#you don't have to like it. but maybe you'd have a better time if you weren't going into it trying to judge if it's 'good' or not idk

[gurugirl]

Quiet Xmas Morning blurb | bfd!harry

⋆꙳•❅‧ ☃️‧❆ ₊⋆

Summary: Your heart is full and you have so much to be thankful for on Christmas.

A/n: I know it's not very long but there's a lot of new things in this one. If you haven't already, I'd suggest reading the previous part before you read this.

Word Count: 1,507

Warning: soft fluffy cuteness - no warnings!

best friend's dad!harry masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

The house was warm and quiet as you sat in the glider chair with your newborn in your arms. She was falling asleep slowly. She'd suckle and then her eyes would lull shut before she'd startle herself awake and start to pull at your nipple like a ravenous animal again. You smiled and smoothed your fingers over the soft hair on her head. It'd only been a week and a half since she was born but you already felt like she was your everything. It surprised you how deeply you already loved her.

Elara came a little early but you were ready for her. Harry said she wanted to make it in time for Christmas. She had to be monitored for a few extra days but she was healthy and she was perfect.

You saw the glow from the Christmas tree lights filtering into her room from downstairs and then heard a little rustling. Harry must have also been up. He was sleeping when you got up to feed the baby but he often would wake up when you'd get up. It was still something to get used to. You were more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life but maybe that explained why you were so deliriously in love with her.

Her suckling grew weak again, little eyes closed, and then… she was fast asleep. After waiting a few minutes, just in case, you carefully and gently got up from the chair and tiptoed to her crib to lower her down all without waking her.

She was perfect. Yes. That was true. But she was easy to wake and she'd cry for hours if she was woken up before she was ready.

Harry stood behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder as he looked down at your little creation with you. He knew better than to even whisper so you both just smiled at one another before quietly padding out of her room and closing the door behind you.

Your body was still sore. You knew it would take time to get back to feeling like yourself. Even walking downstairs felt like something was going to knock loose and fall out of your body. Harry held your hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mama," he kissed your lips softly when you got to the first floor.

The living room was dark except for the soft golden lights wrapped around the faux Christmas tree. You preferred a real one normally but it was too much work that year. Plus the smell bothered you when you and Harry had gone to check out the tree farm weeks earlier.

"Got your gift under the tree," he motioned.

You looked under the tree to see one small box with a bow. You hadn't wrapped any of Harry's and they were all tucked away, hidden in the closet in the basement.

"I didn't wrap yours. I'm sorry," you reached up to cup his face and he brought an arm around your back.

"You already gave me the best present I could ever ask for."

You grinned, "That I did. But you played a major role in that gift. So technically I could consider that a gift from you as well."

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, "I'd say my role was very minor. All I had to do was get off a few times. You did all the hard work. All the stuff that counts."

A laugh puffed from your lips, "Okay. That I agree with."

You smelled coffee suddenly and realized Harry was making a pot.

"Decaf." He raised his brows at you. You were staying away from caffeine since you were breastfeeding. The doctor said you could have a little bit every day but Elara was fussy enough as it was. The last thing you wanted was a grouchy, angry baby hocked up on traces of caffeine.

"My mouth is watering," you spoke with a smile.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll get your coffee. Then we can open up your Christmas present."

Harry frothed a little milk for you while he took his coffee black. Even he was drinking decaf when he could have just had regular. He walked back into the living quietly, two steaming mugs in hand before handing you yours and sitting his down on the coffee table.

You took a sip as he reached under the tree to pull out the small red box. It had a small golden ribbon tied around it.

"What is it?" You held your palm out as he placed the box down into your hand.

"Well, you have to open it up first."

Taking another quick sip of your coffee before you leaned forward to place the ceramic mug down you looked at Harry with a big grin. The glittering lights from the tree were twinkling off his eyes as he looked down at the box and then up at your face.

You pulled at the ribbon and then paused when he sat up, about to push himself off the cushion, "What are you doing?"

He swallowed and you noticed that he suddenly seemed nervous, anxious. He shook his head and shrugged, "Nothing. Was just getting comfortable is all."

You squinted at him as he looked down at your hand. Then it was your turn for the nerves to take over. You couldn't be sure what was in the box but something told you that it was going to change everything. You knew Harry very well and his sudden excitement had your heart pounding in your chest. And given the size of the box…

"Harry…" you blinked your eyes and placed your hand over the lid as you swallowed.

