#they actually wanted me to scrap it and do a new cover at one point but I was like NOOOO!!! NOOOO!!!!! NOOOOOO!!!!

[pangur-and-grim]

spotted at the american museum of natural history in nyc!!!!!

oh awesome, thanks for showing me!

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - 2. Off to the Races

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Previous Chapter │ The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: You hesitantly reach for the massive bouquet, looking at the beautiful mix of colors in awe. "Joel," you breathe, "They're beautiful." "The woman at the shop said that certain flowers can have meaning. She asked me about you." He points to the flowers in your hand. "Lilies, well, they mean infatuation. Chrysanthemums, for excitement." He points to the pink rose. "For sweetness and admiration." "and the carnations?" "For fascination and enchantment." "Joel.. you don't mean that, do you?" He chuckles. "Oh, I absolutely do, Sugar. Those flowers are just my way of expressing what I already know."

Chapter Warnings and Tags: Joel Miller is hungry and wants to EAT, Smut, One massive Tess sized-cockblock, Boss x Employee relationship, Time Jumping to and fro, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, Joel jumps right in, Explicit language, Did I mention smut?, Soft boy Joel Miller

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: You GUYS. YOU GUYS (!!!!!)

Thank you so much for all of the love for the first chapter of my silly little series with my even sillier Old Man Joel and his Sugar. I am absolutely flabbergasted by all of the likes, reblogs, and comments from all of you, it really means a lot to me! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I have the first few chapters written and planned out, and I hope to post at least a new chapter once a week. I can't make any promises as I go back to work next week, but I will try. I apologize in advance if I skip a week, it is not my intention to let you guys down.

I hope you all enjoy!

Today. 

[Hey Sugar, are you in your office right now?]

Yes, did you need something, Mr. Miller?

[Yes, actually, I do. I'll come to you, don't leave!]

A knock on the door startles you.

"Hey, Sugar?" Tommy Miller's voice rings out from the other side of the door. "Have you seen Joel? I know he said he had to ask you about something, but that was an hour ago-"

"Yeah?" you reply, almost in a whine, your head tipped back in pleasure as you try to muffle a scream. "Joel? No, haven't seen him around. No, not since this—"

There's a pause, and then Tommy's voice comes again, this time with a hint of amusement. "Still wrestling with his laptop, huh? The man can't even change his wallpaper without causing a crisis. I'll check his usual spots. If you see him, tell him Tess needs him in her office, pronto."

Just then, the muted sound of a cough under your desk catches your attention. You look down to find Joel, crouched beneath the desk with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Now, where were we?" he chuckles, his eyes meeting yours with a mischievous glint.

“Joel!” You smack him playfully as you roll your desk chair back. “Tess will have your head if you don’t show up soon!”

“But I’m starving, baby! Just let me have a little snack-“ he pulls your chair back to him as he situates himself under your desk, lifting your skirt as he smiles at the sight of your barely-there scrap of lace one would call underwear. “Shit baby, is this for me?” He lowers his head to your aching cunt, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you closer to his mouth. He rubs the tip of his nose along your slit, a satisfied smirk forming on his lips. He licks at your covered mound, the tip of his tongue adding just enough pressure for you to gasp out in pleasure. “I asked you a question, baby girl. Who did you wear these panties for?”

“You,” you say breathily, covering your mouth to muffle up your moans as he plants kisses along your thighs. “You, Mr. Miller. Only you.”

“Who owns this pretty pussy?”

"You do, Sir."

"Damn right, I do." Joel licks his lips as he pushes your panties aside, licking your clit. "Fuck, she's aching for me, isn't she?" He locks his eyes with yours, his mouth hovering over your pussy. "Can I?"

You nod, not trusting yourself to keep quiet.

Joel shakes his head, displeased with your answer. "No baby, use your words-" he growls, nipping at your thighs as you wince in pain.

"PLEASE Joel, keep going!" He smiles at your eagerness, licking and parting your folds with his tongue. He pins you against his face, tightening his hold on you as your body trembles.

"Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet-"

"JOEL!" Tess's voice reverberates through the hallway, the urgency evident in her heavy-footed approach, each step echoing past your office door. "Has anyone seen him?!"

Joel lets out an exasperated groan, his head dropping onto your lap as you suppress a giggle. "Duty calls, Mr. Miller. Can't keep your boss waiting, can you?"

"I am the boss, just so you're clear on that."

"Sure, Joel, keep telling yourself that."

Joel crawls out from under your desk with a grunt, stumbling onto the carpet with a thud. "I'm definitely too old for this shit," he mutters, trying to regain his footing.

"It's your list, Mr. Miller. You make the rules, I just help you execute it," you quip, smirking as you extend a hand to help him up.  

He takes your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He yanks you towards him, and you end up falling into his lap. "Right where I want you," he smirks, capturing your lips in a kiss.  

You smile as he starts to kiss along your jaw. "You are insatiable."

"Only for you, Sugar."

"JOEL, FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Tess bellows from across the building.

"You better go before she breaks down all the doors," you wince as you give him a small frown. "Again."

Joel sighs, pressing one last kiss on your forehead. "Fine, but once I'm done with Ms. Pain in my ass-"

"You're going to go back to work like a good boy?" you reply sweetly, straightening out your skirt as Joel heads towards the door. He gives you one last glance as he turns the doorknob, a hungry look on his face.

"This isn't over, baby girl. When I come back, I expect to eat."

Ten years earlier. 

"Joel! Tommy! Thank you so much for coming! Please, come in, come in!"

Joel straightens up and smooths out his flannel, nervously fiddling with his tool belt slung taut on his hips. He gives a curt nod to the client, turning to his side expecting to find Tommy next to him. His eyes narrow at the empty space. "Tommy, you fuck," he hissed under his breath at his brother, who was casually smoking a cigarette off to the side of the client's perfectly manicured lawn. "Put that out and stop fucking around, we're getting paid for this shit!"

Tommy takes a long drag, exhaling a long plume of smoke before flicking the cigarette onto the street. "This is small-time shit, Joel. We should be playing with the big dogs, not wasting our time doing residential work. How much was the bid?"

"20."

"Bullshit. This is no more than 5, and you know it. It's just a fucking scorched roof, and at only one side, it's not even a complete replacement."

Joel scoffs at his brother, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Have you seen the size of this fucking house? We're in fucking Westlake Hills, for fucks sake. Think of the potential! Maybe we can convince them to replace the entire roof, replace their windows... fuck, I just want to make a good impression!"

"Oh, so is that why you're dressed like a fucking moron? Cowboy boots? Really? You're 46, not 26." he appraises him as he makes his way towards the front of the house. "Don't tuck in your shirt, man. I can see your fucking beer belly from here!" Tommy looks towards the front door, the client having already retreated into the home. He cocks his head and whispers to his older brother. "Is the wife hot? Shit. Maybe I should have run a comb through my hair-"

"They want this project done in a month." 

Tommy whips his head towards Joel. "Are you fucking KIDDING ME? JOEL-"

"Boys!" The client's voice cuts through the building tension between the brothers, a sweet conspiratory smile on her face. "Are you coming?" She looks out into the distance beyond the brothers, a big smile blooming across her face. "Oh, Sugar! come and meet the boys who are fixing up the roof, you know, the side where your antenna thing exploded?" She beckons to the figure who was suddenly behind them, motioning her to join their conversation.  

She's a sweet little thing, Joel muses, all nerves and jitters like a baby calf attempting to walk for the first time. So fucking cute, he thinks to himself. You were dressed for the brutality of the Austin summer, with barely there cut-off shorts and a tiny white baby tee, the sweat forming on your skin wetting the thin fabric, and if Joel looked hard enough, he swears he saw the outline of your nip-"

"Baby," the client rings out, forcing Joel to look away in embarrassment, a blush forming on his neck all the way up to his face. "You remember Joel Miller, the contractor we ran into in the mall?"

"Yeah. I remember. Hi, Mr. Miller."

You cringed as you approached, your head downcast as you awkwardly reached your overbearing mother. "Tommy, come and meet my daughter, we call her Sugar, because she's so sweet! She's back home from UT Dallas, she's working her way up to her master's in IT! We're all so proud of-"

"Mom," you whine, glaring at the ground as you shift around uncomfortably. "I don't think they care about what I'm doing at school."

"Don't be silly, Sugar," the mom chided with a dismissive wave. "These fine gentlemen surely appreciate a smart, capable woman, right, Joel? Tommy?"

Joel, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected introduction, nodded with a friendly smile. "Absolutely, ma'am. Education is valuable, and we're glad to have such esteemed company. It's hard enough to go through earning your bachelor's, I'm sure it's hell trying to navigate trying to get your masters!" Joel clears his throat as he gives her a nervous smile. "You look great, by the way. You look well rested, I reckon this break is doing you some good."

Tommy, giving Joel an amused look, chimed in. "Smart is the new sexy, Sugar. Nothing to be shy about. I agree," Tommy winks at his brother as his smile widens at Joel's nervous shuffling. "Joel sure likes them smart and capable, alright."

You blushed, still uncomfortable with the attention. "Well, uh, nice to meet you, Tommy, and it's nice to see you again, Joel," You mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Pleasure to see you again too, Sugar," Joel replies.  

Tommy chokes on nothing as he witnesses his brother taking the girl's hand in his, placing a soft kiss on it. 

"Oh, brother of mine," he whispered to himself, shaking his head at seeing how smitten his brother was for you. "For fucks sake, what the hell am I going to do with you?"

Six Months and One Week ago.

"Sugar? Is that you?"

You turn towards the deep voice, smiling at the body that it's coming from. "Mr. Miller, it's nice to see you again. Thank you so much for this opportunity-"

"I heard from your mother that you got that Masters, I'm proud of you, girlie."

"Oh," you stammer, "It was nothing-"

"Don't do that," Joel says with a frown, shaking his head in disappointment.  

"Do what?" you ask, matching his frown as he steps towards you. You can't help but gasp at his sudden boldness. You keep your hands glued to your sides, willing yourself to not reach out to his chest. You forgot just how much he affected you, even if it's been a decade since you've seen him last. He's older, sure, with strands of grey peppered throughout his curly hair... but he's different too, the remnants of his boyish charm morphing into something harder, more rugged, more broad. You tremble under his scrutiny. You force yourself to meet his heavy gaze. "Do what?" you repeat out louder, your voice getting caught in your throat as you push an errant strand of hair away from your face. 

"You shouldn't downplay yourself like that. Earning something like your Master's is a big deal, don't sell yourself short like that, okay?"

You grant him a small smile. "Okay."

Joel, satisfied with your answer, nods. "Want to grab a cup of coffee with me?"

Six Months Ago.

"Are you sure she's good? Joel! Are you fucking listening?" Tess snaps, her fingers snapping for emphasis as Joel jolts in surprise. "It says here that she's been working at the Geek Squad for the last eight years; that's hardly enough experience to run an entire department—"

"She has her masters in Management Information Systems from UT Dallas, and the person who vouched for her-"

"Yeah, her mother? If she's as old as you, I highly doubt she can grasp what we need... what are we doing Joel? Are we just letting little old rich ladies headhunt for us now? I don't need no privileged priss in some ball gown running IT, we're a multi-million dollar company-"

"... who didn't even have a decent IT department in the first place, and now that Gloria is retiring, shit, Tess-" Joel runs his hands through his hair as he groans in frustration. "... she's better than everyone else we've interviewed, hell- at least we know that she's a lifer, being that she's worked for minimum wage at Best Buy for almost a decade! We have a chance to bring someone in to help out with the draftsmen, shit, she's even proficient in Revit! Tess, level with me: with her knowing that 3D modeling shit - we need her! More than she needs us!"

