#thinking about her own wedding and it would be with him

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: married life with eiland

COMMENTS: i've been thinking so hard about marrying this man i have two lawn chairs next to my mail box and a desk for him and a chest full of sweets for when we get married im planning ahead ahead i need him so bad

reader is compared to lady luck but they're not fem aligned.

It’s not uncommon for you to wake up in the morning to see Eiland curled up in bed, his reading glasses askew and a book opened over his face. You always remove the book gently, marking his page with a bookmark you keep handy on your nightstand and he thanks you profusely for it later. It’s not even that he stays up outrageously late, you just so happen to have a husband who is so dedicated to his research he can hardly put it down!

Although he would love nothing more than to have chocolate chip waffles with whipped cream and a hearty amount of syrup for breakfast, he is unfortunately bound by the knowledge that food like that has little nutrients and will not keep his precious spouse up and running throughout the day. Soft hands cut up fruits into hearts and stars, depositing them into one of your bowls with a proud smile as seasonal fruit pancakes sizzle on your stove. He takes pride in taking care of your needs. That is, after all, what a husband does! (Ignore the copious amount of times he messed up a dish...he's trying his best.)

Whenever he comes home after a meeting with his sister, he makes sure to ask your opinion on things. If it's something the two of you don’t agree on (much to his chagrin...yes, he pouts about it later) he will still report your honest opinion to Adeline. His sister can tell immediately if you agreed or disagreed with him based on his facial expression alone.

Eiland has a tendency to say things that can be taken in a flirtatious way, but are usually innocent. He still has not learned to watch his words with you even after years of marriage, calling you over to Louis’s stall to look at the beautiful wedding outfits and yapping about how lovely you would look in them. Oh Eiland, he has no idea what he’s implying!

Due to his hobbies, he is more of a help on the farm than some may think! You’re certainly going to have to walk him through ranching if he decides he wants to feed the animals, but he’ll pick up on how to plant seeds a lot faster. He’s quick work with a shovel and can figure out a hoe in no time flat! (He thinks you’re so cool and just wants to help out his lovely spouse, please let him.)

Without a doubt, you will get wrapped up in his Dungeons and Drama campaigns. He’ll be delighted if you make food based on the campaign and will brag for weeks about it. Be prepared to be referred to as the lovebirds when you come to the Inn on Friday’s! That’s simply how Mistria works I’m afraid.

Elsie is going to have the time of her life when the two of you get married. She’ll be on cloud nine, orbiting the two of you with well wishes and the most random gifts she insists you two need for your new life. It’s very sweet of her, even if you’re not entirely sure what you’d use a fondue pot for other than satisfying your husband’s raging appetite.

Daily trips to the Western Ruins and The Narrows are a must. Eiland likes to check in on the Museum, having been contributing to its upkeep for a long time now. If you find him starting a special set of armor tucked away in the back of the main area, don’t mind him. He’s just reminiscing on old times with you.

Eiland takes very good care of his skin and hair, and if you let him he’ll pamper you every morning and night. He tends to lose his sense of personal space when he does this though...his face will be very close to you. If you lean in to steal a kiss, he’ll jump and laugh, cheeks growing warm as you smile at him.

When he spaces out, he’ll reach out for your hand and start fiddling with your wedding ring. You’d think he’d fiddle with his own, but he likes feeling your knuckles under the pads of his fingers. Eiland will slowly come back down to Mistria at some point, his eyes focusing on his fingers against your skin and your soft smile shining upon him like Lady Luck herself. Truly, he got so lucky.

[revolu]

I'm dropping (a bit old) john laurens yap here. Please correct anything you must + provide the source.

and we know very limited about John but whatever !!

Laurens was described by Hamilton to have honey blonde hair when clean. His hair was generally said to be light brown/blonde. As seen on portraits, he had soft features, blue eyes, and a big nose. He was described to be very handsome, and IMO I agree!! We don't know exactly how tall he was, but he was most likely over 6 feet. One day before Laurens' 15th birthday, his father wrote to James Grant; ''my Little Jack, now as big as I am...'' (Jack being John's nickname). We don't know Henry Laurens' height, but if he was as tall as Henry at 15, he certainly grew to be taller. In 1778, Henry wrote to John ''A Taylor has cut off as much of your Scarlet as will make he says a Wascoat for 6 feet 3 inches...'' which suggests that John could have been 6'3. It's not clear what exactly Henry means in the letter but as said, John was probably over 6 feet. Laurens was one of the strongest abolitionists of the time despite coming from one of the bigger slave plantations and growing up where slavery was normal. John could speak English, French, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Latin. We know that he was fluent in English and French but we don't know about his fluency in the other languages.

Laurens got Martha Manning pregnant and ended up marrying her out of pity (supposedly to protect her reputation too and to keep illegitimacy of their child.) He wrote to his uncle ''...Pity has obliged me to marry...'', When Laurens left for war, he left his pregnant wife in another country. When John was chosen by congress to be a special minister to France and had him travel there, Martha traveled with their daughter to reconnect with him upon hearing about his arrival in France. But John supposedly made no effort whatsoever to visit them; he completed his mission and went back to America. Martha later died during the trip and their daughter, Frances, was sent to live with her aunt.

John Laurens is believed to have been gay... The man didn't seem to express any attraction towards women, though I think his sexist beliefs played a role in this, as well as his lack of effort to humble his wife. His letters to Alexander Hamilton, and Francis Kinloch also suggest he had an eye for men... ESPECIALLY Kinloch's and his correspondence.

Henry Laurens wrote ''Master Jack is too closely wedded to his studies to think about any of the Miss Nanny's''. But it's important to note that he was a teenager at that time and not every teen develops those feelings at the same time. But I would imagine that since he was as tall as his father at 15, he was early in puberty... Romantic/sexual feelings usually come with puberty, but what do we know? Anyways. John expressed a lot of sexist opinions, even towards his own sisters, which can be read in letters. Most men were sexist, but John seemed to be more ''strict'' on the subject... This definitely plays a part in his supposed ''homosexuality''.

John hid the fact that he had a wife and child from Hamilton for nearly two years. Why? The reason is unknown. It's only up to debate. My guess is that he just wanted to try to ''forget'' them in some way, seeing as he literally left them... Why would you bring up that you have a family that you abandoned? But maybe it was because he never found the right time to tell him, or was it to get a better chance with Hamilton? We will never know, sadly. But what we DO know, is that Laurens referred to his wife as ''dear girl'', and Hamilton, and supposedly ONLY Hamilton, as ''Dear boy''. We know for a fact that Hamilton was close to Laurens and was special to him, but why did he call his wife that? Out of pity? He didn't necessarily show any real attraction towards her... But whatever the reason is, it's kinda cute.

