#well try and fail this is one of my less polished posts

[lady-djarin]

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

~

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

~

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

~

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

~

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

[rotten-pomegranate]

Hiii thanks you very much for answering my ask🥹❤️

But can please I get one where they never find reader🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Yandere Adult trio and trouble trio when reader escapes and they never find her

First one here

Yes bbg

This is a bit short

Warnings: killing, yandere

𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧𖥧

Feitan

Feitan is offended and pissed that you have the audacity to try and escape him

He’s gonna look for you for years and even after he stops looking he’s still gonna check from time to time if you’ve become brave enough to make a Facebook page or a snapchat account

Even if he knows you aren’t with them he’s gonna kill all the family and friends he didn’t already torture to death trying to find you

Phinks

Like in the last one phinks is heart broken, why was he not enough for you, he fed you, clothed you, made sure you had a comfortable place to sleep every night

He’s gonna low key go crazy the more time passes that he can’t find you and he might ask the troupe for help and if he still can’t find you and they all fail at finding you he’ll be forced to stop because of his mental health

He’s still gonna have some major heartache though, oh some random person that has the same hair colour as you asks him for help? They are getting punched so hard they won’t be recognizable, he sees the nail polish you used to wear in the store? He’s buying it all just so he can throw it away when he’s done smashing them all

Shalnark

Shalnark isn’t very good at showing his emotions but he is sad, not because you got away because he’s doubting himself and his abilities to kidnap someone

He’s buying pad locks and camera and motion detectors for weed before he starts looking for you, that’s probably good for you because it gives you time to get away

When he starts looking he doesn’t think it will take long but you actually did a good job at disappearing and he’s slowing getting more frustrated

He’ll try less but he’ll never stop looking for you so make sure to always cover your tracks well

Chrollo

Chrollos not that worried, he starts tracking you right away and because of that he probably gets close a few times which slowly starts to piss him off

When he can no longer find anything about you he involves shalnark to help and when he can’t find anything he’s having a whole troupe meeting about it

He’s never gonna fully stop looking and he’s never gonna get over the loss of you, he might try and replace you but it isn’t help so he’ll kill the innocent person in your place

Illumi

Illumi is gonna go bat shit crazy when he finds out you escaped, the whole house is gonna know the whole town below his house is gonna feel his bloodlust

He’s gonna have every family member, every dog, every maid and butler out looking for you so you gotta be speedy

Your best Bet is honestly going to another country if you can do that without leaving any footprints

He’s gonna replace you because his family says he has to but whoever comes after you doesn’t mean anything to him like you did

Hisoka

Hisoka is the calmest, he figured he’d find you in like a week because of his skills and hunter license but after a couple months pass he’s starts getting annoyed

He’s pushes other stuff aside at this point to fully focus on looking for you but when it hits the one year mark he pushes it to the back of his mind again

He still makes en effort from time to time but not as often, he is sad you left you where his favourite toy and he didn’t even get a chance to break you

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[babyrdie]

Achilles if he was the Champion on Olympus instead of Theseus and Asterius, inspired by a fic (by @baejax-the-great) I read recently.

I ended up drawing Achilles because I wanted to train more metal and Patroclus in this fic doesn't have much metal in his design. Maybe I'll try to do Patroclus too, but I can't promise anything because trying to imitate Hades has already taken me a long time for a train.

I tried to use Hades' style as a kind of observation study. Honestly, I already knew it was going to be difficult all along because I don't have stylization as my strong point, and also the style of this game seemed so unique that it gave me the impression that it would be difficult to replicate. All said and done, it really is. Even if I cheated by establishing a firmer pose on Achilles to avoid the need to draw a good gesture, it doesn't change that the rest is still outside my comfort area.

My conclusion was: the head is the hardest part for me, which I didn't expect. My facial style is very different from Hades' style, so it complicates my life. Plus, using just one brush for the whole thing is surprisingly good. I should practice gesturing instead of avoiding it.

And here I'm going to put some notes about Hades' style that helped me try to replicate it, but that's it: in Jen Zee's case, perceiving characteristic X is more complicated than doing characteristic X! I still think I need to train a lot to really be able to replicate it, especially in the head area. I don't know if this counts as a tutorial of sorts? But that's it, expect lots of images and explanations from here on in this post.

SHAPES

You can easily see "geometric" aspects of the drawing. It's easy to "disassemble" characters into shapes, which is a kind of basic concept often used in drawings.

I think that trying to be "sharp" is a good thing, as most of the shapes I saw on the characters were more sharp than rounded.

I got the impression that Jen Zee focuses on the macro and then goes to the micro, not micro for macro. In other words, she first establishes a visible and well-made shape and then cares about details.

This is very good in terms of anatomy, because a common mistake artists make, for example, is to care too much about detailing things like the face and muscles instead of creating a well-done silhouette. It turns out that the detailed parts are realistic, but the character as a whole has questionable anatomy. Typical case of a perfect face, but too big or small for the body.

I think the most obvious example of Hades' style is its hair. There is no separation of hair strand by strand, but rather making a large, recognizable shape that will later be further molded.

LINEART

The line is always black. Don't paint!

Lineweight: the outer line is thick but the inner lines are thin. There isn't much more line weight variation other than that.

It's mostly consistent but, in some parts, it's purposely interrupted or less polished. It's nothing so noticeable that if you do it completely polished it will greatly affect the result, but if you intend to get as close as possible I would advise you to purposefully "fail" in some parts.

Even with these "flaws", it's a CONFIDENT lineart. This means that you will have more luck copying the style of making your drawings in firm, quick strokes at once rather than slowly retouching stroke by stroke. Draw a line and if it looks bad, just do it again. I don't recommend drawing over it to fix it.

I don't know if this fits in line, but I'll put it here. There are some random lines of striking colors here and there. At first glance, you don't even notice them, although they actually help the drawing stand out, but they are there.

COLORING

Color blocking is your friend.

Don't use blending tools, and use a hard brush and hard eraser. I used one of CSP's default brushes for the entire drawing. It's a style that doesn't require fancy brushes.

From what I saw, Jen Zee doesn't paint this style in grayscale but directly in color. If your fear is getting the color wrong, using layers is a faithful companion because it's easy to change a specific part.

It's IMPOSSIBLE to do the Hades style without inking, which is that part where in the traditional drawing you would apply the ink. In Hades, this is visible in the parts that are shaded black.

Inking is MAINLY used in areas where there is less light, such as the neck, but it's also widely used on metal surfaces.

Don't insist on gradients and blurring the drawing! The shadows here are more solid, quite easy to point out where they start and where they end. In some parts, the transition is made by putting an "edge" on the shadow in a tone that is between the shadow tone and the base tone, not by blending. In others, there is no transition at all. Faces, in particular, seemingly have no transitions.

In the illuminated parts, I particularly found it easier to use rubber to shape them. First paint straight and then start erasing and making the shapes.

Highlights are very important in this style, and they are generally in a more saturated tone.

It seemed easier to follow the order of base color > lighting than base color > shading. That is, first paint in the darkest tone and then add lighter tones instead of painting light and then making it dark.

-Use of complementary colors and analogous colors in certain palettes.

Color picking can make you a little insecure about the base colors, but trust the process because color theory is crazy. The base skin tone of Achilles in Hades is a yellow that is strange at first glance, but together with the other added tones it simply looks like a normal tan. Believe me, I was surprised at first! But, sure, it doesn't all have to be color-picking.

SOME EXAMPLES IN IMAGES

And now trying to explain what I already said, but visually. If you look at the images, I recommend zooming in. Very simple images because some of them were actually loose studies and not something made with the intention of posting so don't expect anything beautiful lol

[thesophistiicate]

I really enjoy reading your posts and especially the amazing advice you give people in your asks.

I am engaged with a wonderful man, who takes great care of me, romantically and financially. I have no complaints about our relationship, Ive been treated like a queen every step of the way. The problem is Ive let myself go in all areas during the time weve been together. Ive gained a crazy amount of weight, stopped taking care of myself, Ive lost a lot of my huge vocabulary that I used to be so proud of, my sharp wit. In general it seems Ive lost my manners, my class and myself. I come from a family where manners, wits and talents where my parents main focus, so I used to be very polished and very well read. I got hit with severe depression during covid, and it seems that let to my lack of disciplin and self respect.

I truly wanna change. He deserves a woman who is genuinely levelling up with him, who takes care of herself. Like the one I was when he met me.I deserve to be proud of myself, and I deserve to treat myself with respect and care.

I just feel so ambivalent when it comes to changing myself so much around him. Maybe because Im already insecure about the whole thing, find it embarrassing if he notice me struggling with my self-esteem. Ive always been the type who would learn new skills or change my looks in secret, so that no one would interrupt me, make fun of me or get me away from my progress.

How would you advice me to handle the conversation if he asks me why Im changing so much? How do I work around my embarrassment of being caught in the process of learning? Any advice on how to keep my journey a secret/less obvious?

We live together, so he would for sure notice me changing habits, try new looks etc. He would probably be supportive, but also defaulting to telling me that he loves me, and that I am perfect as I am rn etc.

i actually relate to a lot of this! your relationship sounds a lot like mine, and like many people i feel i really lost myself in Covid but also during my pregnancy (it was difficult) and then navigating discovering myself again after 5 years of feeling a bit lost… 🤍

i suppose what springs to mind for me reading your story is that this is a wonderful opportunity to discover what it’s like to be seen and supported and loved through effort and change. i’m really private too and i had to learn to become comfortable with my partner “knowing” what i’m doing.

i think it can stem from perfectionism as well, this pressure women in particular feel, to always be the polished end result but to hide away the process, even feel ashamed of it, embarrassed by it. (and extra embarrassed because to start again would be to admit we failed in the past.) we have to try so hard yet aren’t supposed to let anyone else see… it’s supposed to seem effortless. and we don’t want anyone to know in case our result is imperfect, or we are seen struggling, or whatever. it is a part of why women’s work is minimised and mocked and judged overall. so i think it’s important to push past that, to let it be seen and to take pride in it. you are undertaking a powerful, important, life changing journey and there is so much power in allowing that to be seen by somebody who you love and trust.