"So it's not that you want to fuck her, then?" Tess rolls her eyes as she throws your resume on his desk. "Yeah, Tommy mentioned your little high school crush on her, it's funny, you conveniently forgot to mention that-"

"Tess, don't."

"So if we decide to hire her, I won't catch you fucking her in your office? Her office? The conference room, the supply closet..." She glares at him, tipping her head back as she pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance.  

"For fucks sake Tess, are we hiring her or not?"

Tess rises from her seat, running her hands down her slacks to straighten them, and gives Joel one last glance. With a half-smile, she shakes her head as she heads toward the door. "I'll email her an offer. If she takes it, she takes it... But, I will be starting her off at our base pay."

Joel nods, suppressing the urge to beam as much as he'd like. "That's fine."

"Oh? And Joel?" She pivots back to Joel, hand on the doorknob. "I didn't hear a no. If I catch you guys in my office, I will fucking castrate you, you hear?"

Two weeks ago.

To: Sugar0926@gmail.com

Fr: J.Miller@gmail.com

Subject: About that list...

11:30 am (30 min ago)

Sugar,

Thanks for saving my ass last night. The meeting with The H Hotel went off with a hitch and Tess was none the wiser for my little mishap... no harm, no foul, right? Right.

About earlier today, when you said "Let's do this", was that a "Yes, maybe?" or a "Yes, definitely?" because I would very much like to do this, with you, at your pace, of course. I don't want to pressure you or anything. I'm just fucking excited, you know? You have no idea how much I've wanted to talk to you back then... I let shit get into my head, you know? Fuck. I'm rambling.

Thank you for giving me a chance, Sugar. I promise I will do everything in my power to make it worth your while.

Joel

To: J.Miller@gmail.com

Fr: Sugar0926@gmail.com

Subject: RE: About that list...

11:45 am (0 min ago)

Yes, definitely. Yes to all of it. 

When do you want to start?

One week ago.

[Hey Sugar, are you busy?] 

Not at the moment, I'm about to clock out for lunch, what's up? Did you click on a phishing link again?

[Sugar, have a little faith! Say, I'm about to head out to lunch too, meet me in the parking lot in 5?]

That's rather forward and presumptuous of you, Mr. Miller. What if I had already brought lunch from home? What if I was looking forward to eating my adult lunchable?

[What the hell is an adult lunchable? It sounds terrible! What if I take you to that little Sushi joint down the road? Would that be enough to convince you to come out with me? I'll let you snack on the lunchable on the way there.]

Hey! Don't knock my charcuterie! Also, Doesn't that "little sushi joint" have a two-month waiting list? It's impossible to get in! I thought that it was only open for dinner?

[Baby, don't you know that we built that restaurant? Masayoshi is a good friend of mine, and he owes me a favor. All it takes is one call, what do you say? Nothing's impossible for my Sugar.]

Nothing's impossible for my Sugar. Sugar. My Sugar.  You read Joel's message over and over again, your stomach growling as you contemplate the current state of your life. If someone had told you six months ago that you would manage to not only crawl your way out of the depths of Geek Squad hell, snag a decent job, and catch the eye of your hot-as-fuck boss, you would have laughed in their face at how ridiculous that sounded. It is ridiculous - how one little mistake led to having everything you could have possibly wanted out of your minuscule life, hot man included. So what if you haven't had a serious relationship since college? It's not like you were with your ex long enough for you to go all the way, and even then, you weren't remotely even into him, he was too skinny and nerdy and didn't scream 'man' at all. His nervous laughter and awkward shaking did nothing for you. Joel, on the other hand- now that was a man. A man you wouldn't mind climbing like a tree, all thick and firm and sturdy...

[Sugar? You still there? Are we doing this or not?]

You snap out of your daydreaming, your decision already being made. Your hands shake as you type out your response, your fingers striking the keys with a finality that you never would have thought you would ever have the courage for.  Well, you think to yourself as you press enter.  Here goes nothing...

I'll be right there. See you soon.

[That's my good girl.]

"Hey, Sugar," Joel greeted with a playful grin from the driver's seat of his F-150, his arm casually resting on the open window. His eyes lingered on you as if savoring the moment. "Hop in, Masayoshi is heading over to the restaurant now."

You rolled your eyes with a teasing smirk as you approached the passenger side, clamoring into the cab with a bit of awkward grace. "Just like that? A single call to your chef friend, and he drops everything to cater to your every whim? Color me impressed, Mr. Miller."

Joel chuckled. "Well, what can I say? I am sort of a big deal." He reached for your hand across the center console, fingers intertwining, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin. "Is this okay, Sugar?" He lifted your hand to his lips, planting a gentle kiss. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a delightful flutter in your stomach. Turning your head away, you mumbled, "It's very okay, Mr. Miller."

"Now, what did I tell you?" Joel teased, a glint in his eyes. "It's Joel, none of this Mr. Miller nonsense. Save that for when we're crossing off items on my list, alright?"

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, a blush creeping up your cheeks as Joel's easy charm and forwardness caught you off guard. "You're going to be the death of me, Joel," you quipped, half-jokingly, half-serious, unsure how to navigate the sudden closeness. The air in the truck seemed to hum with a subtle tension, and you wondered if Joel could sense the rapid beating of your heart.

Joel's gaze held a playful sparkle, and he grinned. "Well, Sugar, I hope it's a good way to go." He revved the engine, and the truck rumbled to life as he pulled out onto the road. 

"So, Sugar, tell me something interesting about yourself," his fingers tapping the steering wheel to an imaginary beat.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, Joel, I like to teach myself new things, I have a British shorthair named Sir Bubbles, you know, because I was obsessed with Bridgerton, And, by the way, it's Mr. Miller only when executing things on your list, right?" you teased, recalling his earlier remark.

Joel shot you a sly grin. "Sharp memory, Sugar. You're catching on quickly."

As you neared the sushi restaurant, the conversation seamlessly transitioned to lighter topics. Joel shared stories about his work, and how it felt working with Tommy and Tess, and you found yourself drawn into his earnestness and honesty. The playful banter continued as Joel made his way towards the edge of town, your cheeks hurting from how easy it was to smile in his company.

Parking the truck, Joel turned to you with a playful glint in his eye. "Ready for some sushi and more of my irresistibly charming company, Sugar?"

You roll your eyes, feigning reluctance. "Oh, the charm? I don't know if I can handle it, Mr. Miller."

He grins, opening your door with a flourish. "Well, brace yourself, because it's coming."

As you step out, Joel pauses, reaching behind your seat. "Wait a sec," he says, unveiling what looks like the botanical equivalent of a small garden. "A little something to brighten up your day."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this part of the list?"

Joel chuckles. "Maybe."

You hesitantly reach for the massive bouquet, looking at the beautiful mix of colors in awe. "Joel," you breathe, "They're beautiful." 

"The woman at the shop said that certain flowers can have meaning. She asked me about you." He points to the flowers in your hand. "Lilies, well, they mean infatuation. Chrysanthemums, for excitement." He points to the pink rose. "For sweetness and admiration."

"and the carnations?"

"For fascination and enchantment." 

"Joel.. you don't mean that, do you?"

He chuckles. "Oh, I absolutely do, Sugar. Those flowers are just my way of expressing what I already know."

You playfully roll your eyes, holding the bouquet to your chest. "You're quite the charmer, Mr. Miller."

"Only for you," he replies with a wink, taking your hand as you both head towards the sushi restaurant. "After you, baby girl."

After lunch, you and Joel emerge to find the heavens have opened up, rain pouring down in sheets. Joel stops you in your tracks, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of sincerity and mischief.

With a twinkle in his eye, he asks, "Mind if I tick off the first thing on my list?" 

You smile, stepping closer to Joel as he tucks an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the both of you soaked to the bone.

"Yes please, Mr. Miller."

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat, @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115, @thewiigers,

@auteurdelabre, @quicax3, @casa-boiardi, @amyispxnk, @untamedheart81,

@paleidiot, @bbiophiliaa (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

As always, dividers by @saradika-graphics

[hidefdoritos]

Patch on a Pocket

Hello everyone! I'm back with my latest DIY: fixing a cargo pocket that tore out.

I had my work ID badge in this pocket, and I caught it on a truck door. It's a messy tear! When I was brand new to mending, I would've given up. But I have two options: unpick this pocket and use it as a template for a replacement, or try a patch. I tried the patch.

Step one: Clean up the fuzzy edges.

Hmm. Yeah, since chunks of the original fabric are missing, I can't whip the edges back together. I need a patch.

If I'd actually torn the shorts fabric, I'd have put a patch on the inside and another patch on the outside, so the raw edges would be encased in a "patch sandwich." However, this is just the pocket. The inside of the mend doesn't have to withstand the washing machine. I decided instead to...

Step 2: Whipstitch around the tear.

I don't like the look of a whipstitch on a tear, and in my experience, when done on the outside, it disintegrates in the wash. But for the inside of a pocket, it's actually fine. I used marigold thread because I hate the color and have too much of it.

Step three: Prep a patch that's bigger than the tear.

I measured a 4-by-4 square-ish and pinned it flat onto the moving box that's protecting my carpet. Then I used my nail polish brush and my white mystery paint to paint a spiderweb. I've been inspired by goths lately, I guess.

Step four: Hem the patch.

This one isn't necessary--you can do it while you affix the patch--but I just got my machine back from the shop and wanted to try it out.

Step four point five: Pin the patch to the pocket.

I didn't measure well for the patch, and I'm extremely lucky that it just barely covers all the tear. Also I stuck scrap cardboard in the pocket so I couldn't actually sew it shut.

Step 5: Sew on and admire!

Here's the finished look! It took me a few hours (longer than making a new pocket would've taken), but I like it a lot. I did a few tiny stitches on the inside to keep that big corner of the tear anchored to the patch. I also put a few studs on the shorts because why not!

[ilovetheriddler]

Reluctant Comfort.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 1,170.

Contents: You're upset, Edward Comforts you in his own way.

You were distracted and distraught as you made your way back to Edward "Lair," as he called it, your arms full of bags containing more parts and pieces for his contraptions. You had been working as his assistant for a few months now. It most definitely wasn't easy by any means, especially not with how he regularly acted. He was more egotistical than anyone else you had ever met, but he was also undeniably brilliant. Honestly, if he wanted to, he could probably create quite a few things that could ultimately help people, but no. He was purely dedicated to his riddles and his urge to destroy and humiliate The Caped Crusader, Batman.

However, the main thing that currently had you upset wasn't actually anything to do with your "employer," No, it was the result of a run in you just had with one of the boys who used to harrass you in high school, and even though you knew you shouldn't waste any thought on someone who had treated you so poorly, it still ate away at you how he seemingly had a very successful life. He had a loving wife, a high paying job, and he was seemingly well respected. You originally tried to push away your frustration at this by thinking that maybe he had changed since high school. Maybe he was actually a decent guy now? No, no, he wasn't.