"Just open it, baby. See what it is." He was still sitting at the edge of the cushion, watching you as you pulled the lid off. Inside was another, smaller box—a jewelry box.

You inhaled and looked up at him. He wore a soft smile on his face as he tensed his arms, like he was about to spring from the couch.

The moment you placed your fingers on the velvet-hinged top to lift it, he pushed himself onto his knees and scooted in between your thighs as the beautiful little shining diamond glinted from inside the box. A ring. But not just any ring.

He waited for a beat, his eyes on yours as your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth before looking at him in surprise.

Harry took the ring out of the box and held it between his thumb and pointer finger, "I love you. I want forever with you, Y/n. I know we're not in a rush but I couldn't wait another moment to put a ring on your finger. Tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped out a quiet sob and just as he was about to continue you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him hard. You never imagined that you'd cry when he finally proposed but of course, your hormones were all out of whack and you'd been finding yourself crying for the smallest things lately.

He laughed when you pecked kisses over his cheek, "Yes, Harry…"

"Baby, I didn't even finish th—"

You smushed your lips over his again, swallowing his words as he pulled you into his arms until you were in his lap on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

"I love you, Harry…" You smeared your lips down to his jaw and he chuckled quietly.

"Gonna put it on?"

Pulling away from him, you looked down at his hand and spread your fingers out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It was dainty and perfect—one small diamond at the top, set in white gold. You held your hand up, and you admired the way it looked on your hand for a moment.

Harry wrapped his big palm around yours and pulled your hand up to his mouth, "That's a yes? You'll marry me?"

You sputtered a laugh and nodded, "Of course I will."

He kissed your knuckles and grinned at you before you pulled your hand away and wrapped your arms around his neck to squeeze him tight. Harry tucked his face into your hair and put his arms around your back.

It was going to be the best Christmas day ever. Fae would be coming by for a couple of hours and then your parents later in the evening. Telling everyone you were finally engaged would be exciting but the best part was that you and Harry had the most precious gift lying upstairs sleeping already.

You placed your hand over his chest and ran your nose against his, "I'm so happy, Harry. I love you so much."

He shifted his legs and ran a big palm up your back, "That's all I want, for you to be happy, Y/n."

Harry got exactly what he wanted because you'd never been as happy as you were in that moment.

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[directdogman]

Dialtown is the most USA-core game I've ever played. It's so fucking American that it's scary, and I've lived there my entire life! Like, this feels fundamentally tied with the game's themes and narrative, that's how extreme it is. And it's not even alienating OR nationalist?? It makes such genuine commentary? And then there's so much other shit to think about too; Dialtown has a very real identity outside this that anyone could love?

One: I am VERY impressed that you have done the USA and its people this well. I am actually astounded, bewildered, and chuffed. I've never felt so seen by a video game, culturally-speaking. I didn't even know there was a culture to see.

Two: WHY did you do that. Dialtown is like USA Culture Absurdified: The Visual Novel. What drove you to make a game this rich with American culture and ideas???

Hello!

It would've been odd for an outsider (non American) who enjoys reading up on history to make my setting nationalist or alienating. America is a country with a lot of serious issues. You can't really study how America is (and has been) internally run without facing glaring and obvious systematic issues. DT's setting is one of scarcity and most of the main characters you follow in DT are kinda just scraping by without much hope for true mobility/advancement. A lot of Americans (especially younger generations) would agree this sorta encapsulates the national mood of the country right now.

Of course, the systems that run a country don't define its citizens - many of the finest people I've ever known are American and are victims of the whims of those with power, not willing participants in this system. I could be wrong, but that's why I think the setting connected with a lot of people. We all know Randys, Olivers + Karens, people who've fallen through the cracks in some way. To them, America's spirit of self-determination isn't about individual identity - it's more "you're on your own."

Why I chose to set DT in America would be a novel length answer in of itself, but it mainly came down to history + narrative opportunity. I wanted to set the game in the epicenter of where the phone-revolution came from and Crown likely couldn't have pulled his plan off anywhere else and probably not during any other time. It had to be 1960's America.