I’ll tell you about my partner, not to brag but to give a sense of what it may be like to push past your fear… he of course always says he loves me as i am, no matter what and no matter what might change. he loved me when we met and i was heavier and very unfit and chronically stressed out from work. i was his dream girl even then. but i was actually kind of… surprised? yet not? that in the past few years of me turning things around, he’s actually been really encouraging and interested. instead of a ���why bother, i like you as you are” attitude (which would actually be insulting, as though i live for his approval lol), he talks about how inspiring (and sexy!) he finds my effort, how much he admires my self discipline, how great my results are, that i carry myself noticeably differently and seem so much happier. he buys me flowers when i hit milestones. celebrates with me when i achieve a new goal. none of it feels invasive or over the top, just gently supportive.

i did sort of start on my own without really discussing it, but he noticed. and that led to the opportunity for me to talk more openly about how i’d been feeling, about how this is a fresh start. i wonder too if you are worried to be noticed because you’re worried about whether you can stick to it? and it might bring up feelings of shame to be seen trying and “failing”? in which case lots of compassion, flexibility, and gentle self care will help. no need for strict new routines and overhauling every habit. just start small with little changes, let it build with time. it took me almost a year of false starts before i managed to stick to my exercise routine!

overall by being open and allowing him to support me, i’ve found it so easy to stick to my goals and our relationship also feels stronger than ever, too. he already loves me so the idea that everything he loves about me is only getting better is exciting to him i think. i think you are at the beginning of a wonderful new chapter and it will take some courage, but everything worth doing does 🤍

[fellsilver]

I was going to make this all polished, but it’s more convenient for me to post from my phone atm. Baseline thoughts on the other Chosen where Gale and the orb are concerned. This will apply to my Laeral and Elm.ins.ter. I am very open to being flexible on this. It just gives me a base to work with, but if anyone wants to discus an alternative, I’m down. Parting note that I’m not including supporting quotations atm, but if anyone wants me to dig them up, I will.

My reasoning is based on:

The current Mys.tra is an amalgamation of Mystr.yl, prev!Mys.tra, and Midnight!Mys.tra. Mys.try.l died when Karsus tried to usurp her power. Midnight!Mys.tra died when Cyric murdered Her and Shar attempted to usurp control of the Weave. Mys.tra knows She exists in a cycle where someone will always try to usurp Her, and She will die and be reborn constantly.

Prev!Mys.tra we know went through many Chosen who failed to meet Her standards, including ones who tried to usurp Her or Azuth. We also know prev!Mys.tra took steps to ensure the Seven would have enough conflict with each other and others to limit their ambitions, and Midnight!Mys.tra admitted to being frightened of Elm.ins.ter and took back some of what Her predecessor shared with them.

Mys.tra has become more paranoid and secretive after the Spellplague. Getting murdered in your own home does that to you. She keeps much from Her Chosen — more than She ever did before — and requires them to keep information from each other.

Gale was able to quarantine himself in his tower in Waterdeep. It’s clearly well-known he fell from grace, but as far as we know, no one sought him and he didn’t seek anyone else.

It’s implied Mys.tra was controlling communication between Gale and the other Chosen. At the very least, She seems to have been closely watching.

My take on the situation:

Based on what Gale says, I theorize that being one of My.stra’s Chosen at the time he found the orb both damned and saved him. Her Chosen are unique in that each holds a portion of her “essential power” that they cannot use and that cannot be taken from them by force — even by Mys.tra. I posit that the orb sought to devour that piece of power but could not. Hence the parasitic bond it formed instead, staved off by the dweomers from enchanted objects.

Normally, when a Chosen dies, that essential power is released and slowly reabsorbed by Mys.tra. I posit that, if the orb had gotten ahold of it, it would have consumed it, and it would have been lost to Mys.tra forever. This is why She’s so desperate to see Gale die — in addition to how such an object scares Her after the Spellplague (and Karsus’ original attempt to use it).

So where the other Chosen are concerned:

Though they knew Gale was no longer one of them, they didn’t know why. Mys.tra told them nothing of the orb.

She enforced a quarantine, forbidding Her Chosen from coming within proximity of Gale. She feared the orb might hop to them if they did. This is why Elm.ins.ter only sent a simulacrum even when delivering the Goddess’ mandate.

She did not forbid them from contacting Gale by other means. Doing so would undoubtedly make them too curious to keep from investigating — or pique someone else’s curiosity. This is also why nothing was done about Gale living in Waterdeep: too suspicious. Better to let people speculate he’s simply fallen short of Her standards / couldn’t take the pressure. She did, however, closely monitor and manipulate any contact they had.

Lael and El were hesitant to contact Gale because they cared about him. Other Chosen who’d gone rogue had to be hunted and slain. That wasn’t immediately the case with Gale, and they didn’t want that to become the case. The less they knew about his situation, the closer they followed Mys.tra’s mandate, the smaller the chance they’d have to put him down.

You also have to consider that the life of a Chosen is a life without even a moment of rest. Literally. We know Lael and El had other major events to attend during the year preceding BG3. (We also know Lael’s power was greatly diminished for part of that year, and that the Chosen in general aren’t as powerful as they used to be.) If they rocked the boat where Gale was concerned, they’d risk a crisis of some sort. At any given moment, they have a dozen on their plate.

That having been said —

Neither would ignore Gale or Tara if they reached out first, and it’s very like both of them to do some investigations from afar or through agents. Pair of nosy meddlers. Lael would especially send Dove and Syluné (both Weave ghosts) to discreetly look in on Gale’s tower. What they discover — if anything— I leave to individual plotting.

El has been around the block too many times to give too much blind aid, but they’re clearly not without love and sympathy for Gale still. Depending on what’s asked and what they know, they may help.

Lael is more of a bleeding heart in this regard and has been sick of grief for centuries. She is more likely to give aid blindly — though still within reason. If Gale or Tara, while researching their options, go to Lael for sources or, while hunting for enchanted items, ask her for direction — she is likely to do so as long as she can reasonably assume it won’t endanger Waterdeep.

Both of them are willing to play fast and loose with or even defy divine mandates if they deem the cause great enough. Just as a note.

[lemonadecandy103]

The Way of Life (excerpt)

Rated: T; implied sexual content. A/N: a small section of a shinkane fic I've been working on for months, but I'm in the middle of drowning in med and grad school applications so let me just share the section that I'm most confident in for now. Post-First Inspector. Mild PPP spoliers, more like allusions but anyway. Enjoy!

He trails kisses from her shoulder to her fingertip, whispering “I’m sorry” in between each one, never failing to keep his lips a feather’s touch away from her skin.

“Stop.” She giggles at the tickling sensation.

He lifts his head to look at her. Then continues.

“Stop.” She says again. He doesn’t stop. “Stop it! Kougami-san.” She says restlessly.

“That’s not my name.” She looks at him confused

“Akane. Call me by my name.”

“Just like you were doing it a while ago when we-” “Shinya!”

“Like that.”

He holds a lock of her damp hair in between his thumb and forefinger, tucking it behind her ear. Now, he could see her whole flushed face, spent and glowing with the rays of the sunrise coming in through the windows of her enforcer’s quarters. She’s still trying to catch her breath from their previous activities.

“When do you have to go?” she asks.

“Whenever you tell me to.”

“I’m sure Hanashiro-san needs you on assignments.”

“That may be. But she knows this is important to me. Gino and Sugo can handle it.”

His hands find their way to the scar on her thigh and then travels to an identical one on her side. She feels his fingers repeatedly trace over the area and she mimics the movements of his fingers over the matching scar on his thigh.

“What do you think our lives would’ve been like if there was no Sibyl?” she asks, adding “Would you still have chosen to be a detective?”

“I don’t know. What other life would you think suit me?” 

“Probably a professor. You would teach comparative literature.”

“Hm. And where would I teach?”

“Nara. The local university there.”

“Is that where we meet?”

Akane pauses briefly. “Yes. I study...law there.”

“We marry after you graduate.”

“And move into a small house close to the university.”

“Any kids?”

“Two. Shu and…”

“Joji.” He finishes.

“Yes. While the boys are still small, we come to see you after work, then we go home as a family and eat dinner together.”

He buries his face in her stomach for a while as he tries to process both the overwhelming warmth and heartbreak that was swelling up in him. When he resurfaces, he grabs a cigarette while he repositions himself next to her on the bed.

“Well I didn't think I’d take me for someone who’d be good at words. Much less teach them. There's other people who are better at that. Like Kunizuka and… well another former colleague of mine.”

“Tsubasa Tori-san.”

“Ah yes, her. How did you know?”

There was a long pause, then Akane fixates her gaze on the ceiling. “I’ve watched some of your former case recordings. From when you used to be an inspector.”

Kougami smiles and chuckles “And what did you think?”

“You were very different at that age.” He was more polished and well spoken.

“Different better or worse?” 

“Neither.” She turns to him and smiles.

“But the ‘you’ in those recordings, felt so familiar. Reminded me of Shindo-kanshikan.”

“It’s funny that you say that. Everytime I see that kid, I’m reminded of you.”

“I see.”

She sees him put out his cigarette and lay back down properly. She takes the chance to position herself over him.

[dryad-of-the-dogwood]

Snippet Sunday

@fangbangerghoul tagged me this week and I'm using this as my opportunity to share a bit of chapter 10 of Grav Jump Tango, just in case I fail at getting it posted today 😅 Yes, we're going to Neon next~

I can't think of anyone else to tag, pretty sure you got all the active writers I know right now lmao

Caught a little off guard, Sam polished off his awful drink to give himself time to consider that, trying not to stare into her eyes the entire time. The last time Cass thought her past might have caught up to her, she’d tried her damnedest to keep both him and Sarah as far away as possible. Did it scare her that much, the idea of going back to Neon, that she thought she needed someone else with her? Or—and it sounded both more likely and more concerning the moment he thought of it—was it less for her sake and more for Walter’s? Sam could see her thinking that way, that at least even if Ryujin took her out of the equation, Walter would still have someone capable at his back if he was there too.

“That depends,” Sam said finally, watching her closely as he did.  She was slumped on one elbow against the bar, looking almost disinterested if it wasn’t for how carefully she was watching him right back. Those green eyes were fixed on him and his every word like she hadn’t been drinking at all. Unsure which question to ask first, he settled for, “Why me?”

Cass’s shoulders shifted in a tiny shrug but otherwise she didn’t move, still staring him down like she’d declared an unofficial staring contest. “Well, I still haven’t quite told Andreja or Barrett anything that came up in Guniibuu. Not that I doubt Andreja in particular would literally kill or die to keep a secret, but you know. ‘By the way, Neon might be a little tricky thanks to all the people I pissed off there when I was hacking Ryujin or hacking for Ryujin’ doesn’t exactly fit itself easily into a normal conversation. So I figured you or Sarah made the most sense, and to be honest, I thought you’d probably be a lot less likely to judge every single thing I do or don’t do along the way.”

Sam chuckled and admitted, “You’re not wrong there,” then paused to process everything she’d said before that. “Wait, hacking Ryujin? Did you try to take them down after you got out?”

“Before,” Cass said with a smile that was suddenly unamused. She sighed and downed a little more of her terrible drink choice before continuing, “Let’s just say I got started as more of an… independent contractor in cyber running, and in that field, all roads lead to Neon. I’d broken into their servers a few times for jobs—dug out ways to disable a couple of their older neuro amps without blowing the damn things off people’s faces, things like that.”

