buy you one too…as an apology for upsetting Mercer.”

Brynjolf shook his head. 

“I told you lass, you just worry about making us coin. I’ll worry about everything else, and that includes Mercer, alright?”

“Well then...consider it a thank you,” she suggested. 

“A thank you?” he repeated, and she actually looked a tad sheepish.

“I can tell you were taking a chance, bringing me in to all of this,” she said, her voice quiet. “It was a risk; a risk that you didn’t have to take. And I…appreciate that.” 

Brynjolf smiled.

“Well, I suppose I have time for a quick drink. A drink, and a toast to the newest member of the Guild.”  

Ariene brightened, and turned to head out of the cistern and back into the Flagon. Brynjolf went to follow, but glanced back over his shoulder. Mercer stood at his desk, leaning over a set of plans with a frown on his face. 

“Tell you what lass,” Brynjolf said slowly. “You go on ahead, introduce yourself to the others. I’ll join you in a moment, and we can discuss business.” 

Ariene nodded, and Brynjolf watched her go, waiting until the door to the Flagon closed behind her before turning and striding across the room.

“Mercer!” he said, and Mercer glared up at him. “We need to talk.”

--- --- ---

Next: Ch.2

[choicesmc]

Rams' 4 Bands

This is a long one folks. I had so much fun with it, I hope y'all will too! I'm putting it under a read more because (and this is a warning) it is long. And all the art you'll see is mine (admittedly it's only four pieces but 🤷‍♂️)

Tagging: @choicesbookclub

Summary: A rather established band with pop rock aesthetic. Rams found them in ~8th grade and has been an avid fan since! Right now, she's listening to their latest album: Solitude.

Band Name: +Eyes+ Members:

Adaeze Okeke "Iris" Leontes Valjean "Lens" Dieuwe Antema "Optic"

Latest Album: Solitude Songs In The Album: Keep Quiet, At Night, Things Stir, With Mal Intent, Interlude, Twilight Hour, Moonset, You Know Too Headcannons:

This band exists in the magickal world and are better known there! Their Tuneless music doesn't include Phono magick which often makes the sound feel 'lacking.' When Rams discovered this, xe reexperienced all their music 'properly' and will admit that it's much better on Phono than not. It feels complete.

Summary: Still underground, Buried Alive is a new band trying to gain a little following. Rams only heard of them through a friend of his who was friends with the band members. They only have four albums so Rams is starting with their first: BROKEN BONES.

Band Name: Buried ALIVE Members:

Ji-Woo Min Gang Deadweed Nkiruka Thorn

First Album: BROKEN BONES Songs In The Album: Mary's Strange Daughter, The Pastor's Sermon, My Witch Hunt, Sticks and Stones Headcannons:

They have a very ballad/tragic style. Each of the listed is songs is 9+ minutes long. Rams isn't sure how they feel about it yet but it's... not bad. It grows on them with each re-listen. The cover is homemade. They're trying their best, okay?

Summary: This band has the oldest members of all the bands Rams has listened to. The duo is 76 and 81 years old and their still going strong. Rams started listening sometime around sophomore year of high school.

Band Name: Sickening Sugar Members:

Immy (76) Mal (72) Nia (Deceased) Tyril (Deceased) Aerin (Deceased) Valax (Deceased)

Latest Album: Coffee + Tea Songs In The Album: Filter Me Out, Divide My Mix, Stir It In, No More Cream, Pieces of Crystal, Hot Bitter Drink, Choke and Choke Headcannons:

They're an old queer band though they were only moderately known in the 50s and 60s. That changed with the AIDs epidemic which claimed four of the six members lives leaving only Immy and Mal. Post-death, Sickening Sugar released a single (the last one to feature all members voices) titled 'What Do Mean? There's Still Six of Us'. It quickly gained traction and catapoulted the now duo into the centre of the LGBT movement throughout the late 80s and 90s. Their still heavily involved in activist work even if their heyday is a shiny memory. Yes, they are named after BOLAS characters because I think BOLAS the show is sort of like what Honor Amoung Thieves is to D&D. I headcannon that in-universe the BOLAS show pulled from a nerd culture of RPG games and Sickening Sugar named themselves after their favorite characters in those collaborative RPG games. It actually caused licensing issues while BOLAS was first coming out because two major characters couldn't be licensed since this band already held those licenses. The BOLAS legal team, Immy, and Mal worked out an agreement so Immy and Mal get royalties from each item. It's pretty good money considering the show's popularity.

Summary: it's a very folk-rock song. Mainly blending religion with critical anti-capitalism themes. The members in mid-40s and are currently on a break-up tour. Rams is devasted about it, the band has been a major part of hir highschool career and none had seen the break-up coming!

Band Name: PrOvide Members:

Wally Crawford Josslyn Platt Lilac Winton Astra Jackman

Last Album: Old School Choir Songs In The Album: Hymn, Hum, Worship, Watch, Praise, Pray, Worship, Watch Headcannons:

Yes, there are two different songs named Worship in the same album. Fans call the second one 'Worship Again' to differentiate them. Rumors have it that they're breaking up over creative differences but Rams doesn't fully believe those rumors. Unlike other bands, they've have a rather flexible sound that should be able to accommodate the odd/diverging album here and there.

[dirty-bosmer]

~Writerly Thumbprint Challenge~

Rules: look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. what are five (or more!) narrative elements, themes, topics or tropes that continuously pop up in your work?

Thanks to @thana-topsy for the tag! I was admittedly a bit intimidated by this one, but it was so illuminating. It's been a long time since I've taken a step back to evaluate my stories through a critical lens, and sometimes I forget what I've written 😅 I know a lot of people have already been tagged, so I'm tagging: @wispstalk @atypicalacademic @thequeenofthewinter @chennnington @rainpebble3 @justafoxhound @dumpsterhipster @skyrim-forever @sylvienerevarine @gilgamish @burningsilence

I'm a baby writer. Only two fics, both TES. Here is what I came up with:

1. An Inner Darkness, A Downward Spiral — Most of my OCs have a secret (sometimes not-so-secret) viscousness that's always simmering under the surface, threatening to ooze free. They're not necessarily mean, but they're not good people. They may not be evil, but they all do very bad things. Why? Because 1) thieving and necromancing and murder for hire are kinda fun in-game, and if our Hero is doing all of that while saving the world, it needs to be explained with something other than whimsy lol, and 2) I like the challenge of writing morally grey characters who are flawed and fucked up and unforgivable while simultaneously asking readers to root for them. I've found it quite difficult to make them likable and deserving of sympathy while not overlooking their wrongdoings or writing them inconsistently, but it makes for such interesting conflict.