Of course, some parts of DT are sorta universal and were inspired by the the Great Recession and what followed. I remember there was an area not that far from my house that was full of green fields when I was born and when I was a kid (and when real estate boomed), stuff started being built there. Parts of it looked really nice, not quite like anything nearby. Like the future was coming. Then the economy crashed and stuff was left sitting there, half-built for like a decade. Skeletal, unfinished buildings. DT is much the same.

There's a feeling that the city could've been something better and while things could be more equal, it does feel like there are no easy solutions to fix everything - unless someone very smart and determined somehow bypassed every safeguard that was set up to halt radical change and enacted a genius plan to somehow eliminate scarcity. It happened once and might never again.

I don't think most people understand the intricacies of stuff like global commerce all that well (myself included), but when you're sitting looking at a half built neighbourhood mere hours after speaking to a friend who just kicked out of rented accommodation and doesn't have a stable family unit to fall back on, you'd have to be a real dolt not to understand that things aren't great right now. Most people are scraping by and feel if they could just get affordable housing locked down, if they had maybe one good opportunity - maybe there's hope that things could change for the better.

The end of DT isn't really utopian, things don't massively change for the better and indeed, the town has a lot of rebuilding to do. But, a collection of lonely people are now looking out for each other and through the relationships they have, now feel like they have a place in this world. That no matter how bad things really get - they aren't truly by themselves anymore. Most individuals don't have the means to significantly advance change on their own - but you can live your life, love those around you and support others and plan for when the opportunity to affect change comes about.

I guess that's what life is, in America or anywhere else. Sorry I rambled for so long. Hope this answered the question!

[the-raindeer-king]

If anyone so much gets a lil mean with teen!ghost I am throwing hands. So please continue

Someone mean to teen!Ghost.... so maybe I shouldn't drop this little blurb and run... (not part three, but enjoy this little blurb!)

You hadn't seen Simon all day, holed up in the med bay handling a rookie training course gone wrong. It's been a fucking nightmare, and you haven't even had time to think about Simon since you got to your station. All you can do is hope that one of 141 is keeping an eye on him.

That hope doesn't last long.

"WHO'S FUCKING SPOILED BRAT IS THIS?!"

The Lieutenant's voice cuts through the cacophony of the med bay like a clap of thunder. He's not even from your base, but visiting for a training course or something. You're not entirely sure, but what you do know is that over the last three days that he's been here, he's managed to solidify his reputation as an asshole.

You're halfway out of it, well used to working while spaced out, that you don't realize he's coming closer. Not until Simon crashes into your thankfully empty station, nearly knocking your setup over as he's roughly shoved into your station.

There's a cut on his forehead, right about his left eyebrow, and a bruise forming on his cheek.

"I didn't-

"Shut it!"

If you'd have turned around any faster, you might have broken the sound barrier. You whip around in your chair, shooting the Lieutenant a glare that a smarter man would've taken as a warning. The Lieutenant is not such a man.

"I caught this little miscreant snooping around Captain Price's office, and everyone said that he belongs to you," the Lieutenant sneers.

"I wasn't snooping!" Simon argues, his voice and body shaking with frustration. His hands clench into fists, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, the same way Ghost's does when he bites his tongue.

"I told you to shut up!" the Lieutenant roars, slamming his hand down onto your desk.

It's the way Simon flinches, eyes squeezed shut and body tense, ready for a blow that you personally won't allow to happen. He shrinks back from the Lieutenant, eyes darting between his assailant and the door, looking more like a scared animal than anything else.

Enough is enough.

"Lieutenant-"

"This is a goddamn military base, not some fucking playground! Keep an eye on this little bastard, or so help me God! You're lucky he didn't find anything important," the Lieutenant snaps at you, face red in his anger.

"Lieutenant," you begin again, doing your best to keep calm. Getting angry isn't going to help the situation, even if you'd rather knock the Lieutenant teeth out. "I'll be sure to let Captain Price know-"

"Good."

"-that you yelled at his nephew, as well as threatened and assaulted him."

You've never seen a man go so pale so quickly. All the redness of the Lieutenant's cheeks turns a splotchy white, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at the panic in his eyes.

"You what?" he squeaks out.

"I said I'll let Price know that you yelled at, assaulted, and shoved his darling nephew here," you reply, nodding towards Simon, who honestly looks like he might pass out any second now. Not that the Lieutenant looks any better.