Sam whistled to show he was impressed, but Cass shook her head. “No, trust me, that isn’t impressive. It just makes it even more ridiculous that I was as naive as Sarah once. I thought signing up with Ryujin would be my ticket to, I don’t know, legitimacy? Reduced odds of getting arrested, at least? Which I guess is technically true, but only because they have Bayu, the Syndicate, and half of Neon security on the take. Point is, I should’ve known better in the first place. Like a company that spends their spare time dabbling in rewiring brains to be more aggressive or convincing could be anything but a nightmare behind the scenes.”

“That just sounds like they hide it really well,” Sam offered, and she tapped her tumbler against the bar a couple of times as she seemed to consider something.

“If you aren’t paying attention,” she said after a moment, her tone surprisingly quiet. “But I suppose I wasn’t, at the time. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t realize it until I was already in too deep to walk away without getting someone sent after me.”

“We’ve all been young and stupid,” he said, and Cass laughed softly.

“Trust me, I was something of a child prodigy in making stupid decisions. Still takes a lot of effort to trust my own judgment, a lot of the time.”

Sam watched her empty her glass again, but for once, he wasn’t really seeing her. Because what she’d just admitted was important, he thought, whether she intended it that way or not. Not that he hadn’t had an inkling, after she’d expanded on how any member of Constellation could have a hand in screwing things up for her with Ryujin even though she admitted she didn’t think any of them would. Cass did actually want to trust them, then; it was as much self-doubt as anything else that kept her charming them away to safer distances. And despite how difficult it was to parse self-doubt from someone who projected confidence like a shield, it made sense in a convoluted kind of way.

And maybe, if she did in fact want to trust him, all those distractions she directed his way could have a grain of truth in them? Sam tried to bury that idea as soon as it reared its head. It was entirely too tempting to consider, because he was supposed to be not dwelling on how attractive she was and definitely not wondering if there might be a reason she tended to choose flirting as her preferred diversion tactic for him when he’d never seen her do that with Sarah or Barrett or Andreja…

Wrangling his thoughts back in order took a little longer than it did for Cass to finish her drink. Not least of all because this time, after she polished off her glass, her tongue dragged slowly over her lips in a way that was entirely intentional. Even her smile was coy when she turned it on him again.

[42wallaby-way-sydney]

I've been in a Hetalia mood again and began playing with the idea of nyo!Lithuania and nyo!Belarus. Posted on ao3 as well but decided may as well post on here.

"To meet you was fate. To become your friend was my only personal choice. But to fall in love with you was far beyond my power."

Chapter 1:

Screams were quite common within the walls of Russia’s home, so upon the first few moments of pained and angry wailinAg, none of the inhabitants of the house flinched. Granted there were some thoughts of pity aimed towards the poor soul who had annoyed Russia this time but overall, no one was phased and no one made any moves to pause their chores in favor of helping the unfortunate person. What was far less common, and what truly gathered the attention of the nations held captive within the house, were the soon accompanying screams of pain from Russia. 

Belarus had been in the library, reading as he was done with the few chores he was tasked with, and at first – just like everyone else – he hadn’t been phased by the screams. When it became obvious that his brother was the one in pain though, that was when he snapped the book closed and stood to make his way towards the screaming with the intention of stabbing whoever had dared to hurt his elder brother.

He was not the only person who had had the thought to follow the screams and witness what was happening.

“What do you think is going on?” Romania asked in a failed attempt at a whisper, trailing behind Belarus quickly. He clearly didn’t expect an actual response from Belarus and so was not disappointed in the least when the other nation just shot a scowl over his shoulder at him.

As the other nations began to stop doing their chores in order to investigate what was happening, Belarus felt even more annoyed. ‘How dare these ungrateful ingrates stop contributing! I hope big brother punishes these idiots too.’ Belarus thought to himself, ignoring as Romania and Prussia were running bets on who was attacking Russia. While everyone else was morbidly curious about who was making Russia yell out in what was clearly pain, Belarus was just furious at whoever was daring to attack his brother in Russia’s own home.

The fact that he was one of the people also moving towards the screams did not truly register to him; his excuse was that he wanted to help his brother, he wasn’t trying to be nosy or to get out of doing his part around the house. The group wasn’t even at the source of the yells when Poland – pale and looking absolutely stricken – came rushing down the hall, barreling into anyone in his way and yelling in Polish before he could censor himself to Russian, “Elena, no!”

Initially, Belarus became even more aggravated. Not because he was almost knocked into a wall but solely because it had been Poland of all people that elbowed him. Once the name that Poland had shouted truly registered for him, it felt as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed on him, something he had been well accustomed to as a young adolescent due to Poland harshly waking him in the mornings.

Elena…

Lithuania!

Belarus was barely aware that he had begun to run after Poland, now knowing that his feet were taking him to Lithuania’s bedroom. He froze in the doorway, right next to a frozen Poland, where he took in the sight before him.

Lithuania looked more lively at this moment than she had in years. A fire was raging in her eyes and her words were sharper than Belarus’s knives. And Belarus had the sharpest knives in Europe, Russia himself had made sure of this fact when commissioning their production and before gifting them to the younger nation. Lithuania had clearly taken Russia by surprise, there was no other way that she’d be able to overtake him. She was straddling Russia’s chest, one fist gripping the neckline of Russia’s shirt – ignoring or just not noticing that he was gripping her wrist in his own clenched fist – while her other hand was raised in a fist that came raining blow after blow to Russia’s face. Lithuania either didn’t notice the audience that she had captivated or she was just far too enthralled in punching Russia in the face to care. 

“None of us even want to be here!” She yelled venomously. Each word that she screamed was accentuated with a hard punch to Russia’s face.

For his part, Russia seemed eerily calm now that the initial surprise of her attack had worn off. He just stared up at the woman as though her words were nothing more than just stating how the weather was. In fact, if Belarus hadn’t known Russia so well he would have thought that his brother was actually bored. 

As it were though, Belarus did know his brother and he knew him very well and as such he couldn’t hold back the shudder that ran through him. He knew that Russia was furious and he didn’t even have to see his face to know it. It was painted in Russia’s body language for anyone to plainly see. Russia was gripping Lithuania’s wrist, the one not attached to the hand that was punching him in the face, so tightly that his own knuckles were ghostly pale and he was just staring up at Lithuania with ice in his eyes. 

This icy calm that Russia was all but oozing out seemed to only infuriate Lithuania even more and as she began raining down her new onslaught of verbal abuse on Russia, all everyone watching could wonder was what had Russia done to make Lithuania crack so hard ?

“Your own sister would leave if she could!”

Belarus’s eyes widened a fraction in shock at Lithuania’s bold words. From behind him he could hear several others sharply intaking breath, just as stunned as he was. Ukraine could only gasp and slap her hands over her mouth, eyes watering to the point where tears spilled down her cheeks because though she tried to deny it and hide it, she hated living with her brother in the horrible prison that he dared to call their home. Prussia could only release a breathy, “ Holy shit, ” in German, the Russian language completely forgotten for the moment. 

Lithuania almost smirked as Russia finally reacted to her words – his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed tightly. She delivered one last hard punch to his nose, nearly grinning in sick glee when more blood gushed out of his nostrils. But she wasn’t done yet, she was just switching up her tactics from physical to verbal as this seemed to warrant the most response from the larger nation.

“None of us want you to win this war!”

“Jesus fuck,” Bulgaria breathed out, quickly covering his mouth in shock. 

But Lithuania didn’t stop there. “America will win! She’ll come out on top and show you – the whole world – everyone who the dominant superpower of the world is!”

What happened next was a blur as everything seemed to happen all at once. Russia backhanded Lithuania, the sound of something metal hitting the ground drowned out entirely by everything else that was occurring. All Belarus could hear was the blood gushing in his ears as his heart raced, Lithuania’s words echoing like a mantra on repeat. He just barely heard Latvia cry out from beside him. He didn’t even truly register Hungary whispering in Hungarian that, “ My god, he’s going to kill her! ”

Lithuania fell off of Russia, dazed and seeing stars but having enough sense left in her to reach for the metal object that Russia had dropped in favor of hitting her. The metal object had been the spark for the whole fight and she quickly put it into her mouth and forced herself to swallow, choking on the object, and ignored her body’s natural reflex to gag and throw the foreign object back up.

Ukraine rushed forward, tears streaming now with hopeless abandon and a cry of, “Vanya, no! Please!” 

Russia shrugged his sister off of him and straightened his clothes back into place before striding to where Lithuania was crouched on the floor. He held nothing back as he kicked the woman in the head. Lithuania tried, she really did, to hold back her cry of pain but couldn’t bite her tongue fast enough. There was still some fight left in her though. She proudly showed this by glaring up at Russia, even as stars danced in her vision and nausea settled in her stomach. This just angered the large man, his sharpening and cold glare making him even more terrifying. He placed his foot on her left hand, applying a generous amount of pressure swiftly until a disgustingly audible cracking noise filled the air.

For just a moment Lithuania’s eyes widened a fraction in shock before she couldn’t stop herself from screaming out as the chilling pain coursed through her. 

Behind him, Belarus could hear Latvia let out a surprised – possibly horrified – gasp followed swiftly by the sound of skin lightly hitting skin; Estonia had quickly covered Latvia’s mouth and was shushing him with a gently breathy whisper of, “Hush, Raivis. Elena will be okay.”

But when Russia pulled his hand gun out, Estonia swiftly pulled his younger brother face first into his chest and covered the smaller nation’s ears before squeezing his own eyes shut, a couple small tears escaping from the corners of his eyes as he did so.

Poland swiftly turned away, face to the wall and eyes squeezed just as tightly closed as Estonia’s, and tried to keep the tears from leaking through as Russia shot Lithuania right in the center of her forehead.

Lithuania barely had time to do more than open her mouth in a silent scream, eyes wide, before her world went dark.

Russia ignored the gasps and shocked screams from the audience of gathered nations as well as his sister’s crying. He just simply turned the safety on his gun back on before returning the handgun back to his coat pocket once more.

“Estonia. Poland. Why don’t you two clean this mess,” Russia commanded more than asked before picking Lithuania’s body up from the floor. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind what the mess was and Belarus even had to admit it was somewhat cruel of his brother to have Lithuania’s brother and ex-lover clean her blood from the floor. Russia wasn’t surprised whatsoever that Lithuania was still warm in his arms and not heavy by any means. In fact, he seemed completely unbothered by the blood that was quickly staining not only his hands and Lithuania’s hair, but their clothes as well. 

“Excuse me, little brother,” Russia said, standing right in front of Belarus but not looking him in the eye. Rather, Russia stared past Belarus, expressionless, but everyone gathered could feel the eerie chill in the air.

Though Lithuania was physically dead, everyone knew that Russia wasn’t done punishing her for not only physically assaulting him but for her treasonous words. And no one wanted to even imagine what dark terrors Russia had in mind for Lithuania once she woke back up.