You had walked over to say hello, and he gave you the most pitiful look you had ever seen, as if he was disgusted by your very existence. That same infuriating look he gave you all throughout high school. Once he recognized you, he couldn't help bragging about how good his life was. And you knew that you shouldn't wish bad things on this guy, that you should take the high road. But it was really difficult when it was someone who had made you so miserable.

You eventually made it back to Edward's Lair. You walked inside and sat the extra parts and pieces down on the counter. You looked over and could see Edward right where you'd expect to find him. Hunched over his workbench, frantically scribbling out new ideas for his creations onto any scrap of paper within a five feet radius. He looked as disheveled as always. His question mark shirt was unbuttoned and covered in stains from oil and overall dirt. His white tank top underneath was somehow even more filthy. He's covered in sweat and grime, with bandaids scattered onto random places on his arms and face. Yeah, that was your employer, alright.

He hadn't bathed in days. You had been practically begging him to at this point because honestly, he's starting to smell, and you can't handle it. Of course, he just ignored you anytime you brought it up. He always got like this whenever he believed that he had come up with a brilliant plan to take down batman. He briefly glances up at you, his usual slight scowl present on his face.

"It took you long enough! I was beginning to believe that you simply perished or something along those lines!"

"I um... Apologize, Mr Nigma, I... tried to get back here as quickly as possible..."

He was a bit surprised and frustrated at your tone of voice. You were clearly upset about something, and he knew that it would obviously hinder your assistance to him. So he stands up from his workbench and begrudgingly makes his way over to where you were currently standing.

"Alright, spit it out! What insignificant thing is bothering you?"

"It's um... nothing. I just feel a bit... upset, I guess, because I ran into someone who used to be a jerk to me back when I was younger...:

"... And? Is that it?!"

"Well, it's just.... I suppose I'm just frustrated. He's seemingly really successful and happy in life despite how he treats people... I guess I just... always kind of thought that some type of Karma would happen, you know?"

He clenched his jaw slightly in frustration before he sighed.

"So let me see if I have this correct. You're upset because some Imbecilic Fool who used to harrass and humiliate you when you both were teenagers is now successful and seemingly getting everything he desires. Do I have that, right?"

".... Um... yeah, that's basically it....."

"Well, it's absolutely foolish to allow that to bother you! I don't want you wasting a single ounce of energy thinking of that moron. Do you understand!?"

He stared at you with a truly bone-chilling intensity as he waited for you to answer him. You remained silent and simply nodded in response. You could still feel his eyes watching you as your gaze remained glued to the floor from nerves. He let out a noise of somewhat frustration.

"I don't like to repeat myself, so listen carefully! I don't give a damn about whatever he said to you in the past or when you saw him earlier. It doesn't matter! He's just a dimwitted fool clearly, while you have the privilege, the honor of being my trusted assistant! So, take some pride in the fact that I consider you competent enough for my plans."

You were somewhat surprised and taken aback. Despite his usually harsh tone, he almost sounded as though he was... giving you praise...? Or at the very least, what would count as praise and appreciation from somewhat that acted like he did. So you couldn't help but be slightly touched.

"Y-yes, sir.... I understand...."

"... Excellent, now. Bring those spare parts over to my workbench, I need them for my latest project."

He has a somewhat slightly smug look on his face as he returns back to working on his plans. You bring over the materials he asked for and set them down before you clean up some of his scraped pieces of paper, ideas he came up with but then decided weren't worth pursuing so he tore them up in a fit.

About a week later, you're confused when looking over the cameras he had set up to watch batman attempt to solve his challenges and riddles. You could clearly see what appeared to be the same guy who used to torment you in high school. Why was he trapped in one of Eddie's contraptions?

Edward walked into the same room as you and sat down in front of his monitors. He could tell that you were overall confused and unsure as to what exactly he's up to with his latest tester for his newest challenge.

"I don't see why you're so shocked, I mean, after all... I can't allow someone to speak ill of my assistant, only I'm allowed to do so! If anyone else does, then they're practically insulting me and my decision to hire you!"

In a way, it warmed your heart slightly. Was he the best man for you to have secretly developed feelings for? Absolutely not. But you couldn't control it. You were utterly infatuated with him.

[ganondoodle]

(while i am crumbling into pieces from cramp pain)

back when they announced the totk masterworks book i said i wasnt happy about it bc it would either

prove they thought all this was good from the start and everything went as planned

show us that they had unbelievable better ideas and plans but for some unknow reason scrapped it all

as it stands now with the concepts i have seen ... they somehow did both, some things seemed to have been planned fro mthe start (the whole focus on sonau/zonai stuff for example, which i personally just dont like bc i liked them better as an unkown mystery you never get to meet) and other stuff (like ganondorfs concepts, or the infinitely cooler castle in the sky esque concepts for the sky islands, instead of some nonsensical, meaningless little stone crumbs) was much, much more interesting initially (together with the interviews that said they initially planned to have the battery be a magic meter and make the sonau more magic than tech- but then decided to build their stuff around modern electrical devices just so players would immediately know what it was an what it would do -why????? thats so boring?? and unecessary ?? and they still give you tutorials for it anyway, multiple times??!!- for some ungodly reason)

it makes me more and more sure that this game, that took 6 years to make with most assets already being there (the same time that botw took to make?????????), went through a similar development hell as that one final fantasy game did where the director decided to make it an entirely different game every few weeks bc he saw something cool in another game-

its the only thing that makes sense to me, why else would it be so weirdly ... unfinished, its full of grand ideas badly executed, or like i said in a previous post, like an alpha build (weird! did someone in charge also see cool stuff every few months and decide they wanted it in there too no matter what so everyone had to scramble to try and put it in making the whole jenga tower fall over and over??), just to test how far you can push things, with placeholders everywhere, the same cutscene pasted in where another should be and a placeholder reason to get players to go soemwhere (fake zelda) and rough ideas for puzzles etc, that was never finished, jsut highly polished (in looks, sounds and presentation) in hopes of it being 'good enough' or players not noticing (like, take the underground for example, the idea itself is fantastic and cool as fuck, but its feels like an idea that was never finished and just barely fileld with some things to try and cover up the fact that it was never done, like a statue that wasnt done being carved but ran out of time so they painted it anyway- take the base map and invert it, put some easily accessible points of jumping down into it in random spots to test if the game can handle it- no time left to actually get that idea anywhere more specific and well thought out/put together, so its left like that, put the same texture everywhere, barely modified copies of the same enemies, and some little reward spots that make no sense, modelling three types of trees and an enemy camp is way quicker to do than actually making an entire new map (they didnt have to make it the same size btw, just make it big but unique caves, put the gravity effect down there in enclosed spaces! makes it less weird to have randomly happen in the sky! etc) but its there!! its in the game and if they are lucky most players wont go down there enough to notice how meaningless and unfinished it all is)

knowing they would most likely never admit to it though, probably bc of their reputation, is just addign to the frustrations i have with it :I

(i just hate to not know the reason for things, if the devs, who are usually the ones being worked to the bone for things they know arent good, where put through that bc some executive big shot threw their tables around every so often or neglected their project bc they wanted to focus on something else first ... id like to know, i dont enjoy making up these conspiracy (?) theories .......... but i cant shake this feeling, its jsut makes no sense)

[thecrownestt]

Clutter

Is this too much? Slob talk? Ancillary slob talk? Let's be playful and say it's cool.

Imagine being a docile, go with the flow type of feedee. Willing to be cute and pampered, and eager to look nice for a feeder. A classic, heartfelt tale of two love birds doing what they desire because their partner desires it. Eating because she likes how it makes her feel, and feeding her because he likes how it makes him feel. Win win. The stuff that makes any relationship easy. If I do what makes me happy, it makes you equally happy. How great.

And he's so so good at being a feeder. Always knows when she is due for a snack or a craving. Attentive to the ambiance that someone needs if they are gaining. Takes care of the odds and ends, like laundry, dishes, cleaning. It's easy to be comfortable with a changing, growing body when all the other constants are met.

So what happens if he strategically slacks one week? A week's worth of empty containers and pizza boxes sit in the corner of the bedroom. Sure, nothing with actual spoiling food scraps are in them, but they are still there. A lingering reminder of ugly corporate logos and generic packaging in the midst of an otherwise cozy room fitted with good, modern decor.

It isn't like she is ever going to ~dream~ about dealing with the trash on her own. That hasn't been her job for years. It's unbecoming of a proper lady to tend to strain herself to do busy work. He would always shush her back towards a seat or the bed if she tried. Those worries aren't meant for someone so delicate and soft, certainly not when they could be easing off a big meal.

And the problem is ignored.

For a while.

The weight trickles onto her frame. They don't check the scale often, who needs to when the carnal look in his eyes let her know that she isn't just being wishful about a few extra inches on her waist.

The pile of boxes and bags in the corner grows in tandem. What was a job for one trash bag now starts to become a point of fixation on its own. Pizza boxes in a stack going up to his knees. A disorganized mound of Styrofoam containers that he tosses a new addition on top of.

She mentions the pile. It's getting a bit unwieldy? He brushes her off. She's being far too uptight. It's nothing. It's a tomorrow problem. Does it sound any bit as good as eating a slice of cheesecake for dessert? It never seems to.

The new routine becomes accepted. Normal. Weeks go by. Clothes get tighter. The first stack of pizza boxes reach the ceiling. How many does that even take? How much of that added to the new stretch marks working their way up her stomach? Is it that direct?

More weeks. More months. More clutter. More space being commandeered by a couple with no guardrails.

Yes, dear, there's always more.

Please, darling, bring me more.

Let me help you up.

I need you to make this easier and grab my hand.

How many of the prettiest girls have someone to be so practical about assistance in the shower?

Her belly grows. Her torso thickens. Chest in the way. Legs and ass wobbling beyond sight. She has gotten bigger.

So has the trash.

Her absent minded hand traces the edge of her love handle. She's lucid. Some of her window is being covered by the trash. When he comes into the room, he navigates a small path amidst the heap. If she wanted to roll to the one side of the bed, she'd see that the boxes and wrappers have begun to pile up against the bed. Under the frame.

Is this how much a person eats in a year? Is this what they needed to be reminded of... how visibly shocking the price of growing into 4x's in a single year requires?

A single year. How about two?

Moving isn't easy anymore. He brings most everything to her. He tends to her needs, and he never allows any negativity.

The room is dark. Although the bed is quite sizeable, there's a stray bottle of soda or crumpled fast food bag that tips onto the bed. It's beginning to become unsafe for her to be on her feet for very long. Heavy, wobbling steps are no match for an uneven surface of cardboard and garbage strewn about on the floor. The window allows a few stray beams of light to reach her bloated, unmoving body.

Did he know they would view the trash with such disregard? So as to look at her new rolls, listen to her deep huffs and puffs, and think "don't you forget where this came from, it's literally closing you in."

It's claustrophobic. Overwhelming. A world closing in. Her own body consuming the space around her. The evidence of what it takes.

The last time she could see out the window, her belly didn't fully touch the bed when she was on all fours. The floor covered entirely in about the time it took her to grow a cute fat roll on her arm. An artwork of desire. How much do you give up to pursue this life? How much do you gain? What does it take? The reminder is panic inducing, but also resignation. Fat slobs do not become this way magically. It happens slowly, gradually creeping onto someone. Discreet. Looking the problem in the face and denying it's ever going to be as concerning as giving up on the blind desire between two lovers.