2. The Pursuit of Knowledge — My protagonists and their close friends are mage-nerds because I am a nerd, and perhaps this is a case of it's easier to write what's close to home?? I love University settings and the looseness of the elder scrolls magic system. There is so much great lore to work with but in many cases it's not so rigid that you can't also twist it and grow it and shape it to your own desire. Knowledge is power as the Telvanni say. Most of my protagonists are not physically strong and rely on cunning and/or magic for defense. In that way, knowledge is the primary avenue by which they assert control over the world around them, which facilitates a lot of conversations surrounding the ethics of magical use cause well... given the way my OCs use it, it deserves to be questioned.

3. Identity — How does a character perceive themselves? How does this compare to what is perceived by those around them? I love exploring the discrepancies between these two and often write arcs that involve a character breaking through the facades they've constructed to conform to what is expected of them and/or shield themselves from the discomfort they feel in their own skin.

4. Loneliness, A Desperate Need for Love — I write characters who have been placed or place themselves on the fringes of society, yet long for acceptance and a place to belong. This leads to a lot of unhealthy and messy relationships, both familial, platonic, and romantic. Often times they hurt people they care about. They let others hurt them too, but it's okay as long as they're not alone, right? It's angst all the way to the top baby.

5. Romance is not the End Goal — Yeah, my work features ships. I'd say it's actually a huge part of the stories, but mostly because the relationships my characters are involved in "fail." People break up or they die tragically. They become incompatible and move on (sometimes lol). Maybe they endure, but romantic love is not the only kind nor the highest valued, and most importantly, I want to write characters whose self-worth is not tied up in whether they're loved by someone else.

Bonus is Awkard Bisexual Losers because all my OCs are cringe-fail and have no game.

This was such an informative exercise! I encourage everyone to take a stab at it. Please tag me if you do. I'm so excited to see what you come up with :))

[where-is-francis]

𝙏𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 —♡-> 𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣

Before You Interact — Rules Of My Blog

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Part of my Valentine’s Day 2023 blurb series

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙨: They/Them

𝘼/𝙉: This one is shorter than the rest, unfortunately, but I might add to it later. I mainly want to get all of them released before the 14th, and I’m doing some for Robin, Chrissy, and Nancy too. Lots of writing.

𝙏𝙒: None!

𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙈𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 couldn’t knock the smile off of his face if he tried — though he definitely didn’t want to. You two had just grabbed food from the diner not too far from the brunette’s residence. A muggy atmosphere and navy sky battled against the red-tinted hues of festive decorations across town. Eddie followed you across the empty lot to the van and opened the passenger door, bowing lightly and gesturing for you to enter. Even though he did it every time — the door wouldn’t budge unless the handle was yanked in just the right way and led to the usual display of affection — it still never got old.

With you inside, he walked around and got in but didn’t start the car immediately. Eddie eyed the to-go cups of milkshakes before skillfully reaching in and plucking the cherry from his own shake.

It was a great date. Everybody else in the town was out at the movies or home, which left the diner a bit bare. However, the waitress was more than okay with the fact, and even dished out some extra fries on the house.

You beamed. “Alright, time for your present.”

After lightly slapping your boyfriend’s thieving, cherry-picking hand, you adjusted slightly to rummage through the pocket of your jacket. You looked absolutely perfect to him while clad in his Black Sabbath shirt that he "lost" in his junior year. The diner lights softened from across the parking lot and flowed across your features in waves. Every time he looked at you it felt like the first time. It felt like his voice catching in his throat as his stomach melted into a puddle in the school hallway.

You cleared your throat a bit and held out a small white box in the direction of your boyfriend.

"Don't tell me you're proposing to me in the parking lot," his grin was smug but sweet.

"Oh, just open it."

The brunette obliged and popped the lid from the small box. Inside was one of his guitar picks which now hung from a necklace chain. His brows furrowed a bit as he held the necklace in the air with his glance switching between it and you.

"You didn't want it anymore?”

You froze a bit and cringed as you tried to find a better way of explaining the gift. The red and black marbled pick used to have a place in the left breast pocket of your jacket, right by your heart, since he gave it to you at the first gig you attended. His caramel eyes followed as you spun the pick around in the soft light, only to reveal his initials and yours etched into the back.

“You gave that to me the night you guys won battle of the bands. I just wanted you to have it as a reminder that was the night I realized I'm in love with you. I love you, Eddie." You reiterated.

Eddie felt his ears ring with the deafening silence of the van he forgot to start. Every time either one of you wanted to say the three simple words it was like they wouldn't budge from the safety of the lump in your throat. Now those words were free. The necklace still rested in his hand as they found the sides of your face, effectively holding you in place for a kiss.

"I love you too, so fucking much."

Reblogs instead of likes. Reblogs help other people find my works. Comments and tags very much appreciated. 💕 More male and enby reader fics on my blog.

[rockingrobin69]

SWIP Snip

I’ve already shared one this week, but my brain’s buzzing something rotten and darling @crazybutgood​ tagged me and just. I’ve been writing this fic since June, keep coming back to it, by far the longest I have (at currently 8 chapters). Featuring thieving Scorpius, grieving Draco and Harry who is... looking. For his way. For them, I guess. 

Harry only remembered it five steps from his door: peppers. He never got peppers. He was going to make goulash for Ron, which meant he spent the last few days telling himself: peppers, peppers, you need a lot of peppers, paprika means pepper in Hungarian, don't forget about the peppers, you always forget something, don’t let it be the peppers. And here, living to see yet another prophecy fulfilled, the boy who blew it. Three cartons of oats milk and not even one pepper to spare.

He stood there for a moment, thinking—no, wallowing—no, beating himself, because really. Really. Really, and just now, with the company thing and Teddy’s eleventh looming, now he had to go and do this. Harry laid the bags on the pavement and rubbed his eyes. Ron and Hermione would be here soon. He still had to take a shower, tidy up a bit. Cook the damn goulash, which he’s promised Ron he would ages ago. Give himself the never-ending pep talk he stole from that TV series, the one about things being not the end of the world, fancy that. And then Ron and Hermione would come over, and it’d be nice, it always is. They’ll say nice things about his food and he’ll remember how much he loves them. It’ll be nice.