Belarus felt far too frozen to move as he stared down at the body in his brother’s arms. Lithuania’s eyes were still wide open and staring blankly, unseeingly, at him and he felt himself tremble ever so slightly. It was only because of Poland tugging him back a step that Belarus was able to move out of his brother’s way. He watched as his brother walked away, Lithuania’s blood drip dropping an ugly red trail after them. 

Belarus was not new to seeing nations die. He’d caused a few deaths himself during wars. But this time felt different for him. As injured as he’d seen Lithuania in the past – and he’d seen her very injured and close to the brink of dying before him – she had never physically died in front of him. So he couldn’t help but to feel shocked, and almost afraid even, at seeing her shot by none other than his brother at point blank.

Lithuania used to be so formidable. She’d been an empire in her own right that had fought head to head with Prussia and come out on top quite often when so many others had failed. Yet here she was now – a prisoner forced into servitude, dead, and carried away in the arms of his brother. 

Belarus was shaken from his thoughts, quite literally, by Poland. “ You should go back to whatever it was that you were doing. ”

For a moment all Belarus could do was blink and stare blankly at Poland. Then he seemed to really focus and see Poland and hear him. “ Get your hands off of me, idiot, ” Belarus snapped, jerking away from Poland’s hands. He was such a mix of emotions – loyalty to his brother, fear of his brother, fear for Lithuania, anger at Lithuania, hatred for Poland, and something else that he wasn’t sure what it was – that he didn’t realize that he had instinctively responded to Poland in Polish.

Annoyingly enough, Poland doesn’t seem phased by Belarus’s hostility but rather resigned to the attitude as it had been something he had dealt with for years upon years once before. The way that Poland calmly stared at Belarus with understanding did nothing but annoy Belarus even more.

So Belarus just turned sharply and made his way back to the library. It would only be many hours later while staring at a book’s pages would Belarus realize that he’d slipped into speaking Polish earlier. He slammed the book closed and shoved it back into its home on the shelf before storming to his bedroom.

No one is awake when he makes the detour to Lithuania’s bedroom so he doesn’t have to worry about being seen or deny that he even made the detour in the first place. But a seed of despair settles into the pit of his stomach as he sees the bedroom – now spotlessly clean with not even a pinprick of blood being seen – empty of all life.

‘She’s with big brother then,’ Belarus thought to himself, willing the worry away as he made his way back down the hall to his own bedroom. His bedroom was next to his brother’s with Ukraine’s being right across the hall from his. He willed himself to steady his breathing and push memories of being a child away.

But the moment that he slips into unconsciousness, he couldn’t control the road of memories that his mind traveled down as he lay in bed, eyes closing as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Belarus was young, lost and alone. He had been with his older sister and brother and then suddenly, they were no longer there. So when it began to snow the young nation felt as though it was General Winter’s way of ending his existence. Though Belarus was young, he had felt and seen many people succumb to the General’s harsh chill. So with one last sigh and harsh shiver, he closed his eyes and waited for General Winter’s cold hiss of death. To his surprise, when he next opened his eyes, he was no longer in the snow but a warm room in a comfortable bed and he wasn’t alone for much longer.

“Oh!” A girl exclaimed before grinning sheepishly as she entered the warm bedroom that he was in. “You’re awake, good!” She said in relief, though Belarus couldn’t understand what it was that she said. He knew his own language and understood better than he spoke the languages belonging to his siblings. He knew the language of the Mongols, not that he understood it, just that he knew the sound of it. But this new language spoken by this girl, he had no clue what she was saying. 

She was young, perhaps only his brother’s physical age. Much like his brother though, this girl gave the feeling as though she were much older than she actually was, leading Belarus to wonder if she was like him, his siblings, and Mongolia. 

Belarus blinked and the next time that he was opening his eyes he was standing behind the girl, now physically older than a mere twelve years old but still looking humanly young, as she fixed her hair into a perfect braid.

“I don’t understand why you want to stay here with him,” Belarus sneered, gesturing with his head to the door as if Poland were there instead. 

Lithuania sighed, a small sad smile forming on her exhausted looking face, “Because even though he may push me around and test my will, he’s still a dear friend, Nikolai.” Lithuania turned away from the mirror to face the younger nation. “How do I look?”

Belarus felt his ears warm slightly as he took in the sight of Lithuania in her very much Lithuanian and definitely not a Polish dress, her hair done, and a bright grin on her face. He snorted and looked away. “You look fine.” The words, ‘you look beautiful’ or even ‘perfect’, not leaving his mouth. 

She hummed appreciatively and brushed a soft kiss onto his forehead.

When he turned to look at her though, he was staring at a thick wooden door and trying to get just a peek into Poland’s office. He could hear Poland yelling, hear his brother laughing with no humor, and Lithuania saying nothing. 

“You can’t take her!” Poland yelled. Belarus felt a shiver go down his back. There was no question in his mind who ‘her’ was; Lithuania. And he couldn’t help but to wonder to himself, ‘ why does big brother want Elena ?’

Russia laughed with no humor, just a bitter cold. “I can and I am. We are leaving in a few hours. It’s already been decided by all of our leaders. And you know as well as I that we follow their will.”

There was the sound of glass breaking and Belarus could only assume that Poland had thrown something. 

“Feliks!” Lithuania admonished. 

“Take your annoying little brother!” Poland yelled, ignoring his partner. “But leave her alone!”

Belarus’s eyes widened. He had known that Poland didn’t particularly care for him on a personal level but to hear him so boldly throw it out, and to his big brother’s face no less, was rather shocking. Even more shocking was the sound of skin slapping skin and Poland letting out a yelp in equal halves of shock and pain.

“Elena?” Poland asked. 

Belarus’s eyes widened slightly as he realized that Lithuania must have slapped Poland. And for him; she was defending him!

While Russia let out a surprised gleeful giggle, no doubt very amused by the emotional display before him. 

Lithuania glared at Poland. “He is not going anywhere,” she hissed out sternly, eyes full of a raging inferno. She turned to glare up at Russia now and the large man quickly stopped laughing. “If it has already been decided by our leaders then I have no choice. I’ll be ready to go soon but let me pack first.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond and Belarus quickly but stealthily turned to go back to his room. 

A cold splash of water jerked him awake and he spluttered in horror. Then glared coldly as he came to see Poland standing above him with a bucket in hand and tears rolling from how hard he was laughing at Belarus’s shock. “Ahh! You should see your stupid face!” Poland laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I hate you so fucking much!” Belarus rubbed at his eyes and once again he couldn’t help but to think hateful things about Lithuania for leaving him with Poland and hurtful things about his brother for wanting Lithuania over him. 

When he finished rubbing the water from his eyes, he had to blink rapidly a few times as he was momentarily blinded by bright lights reflecting in crystals. He looked around, slightly nervous for some reason, until his eyes landed on her. She was standing with her back to him but Belarus still knew that it was Lithuania.

Her hair was pulled into an extravagant updo with rubies and sapphires adorning her hair, glimmering in the lights. Her dress a creamy ivory color with an even creamier colored floral stitching design around the dress and a sapphire sash tied elegantly around her. Even from across the room Belarus knew that though the coloring of her wardrobe would seem casual, she was quite purposefully adorned in his brother’s colors; white, blue, and red. He shoved the thought of replacing the sapphires with emeralds deep into the depths of his mind and purposefully made his way across the room in order to ask her for a dance.

At first, Lithuania sighed, ready to tell another Russian noble that no, she would not care for a dance, but froze when she saw Belarus. Then a bright grin spread across her face and she had to stop herself from throwing her arms around the no-longer-a-little-boy of a nation. “Kolya! I didn’t know that you were here!” The words ‘I didn’t realize that Feliks would allow you to come’, unsaid but Belarus knew what she meant. 

Belarus smirked slightly. “It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure.” He looked her over once more and hoped he wasn’t as red as he felt as he said, “You look … healthy.”

Lithuania made a face but thanked him nonetheless. And when Belarus asked if she’d like to dance, she smiled warmly and took his hand with hers — now smaller than his own and really, how shocking was this? 

Lithuania made sure to note it audibly as well. “You must be growing under Poland really well. You’re so much taller!”

Belarus frowned at the mention of Poland, he felt that his success as a growing nation was due to him, not that idiot! But he nodded all the same. “Stronger too,” he continued, squeezing her hand and hip slightly before releasing to the normal hold that was acceptable for a ballroom dance. 

Lithuania laughed softly but whatever words she was going to say next were lost to eternity as Russia tapped on his brother’s shoulder. 

“Ah, Kolyushka, I am so glad Feliks brought you!” The imperial nation stated with a bright grin. “Would it be alright if I stole Elenusha for a dance?” 

If it had been anyone other than his brother, Belarus would have given them a glare so cold that Siberia’s harsh winters would be preferable. As it were though, it was his brother and Belarus held far too much respect for him to deny a request that was clearly more order than actual request. 

So he nodded, “Of course, braton.” Then allowed Lithuania’s hand to slide from his own and into Russia’s. 

He turns so that he doesn’t have to see Lithuania – the once so powerful and strong Lithuania – look like nothing more than a doll in his brother’s arms. 

Belarus jolted awake suddenly, sitting up in a sweat and his heart racing like thunder in both his chest and ears. He sighed softly as he allowed himself to crash back against his pillows. He stared up at the ceiling, the sun’s early rays casting light into his bedroom. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to wander down memory lane and though he had been asleep and unable to control the path in which his thoughts had unwillingly taken him, he felt somewhat reminiscent of some of the past moments that he had shared with Lithuania. 

He forced himself out of bed and convinces himself that since the sun is rising, he should get a headstart on the day. And if he just so happened to walk past Lithuania’s bedroom a handful of times throughout the day, it was just because her bedroom was between him and whatever his destination was at that particular time. 

He tried not to shudder as he realized he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of elder brother either.

In fact, it was nearly a full week later before Belarus happened to see Lithuania.

~oOo~

A week later...

It was late at night and he couldn’t sleep, so he found himself wandering the halls of his brother’s large mansion, mindful to avoid certain spots in the halls and stairs where the wood would creak loudly. He was halfway down the hall where Lithuania’s bedroom was when he noticed a light coming straight from her bedroom accompanied by the hushed murmur of whispers.

He moved forward slowly, careful to not make any noise and alert the people within the bedroom. 

“You’re so stupid!” Poland whisper-yelled, and Belarus could hear the floor boards creaking, alerting him to the fact that Poland was clearly pacing as he ranted.

Belarus scowled; ‘Of course he’s going to be the first to know Lithuania is back,’ he thought, clenching one fist.

Within the bedroom Poland was indeed pacing, looking a mix between stressed, relieved, and angry. “You didn’t even want to convert!” He hissed out, tossing the old silver cross and rosary back at his ex-wife’s chest. “And you let Russia kill you for that thing?!”

Lithuania snorted softly and tightly held the old cross that Poland had gifted her more than three hundred years ago tightly in her hand. “I didn’t let Russia do anything. He just did it,” she stated, choosing to ignore the fact that Poland was right. At the beginning of their unification – marriage – she had not wanted to convert to Christianity. 