While the Lieutenant has a reputation of being an asshole, Price has one of his own, and it's for being viciously protective of what he considers his. You've witness firsthand the way he handles the 141, and you've heard rumors of him punching other captains for just joking about taking his boys from him.

"No, that's... that's not necessary. I didn't- I wasn't -"

"Or should I tell him that you were manhandling the poor boy around the base? Making a spectacle out of an assumption you made?" You pause, letting the situation sink in. "You make these kinds of assumptions in the field?"

"I- I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to him."

The Lieutenant turns to Simon, stuttering out a jumbled apologize. Simon glances towards you, clearly a little unsure what to do. But the power is in his court, and you give him a shrug in response. Whatever he chooses is his choice, and you'll respect it.

"Give me a twenty, and we won't tell," Simon says.

You have to fight back a laugh. It's wrong, but you don't discourage his behavior. It's so quintessential Ghost, and it makes you miss the man even more. Once the Lieutenant leaves, you motion Simon to come closer.

Simon shuffles closer, shoving the twenty into his pocket. "You can't have it," he huffs, and this time you don't hold back your laughter.

"Don't want it, sweetheart," you laugh in response, and it eases the ache when you catch him smile. You brush back the blonde hair on his forehead, giving yourself a better look at the cut on his eyebrow.

"That asshole," you grumble under your breath, turning away to get a band aid. As you turn back to him, your heart plummets to your stomach when Simon responds quietly, "It's not that bad. I've been through worse."

You stare at each other for a moment, the silence in the room deafening. Simon knows he shouldn't have said it too, based on the way his eyes widen. And you hate that you can't keep him safe, knowing he'll return back to the correct timeline eventually.

But while he's here, you'll do your best to make him feel loved.

[doctorho]

this one is for eveyone who needs some extra love around these times.

Viktor knows better than he'd like that life isn't always...pretty. Or simple, or easy, or fair. No matter how hard most of Piltover seemed to pretend that there was something magical in the midwinter turnpoint that made everyone suddenly forget the suffering and misery and the complexities of real-life situations, he knows that's not the case.

Which is why he doesn't ask stupid questions when you stay at the Academy over winter break. He doesn’t pry; he doesn’t need to. It's evident enough in the way you preoccupy yourself with work that it's something you'd rather not discuss. You're focusing harder than usual, and he's familiar enough with what that precarious, tight-knuckle grip on being okay.

And Viktor?

Well. Viktor's more than happy to be a distraction.

When he gets to the lab, mid-morning, you're already there. He's not exactly surprised; he'd anticipated this. Maybe even hoped for it. He'd worked with you for a while now and grown exponentially more attached to your company - not that he'd told you the extent of his affections. But he'd get to that. Hopefully.

He came prepared with two warm drinks and still-steaming pastries, and he silently starts unloading those to the common desk that had been designated as the makeshift kitchen of the room.

"Good morning," he says casually, "I brought breakfast." He thinks of adding if you want some, but upon reflection, doesn't. There's a fine line between respecting someone's free will and pushing them to make good choices, and he's currently erring hard to the side of I don't know if you've eaten anything yet today but you definitely should.

You only hum in response, not lifting your eyes off your current project.

In response to this, he hums back and tilts his head, studies the organized mess on your desk; circuit boards, either half-assembled or half-taken apart, he's not sure, stripped wires, a steaming soldering iron. Your hands, shaking a little.

He places the drink intended for you on your desk, just annoyingly out-of-reach, and waits for you to look up.

"When was the last time you ate something?" he asks, holding up the pastry now that he has your attention.

"Why does that matter?" you ask, reaching for the takeaway cup on the edge of your desk. Viktor leans the handle of his cane to block your reach, which makes you look up at him. Properly.

"Just trying to determine if I should make you take a lunch break while I'm bothering you, or if the pastry will suffice."

He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shift in your seat. He can hear your back crack in several places, and not in the pleasant type of way.

"Last night," you answer, leaning back with a sigh.

Viktor reaches over to turn off your soldering iron. "Lunchbreak it is, then. These can be dessert."