So Harry went back with his tail between his legs. Just for the peppers, just because Ron made such a big deal about finally trying his Famous Goulash, just because Harry was a pathetic baby who needed constant coddling. Always such a baby. Which was also why, when he first heard the voice, he ignored it.

It happened, like any major drama, in the produce section. A voice coming from behind a huge bin of potatoes. Something he hasn’t heard in years, and also sort of never heard at all. Still he froze, glued to his spot down by the tomatoes. Felt his heart racing, unreasonable in his chest. And just when he stood there long enough, when he managed to convince himself it was nothing, nothing, actually nothing, the voice spoke again. Even worse, laughed, deep and warm: “Darling! Hey! Come back here!”

On the one hand, it couldn’t be him, because this was Harry’s Tesco’s and a random evening in November and no one’s seen him in years. On the other hand, who would say something like that, darling in that tone, in the middle of a supermarket, if it wasn’t—

The scene unfolded before his eyes, stuck as he was on the spot. Tiny lump of a human, blond-blond in a very telling way, practically all smile, running his way. Following: lean, far taller than he had any right to be. Hair down to his ears, messy, like that made sense. A bit paler than he has been, tighter around the mouth, but his eyes all lit up.

“Darling! Give me the—I’m sorry, Sir. It’s yours if you still want it.” He caught up with the toddler and grabbed what seemed to be a potato, handing it back to an amused-looking old man. “That was terribly rude, love. What would… we don’t steal from other people’s baskets. Apologise to this gentleman.”

“It’s all right,” the man waved a hand, “he can keep it, it’s not really—”

“Please, Sir. Scorpius, come here.”

But he just smiled, with a cheeky chuckle that made Harry remember he was there too. Something like a cough tore through him, a sudden oh, right, and then all the people in the shop turned to him. Or at least: the old man with the potato, the tiny boy, and Malfoy.

The world was silent for a long, thick moment. All four of them seemed stuck in this shared gasp. Then Malfoy blinked, three times in a row, picked up the boy, and turned his back on Harry.

“Awfully sorry,” he said, and left. Harry still stood by the tomatoes, unable to lift a finger.

Tagging anyone who wants to share with the class! Literally you! If you want to! YOU!

[middleearthpixie]

Seven Days ~ Chapter Twenty

Seven Days -  Modern Tolkien AU

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long. 

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late? 

A/N - This story is the sequel to Miss Fortune, but is a stand alone story. 

Summary: It’s Day 8, Frerin survived, and Syd looks back at that night in August that began everything…

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin, Syd, Thorin, Alex, Nico

Warnings: Kitchen sex 

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,974

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

December 12th

Sunday 

Sunlight spilled into Frerin’s bedroom but he was oblivious to it. Used to it, most likely, for while it woke Syd, he snored on. 

She rose onto her elbow and just gazed down at him. Asleep, some of the seriousness that had crept into his features since last summer softened, a bit more green and a deeper red had crept into his aura as he had to be far more at peace now, far more comfortable and at ease. And as she gazed at him, she knew just how she’d fallen under his spell so easily back over the summer. A woman had to be made of stone to not be attracted to Frerin and she was certainly not made of stone.

It had been a long day at the shop. Mrs. Urlino was up to her usual nonsense of wanting to try to contact her husband Marco, who was very much alive and well and probably at the track to get away from his insane wife. Syd and Alex had been the only ones in the shop, which meant she, Syd, was the one fortunate enough to get stuck with Mrs. Urlino. It went peacefully for about five minutes, then Mrs. Urlino pulled her usual—she’d had a fit, screaming that she was being robbed and that the Prescotts were all cheaters and thieves and the usual.

So when Sandy asked her if she wanted to go out that night, Syd couldn’t say yes fast enough. She and Sandy had been best friends since first grade, but due to work and life, they didn't get to see each other all that much. 

Darcy’s was crowed, but it was Friday, so that was no surprise, and as soon as the firefighters from Engine Two/Ladder Two came in, Sandy nudged her. “Someone’s checking you out, Syd. And he’s really hot.”

She looked up to see Frerin and his friends at the next table. “Sans, there is no way FrerinDurin is checking me out.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sandy countered. “He’s staring at you. And I’m pretty sure he’s drooling.”

Syd rolled her eyes. She remembered him from high school. His brother Thorin had graduated with her oldest sister, Teddy, and everyone at Cranford Falls High knew who he was. Frerin lived in his brother’s shadow, was a bit of a class clown and she remembered being in Spanish I with him her junior year. He spent half of his life in Vice Principal Radano’s office that year, mostly after Señora Senesky kicked him out of class.

But curiosity got the better of her and she looked. And when she did, it was like the air had been completely sucked out of the room. Frerin had been cute in high school, but he’d matured in to an absolutely gorgeous man. Dark hair. Blue-gray eyes. The most perfectly kissable lips God ever bestowed upon a man. He was tall and broad shouldered, a perfectly kept five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. And as he met her gaze, parts of her that hadn’t tingled in forever began tingling like mad. It only worsened as a slow smile curved those perfect lips.

He said something to his friends and came around to where she sat. “Syd Prescott, right?”

“Yeah. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“I’m fine.” She gestured to Sandy. “Do you remember Sandy Baker?”

“Yeah. How you doing?”

“I’m good.” Sandy looked down at her phone. “Jamie just texted me, Syd. I’ve got to call him. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Sandy slipped away from the table and the last Syd saw of her, Sandy gave her a grin and a thumbs up and left the bar.

Left her with Frerin.

An hour later, they were back at his house, tugging frantically at clothing as it got in the way. They fell together on his bed, a tangle of arms and legs, heavy breathing and sighs were the only sounds, until the bed began squeaking in a very distinct rhythm. She’d clung to him as he pounded away inside her, and when he came, he took her with him, giving her the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had. Up to that moment, anyway.

He’d asked her to stay, but she said she had to get home. Gram was expecting her and Syd didn't want to worry her. No problem, he’d told her with a grin. He’d give her a call when he got home from work Sunday.

That was the last she’d heard from him until he came into the shop last week. 

 She bit back a sigh. Thank God she’d listened to Alex and gave him that second chance. She’d come so close to losing him yesterday, all she wanted to do was wrap him in her arms and never let go of him.

How was that even possible? How did she fall in love with him so quickly, when eight days ago, she wouldn’t have trusted him as far as she could throw him?

She had no answer for it, aside from the obvious—death had changed him. It made him far more serious, far more interested in settling down. He went from fuckboy to marriage material, and now, she could see herself with him for much longer than only until sunrise.