Poland groaned in frustration. “Why though? You didn’t even want to convert,” he repeated in exasperation. “I didn’t even know you still had that thing,” he said much softer. Kindly.

Lithuania looked down at the rosary in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the figure of Jesus on the cross. The chain was silver and there were golden colored beads along it. She shrugged, a small sad smile gracing her lips. “I don’t even know. I suppose because Russia has already taken so much from me – all of us, really – that I didn’t want to lose this too.”

Outside of the bedroom, Belarus scowled at the insult to his elder brother. How dare the other two nations insult Russia when Russia was allowing them the privilege and honor of living in his home! Internally, deep deep down, Belarus couldn’t help but agree with Poland and Lithuania. His brother had taken much from them, imposed rules and regulations, censored so much. But his loyalism towards his brother wouldn’t allow for those traitorous thoughts to take root and blossom.

Lithuania yawned followed by a tired sigh of, “I am tired, Feliks. I need to sleep.”

Poland looked ready to argue with the woman but thought better of it as he looked her over. She had dark rings under her eyes and bruises littering various parts of her body that he could see. He didn’t even want to think about how she looked underneath her clothing. So the Polish representative just nodded. Belarus scowled as he heard Poland press a kiss to Lithuania’s forehead with a soft, tenderly spoken, “ Saldžių sapnų, mielasis .”

Belarus quietly but quickly stormed away from the bedroom and back to his, thoughts of ‘ never should have come this way ,’ echoing in his mind. It was not the first time he had heard Poland give Lithuania a tender and warm greeting or farewell. And it was far from the first time that he had heard the other two nations share sweet and secret pet names spared only for one another. But it still never failed to awaken something in Belarus; disgust? Anger? … jealousy?

Saldžių sapnų… Saldžių sapnų… Saldžių sapnų…

The words replayed and echoed in Belarus’s ears as he made his way swiftly back to his own bedroom and readied for bed. The tone of the voice rapidly changed from Poland’s harshly accented Lithuanian into Lithuania’s own honey-sweet voice as he fell into slumber. 

Saldžių sapnų… Saldžių sapnų…

“Saldžių sapnų, Nikolai,” a young Lithuania whispered, pressing a kiss to an equally young Belarus’s cheek. 

For quite some time, Belarus had lived in Lithuania’s house, quite contently in fact. Of course he had missed his elder siblings and longed for that closeness with them but until then, he was happy with Lithuania. Though, his current disposition would say otherwise. 

He scowled down at the cloth that he was carefully embroidering. The rushnyk was white with bright red embroidered flowers – rue and common flax flowers to be exact – on each end. His elder sister had taught both him and Russia how to embroider the cloths.  He could even remember her steadying both his and Russia’s hands and gently correcting them as she told them that the rushnyk was special cloth for precious ceremonies. 

Like weddings.

Something that Lithuania would soon be doing as her duke met with Poland’s king and the two mortals readied for their wedding. A wedding that was only a handful of days away now.

This wedding between her and Poland annoyed Belarus for reasons he couldn’t place a name to; disgust? Anger? Jealousy, perhaps? He wasn’t entirely sure but he hissed in equal halves annoyance and pain as he pricked his finger, clumsy with his embroidery work. He shoved thoughts of Lithuania marrying Poland away and focused on completing the embroidery of the rushnyk. Soon enough he was finished with the cloth and, paying no mind to the time, he decided to gift it to his dear friend at that very moment.

Within moments he was knocking on the large wooden door to Lithuania’s bedroom. It took only five seconds before Lithuania was opening the door. She looked exhausted with dark gray bags under her eyes and her hair slipping from its careful braid that she normally wore it in. It wasn’t until Belarus really took in the sight of her in her white linen night-gown that he truly realized the time. 

Lithuania, to her kindness, didn’t point out either his red flushed face or the late hour. Rather focusing on the fact that he was at her bedroom door and looking quite uncomfortable. “Nikolai? Are you alright?” She asked, concern lacing her voice.

Belarus just barely managed to stop himself from physically shaking his head and instead said, “Yes! I brought you something. A gift.” He didn’t wait for the words to fully register to the clearly exhausted young woman but just thrust the rushnyk out for Lithuania to take. 

Lithuania blinked slowly, brows furrowing slightly as she stared in confusion at the cloth. Slowly she reached out and took it. A bright grin quickly spread across her face as she held up the cloth. “Oh, Kolya, it’s beautiful! Did you make this?” She breathed out, warmth and adoration in her tone and eyes. 

Belarus flushed but felt himself stand straighter in pride. “Yes. It’s a gift.” He pursed his lips slightly but quickly spat out, “For your wedding.”

Lithuania’s expression became even more gentle as she looked between the rushnyk and Belarus. She quickly threw her arms around the young nation’s neck and held him tightly. “Thank you. I love it,” she said, grinning genuinely for the first time in what felt like ages. 

Belarus flushed, unsure as to where to place his hands – should they stay by his side? Wrap them around Lithuania’s waist? Pull her close and hold her tight? He left his arms rigidly by his sides and just shrugged. “I’m glad.”

The days trailed by in a gray haze for Lithuania. She would wake up each morning before the sun’s first rays had even kissed the skies hello, quickly dress – always in a Russian dress, never one of her own traditional dresses – and head to the kitchens to help Ukraine, Hungary, and Czechia prepare breakfast for the household. Russia was nothing if not traditional; he wanted the women in the house to cook and clean while the men tended to the heavy duty aspects of the household. 

This didn’t mean that the roles stayed segregated based on their genders. Oftentimes, Lithuania would swap chores with Latvia, her youngest brother, as the boy nation was far too small in her opinion to be doing many of the chores that Russia had set aside for him. 

But this particular morning began like any other with Lithuania being the first to the kitchen. She prepared eggs and the buckwheat kasha before Ukraine and Hungary made their way to help her. Soon enough the three had the table set with black bread and tea ready for each person in the mansion. Ukraine prepared plates for her brothers, ensuring that both men had a decent amount on their plates; he hardly had anything on her own.

Lithuania couldn’t judge her though as she did the exact same thing. Every meal she took care to make sure that Latvia and Estonia had enough food. 

She moved throughout the day in her typical rhythm. Dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Then she moved on to laundry since it was a beautiful and sunny day. With young Czech’s help and the girl muttering under her breath about detesting chores, the two were able to strip everyone’s beds and get to washing the bed linens before re-dressing the beds.

Lithuania took care to tuck the sheets in tightly for each bed, though her fingers seemed to linger on certain beds and memories and thoughts she’d thought she’d locked away came flooding back.

Estonia’s and Latvia’s – the three had once been such young, small, children. Cuddled together to keep warm. Always so close. Little Latvia tucked gently between his elder siblings who kept a protective hold on him.

Poland’s – she couldn’t stop her memories of the two being young and sharing a bed for the first time after his king and her duke had married. How they had been so awkward together those first several times. And the many, many, hundreds of times afterwards of their innocent and not so innocent times tucked together, legs intertwined, hands clasped tightly, her head resting on his warm chest. His hands playing with her chocolate colored hair.

Russia’s – sometimes, not always, but sometimes he could be so kind. So gentle. He had always seemed so lonely. She would never say it out loud but she pitied the large nation. She remembered being with him in the 1800’s. How they’d shared a bed more times than she’d care to admit. Times she never told anyone, not even Poland, about. How he’d treated her so gently in his bed, held her hand tightly, not to hurt her but just to be close, as he moaned out the wrong name; “ Amelia… ” and if she had moaned out the wrong name too, well… neither nation mentioned the mishaps come morning. It was their secret.

Belarus’s – being so young and tucking together, not only to keep warm but to remind each other that they weren’t alone. The memories, still hazy and cloudy after so much time, of their drunk wedding night together. His hot breath, heavy with the smell of sharp vodka, raspy against her neck. Scratching down his back as he moved above her in ways that weren’t new to her body but were brand new for the two of them. “ Meilė ,” Belarus had breathed out, teeth lightly nipping at her ear. His accented Lithuanian sending shivers down the woman’s spine. 

She quickly moved on to the next chore at hand. Sweeping and mopping the mansion was always a headache. As was dusting. She wasn’t finished with the household cleaning until Ukraine and Hungary were nearly finished cooking. Shchi and pelmeni with the typical black bread, sour cream, and tea. After dinner, it was Lithuania’s chore to clear the table and do the dishes as Ukraine and Hungary had prepared dinner.

By the time Lithuania finally made it to her bedroom for the night, she was bone tired and just exhausted. So tired that she didn’t notice the light on in her bedroom until she had already opened the door. The last person she had expected to see was Belarus in her bedroom, standing near her dresser, the top drawer open and clothes half in, half out of it. In one hand he held the rosary that Poland had gifted her so long ago. In the other was the rushnyk that he had made for her and Poland’s wedding. 

For a moment neither said anything. Lithuania quickly closed the door, not wanting to risk anyone seeing the scene that was bound to take place. 

“Belarus! I…” Lithuania trailed off, not entirely sure what to say as she wasn’t entirely sure how Belarus was feeling about holding her personal items. She’d lost the skill of reading the other nation long, long way. Far before their wedding in the early years of the 1900’s. 

“I wasn’t aware you still had this,” Belarus said in an almost bored tone as he held up the rushnyk, fabric turning brown with age and fraying. Belarus scoffed, tossing the fabric to the floor so that it landed in a crumpled pile between them. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. You were eager to marry that half-witted Pol,” Belarus sneered.

Lithuania raised an eyebrow briefly at Belarus’s tone but quickly decided that it would be best to ignore Belarus’s petty hate for Poland. She instead moved forward and leaned down to pick up the rushnyk between her hands. “I have ours, too,” she whispered, tracing the old floral embroidery. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to assure the other nation of this fact but she felt deep down that it was something that he needed to know. Needed to hear. 

Belarus rolled his eyes, not really catching the woman’s words. “What are you muttering about?”

Lithuania stood straight, the rushnyk in her hands. “I have ours. From our wedding.” She stepped forward towards her closet, ignoring how Belarus practically hissed at her and stepped in the opposite direction as though she were toxic. She rummaged around in her closet until she found a wooden box with swirling designs painted all over it. She opened the box and moved various pieces of jewelry and aged documents and portraits around until she found the cloth that she was looking for.

She exchanged it for the old cloth, picking it up carefully, as though afraid that it would fall apart in her hands. Though this cloth was not nearly as old as the one that Belarus had embroidered for her. She handed it to Belarus, their fingertips grazing one another as he took the cloth that Ukraine had gifted for them the day they’d married.

Their wedding was not Catholic as her and Poland’s had been. Nor was it Orthodox. Not even pagan as she had so long ago wanted her first union to be. There was no place for religion in their new world order under communism. They had held hands, Belarus’s larger hand holding her smaller hands tightly, and exchanged simple golden bands onto their right ring fingers, and exchanged vows. 