"I'm fine-" you start, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"I don't believe you," he says, completely casually, "I think you're pushing through low blood sugar to get this-" he gestures towards the desk, "finished, and I can tell you it's much easier to make mistakes when you aren't thinking clearly."

When you're quiet, he continues, picking up your coat and offering it to you. "You can trust me on this," he says, "I have more than enough experience."

You take a deep breath and sigh it out, feeling somewhat like a toddler.

"I promise you can go right back to poking at this later." He adds, and you slowly take the jacket from him.

"Good," he says, I know a place.

It's a careful dance, and he knows this; he doesn’t want to push you. But he's been there, and he doesn’t want you to suffer more than absolutely necessary. And he really does know a place.

He re-packs the drinks and the pastries, and you follow him to a nearby cafe-and-drink-cart that's serving small steaming dishes outside. They're serving small steaming cups of - stew? Soup? And warm bread filled with different things, and you hadn't really noticed it before, but now that you were looking at - and smelling - the food, you were starving.

By the time you've registered the selection, he's already ordered for the both of you, and then the guy at the cart is offering you a brown paper bag and Viktor is moving again, and you take a few hurried steps to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?"

You can see him smile before he answers.

"Well," he says, "I was thinking we could take advantage of the great hall being empty, and eat there." He turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised, "I can only imagine how displeased the Academy Staff would be if we risked dirtying their marble floors with common food."

"Oh, really, you can only imagine?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Are you insinuating I have experience with matters such as these?"

"Yes," you answer, opening the paper bag to study its contents while you walked.

He hums in answer. "I am shocked by your accusations." He says, then, clearly fighting a smile, "I would never get caught breaking such a boring rule."

You smile now, too. "Right," you answer, "only the interesting ones."

The way he glances at you and smiles is more than enough of a response.

He stops at one of the long tables at the grand hall, and as he shrugs off his jacket and sits down, you place down the paper bag and do the same. He starts unpacking the contents of the bag, focused, placing down steaming bowls with a spicy scent to them, paper-covered wraps of something, utensils, and smaller bowls of... something colorful. Spices? Toppings?

Viktor opens the containers one by one, making the contents of the single takeaway bag look like a pretty impressive feast.

And you study him as he moves. Careful, confident in his movements, calm. While your insides felt like they were trying to hide, and had felt like that for... a good while now, he was calm like any other day. A rock-solid presence in the otherwise empty room.

"Are you not going to ask me?" you ask, "why I'm working through the winter break."

Viktor's only imminent reaction is the gentle lift of a single eyebrow.

"No," he answers, casually, and it sounds simple when he says it like that.

He meets your eyes, and that feels simple, too; because he is here, too.

It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that. He unwraps a folded paper napkin with careful fingers, and then places a steaming-soft bread in front of you.

You look at him for a moment, and then take a bite of the bread. It is soft and warm and heavenly, and when you taste the stew-soup-something, it's like it warms you down to your soul. You eat in silence; but it feels like there's a gentle bubble of understanding surrounding you.

You hold the warm bowl, and slowly, your hands shake less and less. The tension around your head gives away a little, too.

"Do you like the snow?" Viktor asks, and you follow his gaze out the window.

"I probably shouldn't," he continues, "the cold isn't exactly gentle on me. But it is pretty, I can't deny that."

You hum in answer. "Yeah," you agree with a small sigh, "it is beautiful."

His eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head.

"Do you want to break another rule?" he asks, something michievous curling at the end of his words.

You tilt your head in response. "A more interesting one?"

"Infinitely," he responds with a smile, and you're already on your feet.

And that's how you end up breaking into the roof of the Academy with him. Or, it's probably not technically breaking, since he has the keys, but you definitely aren't supposed to be in there, so that's what it feels like.

It also feels... breathless. And not just because it feels illegal, but it's... it's beautiful, and he holds your hand in the dark stairway and doesn't let go when he guides you to the expanse of the roof, and there's snow floating down all around you-

and for a moment, it feels like you're the only two people in the world, surrounded by a gentle blanket of snow and silence.

Or... not-silence. There is a song softly floating through the air, like it's being reflected in the snowflakes all around you.

And Viktor is offering you a hand.

You furrow your brows as your head catches up with your heart. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"Would you say yes if I was?"

And that was the question, wasn't it;

would you?

Your head tries to butt in with should you, but... something still-soft and light in your heart comes in way too solid with a yes.