In short, Frerin had grown up.

Riley let out a soft yip, so Syd sat up and carefully, so as not to jostle Frerin, slid to the edge of the bed. She reached for the first thing she saw—the hoodie he’d loaned her, now draped over the arm of the chair in the corner. He was well over six feet tall, at least six-two, maybe six-three, so the hoodie came down almost to her knees. 

“Come on, girl,” she whispered, tapping her hand against her leg and smiling as Riley bolted ahead of her down the stairs. 

The house still had the night’s chill, and that was nothing compared to the blast of frigid air when she unlocked and tugged open the kitchen door, which made her rethink the wisdom of wearing only the hoodie. Goosebumps rippled along her bare legs as she said, “Pee fast, pupper. It’s cold.”

Riley raced out into the back yard, the golden fur around her ears fluttering on the breeze. She stopped, lifted her nose into said breeze and let out a woof before racing to the far corner of the yard.

She smiled even as she wrapped her arms about herself. Frerin’s house was cozy, almost cute, and so was his yard. It was narrow, but deep, and right now, empty. She couldn’t remember if he’d had patio furniture, since it was dark the first time she was there and the backyard was not what she was interested in. 

“Syd?”

She jumped at the low pull of Frerin’s deep voice, thick with sleep, and turned as he came into the kitchen, absently scratching his chest. He wore only his boxer briefs, but didn't seem to mind the chilled air. “Did we wake you?”

“No. At least, I don't think so.” He rubbed one eye, then raked that hand through his hair. “Did Riley wake you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “she didn’t. I was already up.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just… I guess with everything that’s happened. I didn't sleep well last night.”

He moved to the Keurig on the counter alongside the side-by-side refrigerator and powered it on, then came up behind her to slip his arms about her waist, tugging her back against his chest as she turned to check on Riley. “Yeah, me, neither.”

She let her eyes close as those arms tightened about her and he pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Are you all right?” she whispered, letting his chest cradle her head.

“I’ll be fine, Syd. It’s just… it’s a little weird to me, you know? I mean, I know what happened to me. I know what happened in the six months that followed my death. And now, it’s all different and none of it happened at all. George Lawrence didn’t kill me. Thorin isn’t on the verge of destroying his liver. My family is whole still. And only I know what happened before I came back, and how it’s different since I came back. And no one knows I have come back at all. I was never gone to them.”

“Well,” she peered up at him, “I know it, too, now. And Thorin does as well, so… ”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same, you know? To you, this is the only reality you know. I remember another one and if I told anyone but you or Thorin, they’d think I was nuts.”

She looked up at him as he tightened his arms about her. His pulse beat softly in his neck, his arms were warm, and for the first time in her life, she actually felt safe in a man’s arms, as if they were where she was meant to be.

But at the same time, the thought that somehow a different timeline had existed… she could’t quite wrap her mind around it. And in that alternate timeline were six months she didn't remember because she hadn’t lived them yet, but he might have seen her.

She was pretty sure she’d just tied her brain in knots. 

A low sigh bubbled to her lips as she snuggled deeper into those arms. “Can I ask you something, Frerin?” 

“You want to know what it was like, don’t you? Being dead?”

“No,” she turned toward him, “did you see my parents there?”

His eyes softened, his hands coming up to cradle her face. “Yeah. They liked that Alex and Thorin were a couple, but weren’t happy they were having sex without being married. Typical mom and dad stuff. I’m sure they’re just as unhappy about us doing it as well.”

Her belly kinked. “Do they know?”

“Probably. You have a way of just… knowing things on that side.”

She sighed softly. “I hope they aren’t too disappointed in me.”

“They like me. I think they’d approve.”

“They liked you when you were on that side. Now you’re back on this side and all I want to do is jump on you.”

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“Frerin!”

“What? I’m serious. I like aggressive women.”

“Frerin.”

He grinned then, and bent to brush her lips with his. It was a light, teasing kiss at first. But then he angled in and his kiss deepened slowly, his lips parting, his tongue brushing along her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth to tease hers.

His thumbs swept along her cheeks, his fingers tightening against her just enough to tilt her head slightly as he slowly, sinfully explored her mouth, as he caressed her tongue with his, tangled it with hers, drew hers back. 

She melted against him, sliding her arms about his waist to pull him flush against her. Dear God, she loved how this man kissed! He took his time, as if savoring every stroke, every caress, every sensation that rippled between them.

Her breath grew harder to catch, her head doing a slow spin even as her heartbeat sped up. She traced her fingernails up along his back, smiling against his lips when he shivered and broke the kiss to suck in a sharp breath.

He released her face, lowering his hands to catch the bottom of her hoodie. At first, she thought he’d whisk it over her head, but instead, he skimmed his hands up beneath it, his palms warm against her skin. Her back bowed as his fingertips just grazed upward, then back down, and she sighed into his mouth. 

His hands closed about her hips, and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, sighing into her mouth this time when she wrapped her legs about his hips and their bodies met. His boxer briefs were sleek and smooth and as his arousal grew, the pressure of his erection against her had them sucking both in a hard breath at the same time. 

He backed up, sinking into one of the chairs she’d seen around the circular table, and his hands tightened on her hips, pulled her hard against him. He rocked to meet her, and Syd shivered at the tingling sensation that shot through her.

His hands slid down over her backside, cupping her cheeks to give them a gentle squeeze, to knead them as he tugged her closer. She rocked into him, smiling as his breath caught and then she shivered as he gripped the hoodie’s hem to sweep it up and over her head. 

“As hot as you look in my clothes,” he breathed, his eyes smoked aquamarine again, “you look just as hot this way…”

A hint of a chill bit into her, but was quickly forgotten as he tugged her back to meet his lips. The soft hair across his chest teased her, the friction of it against her nipples causing them to tighten, to pebble into sensitive nubs that his fingers swept lightly against. She shivered against him, her hips moving of their own to bring a soft moan to his lips. 

Her head fell back as he broke the kiss to sweep his lips over her chin, to scorch a path along the front of her neck, down over her right breast. Her back bowed, her fingernails sinking into his shoulders as he caught that nipple between his lips to flay it mercilessly with the very tip of his tongue.

Her insides melted, knots twisting as the pleasure grew, as it swelled to fill her from her core outward. He swirled his tongue about that aching point, then nipped it ever so gently to send fire rocketing through her, to make her gasp and tighten her grip on his shoulders. He pressed up into the apex of her thighs with more pressure now and when she reached down to just trace along the hot cotton, he sucked in a sharp breath.