Belarus's expression was guarded but with the way that his shoulders had drooped forward ever so slightly and his thumbs carefully traced the embroidered flowers, Lithuania knew that he too was reminiscing their wedding day. 

‘Possibly even our wedding night,’ Lithuania wondered. She felt her ears grow warm as she remembered them both being agitated at their forced union. How they had celebrated by drinking vodka with Ukraine and Russia. How once she and Belarus were left alone they were both far too gone in drunk hazes. When she’d made him laugh, him kissing her had only felt natural. The loss of clothing and heat of their bodies pressed close to one another had felt even more right. Waking in the morning though… 

“Why do you even have this?” Belarus scoffed, shoving it into Lithuania’s chest. “It means nothing. Just as those seven months mean absolutely nothing to me.” He stormed out of her bedroom, the rosary tossed to the floor as though it too were garbage.

Lithuania frowned, bottom lip pressed tightly between her teeth in an attempt to stop herself from expressing the emotions she felt ready to burst from within her. Carefully she picked up the rosary, holding it tightly. 

The rosary was a reminder of when she and Poland had formed their union. Their great commonwealth. 

The first rushnyk was her most treasured piece of history. A gift from a precious friend during a time when she had been most displaced and felt as though she were drowning as her people were threatened with the encroaching Teutonic Knights or conversion from the union she hadn’t wanted to be in.

The second rushnyk though, was nothing short of being one of the most confusing times of her long life. She and Belarus had formed their union against either of their wills but against all odds, she had felt as though she had found a missing piece of her own heart and soul in him. She had felt as though they were closer than they had ever been before. Her wedding dress was still in a wooden box beneath the floorboards of her house in Vilnius in fact. Along with their matching rings. 

With a heavy sigh and equally heavy heart, Lithuania folded the rushnyk back into a small square shape so that it would fit once more into the wooden box in her closet. One last longing look at the box and the closet door closed with a quiet snap.

~oOo~

“The star you trace… Here is our Land. Only tightly hold my hand. Ask me n' I'll tell, (how) in love I fell! Flying, flying… Keep flying with me.

My world, your world. Two hearts but one history,  always beating in harmony.”

~oOo~ images created using bing's ai and dalle3

[bookwyrminspiration]

why is legacy your least favourite of the series now? (btw I haven’t reread kotlc in forever all I remember is that Tam is gone and Keefe is having a Bad Time)

I think what happened is that upon rereading the other 2 I disliked, I realized their faults weren't as bad as I'd remembered, and Legacy just has very little to draw me in, and everything else is not to my taste. I'd been denying it for a while I think, trying to stay positive, but in being honest with myself this last reread it just really bothers and upsets me at times. I can try to articulate it, but there's a lot of layers that even I don't understand to my reaction, so heads up

(nothing against anyone who enjoys legacy!! i'm simply not one of you. this is your warning that this is a more critical/less positive post and perspective on legacy. if you don't want to see that, don't look)

Sophie's relationships are an inevitable part of the story the way it's written; it becomes very prevalent here, and none of it's positive, it's just more conflict--and not even satisfying conflict, to me. I'm queer in a way that doesn't involve romance and attraction, and I could not care less about Sophie's drama. And I know people talk about the importance of connecting to stories about people with experiences you don't have, but I don't think this is one of them. I've read fantasy stories with conflicted romance before, and even though I'm very attached to these characters...I just don't care for how Shannon's doing it.

I won't deny that part of it is frustration and anger knowing how some people take what happened in Legacy to further unfairly demonize Fitz (who is one of my top 2 characters)--and that part of that will be done in a "see how toxic Fitz is? Keefe is so perfect for her instead" kinda way. Which bothers me because it ignores so much about so many characters, not just Fitz. And I know they are entitled to their thoughts and interactions as much as I am, and I try not to let it get to me too much (curating my own experience and all that), but I can't deny that I'm at least aware of it. And that that knowledge negatively impacts my reading experience when I become more conscious of it. at least at the moment

And I suppose it also just makes it obvious the disconnect between me and the story. I can brush past Sophie's crush musings and brief flustered moments. But an entire book where a significant conflict is her failing relationship and searching for her parents to try and fix said relationship? It's like a whole book of "hey! here's something really important to most people!! that isn't to you! remember how different you are?" To be clear, I don't mind being different, I quite like the kind of queer I am. I don't want to change it.

It's more like a...well now I have to put up with and trudge through this tiresome stereotypical shit in a series I really like, too? I poke a lot of fun, but Keeper is genuinely a really important and prevalent series in my life, even though its not my favorite. And it's like...here, too?

I'm not opposed to relationships in fiction, there are several I quite enjoy and they can have very important places and purposes! Keeper just isn't one of them that really speaks to me--at least in canon. I don't like how sophitz was written, I don't like how Sophie's been characterizing Fitz and Keefe, I don't like her reaction to and focus on her match status even though I understand it from a character perspective. Their relationships just haven't been the compelling kind to me

I could try and link all this to like, poor writing or inconsistent characterization or catering to fans and things like that. I could probably come up with a polished argument if I tried, make it technical and about a bunch of mistakes made but at the end of the day? it's really just not to my taste. I just don't like it, even though I can logically understand why most things happened, how they were in character and contribute to their development. I just don't like what happened. I don't like how romance focused it was and how relationships panned out. I'm disappointed sophitz ended how it did, how the characters behaved in their relationships, how Sophie reacted to her match status, her inability to pull herself together for a while, how sidelined Tam's kidnapping felt, how some people will demonize Fitz, etc.

I read keeper for entertainment, and there just was nothing for me. I do what I can to appreciate its place in the series, and to acknowledge when it is true to the characters, including in ways I can't connect to. But this isn't a series I read for self betterment or learning or anything, it's for fun and none of what happened was fun for me (meaning fun in like a satisfying entertainment way including heartbreak and tragedies and horrors, not that it has to be silly and light hearted)

That was probably more than you were expecting; it was more than i was expecting! But it's such a visceral reaction that it's hard to identify and translate, and I'm sure there's more to it I haven't uncovered. in fact as I was writing this the process helped me think through more of my reaction, so thanks for the opportunity :)

[essskel]

Sorry for the late reply - and in general, we agree, but with time I get less lenient with roche, especially since in my opinion w3 served him a character assassination the size of temeria so I'm not excited thinking about their possible cooperation. The tragedy of iorweth's disappearence in said game aside, his w2 arc really could use actually killing roche, or having a last confrontation, at least.

But I'd like to offer that iorweth's dislike of roche is more personal than 'he's an awful guy who's done irreparable damage to my people overall'. I've reached vergen, and the first time you talk to iorweth you hold an enlightening conversation about his motives, opinions on other approaches to the racial conflict, and his plans. The gist of what concerns roche is: he's been determined to get his hands on him since roche (the choice of words makes it sound like he perhaps got more involved than just giving the orders) slaughtered every elf in the commando he was leading at the time. he implies the badges he wears (missing only the temerian one...) are of the other first leaders of those countries' equivalent of blue stripes.

I highly recommend re-playing or watching that part (especially if you've imported a w1 save, he talks about yaevinn), it gives great insights into his character and personality! In polish his mannerisms alone betray a great deal, though i can't speak on the english dub.

- karanfile

omg you sent this while I was drafting an answer to a different ask and I linked a video to the same Vergen dialogue! I agree, I think it's some of the best insight to his character, and also some of the most damning evidence against Roche and Blue Stripes.

wait, going under a cut bc I wrote too much ->

Also agree that as much as I wanted Iorveth in TW3, I don't actually have total faith that CDPR would have handled his new interactions with Roche in a way that felt respectful to the context - esp after the mess of the failed 'greyness' between their paths in tw2. Geralt would have forced them together, they would have had to come to some agreement about not killing each other, maybe it would have been good, maybe it would have been out of character and flattened their past motivations. Idk, there are probably some benefits to his absence.

I sort of brushed at it with this post, but what I want more than anything for Iorveth in the canon storyline, is for him to escape the notion that he exists in tandem with Roche - which tw3 didn't totally seem ready to do. I want him out! Give him a new conflict! (and a happy ending?? Maybe??) Give him more friendships outside of Geralt! Let him grow and be more sympathetic, let someone who understands his background write him! Or just let him kill Roche - their duel is a great scene in tw2, but man....Iorveth should have just stabbed him.

Also - yes, he does go into his background hunting Roche in that Vergen scene, to which Roche has nothing even close. I wasn't disagreeing that Iorveth has a more personal stake in their conflict, sorry if it seemed that way, only adding what I thought was some background context about their differences in access to support, and that I felt it was in still sort of an extension of Iorveth's desire to protect his people, not satisfy his own need to defeat this one man - but also it WAS that. Iorveth's motivations as a person are pretty impossible to separate from his motivation as a leader.

That wording was messy, I hope I'm making sense, but I'm definitely not disagreeing with you. And tbh, the more and more I try to dissect the writing in the tw2, the more I'm convinced that Roche should have been a villain all along, but also that I need to just focus on something else, because there's so much wrong with the game, and it's such a poorly handled discussion of racism in a genre (fantasy) that famously does not handle racism well.

Won't get into it to much cause tbh I'm not the one to lead this discussion, but because I'm rereading LOTR, I've been doing tandem readings about the racist roots of fantasy races like Elves, Orcs, ect, (One source, but there are many) and why the baseline concept of "this ethnic group is 100% NOT human, and different 'races' are verifiable biologically separate" is just making race science real and not actually adding to the discussion of oppression in the way that the creators (white creators, mostly) who do things like 'Elf racism' seem to think. (A short article abt this, specific to the film Bright) (A longer example that uses star wars as the basis for criticism)

Anyway, conclusions for now ig (I'm off topic, sorry again) is that I want better for Iorveth, and Roche is definitely not the vehicle to deliver that, but also I personally should not be looking to CDPR anymore to deliver thoughtful commentary on racial oppression.

[veebs-hates-video-games]

Time for another installment of a couple games that irritated me and a couple that are good actually. Or maybe it's the first installment of that? I'm not keeping track.

Ori and the Blind Forest went on sale incredibly cheap, and I had been meaning to try it out for a while, so I finally did. It looks great, it sounds great, and I was enjoying the exploration part of it, but the combat is meh at best. I could've gotten over that probably, but the checkpoint system where you have to manually make your own if you ever want to save just does not work for me. I'm either going to forget to make one forever because ADHD and then lose half an hour of progress or waste resources making them way too often, or what actually ended up happening was saving in a room with only one exit that was full of things that could kill me with a single hit, having to retry several times before finally making it through, and then just giving up when the next room needed some annoying timing for stuff and not wanting to reload over and over some more.