Yes, you would.

So you take his hand, and meet him halfway to an embrace. He pulls you close to his chest, and the dance is as gentle as the snowfall around you; just a soft sway from side to side, breathing in sync with the music.

And Viktor isn't sure if this is a good idea, but... you look like you're further away from that edge now, no-longer shaking, and... he hated seeing you in your head that deep, and if he could do anything to help you find your way back to yourself, he'd do that.

It feels a little selfish, this dance, but... it was difficult to justify that when you were in his arms, breathing calm and even.

"I really am fine," you tell him quietly, and he runs a hand up your back slowly. You swallow. "Or I will be, at least."

"I know," he breathes out, and he means it.

You close your eyes, and believe it.

[thezombieprostitute]

Second Chances

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

A/N2: A follow up to Everyone Leaves.

Warnings: Alcoholism, Angst. Please let me know if I missed any!

"Merry Christmas to me," you sarcastically grumble as your car fails to start up.

It's been the year from hell. You've been hounded by the loan sharks that call themselves banks, asking after your student loans. Your dad's health got so much worse, which is why you're stuck in the hospital parking lot. Oh, and your increasingly distant boyfriend refused to change his ways and you had to leave him.

Part of you had hoped he'd stop you. Apologize. Anything, really, to show he actually cared about you. But clearly that was asking too much of Curtis "always alone" Everett. Then again, considering he got fired soon after for showing up to work drunk, maybe it was for the best that you parted ways. You had enough on your plate without taking care of him as well.

You try the engine one more time and still get nothing. You want to take some time to just cry but the snow is piling up and you can't stay at the hospital. Sighing you call for a tow truck. You'll use the time between the call and the truck's arrival to let your tears out.

When the tow truck pulls up you quickly wipe away your tears. You're sure whoever is driving has seen plenty of people crying in frustration, if not outright raging, but you still don't want your own tears to be seen. You step out to greet the driver and you both stop in your tracks. It's Curtis.

Curtis looks at you, his face contorted into an expression of pain, sadness. He looks like he wants to say something but is scared to. You're sure you don't look any better. You both start and stop a few times before you shake your head and point to your car. "Engine won't start" is all you say but Curtis nods, and gets to work.

As he starts hooking up your car he points to the cab of his truck. "It's nice and warm in there. You go ahead and settle in, keep warm?" You nod with a little "thanks" and head into the passenger side of the truck.

Settling in, you didn't realize how cold you'd been. It seems like your shivers were both from crying and the cold. The truck is delightfully warm and you let yourself relax a little. You're genuinely happy Curtis seems to have landed on his feet. If anything, you're surprised he was so expressive with you. He was never the type to really show what he was feeling, just locking it up behind his stoic facade.

When he climbs into the driver's side you do your best to clam up. He was the one who pushed you away, he can put in the work to try to draw you back. If that's what he even wants. And if he doesn't, well, it's on him, not you.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place before or after taking the car to garage?" he asks. His voice is shakier than you've ever heard it.

"Probably after," you reply. "Make sure the garage has my details and contact info."

He nods. "Just gotta be careful. The snow's getting worse and I don't want you stranded there."

"I understand. But you know I like my records and receipts."

He nods and sets to driving.

The drive is quiet but the tension in the air is heavy. You want to say something, anything, but you hold firm. He drove the wedge between you, he can be the one to remove it.

When you get to the garage Curtis helps you out of the truck and introduces you to his new buddy, Edgar, before going to the back room.

You and Edgar get to talking, he's a nice kid. Lots of energy and a warm smile. You wonder allowed how he and Curtis became friends.

"Oh, we met in AA," Edgar tells you. "I'm actually his sponsor."

"He's in AA? I knew he was drunk at work once, I didn't think that was worth signing up to Alcoholics Anonymous."

Edgar hesitates, "it's not my place to tell you the whole story, but he ended up in the hospital."

Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp. Sure, Curtis wasn't one to turn up a drink when you were together, but to go that far? "Well, I'm glad he's got you to help him out," you nod.

"Do you mind me asking how you know him?"

"We used to date."

Edgar's eyes widen at that. "You're the one who got away!"

You give him a pained expression as you hear Curtis growl from the doorway, "now's not the time, Edgar."