[prophecyofwinter]

Across the Sea and to the East

Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Under your uncle’s usurpation of your brother you have been sent away to hide in Lys under House Rogare. You’ve found new purpose with the Lord of Light but you will be called home soon.

Tags: slight slow burn, actual burning, violence, smut, angst, tags will be added as we go.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Prologue

Chapter 3: Lemon Scented Letters

“You know it is not good luck for one to fall asleep after morning prayer.”

You groan as thin curtains were forced apart allowing the full force of the sun to shine through. You roll over to cover your face, maybe if you hid away she’d let you sleep. The pups at the foot of your bed stretched and jumped off to go seek out the cooks for some type of meat scraps.

They get bigger and bigger every day, it’s been almost a month since you’ve received them and they have grown quickly.

“Did you know it is bad luck to wake the Lady of Light at any point?”

“I will take my chances Y/N. It’s almost midday!”

You sigh in defeat and roll over to your back, letting out a big puff of air blowing your hair out of your face. Thankfully you don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day, just you, Tyanna, and a bunch of cute little sandwiches.

“Tyanna, the cooks are serving those finger sandwiches for Luncheon aren’t they? Cucumbers are in season aren’t they?”

Suddenly you hear stomping leading up to your room and the abrupt sounds of your guards berating the individuals at the doorstep of your personal chambers. You recognize the voice instantly… fuck.

“Let Priest Titus in!”

Red Priest Titus, he’s one of the oldest in the temple and came over on a pilgrimage to bear witness to you. He’s one of the few who believes in you but still gives you a hard time with your choices.

“When were you going to tell me?!”

He could be talking about any number of things, for an old wise man he fumes up far too easily. Reminds you why he doesn’t deal with the politics of the temple.

“If you wanted to join us for luncheon you could’ve just asked.”

“You know very well I am not talking about finger sandwiches!-“

“Well I only want to talk about finger sandwiches so this must wait until after…”

The old man was very clearly fuming, about to bust at the seams of his Red robes. You had no idea what he was talking about but just to see him getting mad makes your day.

“This absolutely cannot wait! When were you going to mention to- to- to anyone that you were going back to Westeros!”

“No one is going back to Westeros! Not soon at least-“

“Then explain this!”

A letter is thrown at you, but it is an open piece of paper so it just flutters to the ground a few feet in front of Titus with a more embarrassed look on his face while you lay slightly amused.

“Well. Now what.”

“Allow me to get that my Lady…”

Tyanna rushes from the other side of the room to grab the piece of parchment off of the floor and handing it over to you and backing away slowly.

You rub your tried eyes and unwrinkle the letter that had been so foolishly tossed to the floor and began to read unamused.

To the Court of the Lady of Light

The Crown of Westeros and House Targaryen humbly requests the beloved presence of the illustrious Lady of Light.

By the turn of the next moon, we wish to be gifted with her graces presence.

We hope to hold a banquet in her honor, as we understand it draws near to the Feast of the First Sun.

We would be honored to host the week of festivities in tandem with the Faith's own Summers Night Feast in Kingslanding.

Alongside her grace and her Courtesans, will be joined by his royal highness King Viserys and Queen Alicent with their children Prince Aegon Targaryen, Princess Helaena Targaryen, and Prince Aemond Targaryen. Other Houses may be in attendance at their own will.

Sincerely, the Crown of Westeros.

Your face softens as you read and a soft lemon scent wafts through your nose, clearly it was soaked into the paper somehow.

He knows… He really knows…

“Aemond…” you whisper delicately while stroking his name written on the paper.

“This is an insult! They dare try to dirty our grand feast with- with- their shit copy!” You can barely hear Titus over the blood in your ears.

“We must go, write them back immediately.”

“Forgive me for saying but have you been inhaling too much Ash my Lady?! You do not know what they have planned!”

You hop up from your bed almost immediately, you felt the need to defend Aemond. No one here knows him, and to assume he would have this sent out to harm you?

“Aemond would not allow!- The Targaryens would not allow such acts on their grounds!”

You feel the room get cold and silent even with the humid summer heat. Your outburst you’ll admit was uncalled for but, if Aemond wants to see you, you shall be seen.

Titus’s face hardens and zones in on you and the letter in your hands and lets out a strained breath admitting his own defeat.

“I see, very well. I am bound to you, I go where you go my Lady.”

“Have a Priest write a letter back confirming our attendance, and Tyanna, gather members for a procession to escort and attend to me during our stay. After luncheon of course.”

Titus’s quick defeat should worry you, clearly the mention of Aemond made him realize something. The relief and serenity of the thought of being back in Westeros, even if not the North. Is too great for you to think about much else.

Oh Aemond…

——————————

“I heard Lys is nice this time of year.”

Alicent feels her body tense up at the mention of the three lettered country, especially when it falls from Aemonds mouth. She takes a long sip of her tea to articulate her thoughts, but the worry eats at her tongue regardless. Even the gardens that surround them help none to ease her stress.

“You have no business in Lys, you’ve never been. Why the interest in Lys?”

Aemond walks closer to the table where his mother sits and pulls out his own chair to take a seat across from his mother. Hands folded neatly, no elbows on the table as his mother taught him so, deep breath in long breath out.

“I read a book in the library, about the Lord of Light and the temple in Lys. A rather new book actually, published in High Valyrian around 2 years ago. It tells about their new Deity, the Lady of Light. Few know her name but they describe her with features from the First Men-“

“Do not torture me any longer, I cannot bear it. Aegon babbled to you, didn't he?”

Aemond sits for an extra moment longer, thinking about where he wanted this to go. What he really wanted to come from this interaction.

Maybe he would make his Mother sit in it a little longer.

“Aegon talks about a lot of things Mother, which do you speak of? I just wanted to tell you of my studies, since we tell each other important information.”

Alicent knows she’s asked for this to some extent. She knew Aegon would tell Aemond but she didn’t think it would happen this soon. She knows Aemond cares about this girl and he wants her to suffer just a little.

“Gods! I’m sorry that I did not tell you but need I remind you how you reacted the last time she was mentioned! I didn’t know where you were, you disappeared for days!”

Aemond says nothing, he sits there and twiddles his thumbs. Maybe he was sitting there to think or maybe to just see if his mother kept going. It was a cloudy day, no burning sun coming down on Aemonds black leather clothes, he could sit here all day if he wanted to. Normally the hot weather makes it too hot for him to think clearly.

“What would you have me do Aemond? Invite her here? So your eyes can meet and embrace each other while crowds clap and cheer, then marry and run away into the sunset?-“

“That’s exactly what we shall do. I read in the same book that they hold the Feast of the First Sun at the same time as the Summers Night Feast.”

Aemond had thought this through delicately it seems… What he asks is a tall order, not realistic in the slightest. However, if Alicent desires to place Aegon on the throne, Aemond having the fancy of a powerful religious leader wouldn’t… not help.

How would she get the faith to approve of such an activity though? To break bread to who they believe are heretics… The North has the Old Gods, the Targaryens have the Valyrian Gods…

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Handyman 18+

It's the outfit 🙈 it's giving DIY Ruben.

Summary - Readers apartment needs fixing and Ruben "The Handyman " comes to her rescue.

Enjoy!

It took you three days to put up the shower curtains in your bathroom. You guessed that putting up a small bookshelves should take you twice the amount of time. What did you know about putting up shelvs anyway?

The town that you lived in had a small hardware shop across from the café where you worked. You had never been in there before so showing up at 6 o'clock on a Tuesday night was a bit inconvinient.

"Hey."

A bell rang as you pushed the door open. The guy who stood behind the front counter was too busy tinkering away with scrap metal to catch your eye, so you shrugged your shoulders and continued down one of the aisles.

Tools and bolts hung on every wall. You bet your ex boyfriend knew all of terms for them as he usually was hostile enough to brag about what a handyman he was. Perhaps he was the reason why you were so stubborn about getting this bookshelf up as soon possible. You subconsciously wanted to show your ex that you were handy too.

"What do I need, what do I need?" You mumbled, having already collected a few things in your shopping basket. Mostly nuts and tape rolls. You had a screwdriver at home, so no need for a new one. A first aid kit would be a good investment, you thought. After all, this would be your first time putting up a shelf on your own.

"Do you need help?"

A giant shadow was casted around you as you stood facing a wall of hammers. Turning around you found yourself face to face with the guy from behind the counter. He had dark eyes that looked at you attentive and a scruffy beard that covered most of his face. His hair was more fluffy than scruffy and the same color as his eyes, dark, but not black.

"Um...no. Thank you. I was just..." You pointed to the basket in your arm. "...I was just collecting a few things."

His gaze shifted between your face to the basket in your arm. It took him long enough to give you any sign of a smile, you thought.

"I'll be up front if you need me." He said, pointing over his shoulder.

"Right, thanks."

He was strange, but undeniably handsome. He smelled good too, like mens aftershave with a dash of cinnamon.

You continued wandering up and down the aisle, not really sure what you were looking for. What did one need to put a piece of wood to a wall?

"Are you sure that you don't need my help with anything?"

It was they guy from the front desk again, casting a giant shadow as he stood hovering over you. He looked agitated that you were still in his shop, unsure of what to purchase.

"I'm sorry." You chuckled. "I'm putting up a bookshelf and I have a hard time deciding..."

"A bookshelf?" He said, peering into your shopping basket with a skeptical look on his face.

"Yes, a bookshelf." You frowned.

He shook his head. "Why the tape rolls?"

"Oh, that..." You looked into your basket, unsure why you suddenly felt embarrassed. "Everyone needs tape right?" You shrugged.

"Not to put up a bookshelf." He snorted.

You looked to the named tag pinned to his flanel jacket, Ruben, it said.

"Well, what do you know?" You hissed.

He raised a brow. "Well I know that my shop closes at seven. You've got five minutes to find whatever you're looking for and get out of here."

You gapsed. "That's not a nice way to talk to a costumer."

"Thank god you're not a costumer then." He smirked. "Costumers actually buy things."

"Okay, fine!" You shouted, stopping him from turning his back on you. "The truth is that I don't know the first thing about putting up shelves."

"No shit." He chuckled, but crossed his arms in front of him as to say that you had his attention.

"I just moved here. Usually my ex boyfriend handled these kind of DIY stuff but I'll be damn to call him and say I couldn't handle a month without him, let alone put up a bookshelves on my own. So if you please see the desperation I am coming to you with, you'll help me figure how to do this."

The guy, Ruben, stood quietly, observing you with furrowed brows.

"What?" You asked. The staring got to a point where it made unwanted heat rise to your face.

He sighed. "Give me a minute to close down the shop. "

"Your closing?"

He returned to the counter flickig off the lights on the go. "I'll get my toolbox and meet you around back."

"Um...okay. Meet me around back to do what exactly?"

"Well, you needed my help putting up a shelf didn't you?"

He went to get his toolbox and ten minutes later you were in his truck, making it's way to your apartment.

"Excuse the mess." You said, showing him how to maneuver around the moving boxes still scattered all over your apartment.

Ruben didn't seem to mind the mess though, perhaps he's worked constructions before.

"Here is the shelf and this is the wall I want it up on."

It was just a pile wood beneath an empty wall in your bedroom. You had gotten as far as to unbox the model and read the instructions, but you gave up after that.

"You said you had a screwdriver?" He said.

"Oh yes, I'll go get it."