We know that Henry Laurens was emotionally manipulative of John, which is like read in letters... So there is no denying that, really. BUT John was close to his father, attachment issues tsk, tsk tsk... But jokes aside, when John told his father that he wasn't super interested in becoming a lawyer or merchant like his father wanted, Henry wrote this to his brother; ''if he enters upon the plan of Life which he Seemed to pant for when he wrote the 5th. July, I Shall give him up for lost & he will very Soon reproach himSelf for his want of Duty & affection towards me, for abandoning his Brothers & Sisters, for disregarding the Council of his Uncle, & for his deficiency of common understanding, in making Such a choice_ if these reflections prevail not over him, nothing will_ he must have his own way & I must be content with the remembrance, that I had a Son.'' Basically, Henry said he would disown John if he pursued his interests in medicine. So, John ended up becoming a lawyer/statesman to please his father. There are more examples of John trying to please his father, but let's not take that now... HOWEVER, after John had died, Henry wrote of him in response to John Adams' letter; ''Thank God I had a Son who dared to die in defence of his Country'' ... We get a lot of mixed signals from Henry... Though I do believe he loved him, at least somewhat.., even if he was controlling/manipulative. Henry wasn't too nice to his other children either, but since this is about John I'm not gonna talk about that.

John's brother James died at the age of 9-10 (1765-1775)

James, or Jemmy, was supposedly scaling the outside of their house and tried to jump to the landing outside of John’s window but fell. He received life threatening injuries and cracked his skull. The doctors had figured that the injuries were too severe to save him and John described it to his uncle four days later; "At some Intervals he had his senses, so far as to be able to answer single Questions, to beckon to me, and to form his Lips to kiss me, but for the most part he was delirious, and frequently unable to articulate. Puking, Convulsions never very violent, and latterly so gentle as scarcely to be perceived, or deserve the Name, ensued, and Nature yielded."

Since John was supposed to watch over James during this time, John felt guilty and as if it was his fault. James' death was very difficult for John, and it weighed heavily on him.

Henry did little to alleviate those feelings of guilt, which suggests that he either didn't care enough, or that a part of him also blamed John. (I am not saying he 100% did, but it would not be surprising if he so did, considering how he treated John.)

He could also have been in too much grief to console John... Which, as said, would not be too surprising considering his treatment of John. But nevertheless, he did not do much to help John and John's guilt.

TW: mentions of suicide.

It is highly speculated that John was suicidal. We have a couple of written exchanges where John discusses suicide with friends and family. In February 1774, John wrote to Henry Laurens about two men who had attempted suicide. We don't have the whole letter, but here is a part of Henry's response; ''...But, my Dear Son, I trust that your opinion on that Question is So firm, that you are armed with Such irrefragable proofs of the Impiety as well as Cowardice of Self Murther, as puts you out of danger of being made a Convert to Error...'' (Not gonna put all of it). Another time, when John was a prisoner of war and didn't handle imprisonment well, Hamilton wrote to John ''For your own sake, for my sake, for the public sake, I shall pray for the success of the attempt (of being exchanged) you mention; that you may have it in your power to act with us. But if you should be disappointed, bear it like a man; have recourse, neither to the dagger, nor to the poisoned bowl, nor to the rope.'' It is clear that Hamilton (and Henry, despite how he treated John) were worried about John's thoughts of suicide. John's last letter to Hamilton was probably one of the, if not the, most emotional. He wrote ''Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.'' John died about a month later. On the day of his death, John and his men surprised a troop of British soldiers that outnumbered them. Instead of retreating, John chose to immediately attack. He did not really actively end his own life, though it seems as if it was planned or that he was trying. Which is just sad. Also, it's not sure that Hamilton's last letter to Laurens ever got to him before he died. (In that letter he tells John to quit his sword and come to congress with Hamilton)

I don't know what else to add actually but here you have it!! This is as accurate as I can get it, especially cause it's like mostly based on letters... Uhm. But yay!

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin Part 2

Fem reader x Raphael

Warnings: alcohol/drunkenness

Part 1

The wedding had been beautiful, and the reception was a blast. But now the party was beginning to thin as guests made their way to their lodgings for the night, and you've been watching them them leave from your place on the front steps of the main house.

The benefit of having a wedding on property you own is that you don't really have to clean up all that much until morning. As such, you've been posted here, making your way steadily through your own personal bottle of champagne, for the last hour.

You take a long draw from the bottle before setting it back down. Things had been going so well.

You look up when a shadow falls over the moon.

"Oh, hey Specs." You say to your exceptionally tall friend. Donatello sits down beside you on the steps.

He picks up the champagne bottle and swishes it to see how much is left. Yup. You're drunk.

"So, what was all that about?"

You shake your head, at a loss "I have no idea."

You think back over the Wedding for the millionth time in the last hour. You'd walked down the aisle with Raphael arm in arm, and *damn* that reptile could rock a suit. You remember really hoping that the amount of formal makeup you were wearing was enough to cover the flush of warmth in your skin every time he brushed against you and the very thin fabric of your dress. It was criminal, how handsome he was.

You remember your mind drifting during the ceremony to wishes and what-ifs. You'd glanced at him while April was saying her vows. Comfort, safety, home... Gravity. The person you keep coming back to. Why was your brain suddenly checking off boxes?

When the bride was being kissed you couldn't help but look over at him once more. Your... friend? Is that what he is...? The word doesn't seem right. Enough.

D is your best friend. You know what "best friend" feels like. But Raphael... You don't know what these feelings are. You've never felt like this about anyone. This *need*. To have him close. Closer. Finding reasons just to be around him. Coming up with excuses to touch him, just to feel his skin against yours.

Every relationship you've ever been in has felt like work, but things are *easy* with Raphael. Natural. It left you second guessing yourself. Wasn't it supposed to be hard? Weren't you supposed to have to try? Was it really love if you didn't have to fight for it?

April tossed the bouquet and you were the "lucky" one. The moment it hit your hands you decided you were going to talk to him about all of this. Maybe it wouldn't completely blow up in your face. Maybe he would be willing to see where this goes. After all, the night was already so magical, maybe you could squeeze out one more miracle.

Someone had approached you, placed their hand on your arm, and asked you to dance. In the moment it took you to say, "just a sec," he was gone.

You'd looked around for a moment, completely abandoning whoever it was that had asked you to dance, and finally spotted him walking toward the house. You ran to catch up.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red?" You'd giggled as you stumbled on the uneven ground, (more than) a little tipsy.