He opened his eyes to meet hers, and the smoked aquamarines of his irises twisted her insides further. No man had ever looked at her with the same unabashed desire, the same fiery love, as Frerin Durin did right then, and she shivered from the force of that gaze alone. 

His fingers skimmed along the curve of her waist, down over her hip, along her left thigh, into the shadow between them.

“Oh!” She couldn’t hold back her gasp at the slow pulse of his finger when he slipped it inside her, crooked it, stroked her to send ribbons of pure white fire scorching through her. Her hips rolled slowly to meet his caresses, her fingernails going deeper into his smooth, hot skin even as she whispered, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered back, his voice smoking around the edges as he offered up a sinful smile, “just enjoy yourself, honey… Christ, you are so fucking wet…”

“Oh… god…” Words came slower, the fire engulfing her shoving all rational thought from her mind. He thrust, and she shuddered as the knots tightened more. He brought her to the very edge of insanity with just that finger, and she bent to seize his lips in a fierce kiss as his thumb shifted, slid slowly about that aching bud. Tingles spiraled through her, soft at first, but they quickly gathered strength and went from tingles to sparks to lightning bolts that sliced through her. She tightened about him, desperate for him to shove her over the edge, to make the wave crest and wash over her.

Then, he eased his finger from her, whispering, “I want you so fucking bad right now, Syd…”

She nodded, breathless with want and mindless with need and as he freed himself, she lifted herself carefully, waited for him to position himself, then came down onto him slow enough that he shuddered beneath her.

“Syd…” Her name was barely a breathless whisper, his hands tightening on her hips to pull her firmly against him as he rocked up toward her. “Oh, holy shit… honey…”

Linking her fingers at his nape, she took over, rising slowly from him, lowering gently against him, smiling as his eyes slid shut, only to have him jerk them open again. Her body savored every inch of him as he slid deeper into her, as he angled to fill her, and she heeded its demands, falling into a delicious rhythm that had him shuddering beneath her, his lips softly slack, his eyes clouded with desire and pleasure.

“Mmm…” He breathed, his fingers tight on her hips. “Ride me nice and slow, Syd… I want to feel every inch of you… Christ, you feel incredible…”

His eyes opened then, and a sinful smile lifted his lips as he watched her intently. She didn’t care, the heat swirling through her had nothing to do with any self-consciousness or discomfort, but instead, that fiery aquamarine gaze spurred her lust, her desire to make him feel as good as he made her feel. 

She held his stare as she rolled her hips slowly, drew him deeper, arced back until he almost slid free of her. 

“Oh, honey,” lust thickened his already deep voice, made it deeper and huskier still, “you are so fucking hot, do you know that? Christ, I love you…”

His hands tightened on her, but to his credit, he didn't try to speed her up or slow her down or change her movement in any way, but smiled as she moved against him. The pleasure wound through her, hotter with each thrust, with each roll, and she smiled as she tightened about him and he sucked in a sharp breath, shivering beneath her. 

It took every bit of will she had to keep riding him so slowly, because the fire in her core demanded she move faster, come down harder, on him. But teasing him was so heady, and felt so utterly wonderful, she wanted to make it last as long as she could.

But the end drew near as she quivered around him, as the fire roaring through her refused to be ignored. Slow and easy became far too difficult. He body demanded she move faster and so she did, rocking hard against him as she breathed, “Frerin…”

She felt his orgasm build, felt the tension wind its way through his muscled body, and he surrendered to her, let her control him, let her set the pace, the rhythm, and when he came, he wrapped his arms about her to pull her down, to crush her against him as he growled, “Sydney…” and gave himself up to the moment.

She smiled as she sank against him, buried her face in the curve of his neck. He wrapped his arms about her, cradled her against him, pressed a tender kiss into the side of her head. “I love you,” he whispered, as she fought to breathe, fought to clear her head, fought to slow her heartbeat. 

“I love you, too, Frerin,” she whispered breathlessly. “But no one calls me Sydney.”

“I do.” A hint of laughter wove into his voice. “Unless you don't want me to, that is.”

She drew away, drawing in a deep breath as she shook her head. “I don't mind it so much when you do it.”

The grin he offered up was sinful and sweet and boyish and sexy. “I didn't think you would.” 

“You are so cocky, you know that?”

His grin widened. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Frerin.”

“What?” He pulled her back to his chest. “And get back here.”

She wrapped her arms about his neck, smiling as he swept a kiss along hers. The gentle caress made her shiver, and a soft laugh bubbled to her lips as she murmured, “That tickles…”

“Good or bad?”

“It’s a little of both.”

His arms tightened about her and they sighed at the same time as nature took over and he slipped from her. “I hate that part,” he whispered with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I like it so much better inside you.”

“Frerin.”

“What? I do.”

“Yeah, I do, too.”

Riley let out a woof and Syd carefully eased off his lap, wincing at the stickiness on her thigh. “I’ll get her.”

“I’ve got her, honey,” he reached for the dish towel folded on the counter and pressed it into her hand, then bent to brush her lips with his. 

She smiled as he moved to the door to tug it open, bracing herself for the blast of frigid air that swirled in as he pulled it open and Riley trotted in. The doorbell rang as he was tossing biscuits in Riley’s bowl, so Syd smiled and said, “I’ll get it. I’m a little more decent than you.”

He grinned. “Only just.”

She looked down at her bare legs. His hoodie came to just above her knees. “True. But I’m okay with that.”

With that, she left the kitchen to cross the living room to the front door and when she tugged it open, her smile faded at the sight of Lisa Miller on the front porch.

Of course, Lisa’s smile faded as well. “Oh, I was… is Frerin home?”

“It’s his house. It’s Saturday morning. What do you think?”

Lisa’s blue eyes narrowed. “Can I talk to him?”

“No. Why are you even here? Go away.”

“Syd? Who is it?”

She turned to see him in the kitchen doorway. “Your ex-girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you serio—Lisa? What do you want?”

To Syd’s surprise, Lisa actually looked embarrassed. Her cheeks went scarlet and she visibly swallowed as she said, “I—I was hoping to catch you alone, actually. I—I read about the warehouse fire and wanted to make sure you’re okay, but I guess since she’s here, you’re just fine.”

“Yeah. I am.” He looked from Syd to Lisa and back. 

“I’m sorry. I—uh—I shouldn’t have come here, so I’ll just leave you two alone.” She managed a slight smile. “But, I’m glad you’re okay. The paper said it went to ten alarms and a few firefighters were injured.”