You went to fetch the screwdriver. When you returned Ruben sat crotch down on the floor, reading the manual that came with the bookshelf. He had removed his flanel jacket, tossing it on your bed. He wore a white t-shirt underneath, a shirt that revealed his lean body and swollen biceps.

"Do you know how to turn it on?"

"Huh?"

Your eyes diverged from his arms back to his face. Ruben was watching you where you stood in the doorframe.

"The screwdriver? Do you know how to turn it on and use it?" He said.

"No." You shook your head and handed it to him. "Go nuts."

A smile carved his cheeks. "Sure, I'll go nuts."

What would have taking you three days to achieve Ruben did in fifteen minutes. The shelf was put up on the wall and topped up with books in no time.

"I have no words." You said as the two of you stood back, inspecting the way the shelf sat up on the wall.

"It's a nice shelf." He nodded.

"Thank you Ruben, I don't know what I would have done without you."

He stared at you with furrowed brows.

"What?"

"How did you know that my name was Ruben?"

"Oh." You pointed to his chest, where his name tag would be if he was still wearing the flanel jacket. "It said so on your name tag."

He nodded and went to gather his tools back into his box. You thought about giving him the screwdriver as a payment for his services, but perhaps you would need it later.

"You're welcome then Y/N." With the toolbox in the other, Ruben stretched out a hand for you to shake.

You frowned. "How did you know my name?"

"Oh I..." He scratched the back of his head. "You wear a name tag too, don't you?"

"I do?"

"Or I've seen you do at the café."

"Oh." You nodded. It was just across the street from the hardwear shop. He must be in there for a coffee every day, most people in town were. How come you hadn't noticed him before, you thought.

"I usually grab my coffee to go." He said. "And I usually come just before lunch when there is a line."

You nodded understandingly. "It can get pretty busy."

"But you seem to handle it quite well tho." He said, his eyes a bit hesitant to meet yours.

"I do?"

He shrugged. "You always have time to smile at your costumers, say  goodmorning and wish them a nice day."

"It just standard costumer service." You said flustered, praying that the heat in your face didn't show.

His smile was subtle but there. "This ex boyfriend of yours, is he from here?"

"No actually, I just moved here a month a go. I don't really knowing anyone here."

"Welp, now you know me." He said, shutting his toolbox.

"Now I know you."

Ruben led the way around your apartment back to the front door. He paused however,  at the sight of the mess in your living room.

"Is that supposed to be your dining table?"

"Suppose to be, is definitely the right word for it."

Ruben didn't hesitate to crouch down on the floor again, setting down his toolbox.

"Ruben you don't have to."

"I want to." He objected.

You were glad that he did because twenty minutes later you had gotten self a brand new dining table.

"Is there anything else that needs fixing?"

"Besides my pride?" You chuckled. "I don't think so. But thank you Ruben."

He looked at you with those eyes again, smiling at you without having to move a muscle.

You blushed without hiding it this time. There was no point in trying because Ruben was standing close enough to reach out and touch you, suprising you that he did just that.

"Y/N."

His hand wrapped around your arm, tugging at it slightly. The veins in his arms throbbed with the grip he had around you, pulling you forwards, towards him.

"Yes?"

There wasn't much to say before his lips crashed into yours. You had sensed the sparks between even back at the hardware shop. Ruben back you up against the newly built dining table, lifting you to sit on it with your legs spread before him. His hand grab your face, tilting it upwards as he kissed your lips. It was hot, so hot. You tugged at the sides of his flanel jacket, wanting it come off. He chuckled against your mouth before stepping away to throw it off his shoulders.

"Do you have a condom?" You asked, better be safe than sorry.

He pulled the rubber out of his back pocket, however, not ready to use it just yet. He returned to stand between your legs, pulling your face against his for another wet kiss.

"You're so fucking sexy." He groaned.

You gasped as his lips moved on to your neck where he licked and sucked you skin to the point of your eyes rolling back in your head.

"Ruben." You said, words airy.

"Yes?"

"Fuck me."

With one swift motion he pulled your shirt over your head. His hand went to your throat, guiding you down to lay with your back against dining table. You arched with the cold sensation from the wood. Rubens snaked a hand underneath for your back to stay arched. He unclipped your bra and ripped the rest of the fabric from your chest, exposing your errect breast.

"Ruben please." You couldn't take it anymore. His erection pressed against your thighs and all you wanted was for him to be inside you.

"Be patient baby."

"No, please. Fuck me now."

It had been a while and just by his touch you could tell that Ruben was much better at sex than your ex boyfriend ever was.

"So eager. " Ruben chuckled. His hand traveled down to your jeans, teasing you by pulling down the zipper.

"Fuck." You whimperd, when he slid his hand down your panties, finding your soft folds, massaging your clit.

"Yes, Ruben please." You were, close, so close.

"No." You whimperd, feeling his hand pull out of your jeans. You tried to sit up but Rubens hand on your stomach kept you down, pressed to the dining table.

"Together." Ruben whispered, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

You grabbed a bundle of his shirt pulling him down to have his weight over you. His arms cradled your face as he kissed you open mouthed. Finally you felt him fiddle with his belt, loosen it up before pulling himself out of his pants, all this whilst his lips were still attached to yours. He backed away for a moment but only to tugg at your jeans, helping you remove them. Your naked legs were spread before him as you watched him bite the corner off the condom packaging, dressing hick cock with the rubber. You bit your lip as he approached you with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Don't move." He commanded, a firm grip around your throat, pinning you back against the table. He adjusted himself between you, lifting up your leg to make the entery smoother for you.

"Fuck." You still weezed, eyes squinted. Ruben was big, perhaps too big.

"You okay?"

You nodded, "Please harder."

He didn't listen to you but continued to press himself further into you, slow enough for you to adjust to his size. The thrusts came in waves. Slowly at first but then with a crashing force, rattling the wood beneath you.

"Don't break the table." You gasped.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll build you a new one." He upped the pace, filling you up with each thrust. It was over when he lifted you thigh to rest on his shoulder. Two pumps and that was it. You moaned his name for everyone to hear, coming down from the release with a pounding heart in your chest.

"Ruben?" You whispered.

He had come shortly after you, relaxing his body to rest on top of you.

"Ruben?"

You ran your hands through his now damped hair, releasing each knot with your fingers.

"Yes?" He mumbled, somewhere beneath you. He was still inside you, his dick twitching against your glistering folds.

"I have a lamp..." You said, no need to say more.

Ruben raised his head to look at you.

You smiled.

He nodded. "Alright, I'll be back tomorrow."

[iraprince]

TIME FOR A PROCESS POST let's talk abt getting from this (client sketch - which, btw, i know other artists have talked about this plenty, but i LOOOOOOVE a client sketch as early direction on a commission. LOVE it)

to this!

at first we didn't know if the title was going to go across the desk, or over the central figure (emara's) head against the back wall. so there was a 1st version where we were favoring a higher title, then we started favoring the desk so we scrapped the clutter + centered it more

i used clip studio's 3D models (particularly for the chair, guard, + weapon crates) and perspective rulers to help with laying everything out at this stage, tho i abandoned the 3D pretty early on bc it's a bit too clunky for me. maybe i'll find it quicker to use w more practice!

(the rest under the cut!)

once the basic layout was approved, i threw together a value study to explain how in the final image all the clutter of the bg detail would be unified and pushed back. lately i find myself thinking abt value earlier + earlier in the process; planning ahead saves me a lot of time!

i fiddled with starting to refine things digitally, but then i got A BRAND NEW LIGHTBOX delivered in the mail with perfect timing (lmao) so i just ended up printing off the digital sketch, finalizing in pencil, + scanning back in

then comes five billion different steps of locking in values, again. i did everything greyscale first, but i didn't worry abt getting things super polished at this stage bc i knew color would factor in a lot to later decisions

this is the point at which presenting these wips "step by step" is kind of misleading; i didn't do these stages one at a time, but rather had a BUNCH of different lighting/shading layers that i kept toggling on and off as i worked to make sure everything was coming along well.

(to get some of these caps i actually went into the main file again and turned a bunch of stuff on/off just for the sake of getting specific examples, because actually when i was actively working on it there was rarely a point where i was actually working on something with "all lighting turned off and just the shading on," or anything like that; but i AM interested in showing what effects different lighting/shading changes had on the base colors, even if i wasn't really making these changes in a rigid order.)

i.e., just for the sake of interest, here's how the flat colors look without those adjustments!! but i honestly never looked at it like this on its own for long...i had all the shading/lighting turned off so i could see what i was doing while flatting, but i was constantly checking back and forth.

then tones added on top (which were actually just two copies of the tone folders in the above posts, set to linear burn and overlay) -

which makes it get HORRIFYINGLY dark, but that's when we go in and add a bunch of lighting adjustments.

the most obvious lighting change above is the big burst of hot pink light from the corner, but there was also some masked overlay + burn layers to pop out the guard + emara and make sure they were pulled out from the bg. if this were a standalone illustration, i maybe would have let the bg (and all that painstakingly drawn detail..........) stand out a little more, but a cover functions differently, and i wanted to make sure the eye goes to the title first. that means sacrificing bg detail even if it looks sick lol

then final touches! a lot of my very last touches are things that are close to invisible; gradient maps on very low opacity, noise, a little bit of scribbling on upper layers. the typesetting was all by the client, except for the lettering for "emara king's," which i did myself!

finally, here's a comparison of ⬅where i left off one night close to the deadline thinking "it's probably done, but i'll sleep on it just in case," then all the adjustments i made the next day with fresh eyes.➡ and that's it!!! phew!!! that's how i make a cover!

[revlischarm]

The other various outfits of Morro in Noodle Shop Ghost. Took me ages to finish this, but I’m happy with how it turned out!!

More info on the specific outfit details under the cut!

Sleepwear

- This outfit is Morro’s pajamas from the start of the series to current.

- The moons are both to represent y’know, nighttime, but also as a way of foreshadowing the Macaque connection in the later seasons.

- Morro let’s their hair down when they sleep

- The shirt text says “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” I think I hope I’m not fluent in other languages so I really pray that I got that correct. The shirt references Morro’s love of JTTW, and the character of Wukong within the book

- Morro uses face masks when he sleeps. Hey, if they have to have skin again, they wanna take care of it. Ish.

Work Uniform

- The outfit changes between seasons since Morro gets new looks, but the constants of it are the jacket and the gloves.

- Morro swaps out the hand wraps because he feels more sanitary wearing gloves. And because I feel like it would make people unsure about him handling food.

- Occasionally Morro will throw on other pants? But idk I wasn’t sure what to go with so I just did their final design clothing.

“Take Responsibility” episode

- Finally have a name for that fan episode I mentioned where Morro has a crisis!! Takes place in season 1. Thank you @randomcrapstories !!!!

- The only thing that’s different about the outfit here is the addition of the jacket, which I still haven’t decided if I want it to be a gift from MK and Mei, or Morro just straight up stole it. Still, it shows us the base design for the jacket as it appears later in the series!!

Theatre Outfit

- During the in-between point of season 3 and 4, Morro actually starts helping out Macaque with his theatre! Morro’s a stagehand; they do a lot of the special effects and such.

- This outfit is mainly just me putting Morro in cool looking clothes hehe

- It’s identical to Mac’s outfit in most ways! I changed the shoes tho, and the colors. And the patterns on the robe and sleeves are different too!