Shovel Knight also went on sale incredibly cheap, this time on the 3DS, which I didn't even know it existed on. I was Concerned because I've bounced off so many Critically Acclaimed 2D platformers and metroidvanias lately (aside from Ori there's also been stuff like Celeste and Hollow Knight and something else I'm forgetting), but it turns out it's great and I genuinely enjoy playing it. I'm not super far in it because I keep getting distracted by other stuff, but so far it's a lot of fun and clearly made by people who are intimately familiar with NES-era platformers and what made them look and feel the way they did...which everyone already knew several years ago, but I just got around to it now.

Diablo 3 is...frustrating in a way that is itself also frustrating. As someone who's spent over 2000 hours on Grim Dawn over the past several years, it's safe to say I can get really into ARPGs when they click for me, and people have been comparing Grim Dawn, Diablo 3, and Path of Exile for years. The general consensus I've picked up is that Diablo 3 has waaay less depth and build variety than the other two, but people seem to think it has the most polished gameplay. After playing it a bit I'm not sure why they think that, because it doesn't feel like a revolutionary new level of polish, just like Torchlight 2.5 if Runic had a bigger budget to work with. It does do some things well, but as someone who's never really liked any of the Diablo games, the baggage this carries with it from trying to be a followup to Diablo 2 is ultimately going to be what makes me stop playing, possibly very soon. I could go on at great length about every little thing that's annoyed me while playing (and I have on Discord), but the short version is that I understand why there are people who like it while also being completely unable to myself. I may complain in greater detail later (or just copy stuff from Discord with light editing), but for now I'll just leave it at this.

Diablo 2: Resurrected will be a very brief entry. It was significantly cheaper to get D3 bundled with D2R than it was to get D3 by itself, so I seem to have ended up with both. I was expecting to play it for a few hours and be reminded of why I kind of hated it when I was younger, but it was not to be. The opening cutscene is genuinely great and reminded me of why Blizzard used to be known for having particularly high quality pre-rendered cutscenes, but as soon as it got to the main menu it shat itself repeatedly and failed to connect to Battle.net. Which it needs to do to play offline. On the Switch. Well, at least I got a discount on D3 for failing to play D2R, and as a bonus I got to watch a good cutscene for a few minutes. And now I get to have that 8 GB of space on my SD card back.

Vampire Survivors gets to show up in another post, so that's nice. I'd been taking a break from it for a couple months, but this week I got inspired to go back and finish up some of the stuff I didn't do before. Still such a great game. I'm about 80% done now, and I keep finding new silly things I didn't expect or coming up with increasingly broken and/or nonsensical build ideas I haven't tried before. It's not always the kind of thing I'm in the mood for, but when it is it does what it does so well.

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Ooof, do I have thoughts on the original post.

Cuz being as self conscious as I am, all of the damned statements referenced are things I've thought and things I've read from others. But they don't UPSET me like they do the OP, I guess. They actually are proof to me of how important this writing is to the author to SHARE but how EXHAUSTED they are by the PROCESS they THINK they have to follow in order to present the work.

I don't mind if a doggo or kitty brings me a dead rat and leaves it by my feet lol Is it gross and a bit off putting? Sure lol I wasn't looking to be on the receiving end of that. But to that doggo or kitty? IT IS A GIFT lol LEGIT! It means something to THEM cuz of the process they went to and because THEY CARE ABOUT YOU and think this is something WORTH presenting.

If they don't have all the finesse? I personally am ok with that.

Sometimes all these rules make it so I don't wanna even attempt to share and the comments by the OP are, like, a perfect example as to why. I don't want to be thought of or looked at as LESS because I admitted to my exhaustion or how terrible I am with endings and titles.

But I know I can't be the only one who is ok with stuff being presented not as polished? I hope I'm not.

IDK. I just wanted to put this out there because I don't expect perfection and I don't look down on anyone else for anything referenced in the original post.

I want creators to create and, if compelled, to share. Because it's always a gift. Someone sharing their writing is them sharing a part of their mind, heart, soul, inner workings ... and for those who prefer more polished and perfected presentations?

Dare I say that they can scroll on by. But for us who like to try new things, different things, or give folks a chance? We can click that READ MORE link and see where it takes us, offer what feedback and help we can on those tags or a title or an ending?

Remember as creators we are ALL GOING THROUGH IT.

As My Doctor (twelfth) famously said:

Always try to be nice. Never fail to be kind.

Especially when it comes to daring to put yourself out there as vulnerable by sharing your creations - art, writing, edits, anything. They are parts of us. Maybe Judge Judys need not apply? Unless we ASK for it cuz some of us WANT that critical feedback but in general, maybe we don't put rules down for others even if we like them or they help us. They might not help everyone, and tough love often backfires.

All I want for fellow creators is the freedom to be themselves, create through whatever process works, and present however they feel ready to do so. I believe in my heart of hearts that your work WILL find the audience it's meant to, and not me or anyone else can tell ANY CREATOR the worth of what they do, spesh not for what some folks might opine is "missing."

I know you care about what you're sharing. No creator has ever made themselves vulnerable in that way with a piece of work that does not mean something to them, so for someone to say "well your LACK OF blah blah tells me you don't care."

Nah, folks. Just nah. I know you care but I also know how exhausted so many of us are from this thing called life. You don't owe anyone polish or presentation or perfection.

Just show us you. Those of us who care enough will find you and respond.

Love and respect to all my fellow creators.

I'm begging y'all, put at least minimum care into how you present your fics to the public.

"idk man you name it im tired" as a title tells me you didn't care.

"This is STUPID" in the tags. Okay, I won't read it then.

"I don't know how to do tags" tells me you didn't bother taking one look at any page in the archive to see how others tag and use it as reference. Or, you know, you could have asked, too.

"idk if this is trash, bc I worte this in the middle of the night bc idrk" in the summary doesn't really encourage me to open the story.

3 lines of tags on a 4k monitor, none of which are actual searchable tags but a stream of consciousness about the author's sleeping habits and music preferences, tell me you don't know what your story is about if you can't give us 2-4 main tropes and themes. Also, this isn't tumblr, come on mate.

"I hate myself for this fic" okay? Why did you write it then if it brought you discomfort? Moreover, why did you post it???

"Why Did I Write This?" well, hobbies are about joy and fun, if writing doesn't make you happy then maybe it's time to look for something else to do in your free time? No point in making yourself miserable.

"The Author Regrets Everything" paired with more self-deprecating tags suggest I better not bother opening the fic because it clearly made the author miserable and why would I be miserable as well?

"killing myself rn" please get help.

0 additional tags is better than that. Writing and sharing fics should be an act of care, not anguish.

[houseofmuzes]

Rules & Requirements|| By Rhiannon. - #ofherdowlingohara, #ofhermedicine, #ofherdragons

Little about me:

My name is Rhiannon, Mutuals May call me Rhia for short.

Pronunciation for my name’s : Ryeh-Ann-on& Ryeh-uh

I own three other accounts. This is a side blog.

Multi account @ofherdowlingohara

HOTD account @ofherdragons

Nurse Jackie Account @ofhermedicine

0. My education comes first before everything else! I will try and respond during class changes, and breaks. I also work full time, and occasionally on weekends.

1. No hate, No drama, No Godmodding. Absolutely zero tolerance for bullying or harassment. Please note that my anon asks are off, they are off for a reason and I will not turn them back on. Want to ask me something privately, message me.

2. No one under the Age of 20+ years old is allowed to Interact with my muses. 18+ are welcome to follow, ask questions, and have OOC interactions. Just not In character interactions.

3. If you have a problem with what I post, be that most of my characters are apart of the LGBTQ+ community. Don’t follow, just block.

4. I am a multi fandom rp blog. I do accept Cannon and Original Characters, to Rp with. I do have Two OC’s myself, and three cannon characters in two different verses. Two cannon characters I have made my own. Jackie I can play as the OG storyline if need be.

5. Please let me know if you have triggers beforehand. This will save if either of us get upset or triggered with something either of us use in rp or in a post.

6. With that being said in rule number five, I can tolerate mentions of Miscarriages, Rape. But not full detailed. I would prefer those too not at all fully role played out or at all. Mentions are fine. I am very sensitive to those topics as of current.

7. Please Rp in third person, and literacy. I will except Semiliterate and Literate as well as advanced literate Rp responses. If you’re not literate I most likely will not respond, but I will make an acceptance for people with dyslexia or if English isn’t your first language. I have been there before, English is my third language. German, Polish and English are the ones I speak and understand.

8. I am a Full time College Student, I am a Theatre Arts Major so I will be busy most of the time. Please don’t spam me, you are allowed Five post tags a day. No more, no less.

10. I do not condone to rp Student x Teacher rps. That’s creepy and disgusting.

11. If you fail to follow these rules and guidelines, I will either soft block you for a few weeks. Or I will block you and put your account(s) on a blacklist for DNI between mutuals to keep them safe from your toxicity.

12. Please for the love of god’s, do not go to other people if we have a problem with something. Nor have them come ‘confront’ me about an issue I am not aware of, come directly to me like the adults we are supposed to be so we can talk an issue out. Nor come to me bashing about some other blog, bc they did this etc., I generally do not care what they have done to you (unless you are my mutuals that I interact with on the daily, I will defend my mutuals if they haven’t done me wrong.) it’s unnecessary drama especially if there’s no solid evidence. It’s not that I don’t Care for my mutuals deeply, I just don’t want to be dragged into unnecessary stress drama. Do not come to me with your OOC drama with other blogs. You can always come to me with your personal issues and that is it. Unless we’re in the same GC then I’ll deal with said OOC drama before defending myself and leaving. Any violation of this specific rule, will result in an immediate Blacklisting. I will make a physical List to share with blogs I’m mutual with.

13. I do have medical issues such as seizures and fainting spells. That can and will get in the way of replying. Please don’t take offense if I don’t respond for a few days and disappear. I will not ghost anyone intentionally, but will give heads up if I lose interest in rp. Or if I’ll be on hiatus for brief periods of time.

With this being said, I hope I covered all my rules throughly. I will add things as I see fit. I will add an interest tracker soon. I will encourage you all to please take time in reading my rules. This account is my safe space as well as my writing blog. I do have a side Blog that is a backup, please follow said side blog in case of something were to happen to this account. @houseofmuzes is my backup.

[ofherdowlingohara]

Rules & Requirements|| By Rhiannon. - #ofherdowlingohara

Little about me:

My name is Rhiannon, Mutuals May call me Rhia for short.

Pronunciation for my name’s : Ryeh-Ann-on& Ryeh-uh

I am twenty years old.

0. My education comes first before everything else! I will try and respond during class changes, and breaks. I also work full time, and occasionally on weekends.

1. No hate, No drama, No Godmodding. Absolutely zero tolerance for bullying or harassment. Please note that my anon asks are off, they are off for a reason and I will not turn them back on. Want to ask me something privately, message me.

2. No one under the Age of 20+ years old is allowed to Interact with my muses. 18+ are welcome to follow, ask questions, and have OOC interactions. Just not In character interactions.

3. If you have a problem with what I post, be that most of my characters are apart of the LGBTQ+ community. Don’t follow, just block.