“It did and I ended up in the hospital for a few hours, but it was nothing serious and Syd was with me, so… I appreciate you stopping by, but I’m in really good hands.”

“Yeah. Okay. I—I won’t bother you again.”

Syd swallowed hard as Lisa turned to make her way down to the red Fiat parked behind Frerin’s Jeep. It wasn't quite as uncomfortable as it had been in Darcy’s, but at the same time, Syd stood there in Frerin’s hoodie, he wore only his boxer briefs, and Lisa wasn’t stupid, so it was still a little awkward as far as Syd was concerned.

Awkward and annoying.

“Does she usually just pop in like that?” Syd asked as she closed the inside door.

“I don't know what to tell you, Syd.”

“You don't have to tell me anything, but if she decides to make a habit of this, she and I are going to have a problem.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

“Frerin!”

“What? What guy doesn’t want two women fighting over him?”

“You’re such a jackass.” 

She rolled her eyes and moved to stalk past him, only to have him reach out and catch her around the waist. “I’d put my money on you, Syd. Don't worry.”

“You’re a dick, Frerin.”

“Why? I just said I’d bet on you.”

“Frerin!”

“What?” He drew her into his arms. “I’m kidding, honey. Now, why don't we go shower and get dressed and then… I… uh… maybe you and I could go down to Wildwood for the day.”

“Why? What’s in Wildwood?”

“My parents.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Tony Stark & Sam Wilson Drabbles

hello and welcome to my masterlist! This little space features nothing but Tony Stark x Reader & Sam Wilson x Reader fics. I do hope you enjoy! Please Don’t Forget to reblog the fics you enjoy!

Fics with 🤓 are favorites of mine!

Fics with 🔥 smut

Fics with 😡 angst

Fics with 💕 are fluff

Fics with 🍯 200+ notes

Fics I could possibly consider continuing 🧐

Ao3: caplanbuckybarnes

Tag my side log in fics y’all write!! @caplanreads

bear with me as i am adding fics to my new masterlsits very slowly!

Updated March 29 2023

———-Sam Wilson———-

Bad Romance Summary: Love is a poison [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]💕😡

Billiards Hands Summary: Sam reconnects with you after you’d run away from TWS and his crew of misfits. [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]

Stronger Together Summary: You find Sam feeling the grief over the loss of Steve. [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]

Dance With Me Summary: you take your best friend to your cousins' wedding [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]💕

Friendly Neighbors Summary: maybe the divorce wouldn’t be so terrible after all…. [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]

Pregnant Gumbo Summary: pregnant, you make your way over to your neighbors house for food [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]💕 🤓

Thieving Flowers Summary: you find out whose been taking your flowers. [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]💕

Twin Skeletons Summary: Sam is summoned by the vampire mafia king to reveal whom had been killing off the newborn creatures of the night [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3] [vampire!tony Stark, Human!Sam Wilson, no pairings]

Welcome to Brooklyn, Boys Summary: Sam gathers his men after he murders his enemy [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3]😡

-------Tony Stark ----

A Cruel and Painful Fate Soulmate AU Summary: To hate is to love 💕😡

Coffee Fun Summary: you close up shop for one day to spend the day tasting Tony’s newest muffins in his bakery. 💕

Don’t Wanna Know Summary: you knew he was cheating on you. But you couldn’t find the courage to leave him 🔥🤓

His Dirty Laundry Summary: Tony had it with the accusations, he finally comes clean. Hit man!Tony Stark x Reader 💕😡

His Promises Summary: he promised he wouldn’t make a big event out of wedding

Five Stars Summary: Tony takes you to a new restaurant. [LINK WILL TAKE YOU TO AO3] **Smut**

I Can’t, I’m Sorry Summary: it’s been far too long since you’d last seen your ex husband. 😡

One Last Quest Pirate!Tony Stark x reader Summary: Tony leaves you once more to find Jack Sparrow. 💕

Sexcapades Summary: you spend a night with Tony while your boyfriend's abroad. 🔥

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Take a Taste: with homemade Churros by my lil' bro [Feb 12th, 2023]

Hello! It’s time for another “Take a Taste”! The series is about delicious food with my two paper dolls.

And today, (a quick review of) my lil' bro is making a homamade Churros! Yum-yum! 😋🥐🍫

If you haven't seen my previous episode, then please [CLICK ME!].

So, without further do, let’s get started:

1st & 2nd Image(s): ↑

• Here it is! This is his first ever homemade Churros! 😋 Unfortunately, some of the churros we're burned, so, will my paper dolls trying it out? Nah, I think they prefer the long bend one. So, yeah, let's have a bite w/ a small dip of chocolate spread by Gardenia's Delicia! 😊

3rd & 4th Image(s): ↑

• Here's my first bite! Mmmmm..mmmm! Delicious! 😊First time we've experienced eating churros from my lil' bros' pastry skills! We're gonna eat the rest of our churros.

Overall:

• Quite delicious, but could it use a perfect timing for his homemade churros. But, since this is his time, I'd say a worthy dessert snack. 🙂👍 Here's hoping, he'll be planning to do selling business after his working career, someday. And I'll helped his business. 😊

Well, that’s all for now, If you haven’t seen my previous episodes, then I’ll provide some links down below.↓😉

Take a Taste:

○ 2021 Food Reviews: ○

• Popeyes U.S. Spicy Chicken Sandwich [Dec 6, 2021]

• Jollibee Chick'nwich & Crisscut Fries [Dec 21, 2021]: Part 1 [CLICK ME! #1], Part 2 [CLICK ME! #2]

○ 2022 Food Reviews: ○

• Mini Stop Chicken Fillet XL Sandwich [Feb 7, 2022]

• Minute Burger Cheese Burger(s) [Mar 1, 2022]

• Pepper Lunch Teriyaki Beef Pepper Rice w/ Egg (& Honey Brown Sauce) [Mar 5, 2022]

• Bacsilog’s Sulit Combo Bacon-Tocino & Samgyup Day’s Pork Herbs [Mar 12, 2022]

• Burger King Whopper w/ Sides & Drink [May 6, 2022]

• Marshmello’s Limited Edition Coca-Cola Zero [Aug 26, 2022]

• Cheesy Burger McDo with Lettuce & Tomatoes Meal [Recorded: Sept 16, 2022]

• Mcdonald’s PH McSpicy & Apple Pie (featuring their World Famous Fries) [Nov 14, 2022]

• Mcdonald’s McCrispy Hamonado Sandwich [Dec 31st, 2022]

○ 2023 Food Reviews: ○

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[musicinstrumentsins]

Unique Challenges in Insuring Vintage Musical Instruments

Are you planning to insure heritage musical equipment that is passed on to you as an heir? Well! That's WOW! However, owing to their storied histories and one-of-a-kind qualities, vintage instruments can throw a real challenge to insurance companies. These devices are often pretty old, rare, and fragile. These reasons make them more prone to getting damaged or stolen. This blog will take you through the unique challenges of protecting these musical glories. So, let the journey begin!