- Eyeliner because it’s fancy

Shadow Travel

- I’ve mentioned before how Morro is learning shadow magic from Macaque; the basics that Morro knows are kinda just like. Being able to hide inside of shadows, manipulating them on walls and stuff, and also those shadow portals.

- Macaque has a shadow form, and so does Morro. But this isn’t a clone form or anything, that will be its own design. This is just for like…idk. Shrouded in shadows and whatnot.

- I highlighted the two most important features of Morro in this au: the eyelashes and the scar. The scar is its own important thing; the eyelashes are just a style choice on my end.

Season 3 Lantern City Outfit

- This outfit is for that episode in season 3 with the third ring!!

- The jacket makes an appearance once again! Except now Morro has personalized it much more. Patches and pins and stuff.

- The gloves Morro has on were made by Sandy; Sandy didn’t want Morro to get cold lol.

- And ofc Morro’s markings on full display since they weren’t able to cover them in season 3

Uhhh I think that’s everything. I’m gonna do another one of these for Morro’s scrapped/bonus designs at some point too. So look forward to that!

[confessionsofkotlc]

To the person who asked why Keefe is complex, I thought I’d try to give my two cents on the matter.

Also it’s totally fine if you dislike Keefe! He’s just complex, is all. You can dislike him anyway, this is soley about why I think he is a complex character. Not an attempt to sway you to like him or anything!

He’s introduced pretty early as though he’s going to be a silly, funny, flirty side character, and a lot of that falls away as the series goes on. He’s always had avoidant defense mechanisms, which used to look like deflecting with humor and as his trauma worsens turns into a lot of literal running away. We learn in book one that he has really bad parents and it’s like oh, okay, so he has a hard childhood and covers for it with humor. Pretty classic way to round a character out, but it works. Sure. But he wasn’t too complex THEN.

I think the way finding out his mother was with the neverseen impacted him was far worse than the fandom gives it credit for. It was a huge turning point in his life. He breaks down more. He can’t keep up his defenses as much.

Did you hear that? He can’t keep up his defenses as much. Deflecting isn’t working.

And then, at the end of Neverseen, he literally runs away.

Direct correlation.

He goes to be a “double agent” and hopefully be able to help his friends from the inside. But really… he wants to do something useful without having to face his friends. He’s avoiding. He’s running.

The reveal of his mother being with the neverseen was also more than figuring out his parent was a villain, which is bad enough. He also learned that the parent who had always been slightly better, slightly kinder, slightly more caring was actually the evil one. It isn’t talked about nearly enough the amount of trust issues he must have gotten from that. It also adds an extra layer to every time he’s betrayed a friend’s trust or told a lie. He doesn’t think it’s right, but a part of him is still processing what happened with his mother.

He searches through his memories like crazy. He wondered how he, an empath, managed to miss that his mother was evil. He questions everything the knows. How does he know if someone is lying? He doesn’t. He doesn’t know if someone is lying. He lies. He lies and lies and lies.

He holds on to every scrap of paper with every detail he’s ever remembered about his childhood and his mother and questions everything. This is actually a huge part of what makes his character complex, since that’s the question—the way he clings to every. Single. Detail. Because he’s NOT just avoidant, he’s also unable to let go, and somehow he is absolutely both at the same time.

Constantly running from the painful things he clutches close to his chest.

That sentence alone might actually explain what makes him complex, but I’m going to go further.

I think his execution of research and ideas and reckless plans without telling his friends, betraying them and lying to them, is both a product of the fact that he’s never considered himself someone who gets listened to seriously and the fact that he’s still processing his mother’s betrayal. (Let’s not gloss over that. He’s still grieving from that.)

“Are you afraid of me, Foster?” It isn’t a question. It’s a realization. In this moment he realizes what he’s really done. He has flashbacks to the mountain, to finding out about his mother, and he wonders if too much of her is in his blood. Of course he rushes to explain his double agent scheme, but he’s in pretty deep and this isn’t going to be his last betrayal. The scene where he steals the alluveterre crystal and Alvar might be his worst betrayal. But there’s so much behind it.

So many complexities.

So many underlying thoughts, some of which I don’t think he’s even aware of.

He’s trying and he knows he’s wrong but he does it anyway and focuses on everything right about the wrong.

Being literally, physically changed by his mother so that he has new abilities that could actually hurt people is another huge turning point. Now it isn’t, “are you afraid of me, Foster?” It’s “you should be afraid of me, Foster.” All pretense of laughter and humor and jokes is gone. The Leo Valdez side has evaporated.

If he was worried that too much of his mother was in his blood before, well, he’s definitely worried about it now. Because she changed him and he hates it and he’s afraid of himself.

He’s afraid of himself and he’s afraid for his friends (because even amongst all of this he cares, he loves his friends and he specifically loves Sophie) and his deflection is once again entirely gone and he does the thing we should have all seen coming.

He runs away.

But I think unraveled will show us that once again, even in running away, he can’t let go of the things he wants to leave behind. They stick to him and he takes them everywhere he goes.

In unlocked he writes in his journal that Sophie deserves someone like Fitz. He hates himself for having betrayed her and having made her lose faith in the good of the world. He loves her enough that even when he wants her to be with him, when he believes she’ll be happier with his friend, he wants that for her.

(He can hardly believe it when Sophie chooses him. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “Please don’t let me mess this up.” He knows he’s a mess. He’s worried he’s too much of a mess to preserve the one thing he’s always wanted.)

And even in the end of Stellarlune, he takes the knife from Sophie to attack his mother, without telling her. In that moment I wonder if he was even thinking about his own stupid bad patterns, or if he was so determined to end things with his mother that he didn’t even consider that in some small way, he was sort of doing just the sort of thing he swore to himself he’d stop doing.

So what makes Keefe a complex character?

The way he cares so impossibly deeply for his friends while also doing things he knows will hurt them and feeling in his mind like maybe he can’t even stop it, maybe he’s just a mess that can’t be fixed and the best thing he can do for his friends is never see them again—

The way he runs, avoids, escapes, NEVER confronts his issues, but also is never able to leave them behind, dragging them with him wherever he runs, every single detail running through his head—

The way he’ll never say it out loud, but some part of him is worried he’s too much like his mother, wishing she’d get her hands off his life and stop changing him before he can’t deny it anymore—

The way his bad habits mirror each other even as he changes and develops as a character—

It’s not just his trauma and his coping mechanisms, or his feelings for Sophie and his friends. It’s the layers upon layers in his character, thick as shadowflux and so buried that even Keefe doesn’t know about some of them. (Even I can’t articulate them all. I’m able to really get into a state of feeling his character but these are the only things I’m able to get into words.)

This is about as much of his complexities as I can explain using actual words in the English language and not just transferring emotions. To the anon who was wondering how he’s complex, I hope this helps!

[the-brash-spud]

So I have this bit of writing that I thought was hilarious, but sadly, it got scrapped along with the whole first attempt at the fic I'm writing, but I still want people to enjoy it, so imma just drop it here;

Nightwing sat there. Cross-legged applesauce on the chair. He was looking right at him with so much mischief written across his partially covered face that Marvel’s stomach did more than one funny flip. Trying to keep calm, Billy smiled as he took his hands off the keyboard, laying them on the chairs armrests as he sat deeper and leaned back into the chair while turning towards the blue bird. “Hey there! Need help with something?” He tilted his head as he offered, playing nonchalant about the situation. 

“You know, Batman once tripped on his own cape?” The smaller man said so suddenly he might have as well slapped Captain.

“Wha-”

“And he cried last month after he had to be put on some heavy pain killers after a serious injury because Red Robin called him “Dad” in panic.” Nightwing cut off the shocked hero. “Just last week, a villain managed to escape him because the laces in his new boots weren’t properly secured, and he tripped on those too.” He ignored the expression of horror growing on Marvel’s face and instead leaned in to whisper. “He can perfectly dance Cha-cha even without the music.” Apparently, the fading of colour in a fellow hero’s face was something that only encouraged the hero of the night. “He adopted so many similar looking kids I’ll bet my yearly salary that if another black-haired blue-eyed kid showed up at his house, he wouldn’t even notice.” 

Was this some sort of psychological warfare? A tactic from Batman to see who is the instigator of most of the gossip? Did he want to see how Billy manages to deal with stress? To see what he would do with possible blackmail? What sort of plot could the Gothamites have to do this? It felt like forever but also an instant as he stared at Nightwing. Did he expect something, anything? Some sort of reaction? Captain had so many questions, but none could leave his lips, so he went with the easiest one: “Why?”

“Nobody here knows anything about you, and you don’t pry into anybody’s business here.” Nightwing began. “You’re an immortal being of magic as far as people are aware. In the end they trust you with their lifes but believe me, they don’t always believe you. There are bets going on about which ones of your reports are actually just you pulling their leg. If you now went and told them everything I just said, word for word, they wouldn’t believe you because apart from the aforementioned point, they are also sure I already left.” The face of the smaller man was serious as he explained. 

“Then… then why? What’s the point?” Billy was still in a serious state of shock. He didn’t even comprehend what Nightwing said other heroes thought of him. It just flew over his head. 

The grin on the hero in black was almost wicked as he answered simply. “I felt like causing a bit of mischief.” He then just uncrossed his legs in one fluid motion and gracefully stood up. “Anyway, good talk! Can I have your name, Captain?”

So yeah, there was a bit before and after when it comes to this, lol

Do whatever with the idea, enjoy.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Trouble's Brewing Remake: What's it about, and why is it happening?

//So, I think I kept everyone waiting for quite a while after I announced this, and I think it's finally time that I explain what's going to happen with this arc, and what it's all about.

//After some deep reflection and feedback, I realized there were areas that could be improved, and I’m really excited about the direction this rewrite is taking. I know some of you might have questions, so I wanted to address a few that might be on your mind. From what inspired the change, to how this will affect the story moving forward, and what new things you can expect, I’ll cover it all right here.

//No need for a long, drawn out explanation, so let's get started.

1 - Why is Trouble's Brewing being re-written?

//The simple answer is because it's easily the most outdated arc of the story.

//For those who haven't seen the beginning of this blog, this was before I came up with the structure that I currently have, and suffice to say, the plot of the first arc was rushed, and didn't really explain ANYTHING. It was just a quickly fumbled together introduction with no real characterization.

//Basically, all it was designed to do was drop Shuichi and his friends into the world, and it didn't have much of a story besides that.

//The reason why I'm rewriting Trouble's Brewing, and making it from scratch, is to take that plot, and actually make a full-length story arc for it, instead of a few quick posts that were hastily scrapped together, and uncomfortably bad compared to my current writing.

//Now, normally, I really hate the idea of going back and recreating work that I've already made, but in this case, I have more than one good reason for doing so. Considering he's still a key player in the story, it's also the first chance I have to actually use Kuripa's new sprites as part of the story, as well as to give a little more early characterization to some characters who severely needed it in preparation for future arcs.

2 - Will the new arc change the overall direction of the story?

//Yes, but not massively.

//The general plot of the arc will be the same. It will generally be set up to explain the world, the current state of the Future Foundation, as well as introduce the V3 kids into the fray, and the OC's like Kuripa.

//All this is is me taking that original story, and expanding it into something full fledged, like all the current arcs do.

3 - Are key characters being changed or removed?

//I'm sure a lot of people are wondering this, and the answer is yes.