You'd felt the sigh, more than heard it when he stopped walking, and your brow furrowed. "You okay, Bruiser?" You'd asked gently.

"Yeah..." He'd said without turning around.

"Doesn't seem like 'yeah,'" you'd observed, walking around to face him. "What's up?"

"Nothin'. 'm just tired. Gonna head in early." He wouldn't meet your eyes. You were too buzzed to notice. Instead, you saw an opportunity.

Privacy was perfect! Exactly what you needed for what you had planned! "Great! I'll come with you!" You'd chirped brightly, as he attempted to side step you. You'd touched his arm. That's all.

As your skin brushed his he turned in a flash and had you by the wrist, his expression unreadable. It didn't hurt, he'd never hurt you, but his grip was like iron, and his eyes cold as steel. You'd never seen him like this. Completely guarded.

He held your gaze, almost searching for something, before realizing what he was doing and releasing you quickly. He muttered an apology, reiterated that he was tired, and took off toward the house.

You stood there dumbfounded for several long moments, trying to process what just happened. You considered going after him, but then thought better of it. Something was wrong and it obviously had something to do with you. You being around might just make whatever this was worse. You'd spotted Splinter heading toward the house as well and decided he was better suited to tend to Raphael.

You try to think past the haze of intoxication. You can't remember doing anything that might upset him. In fact, the last time you got to actually talk was before the ceremony and things were great then. At the reception you'd asked him, practically begged him, to dance with you several times. But he was always busy with something else. With the help of your good friend Dom Pérignon, you'd practically been throwing yourself at him all evening. And every time you'd approached him he'd seemed more and more uncomfortable...

Oh.

It must be love. Because this hurts.

You'd ruined it. You'd committed the cardinal sin of catching feelings. You'd condemned yourself even more by attempting to act on them. He was pissed. You'd upset the balance, changed everything, your relationship would never be the same... and it was all your fault.

"Do you wanna hear something stupid?" You say quietly, barely able to speak over the shattering in your chest.

"Shoot," Donnie says, taking a swig from the near empty bottle.

"I think I'm in love with your brother."

Now, Donatello has never had expensive taste, and you wouldn't think an internal organ would have any opinion. But for a second there, Donnie's lungs are drinking champagne.

Coughing, sputtering, and cursing whoever first discovered fermentation, he looks down at you trying to catch his breath. It would have been hilarious if you hadn't just ruined your own life.

"And I'm pretty sure he knows and I'm pretty sure he hates me," you say, as your eyes fill with tears. "Donnie, I think I ruined everything..."

........

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Are there any fics about Nanny Crowley and Bookseller Aziraphale?

Thank you^^

Hi! Here are some nanny Crowley and bookseller Aziraphale fics...

I Hear You're in Need of a Nanny by emptymasks (G)

Aziraphale was trying his best to raise his son on his own, but at a certain point it was difficult to be running the bookshop while also keeping his eyes on Oscar all day. Crowley liked working with children, and children liked him, they’ve just always been drawn to him. A lot of people prefer hiring a female nanny to a male one, and as much as he thinks it’s a little ridiculous, it works out fine for him. He was happy to identify and present as female and tap into his maternal instincts. He’d been wanting to take a job closer to his apartment, but there’s not that many people wanting to hire a nanny in Soho; then he comes across a job advertisement in the local newspaper posted by a Mr. A. Z. Princer. When he meets Oscar, he finds a little girl tired of being told by the world that she's a boy. Single Parent! Aziraphale & Nanny! Crowley, Human AU

The Demon on Her Shoulder Has Her Back by Barely_a_human (T)

"'Hi, Crowley.” “What did you need, dear?” “I’ve- uh- been kicked out of my house. I don’t know where to go, and it’s raining. I’m sorry for bothering you, but you said I could call if I needed anything, and right now I need a grown-up that would be on my side.'" or Crowley adopts a young trans girl named Eve, and she get's to witness the almost-apocalypse, as well as Crowley finding love with an angel, from an outsiders perspective.

dancing queen (guaranteed to blow your mind) by Quilly (T)

Warlock has a secret, and it's that he invited three former staff members from his estranged parents' household to his wedding in the hopes that one of them is the one Nanny is still in love with. Crowley is just wondering what entity he pissed off to make three of his old flames show up the day before his adopted kid's wedding.

Connection by AppleSeeds (M)

In March 2020 when the UK goes into Lockdown, Crowley is faced with the unenviable task of homeschooling Warlock. A silver lining emerges when Warlock starts attending literature classes on Zoom run by local bookseller Aziraphale, who Crowley finds extraordinarily attractive. Crowley jumps at the chance when the opportunity arises to actually talk to Aziraphale away from Warlock and his classmates, and the two of them begin to build a friendship via Zoom. When they realise their friendship could be the beginning of something more, they explore ways to feel connected to each other until the day comes when they can finally be together in real life.

Millennial Blues by comicgeekery (E)

Aziraphale is a standard retail bookseller trying to make ends meet. One day a man named Crowley shows up with a flyer for a variety show looking for new acts. And, well, Crowley is handsome and Aziraphale has been lonely...and working on some magic tricks. What harm could a bit of light flirting do? It all should be fine as long as no one asks about his past...

- Mod D

[peachetteprice]

Born For It | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Enter: Rich-boy!Gaz who was never born into wealth, but rather, born for it.

Thankfully, his blagging skills were never subpar, as convincing the wealthiest blonde bimbo at a conference in Fort Lauderdale would have proved tricky had he not mastered the art of running his delicious mouth. It was, in his own words, piss-easy to convince the woman he was 'in love with' that he was, in fact, a very well-off, well-known auditor for numerous major tech companies, and he was, additionally, all too talented at forging the paperwork for a 2024 Kia Stonic in cerulean blue – that certainly did not cost him a month's worth of groceries to rent for two weeks – to prove that it was truly all his. And, goodness, thank the creator that his father was so devoted to owning three gorgeous, pin-striped Italian suits before he passed, otherwise he would have nothing prim and proper to wear on their first, second, third, fourth, and fifth dates! Well, before he devoured her on her velvet couch and stole her hand in marriage, of course.

Naturally, he takes to the role of pompous, spoilt, entitled husband like a moth to a flame, as he has an inordinate ability to stretch the truth with his long Ralph Lauren fleeces tucked at the elbows, VVS diamond-studded watches, and tinted Versace sunglasses.

Oh, but don't be fooled by the crass social act: the man knows a con artist when he sees one.