Challenge#1 Old and rare instruments are prone to damage and theft

One of the main challenges in protecting vintage devices is their susceptibility to damage or loss. It is all due to their age and breakable nature. Imagine trying to protect an antique vase. You know it is tender, delicate, and can easily break. Well, vintage gears are a lot like that. Because they are so old, the materials they are made from can get wimpy and brittle over time. This implies they are more likely to crack, warp, or even fall apart than their modern cousins. Right? And since they were built using old-fashioned techniques, they might not be as strong as newer instruments.

Challenge#2 Putting a set price tag on vintage pieces could be a problem

You will also agree that evaluating a piece of heritage equipment is like trying to put a price tag on a piece of art - a masterpiece. Unlike new instruments, there is no fixed market price for them. Their values can vary depending on various factors. It includes the name of the artist who made it, its age, how well it's been taken care of, its yore, and even if it has a special story. Even a tiny scratch or flaw can make a big difference in its value. This indecisiveness makes it hard for insurance service providers to figure out how much coverage to offer and how much to charge - another challenge. Isn't it?

Challenge#3 Vintage pieces are irreplaceable

Vintage musical instruments are often like rare jewels. It means you might never find another one exactly like it - irreplaceable in one word. If one gets lost or damaged, replacing it will not only be hard but almost always impossible. This scarcity can make it super expensive to fix or replace the instrument, sometimes even more than what it is worth. Reliable musical instrument insurance companies have to be utterly cautious when covering these rare prices. The reason is the chances of big losses are much higher.

Challenge#4 Heritage musical things are not immune to theft and mars of natural elements

Besides the problems we've talked about, vintage musical equipment can also be stolen or damaged by natural disasters. High-value instruments are especially attractive to thieves. And elements of nature, such as floods, fires, or earthquakes can also ruin these precious instruments. Insurance companies need to keep these risks in mind when offering coverage and setting prices.

The best antidote to these challenges - Appraisal

To keep your valuable inheritance safe, it is important to get a professional appraisal. An expert can tell you exactly how much it is worth. They consider all its special features and what similar instruments are selling for. The appraisal should also note any damage or wear and tear so the insurance company can give you the right amount of coverage. So, get your gear appraised in the first place. Then, buy a comprehensive musical instrument insurance policy.

Always remember! You are likely to need a special kind of insurance policy designed for vintage instruments. These policies offer more protection and might even cover things like fixing the instrument or replacing it with a similar one. It is crucial to find an insurance company that knows a lot about such gears and understands the special risks they are likely to come across.

So, educate yourself and choose the best insurance provider in your state for the all-around protection of your inheritance.

[blowflyfag]

WRESTLING’S MAIN EVENT: March 1990

YOU CAN’T TRUST JIM CORNETTE

By AL McGINESS

PHOTOS BY DEBRA MOSER and JOE ZANOLLE

Jim Cornette is probably the greatest manager in wrestling history. He has made his Midnight Express into one of the greatest tag teams of all-time. Now, he is “advising” the Dynamic Dudes, Johnny and Shane, two up-and-coming stars. Cornette is devious and not to be trusted, The Dudes better watch out!!

June 14th, 1989, a day which will live in wrestling infamy. That was the day of the NWA’s “Glory Days: Clash of the Champions VII” held in front of a sell out crowd of drunken Marines and their families at Ft. Bragg, N.C. The featured event on the card was to be the finals of the World Tag Team Title Tournament for the vacant NWA straps. THe four teams which had the misfortune to have to appear in the extremely hot, infested with drunks, arena were the Samoa Swat Team, THe Fabulous (and Mighty) Freebirds, the Dynamic Duds and the once-great Midnight Express. 

[The Midnights wrestle prelims nowadays.]

For eight months, the Express and their big-mouthed manager, James E. Cornette, had pandered to fans and seen their once stupendous careers go down the toilet. THe team which once beat up cretins such as The Rock ‘N’ Roll Express, the Fantastics and The New Breed, now associated with that type of trash, and just like those teams, were headed nowhere in the wrestling business. In the semi-finals of the tournament, the once-great Express were scheduled to face off with the Samoan Swat Team, Samu and Fatu,, managed by the legendary Paul E. Dangerously. It was Dangerously who made the midnight express lose their momentum in the business. Cornette’s jealousy of the “psychoyuppie” had career, and those of his men, Bobby and Stan, so eliminating Paul E. and his tremendous specimens from the sport. Fans, who are far from astute, sided with Midnights and Cornette and, surprisingly, Bobby, Stan and Cornette started pandering to these idiots and wrestling by the rules. Soon, the SST was top-ranked and the Midnights were on the scrap heap. THis match in Ft. Bragg would finish off one team or the other. The express won the match when the almighty Road Warriors, who had a score to settle with Samu and Fatu, interfered in the match, setting up Bobby and Stan for a tainted victory which put them in the final match against the winner if the Duds-Freebirds match. That saw the Freebird team win when Terry Gordy helped out, just a little bit. 

So, later on in the show, the Midnight Express were to meet the Freebirds for the NWA World Tag Team Championships. The Midnight Express made their way to ringside and then all hell broke loose! Paul E. Dangerously, looking to get some revenge on the cheating thieves, attacked Cornette with a tennis racket, giving the cretin a taste of his own medicine. Cornette was knocked as cold as some of the fools he had cold-cocked, and was lying on the concrete floor, next to the ring. The Express chased Paul E. away and tried to revive their manager, but the referee told Bobby and Stan they had to get in the ring and wrestle, so the Dynamic Duds were summed from the back and they carried Cornette back to the dressing room, leaving the Midnights alone in the ring, without their manager, for the first time in a long, long time. Without their manager watching their backs, the Express lost when Terry Gordy gave Bobby Eaton a “Power Bomb”, when the referee wasn’t looking, and Jimmy Garvin pinned the eunuch to take those straps.