//Because this takes place at the very beginning of the story, the following characters, who only appear in later arcs, will not be featured: Junko Chiaki Alter Ego Junko Kizakura Munakata Yukizome Kaede Ryoma Kirumi Angie Tenko Miu Kaito Kokichi Tsumugi Keebo Gonta Rantaro Kiyo Monaca Yuta Taichi Sora Mikako Teruya Setsuka Iroha Syobai Mikado Kanata Kanade Akane Taira Ando Hibiki Yamato Akeru Mikihiko Yosaku Kana Misako Kanjiro Seina Shozo Ryo Akira Narumi Misuzu Eloise Taulner Kibin Karma Matta Tsutsuji Ella Hanami Mii-Yu Mona Eden Maya Four Hunter Kouji Leona Oliver Yomi Yui Kanon Natsumi Kuroba Solana

//And a few other characters on top of that. Just...anybody who was not present prior to the first arc, so most of the V3 characters, sans Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko

//However there are also characters that will be coming back for the arc, namely Hajime, Yukari, and regular Himiko.

4 - How will the asks function? Will there be any for this arc?

//To make it easier on myself, no. But I will not be closing the box during the duration.

//Asks will be asked in the context of where the story is currently. Because it's a rewrite, I want Trouble's Brewing to be entirely story.

//After all, there's not much point in asking questions when most people already know the current plot developments. There isn't much potential for questions when the reset button gets hit.

5 - How different will the rewritten arc be from the original?

//As I said before, the basic plot is the same, but it's been expanded to include more character moments, story beats, and just...plot in general. Below, I've included some of the important considerations for those looking forward to it:

The main characters of the arc are the Branch 14 trio, i.e. Makoto, Mukuro, and Kuripa.

As teased in the title though, all the main protagonists (with the exception of Kaede, who is not present at this point in the story) will play significant roles in the plot, Shuichi especially.

Yukari Koime will be the main antagonist of the arc. The reason is because I feel that her introduction in Neo World was a bit too bare bones for how important she is throughout Phases 1 and 2, and I wanted more of a chance to have her be the main antagonist.

The big key difference of this arc, compared to the original, is that Maki and Himiko don't just show up as easily as Shuichi does. Like in the original Trouble's Brewing, Shuichi will appear through a wormhole and arrive on Jabberwock Island, but unlike their rushed arrival in the original arc, the main plot of this new arc will involve the Future Foundation tracking down and rescuing Maki and Himiko, to help reunite them with Shuichi. Effectively, it;'s something of a Saving Private Ryan kind of story.

6 - Will we see new scenes or characters?

//Yes, and yes.

//Although, for whatever new characters we DO add to this, don't expect them to stick around for the rest of the story. We need to kind of retain the canonicity, and it doesn't make sense for new characters to appear, and then not be present for the rest of the story.

//The new scenes are designed to better establish the current state of the world 8 years after DR3, and to establish the new characters, like Kuripa and Mukuro, although they don't have their current development, of course.

7 - Can we still access the original version?

//Yes, of course, it should hopefully still be up. But the whole premise of this is to improve the first part of the story, so hopefully, you won't need, nor want to after this.

8 - Will the themes or tone of the story change?

//I can't say for certain, but if they do, it'll likely be to better elaborate and improve upon the general themes of Survivor as a whole, so that new readers can get better acquainted with the premise.

//I think for now, that's it. If there are any other questions about this, please ask me, and I will answer as best I can.

[arwenlalaith]

The Cheese Tax

Ship: Alex Blake/Reader

Summary: Inspired by THIS song. Five times Alex had to remind you to pay the Cheese Tax and one time she didn't have to…

Word Count: 2725

Mozzarella

The moment Alex shut the door behind her upon returning home from the latest case, she was greeted by the sound of toenails clicking across the hardwood in an excited tap dance as your golden retriever puppy came racing towards her in his excitement to greet her.

She dropped to her knees just in time for Pippin to collide with her in his eagerness. She scratched behind his ears and narrowly avoided sloppy dog kisses. “Hello, Pippin!” she exclaimed, making his tail wag impossibly faster. “I missed you! Yes, I did! Did you miss me?”

She took the sound he made in response to mean that he had.

Getting to her feet again, she asked the dog, “Should we go see what Y/N is doing?” Together, they made their way to the kitchen in search of you. You smiled brightly upon catching sight of her and paused what you were doing to give her a quick kiss in greeting. “Dinner smells wonderful,” she murmured, pulling back from the kiss.

“Lasagne and Cesar salad. Should be ready shortly,” you said, returning to your work of shredding cheese.

“Did you pay the Cheese Tax?” Alex asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t be serious...”

“Oh, we’re very serious,” Alex insisted, apparently on Pippin’s side in the matter.

“The Cheese Tax isn’t a real thing,” you maintained.

With a dramatic sigh, Alex turned to Pippin and said, “Your mother is very mean to you...” And, with that settled, she reached around you to grab some of the cheese and fed it to the dog.

You really didn’t know how exactly, this had happened: how Alex Miller of all people ended up the soft-touch when it came to the dog she hadn’t even been all that sure about getting in the first place. It wasn’t that she didn’t like dogs, it was just that she didn’t want the burden of caring for one to fall entirely on your shoulders. At the same time, though, she thought it would be a good idea for safety and for companionship while she was away. Which is all to say that she’d mainly agreed to getting the dog for your sake.

What actually ended up happening, though, was that Pippin had her wrapped around his little doggy finger in no time flat.

All the well-meaning rules the two of you had intended to institute in the beginning were slowly eroded away...and it was mainly Alex’s doing. Pippin wasn’t allowed on the bed until you came home from work one day to find Alex working on her laptop in bed with Pippin nestled beside her. Pippin wasn’t supposed to beg for table scraps, but Alex was apparently a soft touch. Eventually, you’d decided to just let it happen. (It didn’t mean you had to like it, though.)

...

Cheddar

When you woke up from your nap, you were briefly disoriented – you’d been waiting for Alex to arrive home and had fallen asleep on the couch, losing track of time. Pushing yourself to sit up, you realized that at some point Alex must have arrived home and covered you with a blanket.

“Lex?” you called out.

No reply.

“Pippin?”

Still no reply.

Sighing, you went in search of the two of them...finding them cuddled together on the bed. For a moment, you stood in the doorway, watching the two of them – in spite of the ‘rule’ that Pippin wasn’t allowed on the bed, you couldn’t help but find the image adorable.

At least...it was adorable until you realized that they were watching Bridgerton. “Hey!” you whined, “You promised not to watch it without me...” It was one of the rare shows the two of you always watched together and you’d been doing everything in your power to avoid spoilers of the new season while Alex was away at work.

Alex shrugged, offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Pippin wanted to watch,” she said as if the matter were simply out of her control.

You rolled your eyes. “The dog wanted to watch Bridgerton?” you scoffed.

She nodded, contrite but not that contrite...

Reluctantly accepting the fact that Alex might just love Pippin a little bit more than you, you shrugged off your robe and climbed into bed (or at least the sliver of the bed available with Pippin nestled in your spot).

It wasn’t until you were settled next to them that you realized Alex had broken her rule against eating in bed as she proceeded to unwrap a Cheestring, peeling off a strand and offering it to the dog who slurped it up like a piece of spaghetti.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself and shake your head. Who would have thought that Alex Miller would end up absolutely whipped by a ball of golden fluff?

“What?” Alex said, seeing you shake your head from the corner of her eye. “Gotta pay the Cheese Tax.”

“Nothing,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. You’d long since begrudgingly accepted the fact that the ‘Cheese Tax’ was just a part of your existence. And, truth be told, you found it really hard to be annoyed about it because Alex was cute and Pippin was cute and together they were really fucking adorable. So, regardless of whether it was a real thing, the Cheese Tax was here to stay.

...

Feta

You carried a bowl of salad from Rossi’s kitchen to the backyard where the team had gathered for a summer barbecue. “Are you sure it’s okay that we brought Pippin?” you asked him as you passed him at the grill. Pippin was sitting at his feet, wagging his tail happily as he optimistically hoped for a hamburger to drop.

“He’s one of the family,” Rossi insisted, patting the dog on his head. Pippin wagged his tail even faster, thinking he was about to get some kind of treat and he licked at Rossi’s hand, which no doubt tasted of burger drippings.

“I’m starting to think all you profilers aren’t as tough as you want people to think,” you said, “Every last one of you is a big softy when it comes to this airhead...”

“Do you hear the way she talks to you?” Alex cooed to the dog as she arrived on the scene, pretending to cover his ears against your insult. “You’re very smart, aren’t you? My little doggy genius.”

You had plenty of evidence to suggest otherwise – for example, his repeated attempts to eat rocks – but you decided not to say as much. Instead, you exited the conversation and set the salad bowl on the table with the rest of the food.

“What’s that?” Henry asked, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the edge of the table.

“It’s a yummy salad,” you said, pick up the bowl to show it to him. When he crinkled his nose at the word salad, you couldn’t help but grin. “I bet you’d like it...” you cajoled, “It’s got spinach, sliced strawberries, mandarin orange segments, slivered almonds, and feta cheese.”

He still seemed skeptical, so you bargained, “How about you try just one bite of mine and see if you like it?”

With a dramatic sigh, he nodded.

While you speared the different elements onto a fork for him, JJ approached with a knowing smile. “So...” she said, elbowing you gently, “When are you and Alex going to have a baby?”

Immediately, you felt your cheeks flush bright red. The two of you had been dancing around the issue for awhile now and the conclusion you repeatedly arrived at was that Alex was reluctant to take the plunge a second time after Ethan. “That’s not... I mean, we haven’t...” you stammered.

JJ rolled her eyes. “You two are hopeless,” she muttered, though she didn’t say anything else on the matter. “So, what do you think of the salad?” she asked Henry.

“I likes the cheese,” he said with a shrug.

From the distance, Alex called out, “Make sure you pay the Cheese Tax!”

JJ shot you a confused look. “What the hell is the ‘Cheese Tax’?”

“A thing that Alex made up to justify feeding Pippin cheese...” you explained. She just laughed and you couldn’t help but join in because it was pretty funny. And, though you did it reluctantly, you plucked a piece of feta from the salad and whistled for Pippin who eagerly came jogging over.

...

Gouda

“Lex, can you get that?” you called out. You’d been on bedrest for the past two weeks and were quickly losing your mind from boredom. The doorbell rang a second time. “Lex?”

No reply.

With a huff, you slowly and awkwardly manoeuvred yourself out of bed and downstairs, wondering what it was that Alex was doing that required so much focus that she couldn’t even answer the door...only to nearly have a heart attack when approximately twenty people shouted SURPRISE!

“Jesus, guys, that’s a good way to send me into premature labour,” you said when your heart stopped racing and you eased yourself into the armchair, narrowly avoiding sitting on Pippin who had made himself at home there.

He shot you a glare as he reluctantly vacated the chair.

“What’s his problem?” Garcia asked, ruffling the fur on his face and dropping a kiss between his eyes. “He’s not his normal cheery self...”

“He’s sad about not being our baby anymore...” Alex lamented, entering the living room with a charcuterie board.

You rolled your eyes. “He’s a dog,” you reminded needlessly.

“Dogs are very intuitive and may actually have additional senses beyond the human capabilities,” Reid pointed out. “They’ve been documented as being able to sense cancers in the body and may be able to sense magnetic fields, though it’s quite difficult to research magnoreception in mammals.”

Shooting him a pointed look, you asked, “Whose side are you on?”