He doesn't spend long at the country club with a glass of red in hand, talking to Brian and James and Marcus and their wives Tiffany, Tiffany 2, and Tiffany 2.5, respectively, about the recent tax evasion scandal from Johnsons and Co. (and how they all might do it better without getting caught) before he spots you across the outdoor pool on a sun chair: the young, recently wed beauty with ample time left on your wrist to be doing anything with your life other than seduce poor, geriatric, twice-divorcée, once-widowed, thrice-Viagra'd Mr. Shepherd – or, more crucially – the vast riches he carries in those flabby jowls of his, just ripe enough for the taking as soon as that weak heart of his drops him dead in the shower on a cold Tuesday morning, months later.

It's a shame, really, that the old dog didn't put his conversation skills into the will, because it takes Kyle no more than three minutes of ogling to read the smudged guilt and lost desire on your face, and poses, to you, over a kiss on the knuckles and a well-timed whisper into your ear, the question of joining him one day for lunch in his large, supersized, monstrous mansion that hardly gets used by his married-to-her-work-first wife who, herself, would never think of Kyle wishing to screw another woman on the weekends to entertain himself in such a lonely... drab... suburb.

It does perplex you a little a first, especially when you aren't certain why he wants you of all the women at the country club, when every wife, waitress and pool girl would burst open their bras and dangle their naked breasts in his face at just a chance of that silver tongue on their bodies, because he's simply that irresistible.

Though, you do agree. In fact, you have to.

Not only because he knows your golden secret to greed, and has been known to – again – run that scrumptious mouth of his to anyone he can throw under the bus for another grand or two, but because it's clear to anyone that dear-old Shepherd's cock does nothing for a pretty pussy like yours, and you desperately need to cream over his thick, severing, thigh-splitting one until you cum, to make up for all the flab he wiggles in and around your folds at nine in the evening before he conks out in his silk pyjamas – he has to wake up early to catch the morning run of his favourite radio show, don't you remember?

And you wouldn't tell on him even if you could, even if he didn't have his wife's lawyer on speed-dial, due to that legally-binding, twenty-three page contract locked within a safe in your makeup drawer which clearly states that anything of yours from the inheritence – whenever your old biddie shoots the gun, kicks the bucket or collects his final paycheck, that is – is automatically his, too, as well as the properties in Toulouse, the estate in Dubai, the stocks and shares in Google and Facebook that only ever seem to be going up... oh, and that divine cunt of yours he laps up like a starved dog whenever his wife is away.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart. Pt. 8

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to the TikTok user ccarmyy! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You arrived to the north and instantly ran to your future husband, hugging him, drowning in his scent, the desire you've been containing during the trip disappears as soon as you and him are in your chambers, he was a wolf riding a dragon and you were a dragon devouring a wolf.

The room was destroyed just like your dress and every clothe, you used every chair, every table, all your bed, and you still needed more.

«I'm your betrothed, it doesn't matter if we share our bed before the wedding, I'm already yours my lord.»

You were happy, you weren't sure if it was because of him, because you loved him or if it was the fact that all your desires were attended.

While you're enjoying and exploring new horizons of your femininity and the love between a man and a woman, at the other site of the kingdom, your father gave his last breath and your half brother is trying to escape the throne and the crown that his mother and grandfather want to put over his head.

You don't even imagine it, until you're taking a bath, eyes close, suddenly some visions, are tormenting you.

Aegon wearing a crown, Rhaenyra wearing another, you can see blood in their hands, hearing screams and pleadings, one of Aegon's children, you riding the back of a wolf, dragons roaring and spitting fire everywhere, Thank to the gods your future husband is close to hearing your heavy breathing, bringing you back to your reality with a touch in your shoulder.

- What's wrong with my warrior princess?

- I... I don't know, I'm sorry... Perhaps I'm just tired my Lord.

Smiling instantly you're trying to hide the obvious anxiety that is eating you alive, you can't fool him but he knows there's no point in insisting, you will talk about this when you feel ready so he only kisses you softly and leaves you to rest while he goes to attend his usual tasks.

For the next few days you've been keeping him busy in your chambers, fulfilling your marital duties, even though, you're not married yet.

Your place as the future lady of the north has also a lot of duties, so, during the day you're the lady of the north but at night, you're still the warrior princess, the one who rides the wolf of the north, the one who made the strongest alliance in the name of her sister.

You're In the training yard observing your future husband, when the wind whispers something in your ear, or at least that's what you think, you're alone, there's no one close to you.

«The greens are coming for you...»

Cregan suddenly is running to you, you didn't even feel it, you were falling, fainting. You ended up on the ground, Cregan instantly asked for help, everybody took you to your chambers, you don't know how much you slept, but In your sleep you could hear the roars of dragons, your sister screaming in pain, you had visions about a baby with a dragon tail, scales, feet and hands; you saw your father's crown, you heard the voice of your uncle whispering «Luke is deep in the sea... The queen of the seven kingdoms...and the princess who protects her...»

Cregan stayed at your side, hearing you mumbling strange things about war, about kings confronting and burning the world and how the gods were whispering and showing you the future. He thought the fever was attacking you, taking the best of you, another lady that would die in his arms.

Meanwhile your sister is dealing with the war that is approaching, dealing with the pain of her child's death, the little Visenya, who came to this world before her time.

Your sister is in need of help, her spirit is stronger than ever but her heart is weak, the pain is invading it.

She knows she needs any house big or small, she needs as many people as possible on her side. Messengers are on their way to every corner of the kingdom, some dragon raiders too.

Soon or later, the news will knock on your door. Your nephews are on their way to different sites of the kingdom,while you still can't wake up from your dream.

The tragedy following Rhaenyra as a shadow, you're the last light of hope, she never realized how strong it was the bond between you and her, since that day, when both destiny was sealed.

Daemon, received the news first, he had a soft voice only for Rhaenyra, softly telling her the horror her son lived in before leaving this world.

Lucerys Velaryon, the prince, the messenger that never came back home and Arrax, his young and brave dragon, defeated his rider until the end, the little beast dared to attack the largest and oldest Dragon, Vhagar. No one would ever know the bravery of the young prince and his dragon had to confront his uncle and his giant beast.

«Arrax! Luke! Where are you?...»

In your dream, you can hear your nephew calling you, you can hear the roaring of Arrax, you can only see silhouettes, poor you, you can't imagine what is happening in the real world.

Cregan has left your side, he still has duties to attend. But you have your maidens taking good care of you.