[Jim Cornette is only advising The Dudes and still only manages one team, The Midnight Express.]

Nobody knew just how seriously hurt James E. Cornette was, it was thought he had suffered a concussion but, in reality, the blow to the head from Paul E.’s tennis racket caused extensive brain damage! That’s right, brain damage. A look at developments since that day prove this to be true. How else can anyone explain why Jame E. Cornette would associate with a pair of wimps like the Dynamic Duds, much less advise them in their matches? In the meantime, Cornette has insulted the Midnight Express to the point of no return and the break-up of the trio is inevitable. 

Stan Lane has a problem with Johnny Ace. Both are noted beach bums and womanizers. While hanging around Daytona Beach, Lane met a girl, she fell in love, Stand was in lust. Unknowingly to Stan, this same bimbo frequented Ft. Myers and Clearwater beaches on Florida’s West Coast (Daytona is on Florida's East Coast) and, at one of those beaches, this girl met Johnny Ace, then with the Florida wrestling establishment. Ace fell in love with her and the bimbo was in lust. She knew she had it made, but she was stupid and didn’t know how to juggle two men at once. She had to make a decision, and m since she was a beach bum too, she had no brains to choose Johnny Ace instead of the real man, Stan. Sweet Stan was insulted, to say the least. He was a star, Johnny Ace was nobody, and he was handsome, Johnny Ace was a Dude, he couldn’t understand what this wench saw in him. 

Stand didn’t need her, he could get any girl he wanted, but he knew someday his path would cross with Ace and Ace would pay his dues. Someday came soon as Johnny Ace turned his back on his fans and became a Dynamic Dud with Shane (What a Shame) Douglas. Immediately, these two cretins started pandering to the teenybopping idiots in the NWA crowds and made them have feelings their under-utilized bodies knew nothing about. Stand saw what was going on and was appalled. Here Ace had this beautiful woman and, still, he played around with Teenybopping Trouble infesting the audience. 

[The Midnight Express no longer trusted their manager, Jim Cornette, after he cost them a match at “Halloween Havoc”.]

The Express had business to take care of, they couldn’t care less about the Dynamic Duds. Those two weren’t going anywhere in the NWA anyway, so Stan and Bobby had no reason to associate with the losers. Then, one day, James E Cornette made a surprise announcement and revealed his debilitating disease, for the first time, to the public. Cornette told the world that he would be advising the Duds from now on, they showed promise to be Champions and just needed some good guidance to get there. While he was advising the Duds, he was still only managing one team, The Midnight Express. Needless to say, Stan and Bobby were appalled. They spent their entire careers eliminating cream-puff tag teams from the sport, now their manager wanted them to associate with one, and, of course, Stand had already been stabbed in the back by one of the losers on the team. Stan and Bobby were incensed! How could their manager, who they trusted so much, do this to them?!

Things got worse from there.The Express had a scheduled Tag Team Title match with the Freebirds in Roanoke, VA. The match got out of hand and James E. Cornette summoned the Duds from the back to help the Express out. Stan and Bobby never needed help before to take care of business and they certainly didn’t need these two cretins’ help. They were insulted when the Duds hit the ring. After cleaning house, Bobby and Stan refused to shake the Duds’ hands and left the ring, leaving Cornette and the Duds behind. Then a short time later, it was signed a Title match for his men against The Freebirds. Stan and Bobby, Naturally, thought , since Cornette managed them, it was their shot, but no, Cornette stabbed his team in the back and gave it to the Duds. Needless to say, Bobby and Stan were extremely angry. They knew they were on their own now and couldn’t trust their own manager.

The Duds-Freebirds match was scheduled for the “Halloween Havoc” show which was held in Philadelphia, Pa. Stan and Bobby were consigned to the prelims, teamed with Steve “Dr. Death” Williams, against the SST, along with their new teammate, The Samoan Savage, and their new manager, Sir Oliver Humperdink. The Express came to the ring to rousing cheers from the astute Philadelphians. The three favorites more than held their own in this match, until all hell broke loose once again. A six-way brawl in the ring was made into an eight man brawl when James E. and the Hump got into it on the ring apron and let the match continue. The new Cornette just stood on the ring apron and pandered to the humanoids. The brawl continued on the right and a Samoan whipped Stan into the ropes, right where Cornette was. Stan’s head hit Cornette’s tennis racket and tan was knocked out, as the Samoans got an easy pin and victory. When Stan woke up, he was livid! Not only does his manager stab him in the back, but the man costs his own team the match because of carelessness. After a brief argument, Stan and Bibby left Cornette in the ring and went back to the dressing room, alone. About an hour later, James E. Cornette brought the Dynamic Duds to the ring to face the mighty Freebirds. What an appalling sight!! The astute fans in Philadelphia were incensed, the Midnights are their favorite team, they hate wimps like the Duds. They booed the Duds unmercifully, while they cheered the Freebirds team onto victory. On TV, fat Jim Ross tried to ignore the astuteness of the Philly fans, according to reports, he said that Michael Hates paid his friends to come to the Civic Center to cheer for his team. Not so, the fans know when someone is getting a raw deal and they knew how to Express (HAHA!!) their displeasure. With the fans’s support, the Might Champions finished off the Duds’ unwarranted title contentions claim. 

[After Jim Cornette got the Dynamic Dudes a World Title Shot, The Express thought they were all alone in the wrestling world, without a manager.]

The next week on TBS, Gordon Solie was surprised to discover that the Duds were signed to a match against The Midnight Express. He called Jim Cornette to the microphone to explain his actions in scheduling his two teams against each other. Cornette professed innocence, he didn't sign the contracts for the match. It was then that “Sweet Stan” confessed, he wanted the Duds in the ring and he forged Cornette’s name on the contract and Stan wanted to know which team James E. Cornette would manage, the winners-The Midnight Express, or the losers-The  Dynamic Duds. Cornette said he’s think it over. 

The following week Cornette came out and said he would be in a neutral corner in this match and wouldn’t manage either team. What Cornette didn’t tell the world is he’s having his head X-rayed to see if he can get rid of the constant headaches he’s been suffering for the past several months. Come November 15th, in Troy, N.Y. at the “New York Knockout-Clash of the Champions IX”, the fateful encounter between the Duds and the immortal Midnight Express will take place. Jim Cornette will be in a neutral corner. The backstabbing thief has been known to in interfere in matches before. Let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything to hurt the Midnight Express and their careers.