Cheeks pinking, he determinedly avoided your stare, mumbled something incoherent. Then, there was laughter from the group and the conversation quickly moved on. And, since focus was momentarily not on you, you used the opportunity to grab a handful of cheese cubes and devoured them as if you hadn’t seen food for weeks.

When you reached for a second handful, you realized that everyone was staring at you. It was your turn to blush under everyone’s attention. “Don’t judge me,” you said, “I’m pregnant and I’m starving!”

Alex stood, dropped a kiss to the top of your head on her way to the kitchen. “I’d better get some more gouda...” she commented teasingly. To everyone else, she explained, “We may just go broke keeping Y/N in cheese for the next four months...”

“I can’t help what I crave!” you said on a whine.

“Baby Gouda Miller has a nice ring to it...” Derek teased.

You rolled your eyes again. “We’re not naming our son Gouda.” Pippin chose that moment to let out a short sharp bark.

“See?” Derek said, “Pippin agrees with me. He wants his baby brother to be named Gouda.”

With a weary sigh, you said, “A) We’re not taking name advice from a dog and B) he’s just mad I haven’t paid the Cheese Tax.”

...

Raclette

“So...” Alex said, settling in the seat across the table from you, “Our last day of freedom.”

You nodded, gently kneading your belly where two little feet were pressing against your side. “I’ve gotta say, I will not miss being pregnant,” you declared emphatically. Tomorrow, you were being induced for a C-section, as your placenta was covering your cervix, preventing you from delivering naturally.

Alex nodded sympathetically, reaching across the table to squeeze your other hand. “Thank you for being such a good home for him,” she murmured, then kissed your knuckles.

“Well, I do feel as big as a house...” you said wryly.

“Don’t be silly,” Alex insisted, “You’re gorgeous.”

With a pointed look, you said, “You have to say that if you don’t want to sleep on the couch tonight.”

She laughed. “Pippin happens to be a very good bedmate,” she said with a playful grin.

“He only likes you because you’re not the one bringing his replacement into the world,” you said. She looked like she would have liked to argue that point, but it was hard to when there was so much evidence that it was true. Before you knew what was going to happen, you’d burst into tears, wracked by noisy sobs.

Looking quite alarmed by the sudden shift from playful to sadness, Alex moved to the seat next to you, pulling you into her side. Rubbing a hand up and down your back, she waited patiently for your tears to abate before asking, “Tell me what’s going on in there...”

Sniffling, you said, “I don’t want him to hate me...”

“The baby isn’t going to hate you,” she was quick to reassure you.

“No, not the baby – Pippin...” you corrected her.

She made a noise of understanding. “Pippin doesn’t hate you,” she insisted, “I bet that as soon as Baby is here, Pippin will fall in love with him and he’ll be back to his normal happy self.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” you pressed.

Cupping your cheek, she pulled you in for a gentle kiss and said, “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, hmm?” With a little sigh, you nodded, conceding that she was, in fact, right...as usual. “I know a way you might be able to win Pippin over to your cause, though...” she added. At your curious expression, she said, “I hear the Gschwellti with Raclette is to die for here...”

You groaned. “I should have known your answer would involve the Cheese Tax,” you said with a roll of your eyes, but a fond smile.

She shrugged. “The way to that dog’s heart is through his stomach,” she said with a little laugh. You were forced to laugh too because, if you knew one thing for certain in life, it was that Pippin was a simple simple dog, motivated by cheese and little else.

...

Parmesan

With more than a little difficulty, you manoeuvred the steps up to the front door, clutching at your middle with one arm and holding the pizza box with the other. Behind you, Alex carried the baby in his carseat, as you weren’t allowed to lift anything that heavy or you risked busting open your stitches.

You groaned with each step, the small motion of lifting your leg high enough causing immense pain at the incision site. “I swear to God, when I sit down on the couch, I’m not getting up again for a month,” you declared.

Alex just laughed, certainly not about to argue the matter, though she had a feeling a crying baby would be a pretty strong motivator, regardless of what you said. She unlocked the door for you, calling out, “Jack, we’re home!”

Jack quickly emerged from down the hall with a little wave. You’d paid the preteen to look after the house and, more importantly, Pippin while you were in the hospital, figuring you’d be hard-pressed to find a more responsible dogsitter than the progeny of Aaron Hotchner.

“How was Pippin?” Alex asked, setting the carseat down and proceeding to unbuckle the baby. You, on the other hand, kicked off your shoes and moved to set the pizza on the coffee table before you accidentally dropped it.

“He was good,” Jack said, “He seemed kinda sad, though...”

It was clear that didn’t sit well with Alex. “Where is he, by the way?”

You returned from the living room to get the baby, knowing he would need to eat soon...but were quickly faced with the dilemma of being unable to bend down to get him out of the carseat.

“Last I saw him, he was sleeping on your bed,” Jack said. (You didn’t bother pointing out that he technically wasn’t allowed on the bed...you’d long ago given up on that fight.)

Alex lifted the baby from the carseat and said to you, “Why don’t you start eating and I’ll bring him to you when he’s hungry.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You moved to the kitchen in search of parmesan before returning to the living room and settling on the couch. Then, puzzled, you called out, “Lex, did you take a slice already?”

“No?” she called back quizzically.

“Then who did?”

[jellybeanium124]

new atticus fic got me thinking ab how jack's just been playing with ed's heart on and off for almost 30 years, and ed doesn't quite know how much of that is jack being an asshole for the sake of it, being an asshole because he feels like he has to perform masculinity, and being clueless. every time ed thinks he's finally gotten thru to himself that jack is never ever changing and he's gonna be a jerkass teenage boy in the body of a grown man forever, jack exhibits 1 (one) emotion for a fraction of a second and ed immediately falls back into thinking that maybe this time jack will finally grow up and change. and he never does. at some point ed almost dies and jack saves his life and ed wakes up to see jack crying over him and it's the first time he's seen jack cry since they were literally still teenagers, and ed hopes that maybe this is it, maybe this is the moment where jack can finally admit he loves ed, and he doesn't want to be an asshole anymore, he loves ed and he wants ed.

but he doesn't. he doesn't say any of that. he leaves to go on the bender to end all benders and tells ed not to contact him. and what's ed supposed to do but remind himself that this is always how jack responds to emotions, by drinking enough to drown them out. he feels like an idiot for thinking jack could change, and he feels like an idiot for caring about a man who's probably never seen him as more than a hole to fuck and a partner in petty crime/drinking. ed can't take the way jack plays with his emotions anymore.

he's different from izzy, in that way. ed's seen jack's mask crack to reveal a tiny scrap of a heart still inside him. a fleeting glimpse of kindness or good humor. izzy's just a weird sick little freak, and when ed's seen his mask crack, what's revealed is that izzy's a socially awkward power-hungry dumbass who doesn't know who ed is at all, and desperately wants to control him into being something he's not. jack wants ed to be something he's not as well, but like, jack knows ed's not like that. jack knows he's asking ed to be someone he's not, in the same way that he plays up his mean, aggressive, macho side. izzy genuinely thinks ed's like that and when he's being soft then he's acting out of character. jack wants ed to be someone he's not with him. izzy wants ed to be someone he's not for him. and because of that, because of the one ounce of emotional intelligence jack has on izzy, jack can pull his heart in ways izzy never could.

and that makes the pain different! and in some ways, it's almost a bit deeper. there's something impersonal about every time izzy betrays ed's hope he might become a little better, and finally see ed, and finally want what's best for ed instead of some crap he thinks is best for ed. meanwhile jack's betrayal hits so much harder, because their love for each other was real, once upon a time, and jack actually really knows ed.

but in some ways, that makes jack more insidious. because the pull he has is stronger, ed's belief that jack could be good is stronger, because ed knew him when he was young and hadn't fully covered up all his squishy bits yet. jack's far more addictive that way. the day he finally changes will feel so much bigger for ed. he would've had a life with jack, at one point. still might.

but jack can never change. he's let something rot inside him that might've been alive at some point. and as long as he keeps coming back like a bad penny he'll keep stringing ed along and torturing him whether he means to or not.

[gatheringbones]

[“Coming from the Bible Belt in Kansas, I knew very well where the church and conservative moralists stood. But when I moved to New York at age twenty, even my open-minded friends thought masturbation was a second-rate substitute for “the real thing.” That was in the 1950s. My only source of sex information was marriage manuals and random bits of Freudian psychiatry. When I finally made it to the couch, my therapist and I had the same romantic image—mature sex was having vaginal orgasms from intercourse within a meaningful relationship. Adult masturbation was okay if I didn’t do it too much; otherwise it would be compulsive or infantile behavior. I was sure that several times a week was too much, so with grim determination, I set out to find Prince Charming in order to live happily and orgasmically ever after.

Throughout my twenties, I had superromantic, monogamous love affairs with passionate orgasms from intercourse. My lovers and I always planned to get married, which justified the sex. Masturbating while I was involved with a man would have meant there was something terribly wrong with my sexlife. Each of these affairs lasted about two years, and the breakup was always devastating. Being romantically in love was like mainlining emotions. I was hooked on my beloved, and there was no way I could live without my fix. Never once did I become a smart romantic addict who had learned how to move along to the next lover without suffering. At the end of each affair, I nearly wiped myself out with sorrow, regret, despair, or rage.

After years of searching for love, my prince finally found me. It was a romantic dream come true, and at twenty-nine, I got married, just in time to escape the horrible fate of going over the hill alone. During the first year, I felt our sexual exchange was modest, but my therapist said we would be more passionate in bed after we made our “marital adjustments.” I quit my job and concentrated on marriage. I was now economically secure, but I was getting more and more concerned about our sexlife. In our marriage’s second year, we were having sex about once a month. When we did make love, my husband would come too fast, and I wouldn’t come at all. Afterward, we’d both be embarrassed and silent. When he was asleep, I would quickly and quietly masturbate under the covers. I’d do it barely moving or breathing, feeling sick with frustration and guilt.

Since we were in love, I couldn’t understand why we weren’t into sex. I was a doomed romantic junkie, trapped in a marriage that a wasn’t living up to my romantic ideal. Sometimes I felt it was all my fault. Our lack of sex meant I wasn’t holding up my end of the marital bargain. I had no sexual value, and he didn’t really love me. Torn between blaming myself, blaming him, or blaming the institution of marriage, I was too busy to consider sexual alternatives. With joyful masturbation, I could have had an orgasm every day and one decent fuck a month. But no! Every time I wanted sex, I had to depend on my other half, and sometimes he really did have a headache.

Over the next few years, there was so much tension and so little communication in our marriage that I stopped wanting sex with my husband altogether. Instead, I began creating monumental masterpieces of art. But in the sixth year, no matter how much I tried to sublimate my desire, hot sexual memories crept back into my consciousness. Once my husband went on a business trip and my horniness spilled over into a private one-week orgy of drawing my sexual fantasies, getting turned on, and masturbating way beyond the point of going blind. I drew all the exciting sexual perversions I could think of, which were actually very few—oralsex, fucking doggie style, and a threesome. Overwhelmed with guilt at my hedonistic debauchery, I destroyed the drawings. I actually tore them up into tiny bits and flushed them down the toilet, afraid someone might find the scraps in the garbage and put the pieces together.

Of course my marriage fell apart. I wanted orgasmic partnersex to be part of my life.”]

betty dodson, from orgasms for one: the joy of selfloving