Targaryen are dreamers, some of them believe in what they see, some others, don't. But you're one who decides to believe them. As for magic, you wake up, gasping loudly, your maidens are instantly trying to calm you, they're more anxious than you, your mind is focused on your family, then someone informs you, your nephew, Jacaerys came to leave a message for you and Lord Stark.

- Bring me a coat, I have to see my nephew, now!

Everybody in the room is running, preparing you a bath and clothes, even though your servants told you, Cregan and Jace are on the wall, you don't care, you will fly in your dragon if it is necessary but you have to talk with Jace.

You're ready to leave when the doors of the entrance are opening. They're back, you run to Cregan, he catches your face between his hands, observing if You're okay, Jace is quiet, observing both interaction, as soon as you plant your eyes on him you hug him tightly.

- Jace, what is it, what is going on, why are you here?

- Aunt Daemma, I bring news, unfortunately not good ones. Cregan told me you were sick but you seem healthy.

- I am perfectly fine, I just... Had a vision or something. Doesn't matter right now, tell me, what are the news.

And while Jacaerys talks, you feel more and more sure about your dreams, your visions and all that happened in your sleep. At least nothing is completely bad, Cregan and Jacaerys are good friends and allies, if you already had the north in your hand, the fact that your nephew came personally to ask for help kindly without threat made this alliance stronger than ever.

- To win a war you have to know who your allies are, I'm so glad you had the chance to talk and meet Lord Stark.

The three of you are in a deep and important conversation, negotiating the last details of this alliance when a man comes to Cregan with a letter, a raven from Dragonstone, while he's reading, his expression starts to get cold and serious, you don't have to ask, you can bet it is about Lucerys and you were not wrong, Jace is young but is also a strong Targaryen who knows the importance of keeping the pain and the sadness for another moment.

Cregan, as the gentleman and leader that he is, understands perfectly your decision to leave. You have to go home, support your sister and fight at her side, now that you're sure he will keep his word, you can go and do the necessary to help.

- I'm not only loyal to our queen, I'm loyal to you, Daemma. The north will be waiting for your commands, and I will be waiting for my wife's return.

Kissing your forehead, your hands and your lips deeply, holding you tightly and wishing you good luck, he says goodbye.

You and Jace embark on the journey, but before going to dragonstone, you decide to make a quick stop, alone, at Kingslanding.

You had to be far or fly too high to not be seen by the guards, you're waiting in the sky, expecting a distraction to finally land not so far from the city.

Aemond's arrival is the perfect distraction, now you're taking the hidden halls of the castle, once you're sure you're in Aemond's chambers, you can see him, walking from one side to the room to another, biting his nails, too distracted by his own mind.

You consider killing him, right there and no one would expect it. Unfortunately, your anger and the poison you've been containing pushes you to ruin your best chance.

- How stupid you have to be to think that an old dragon who has been in battle its entire life wouldn't attack to kill? Also, it is ironic... You said they are bastards and yet, you gave him a classic Targaryen dead, he died riding his dragon.

He doesn't act surprised, but you're sure you scared him and quickly made him furious.

- How stupid you have to be to come here alone and talk to me in that way, Daemma?

- Oh Aemond, don't think I'm afraid of you, if I wanted I could kill you, you would be dead already, but it is not me who has to make you pay for what you've done, I'm here with the only intention to know why.

You know you messed up, you could take revenge but that silly mistake now has you playing a risky card.

- You can't be serious. All the long journey to just know why I did what I did? Doesn't matter, what is done, it's done.

He walks slowly in your direction, you don't step back, you have to keep your defiant position but also you have to make him feel like you're not an enemy right now.

- Really? Is that what your mother told you? The queen must be... Very pleased, after all, she was a great influence who helped and supported Rhaenyra's usurpation throne.

- The queen doesn't know what she wants anymore.

- Of course not, the queen has always spoken with two tongues, she has always been divided between her father and her childhood friend, that always has been her problem, but in the end she chose to be her father's puppet.

- Watch your tongue, Daemma, she's still my mother I will not allow you to talk about her in that way.

Time to move on, leave that conversation behind.

-I always considered you as the smartest one. You know? And with all that is happening right now I've been thinking about how unfair it must be for you to not be named as king.

His tensed jaw makes you calculate your words, you have to be careful.

-You're smarter, stronger and a great knight. Don't take me wrong, I do not intend to provoke you, I'm just pointing at the obvious.

He looks at you confused, somehow he's expecting anxiously for your next words.

- You and I, we have more in common than what you think. We're the second ones. We've been proving we're better than our siblings our entire life, with time I accepted my destiny but you, Aemond you don't have to make the same mistake. I think you deserve more...

- Be clear, Daemma.

You stand in front of him, touching his hair softly, looking at him with big bright eyes, praying to make your magic or have some luck to at least have a chance to escape by fooling him touching a weak fiber inside him, whispering the last words in the most sweet and innocent way you could, so close to his ear that your lips are almost caressing it.

- The crown should be yours, my king...

Aemond doesn't show any emotion, for a second you think you're making more and more mistakes so you look down at the skirts of your dress, when his large hand takes your chin to make you face him again.

- Why are you saying all this?

- Because I know myself, my sister and I know Aegon, none of us would be good leaders, but you, Aemond, you have what we don't, I've seen it in dreams, you will be sitting on the throne.

Perhaps you say all those lies with much confidence or maybe you had the luck you prayed for. But Aemond smiles a little, convinced, pleased with your words.

- You're saying all this with a reason, tell me what is it.

- I said I wouldn't be good sitting on the throne to rule, I just want... Dragonstone, I want to be the owner of something, that's all.

He's about to ask more questions when a guard knocks on his door. Without opening the doors and with a loud and cold voice he demands to know why are they interrupting him.

- What is it?

«Ah... Pardon me, my prince, but your brother requested your presence at the small council.»

- See? Aegon can't handle the responsibilities, he's weak and easy to persuade, but you're different, you're difficult and impulsive, that's your advantage. You have to clean your path on this side and I'll do it on mine, do we have a deal?.

You whisper again feeling like a snake, filling his system with your poison, feeding his desires with false hopes and lies, because it's not your intention to betray your sister, you only want to escape. He looks back at you, caressing your chin, observing cautiously in your eyes, looking for any signs of lies, but maybe you played well, since he nodded in silence and left the room, as quick as he disappeared you did the same, coming back to your dragon, going home.

While you were in the sky, your sister was looking for her son, anything that could belong to Lucerys Velaryon.

Meanwhile the greens are struggling, different objectives, different causes and motives are on the table. Did you create more cracks?.