4. I am a multi fandom rp blog. I do accept Cannon and Original Characters, to Rp with. I do have Two OC’s myself, and three cannon characters in two different verses. Two cannon characters I have made my own. Jackie I can play as the OG storyline if need be.

5. Please let me know if you have triggers beforehand. This will save if either of us get upset or triggered with something either of us use in rp or in a post.

6. With that being said in rule number five, I can tolerate mentions of Miscarriages, Rape. But not full detailed. I would prefer those too not at all fully role played out or at all. Mentions are fine. I am very sensitive to those topics as of current.

7. Please Rp in third person, and literacy. I will except Semiliterate and Literate as well as advanced literate Rp responses. If you’re not literate I most likely will not respond, but I will make an acceptance for people with dyslexia or if English isn’t your first language. I have been there before, English is my third language. German, Polish and English are the ones I speak and understand.

8. I am a Full time College Student, I am a Theatre Arts Major so I will be busy most of the time. Please don’t spam me, you are allowed Five post tags a day. No more, no less.

10. I do not condone to rp Student x Teacher rps. That’s creepy and disgusting.

11. If you fail to follow these rules and guidelines, I will either soft block you for a few weeks. Or I will block you and put your account(s) on a blacklist for DNI between mutuals to keep them safe from your toxicity.

12. Please for the love of god’s, do not go to other people if we have a problem with something. Nor have them come ‘confront’ me about an issue I am not aware of, come directly to me like the adults we are supposed to be so we can talk an issue out. Nor come to me bashing about some other blog, bc they did this etc., I generally do not care what they have done to you (unless you are my mutuals that I interact with on the daily, I will defend my mutuals if they haven’t done me wrong.) it’s unnecessary drama especially if there’s no solid evidence. It’s not that I don’t Care for my mutuals deeply, I just don’t want to be dragged into unnecessary stress drama. Do not come to me with your OOC drama with other blogs. You can always come to me with your personal issues and that is it. Unless we’re in the same GC then I’ll deal with said OOC drama before defending myself and leaving. Any violation of this specific rule, will result in an immediate Blacklisting. I will make a physical List to share with blogs I’m mutual with.

13. I do have medical issues such as seizures and fainting spells. That can and will get in the way of replying. Please don’t take offense if I don’t respond for a few days and disappear. I will not ghost anyone intentionally, but will give heads up if I lose interest in rp. Or if I’ll be on hiatus for brief periods of time.

With this being said, I hope I covered all my rules throughly. I will add things as I see fit. I will add an interest tracker soon. I will encourage you all to please take time in reading my rules. This account is my safe space as well as my writing blog. I do have a side Blog that is a backup, please follow said side blog in case of something were to happen to this account. @/florencedowlingohara is my backup.

[lilyvines]

my dreams for wilbur’s future nation burger van is that it turns into the entire og l’manberg crew...plus ranboo

wilbur: it’s everyone, the gangs all back together again! we have been through a lot, but this is just like the old days! it’s so great to be with only the people that i really trusted, that i went through a war with!

tommy: *pointed cough*

wilbur: ...and ranboo! gotta love ranboo! 

ranboo: thank you thank you

wilbur: this reminds me of the old days, with camarvan. we all remember that, right?

ranboo: um

wilbur: oh! im so sorry ranboo, i forgot about your memory issues, that’s on me

ranboo: no i was just not there actually

at one point, sapnap puts up a sign that says ‘The Bitches From L’manchildberg’ as a way to taunt them. they leave the sign up (because everyone is very secretly nostalgic) but the only addition made is ‘+ Ranboo’

at one point eret pulls him aside just to be

eret: ranboo you don’t have a l’manberg uniform

ranboo: i do not, that’s correct

eret: do you want one? tommy thinks it would be weird if we all had matching uniforms and you just had your suit, but tubbo thinks it would be really funny

ranboo: its ok i like my suit i dont mind either way

eret:...i have an idea

ranboo checks his mail to find a l’manberg uniform (suit edition). he puts it on. it does not fit at all. none of the members accounted for the fact that ranboo is incredibly tall. he has to bring it to niki to get it tailored

also consider the good that having ranboo (someone good at listening who doesn’t know much about l’manberg) listen to all of them would do, for them and for him:

niki, talking absentmindedly while she works: i still get nightmares about schlatt! he was awful. i was so scared all the time, and it was the worst times in my life. he really sucked, you know? plus he taxed me very highly 

ranboo, who never met schlatt and doesn’t pay taxes: mhm mhm 

jack: i miss l’manberg, i’m glad this is happening. it was our country, you know? we all died for it

ranboo, who has 3 canon lives plus like 30 totems: mhm mhm

just imagine all of them hanging out, eating burgers, and telling the stories of their great nation, laughing around the fire. its them! despite everything, it’s still them! and ranboo. he is also here.

[the-lady-of-stars]

The one about the Gonk droid and the Comm

For @itsyellow ☺️

Crosshair x Reader

Peace, love and kisses for my man Crosshair bc boy does he deserve it after todays episode. No spoilers for TBB. No plot at all tbh just shameless love for grumpy man. Somebody give this man a kiss pls.

Warnings: Very brief non-explicit mention of sex near the end but nothing graphic at all it's just Wrecker poking fun at Cross and reader.

My inbox is still open for requests! See my earlier post for details :)

You left your bunk on the Maurauder just in time to watch Crosshair storm off the ship, lips pulled into a thin grimace.

You immediately turned to look at the rest of the boys, furrowing your brows in silent questioning. The sheepish smile on Wrecker's face told you enough about what had occurred.

As much as they loved each other, Wrecker's boistorous and loud personality often clashed with that of his silent and snarky brother, something which proved to be the starting point for many arguments when they were crowded together on such a small ship.

With a roll of your eyes you slipped out the ramp and headed over to your sniper who was now perched on top of a tall rock glaring out over the forest. You basked in the feeling of grass beneath your boots, enjoying the fresh air that the planet you had temporarily stopped on provided.

Crosshair, as you had expected, was polishing his rifle with a cloth, a habit he had formed to calm himself down. He paid you no notice as you settled next to him, just meticulously scrubbing at the rifle.

"Cross." No answer. "Look at me. Please?" you spoke softly and sweetly to him, not wanting to anger him any further. You knew his annoyance at Wrecker wouldn't last long, it never did, but when he was angry Crosshair was a ticking bomb.

The sniper huffed out a sigh, carefully placing his rifle down before turning to meet your gaze. You smiled at him, and Crosshair immediately felt his irritation melting away at the tenderness in your eyes.

"What happened back there?" you asked tentatively.

He groaned, scowling at the memory. "Wrecker was weightlifting that karking gonk-droid again and he slammed it down on my comm. I'd only taken it off for a second before he crushed it. Tech's got it now, but there's only so much you can do to fix a pile of scrap metal with sparks coming out of it."

You choked lightly, trying to hide your laughter under the guise of a cough.

"Oh, think that's funny do you?"

Crosshair tried to get up to storm off yet again but you grabbed his wrist and lightly tugged him back down.

"Hey, hey no. 'S not funny. Not at all," once again you barely concealed a snort, resulting in the sniper rolling his eyes back. You didn't miss, however, the way his mouth began to form a grin.

Crosshair sighed to himself, finding his thoughts drifting to how you were his weak spot, how something about you brought him a feeling of peace that no other could.

He shook his head with a huff of laughter, finally seeing the humorous side as his anger faded.

"Gonna kill 'im," he grumbled, turning to face you and taking your hands in his.

You laughed openly this time, and Crosshair felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. Tech had described him as 'wrapped around your finger' a few days ago, and as much as he hated to admit it, his little brother was right.

Cross smiled, playing absentmindedly with your fingers as you sat cross-legged facing each other.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to drop it on your comm, Cross," you reassured with a smile.

"Eh, I know. Doesn't make the sheb-head any less annoying though."

You snickered then lifted his hands to your face, pressing a soft kiss against the knuckles of each one. Crosshair found himself in a trance, feeling his skin heat up as your plush lips skimmed across his hands.

He slid one hand out of your grasp to reach up and gently cup your jaw, running a thumb over your cheek. His breath caught in his throat as you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. You tilted your head to the side to press a kiss to his palm. In return, Cross pulled the hand he was still holding to his lips and mirrored your previous actions, trailing kisses across the peaks of your knuckles.

It didn't matter how Crosshair liked to portray himself to outsiders. The second you came close to him he would always drop his cold and bitter facade in exchange for tenderness and passion.

"I love you," he breathed against your skin, barely audible but still music to your ears.

"I love you too, Cross. More than you'll ever know."

He exhaled deeply before shifting closer to you, lifting both hands now to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss. There was no rushing this time, no swift kisses stolen when his brothers weren't looking, no rapid pecks before charging into gunfire, there was just pure emotion.

Crosshair didn't need to use words to tell you how he felt. The way he tilted his head to swipe his lips oh so perfectly against yours told you enough, and you found yourself reaching behind his neck to pull him closer. You lowered one hand to rest it flat over his heart, feeling how strongly it pounded, how fast it jumped. You'd be lying if you said you were in any better state. His tongue lightly traced your bottom lip before he tugged on it with his teeth playfully, grinning.

He wormed his hands under your thighs and scooped you up into his lap, deepening the kiss. Crosshair felt high in that moment, caught up in the taste of your lips and the way your soft skin nuzzled against his. Your hands clutched the back of the collar of his blacks at the base of his neck, keeping him secure and close as you could.

The two of you were so caught up in the moment, in fact, that you failed to notice Wrecker bounding towards you until he practically roared out Crosshair's name in joy. He groaned deeply, his annoyance at his brother returning at being interrupted.

"What, Wrecker? Can't you see we're a little busy here?" he spoke sharply, turning his attention to the large man who was parading Crosshair's comm up in the air at the end of an extended arm.

"Tech fixed it! See? Good as new!" he bellowed, waving it around.

Crosshair groaned, reaching out to snatch it from his brother's grip before he went and broke it again.

"That's great, Wrecker. Now. D'you mind?" he sharply motioned his head in the direction of the Marauder, signalling his brother to return and leave him alone.

Wrecker convulsed with laughter at this, clutching his sides.

"Yeah, sure! I'll leave you alone so you can keep makin' out with your girl. Don't have too much fun though. Me and the boys are only over there in the ship and we sure as kriff don't wanna hear anything like we did the other night from your bunk."

You choked at this, turning to hide your face from Wrecker in embarassment, naturally only sending him into another fit of laughter.

"Wrecker!" Crosshair howled, pointing a finger aggressively at the Marauder.

"Alright, alright, I'm goin'." Wrecker chuckled, turning to depart for the ship but not before shooting you a heavy wink.

You groaned, hiding your face in Crosshair's neck. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to show my face to your brothers again."

Cross' chest shook in laughter. "Oh well, they'll get used to it."