As soon as the moon is lighting the sky, you appear and soon, Rhaenyra does it too.

She doesn't even talk to you, or someone else in the room, some men welcomed you but that was all, her rage and grief were palpable.

After some people inform the advances, she listens or at least you would like to think she does. But the only thing she says, is something none of you weren't expecting.

- I want Aemond Targaryen.

Just like that, she doesn't say anything else and leaves the room. Daemon left minutes later, you feel like a ghost, not many people notice you, now you're feeling like the young version of yourself, isolated, wondering if you made the right decision leaving your comfortable place in the north.

Jace convinced you to go with him to have a private meeting with his mother, once there, you're behind the young man, who's hardly trying to not show how much the loss of his brother is affecting him.

- Your grace.

Both say in one voice, curtsying, Rhaenyra stays on her seat, her puffy eyes reveal all the tears she had been pouring.

Jace says something about a dragon in vale, then he mentions the men and the loyalty the north promised, his voice is cracking and suddenly Rhaenyra stops to play her character as queen and changes it for the mother figure her son needs.

You're still behind, unsure of what to do, the moment seems intimate and private, but then, Rhaenyra looks at you and without stopping the hug with her son, she offers one hand, indicating you can approach, instantly you run and join to the hug, sobbing and apologizing for not being here before.

The funeral was bitter and full of sadness, but somehow brought more union between your family. But Daemon mysteriously disappears, no one knows where he is, but you know his absence is something to worry about.

At the hour of the owl, walking between the walls and In front of everybody's noses, the revenge walked, the blood was soon to be spilled.

«The queen of dreams and the queen of dragons tied by the loss of an innocent»

The whisper wakes you up, you don't know why or how, but instantly you walk around dragonstone, checking on every kids room, because you were not prepared to lose someone else.

[pocketgalaxies]

Since you’ve now watched the wedding do you have any thoughts on Derrig especially with how important he is to Orym? I remember the first time I watched it I found him boring compared to Lieve’tel who came before him and he didn’t do much, like you said nobody really did for a while there, cause it was mostly role play since it was a wedding and he was just out of place in that aspect too as Keyleth’s bodyguard who they were just meeting for the first time; and even after all this time and knowing he is incredibly important to a main character in C3, I still can’t shake this initial impression.

hello sorry for answering this late i wanted to catch up on c3

it got kinda long. didn't realize i could have so many thoughts about this dude!

i actually really enjoyed derrig! i think liam established him very quickly as someone who is fatherly, practical, and friendly. no-nonsense when shit hit the fan but also i just Know that he loves dad jokes and he makes his kids cringe so bad with how much he brags about them. he went home after the wedding and played scanlan shorthalt records nonstop until everyone in the house went crazy. he has also lost hours and hours and hours of sleep over what might happen to his family if he ever dies in the line of duty, and he knows that he might, and he knows that he Would if keyleth needed him to.

i think in general he's just such a Dad and that makes him very endearing to me. he is significantly older than all of vm and was very patient fielding all of their super nosy unprofessional questions about what he "intends to do" with keyleth. he watched her grow up and he knew vax (probably a bit better than he let on) and i think he has seen how that loss affected her, and i think he understands that the worry he's felt for her over the last several months could only be a fraction of how vm feels. so he entertains their questions, and he stays by her side when she's panicking about her speech, and he tells vex he's sorry, and he's just there, in case he's needed. not just by keyleth but by any of vm. which speaks volumes imo!

SORRY you asked about orym not keyleth. i think it's all about how derrig's interactions with vm reflect what his family must be like. derrig is a bit of a jokester and he's a bit of a boomer (affectionate) but he is diligent and dedicated and very skilled. in my mind orym was always this constantly Serious person while will had more of that silliness in him and pulled orym out of his shell a bit. i think will took after derrig as a jokester but orym took after him as a Soldier. and it's very easy to imagine how orym fit in to this family – an only child, quiet and severe, who loves his single mother deeply, being welcomed into this bustling loud family with the pranksters and the annual vacations and the spontaneous competitions with dad that are judged by mom. they love him like one of their own. they love him because he is one of their own

and i think losing derrig and will was zephrah losing two brilliant sparks of life, and what was left was a family mourning joy and memories and unconditional love. and i think that explains quite a lot about orym, actually.

[johannestevans]

Peace in the New World

Short fiction. Moshe and Yosl discuss life after work. 

2k, rated T. Two Jews talking over tea in late 19th century USA. Bonding over poverty, philosophy, old trauma, that sort of thing. 

CW for mentions of past abuse, although oblique. Adapted from a TweetFic. 

On Patreon / / On Medium.

---

Yosl worked these days down by the docks – he was a very big man, muscular, with very strong hands, and he looks like a dockworker. He never looked out of place amongst them when Moshe saw him at the dockside or walking with the other big, burly men about the streets.

When they’d taken him on as a lodger, he’d been a little nervous of him, had thought he might be brash or a lush, but Sprintze had said that that some of the other dockworkers’ wives spoke well of him, that he was kind, respectful, and Sprintze’s judgement was always good.

He’d still scarcely been able to believe it the first evening he’d come home from his own work and seen him sitting at the table in their small living room, working so delicately with his big hands. He had been the son of a bookbinder, had worked alongside him in his shop before coming to America, and he took on little jobs here and there.

With a lot of time dedicated to his craft and a great care taken with his pens, he wrote out astonishingly beautiful calligraphy on good cardstock, and it took Moshe’s breath away sometimes to glance over at the work he was doing, the art he was creating.

He wrote out fine wedding invitations or little decorative cards, wrote out poems or sections of the Torah, and alongside the fine and lovely lettering, he could draw small etchings, would occasionally add in elements of gold or silver filigree, or splashes of colour.

“Do you miss it?” Moshe asked one evening.

They had been sitting in companionable silence for a little over an hour, Esther already laid down to sleep – she’d been struggling with bad dreams of late, and Sprintze was in with her, perhaps reading or sewing if she wasn’t asleep herself, no matter that it was so early.

“Miss what?” Yosl asked without looking up from his work.

“What it was like,” Moshe said. “The Old Country. You had different work there, work like this, creating beauty. You didn’t have to live as a lodger.”

“No, I lived in a sprawling library from one hill to the other,” said Moshe dryly, and Yosl laughed, looking down into his evening drink and shaking his head.

“I’m not disparaging your work at the docks, I’m sorry if it—”

“No, it’s not disparaging,” Yosl said. “This is fine, educated work, more respectable than hauling cargo at the docks – but work there’s little call for here in America, not enough to fund a man’s life or account for a family. Why shouldn’t I miss the comfort or respect my old life might have offered me?”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Yosl said. “But my father dying, I could not stand it, to live there, in the grief, in the shadows he left behind him. I respect the things he taught me, the skills he carried with me – I carry on his legacy when I do these little things here and there – but to step into his shoes, to take on the whole shop for myself? For people to think of the sign as being my name, and not his?” He shook his sadly, setting aside his pen. “I could not stand it. The Sefer Hasidism warns us against wearing the shoes of the dead – would I not be filling his shoes, to take his place? His memory haunted me, not as an unclean or cruel spirit, but just as so much grief.”

Moshe exhaled, leaning forward and looking at the other man properly as he rested his hands on his belly. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Yosl said, giving him a small, sad smile. “It’s good for a man to speak on his grief to another, I think – my father was a great man, principled, studied. It is that I loved him so much that I could not stand to live in the shadow of his loss. And in any case, as a practical concern, the time a bookbinder can make a living even in Poland, I feel that time is soon at an end.”

“Perhaps,” Moshe said. “It’s beautiful work, what you do, but slow, old. There is not much care for that here in America.”

“No,” Yosl said. “The New World, they call it, but it’s not just here, is it? The whole world is changing – evolving, developing. The old ways, too slow, too old-fashioned, too high-strung, too buttoned-up.”

“People are impatient, demand more speed, more haste, more rush. Why not more beauty?” Moshe asked, and Yosl chuckled.

“One for the rabbi, I think, not for me,” he said, and Moshe laughed as well. “Your father, does he live?”

“No, but we had a great deal of forewarning before his death, he’d been a very ill man,” Moshe murmured, rubbing his knuckles through his beard. “It doesn’t make the loss of him easier to bear, I feel the emptiness he left behind sometimes, the shadow of him, as you say, but at least it wasn’t sudden. We had time to grieve him while he was alive, I suppose you might say – and to share in it with him, which I think brought a little solace.” He felt a twinge of old guilt, as he did from time to time. “Does that sound awful, involving a man in our grief for him?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Yosl said. “What is grief but love at its end? How can it be anything but a privilege to share in it?”

“You’re a very soothing man, you know,” said Moshe. “As good as Reb Levinson.”

“But my mouth doesn’t dimple when I smile like his does,” Yosl pointed out, and they both laughed, taking care to keep it quiet so that the sound didn’t carry.

As Yosl picked up his card and blotted it, setting it aside to dry, Moshe said, “Sprintze said you’ve been teaching Esther. I wanted to thank you.”

“No need for that,” said Yosl. “She’s a good student, a good learner.”

“She’s a girl,” Moshe said, and he watched the shrug of Yosl’s broad shoulders, watched his expression scarcely change at all. “Why teach her? What do you think she’ll do with it, what you teach her?”

It was an experimental question, a test of sorts, and Moshe wondered if Yosl knew that Moshe was testing him, if he was pressing on him. If he did, he showed no sign of it.

“Whatever she wants,” the bookbinder answered simply. “I didn’t make the word, I was only taught it – now, I teach it. What she does with it is her own business. Argue scripture with her husband, if she wishes – teach their children.”

“A lot of men wouldn’t think to waste time teaching another man’s daughter this sort of thing,” Moshe said. “They dismiss a little girl with no thought at all.”

“I’m just one man, not a mean of them,” said Yosl, and it made Moshe laugh again, although he took care to muffle the sound with his sleeve. Yosl’s cheeks didn’t dimple when he smiled, but his eyes crinkled in a very pleasant way.

“You been to the marriage broker?”

“No,” said Yosl. “Why, want rid of me?”

“We need a lodger’s rent – and you have the money for it, but I don’t know what you got it for a wife.”

“Too true.”

“But you don’t want one?”

“I don’t have the money, you said.”

“Still.”

Yosl said, after a few more seconds of quiet, “I could be a husband, I think, but not a father. And I wouldn’t deny a woman motherhood.”

“You teach my girl – but you couldn’t father your own?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“My father…” Yosl began, and then stopped, breathing in very slowly. “He was a bad man.”

“But you said—”

“Principled, studied, a great man, all of those things, yes. I grieve him, I do, but he was not a good man. Your father, you said, was loving, mine was… Mine was not.”

Moshe reached out and touched the other man, squeezed his shoulder, and he didn’t comment on the slight mistiness of Yosl’s eyes. Half-jokingly, he asked, “What happened to honour thy father, eh?”

“I honoured my mother,” Yosl said. “Half the job is enough for me.”

“They must love you at the docks.”

“They do, in fact.”

“Esther loves you too,” Moshe said, smiling. “Sprintze says you dote on her.”

Tension showed in Yosl’s thickly corded neck, in his shoulders, and as Moshe walked past him to rinse out his cup, Yosl turned his head to look back at him. “Moshe,” he said. “Are you angry?”

“Angry?” Moshe repeated. “By God, no. You think I’m angry? My daughter has a mother and father to love her – now another to teach her, and a smarter man than me.”

“I’m just the lodger.”

“The lodger who dotes on my daughter and repaired the stove for my wife before I came home from work.”

“Sprintze’s a dutiful wife.”

“She is, and a very good one.”

“I mean nothing untoward.”

“I know you don’t – she says you don’t look at her.”

“I do.”

“No.”

Yosl didn’t seem to know what to say to that. His brow was furrowed, his expression serious. Moshe and Sprintze had talked a little more about this in private, on nights when Yosl was out overnight.

“He did something awful to you, your father,” Moshe said.

“Things, multiple, yes.”

“Things that would make you…” He didn’t know what words to use. He and Sprintze could use certain words amongst themselves, but even then, he wouldn’t use them elsewhere.

Moshe is hardly the most pious of men, but he’d asked the rabbi’s son for advice on the subject – Reb Levinson himself was too old, would never have known how to approach it no matter his nice dimples, but his son was wise enough.

“Things that would make you unable to be a husband,” Moshe said. “To, er… fulfil your duties.”

Yosl’s expression softened, and he exhaled. “Not in the way I suspect you’re imagining,” he said quietly, with a glance toward the door, but there had been no sound from where Sprintze and Esther were settled in bed. “But yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a shameful thing.”

“I don’t see the shame in it. You love, you teach, you write. You honour your father no matter his sins, his cruelties toward you.”

“How would you know shame, Moshe? What have you got to be ashamed of?”

“I’m poor, ain’t I?”

“Pah. Only in money.”

Moshe grinned at him, and Yosl smiled back. He wasn’t a big drinker, but when Moshe took down two glasses from the shelf instead of one, he didn’t make his customary protest. He took the glass as offered and stared down into it, at the strong spirit Moshe poured within.

“L’chaim,” Moshe said.

“I’d say l’chaim and v’l’vracha,” Yosl said, “but I feel pretty blessed.”

“What, we’re rich enough to be turning down blessings now?”

“We?” Yosl repeated wryly, but he smiled as he clinked their glasses together, and they knocked them back as one. “You should take one in for Sprintze,” he said – Moshe’s hand was already on the bottle, and they had to stifle their laughter to keep from waking up the whole building when their gazes met.

* * *

Sprintze took the glass when Moshe stepped into their bedroom, and she held it in her lap as she watched him undress, easing off his clothes. She had been sewing, Moshe supposed – her needlework was now set aside, but the lantern was still lit, albeit dimmed.

“That man is a blessing, you know,” Moshe said.

“I’ve been saying, haven’t I?” she responded softly. “L’chaim,” she murmured, and drained the glass, setting it beside her sewing.

Moshe leaned over Esther’s sleeping form to kiss her on the head before climbing into bed beside his wife, banding an arm around her belly.

“We should get a bigger bed,” Sprintze murmured.

“You don’t want a bigger apartment first?”

“You didn’t say no.”

“S’pose I didn’t,” said Moshe. “He’s gonna be working all night. He was picking up another card to start on when I came in here.”

“Whichever of us wakes up in the night first, tell him to bed down,” she said.

Moshe couldn’t see her well in the dark as she turned off the lantern, but he could brush their noses together, and he kissed her lips, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“Deal,” he murmured. “But if I tell him and he argues—”

“I’ll come out and whip you both,” she finished, and Moshe muffled his laugh this time against her neck.

FIN.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Worlds Collide Anemo Boys minus Aether

Return to File

Recovery date: September 20th, 2024

Description: ok, fourth time?! I rlly am addicted to ur blog atp ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ so uh this time, maybe the reader and the anemo boys meeting their deceased friends and family? Separately ofc, but maybe not for aether bc I don't rmb him having any deceased friends or family. Thank you, and as always, feel free to delete if this is too angsty for u!! (i think i might come back a lot, so can i be ⭐️ anon? If u allow, ofc!) aaaaaa im so sry i forgot to say that for the anemo boys, i meant that if they're decreased friends and family were still alive what would their relationship be with the reader aaaaaaa in sry😭😭

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. So glad to have you back! I will say it's funny that you were worried it would be too angsty, and I think I made it angstier because bringing the dead back/ making it so they never died would seriously change our character and their stories. So I found other ways for them to meet reader!

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Venti

Unfortunately, retroactively reviving the nameless bard would cause a lot of problems

But, Venti likes to think about how your lives might play out if he were here somehow

He thinks you’d get along

You’d love the bard’s lyre playing

If you sing/play an instrument with Venti, he’ll totally write songs for the three of you

Likes to think you’d play pranks on the bard with him, maybe you would, or maybe you’d scold him

If you ever got married the Bard would be his best man

Xiao

Once fell asleep to Cloud Retainer’s dream machine

He “awoke” to thundering laughter and a hand slamming against a table

You were sitting against a tree, his head in your lap, and his fellow yaksha were sat around the nearby table

Bosacius is slamming one of his hands against the table as he’s doubled over laughing

Indarias is laughing too, she’s leaning against Bonanus who’s trying to to spill her wine

Menogias is trying to use one of Cloud Retainers many inventions to grill fish with Pervases

It’s when he starts to sit up that you realize he’s awake

He notices your clothes are different, they must have been made by Menogias

Before he can say anything, he’s called up to play his flute

You join the other Yaksha at the table as he starts to play, and as he closes his eyes he sees many others approaching from the distance

Kazuha

Having settled in Inzauma with you, he finds his sleep to be deeper and more restful

This results in him dreaming more, finally able to indulge in the deep sleep required

On this night, he opens his eyes to find you crouched down with a white cat

It’s his friends, though he thinks it’s odd it’s not standing guard of his grave

Then his friend speaks from above him, calling you adorable

He looks up to find him lounging in the tree branches

His friend looks down at him and calls him lucky, asking to be invited to the wedding

Before Kazuha can say anything else, his friend jumps down and challenges you to a sparring match

You eagerly agree, declaring the winner Kazuha’s best friend

He sits back to watch, joined by the cat, with a fond smile

Heizou

Heizou dreams of his friend often when the festival where they met rolls around

This year you attended together and left an offering at his friends grave after

Maybe that’s why tonight he doesn’t think this is quite a dream

It feels to real

You lean against him, leaning across him to talk animatedly with his friend

He should feel embarrassed as you swap stories

He should remind you to eat your food that’s growing cold

Instead he places a kiss on the top of your head and turns to his friend

Two can play at this game, he cuts in with an embarrassing story of his own

You’re thrilled, and Heizou finds himself keeping you up right on your stool as you laugh so hard it shakes

He’s glad you got to meet his friend, and he thanks whatever power gave him this chance

Wanderer

It’s a gift from Nahida

When you agree to spend the rest of your life/ forever with him

That night you dream of the furnace, and Niwa and his family

The boy, his first friend, is there as well though he’s grown

Niwa pours you some more tea as you happily discuss your most recent trip together to Sumeru

It all feels so comfortable, Wanderer finds himself slumping against the table

The boy struggles to peel a bulle fruit, and you gently take it from him to help

Niwa elbows him and whispers something about children

He rolls his eyes

The boy sets the bulle fruit in the middle for you all to share

The next morning Wanderer finds his pillow stained with tears

[sseureki]

Olivia and Grace both knowing she was talking about her son 😭

[toasteaa]

toast!!!!! Idk if you saw this Neuvi outfit mod yet but it seemed very much what you might like :3

https://x.com/dailyhyvgrandpa/status/1829436458228138485?s=46&t=HqOx7uNx6Lp0NeJzstmOFw

I have been sent this video at least ten times and each time I see it I go stupid for a little while. A long while.

And as I'm typing this, I'm realizing that the text on the video said that this is his wedding suit and I have to go sit down again because the thought that just barreled itself into my brain is LOUD.

I forgot what I was going to say omfg. Something about being partial to his canon outfit (his spats, cummerbund, and jabot are gone :( he's naked...) but I do enjoy the translucence and subtle glow of his shawl and the romaritime flower boutonniere! He really is so very lovely...

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[g0thsoojin]

📓🦇

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

.

[inkskinned]

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.