"Sure thing, old man," Edgar rolls his eyes, making you smile. "Let's go ahead and get your information so you can get home before the roads get too messed up to drive."

When you get the paperwork taken care of Curtis steps up, "can I drive you home? I'd...I'd feel better if...if you took my truck and not some dinky uber or lyft car."

Your heart clenches. You can see he's trying so you agree. Plus, he's not wrong about his truck being safer. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you get in before climbing into the driver's seat.

After a few minutes, Curtis breaks the tension. "I'm guessing your dad's not doing too well?"

"Nope," you shake your head. "The cold seems to just make things worse." Curtis nods.

The rest of your trip is spent in silence.

When Curtis pulls up to your building you're ready jump out of the truck to escape the tension. But when you go to unbuckle he says, "can we talk?"

"Yes." That's all you'll give him, if only to protect yourself.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I'm sorry for everything. For how I treated you. I...I thought I was protecting myself by keeping distant. But when you left I...it hurt so much more than I ever could've expected."

You look at him and see tears forming in his eyes.

"I... I genuinely thought it was just how things work," he continues. "But you left, when I drove you away, I couldn't...I just ended up drinking until I blacked out. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. No job. No friends." He lets out a sob. "I knew, laying there in that bed, that if I hadn't...if I'd treated you better, I wouldn't be so alone and miserable."

Tears are now streaming from your own eyes.

"I've been getting help since then. Been trying to change for the better." He turns to face you, "I've hurt you and I'll never ask you to take me back. But is there any chance, any at all, that you'd let me back into your life? Even just as a friend?"

You sit for a few minutes, but you don't leave and Curtis starts to hope.

When you finally speak you tell him, "the best apology is changed behavior. And you have definitely changed. For the better."

Curtis's breath hitches.

You continue, "you hurt me more than I think you know. But you've clearly been doing some introspection, getting some help, and that speaks volumes to your willingness to make amends. You've got a long road to redemption with me, but you've made some good strides."

Taking his hand in yours you look him in the eyes, "we can start again as friends."

Curtis's shoulders sag as he starts crying tears of relief. You can't help yourself and wrap him in a hug, letting your own tears fall freely. He's repeatedly whispering "thank you," and "I'll do better. I promise."

When you break the hug, he doesn't fight you but you know it's because he's being respectful rather than a sign of his disinterest. You open the passenger door and turn back to him with a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, Curtis."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

Also tagging @brandycranby as she was the one sent the original ask.

[sissylittlefeather]

Here's a 12 days of ficmas idea: Elvis Presley's version of Here Comes Santa Claus. Do what you do best with that!!

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 10: Here Comes Santa Claus

A/N: Phew, man, I'm just starting to feel like a person again after a week of sickness! I hope this is okay. Please enjoy this dirty little ficlet!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, stranger sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1.3k

The children are all in a tizzy. Someone has come dressed as Santa Claus to bring presents to them in the hospital. He seems a little young and a little skinny to be Santa, but he's dressed right, fake beard and all, so they don't question it too much. But you know exactly who he is.

Elvis Presley.

You work at St. Jude's in Memphis as a candy striper and have for the past four years. You're getting a little old at 19, but you love the kids and you're working on a nursing degree, so it's good experience. Usually nothing too exciting happens, but that all changes when he comes in with his big Santa sack filled with toys.

You’d seen him on TV a couple times before he went into the army with his guitar and his shaky legs and you'd be lying if you said it didn't send your heart (and other parts of you) into a frenzy every time. Now, he's back in Memphis and he looks better than ever. So when he shows up here all dressed in red, you almost lose it.

He passes out toys and candy to all the kids, lets them sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas, and it's so damn heartwarming you think you might just explode. Once all the goodies are passed out and the children are busy with new presents, he saunters over to you at the desk.

“And what about you, little girl, have you been naughty or nice this year?” He winks and you almost melt.

“Depends. Which one would you prefer?” No one has ever accused you of being shy or subtle and it serves you well in this moment. He blinks a little, surprised by your boldness, but it doesn't take him long to adjust and be very excited.

“I should like a nice girl, but I think I'm in the mood for somethin’ naughty.” He smiles and lowers his voice. “You got somewhere we could go to talk?”

You think for a minute about all the different rooms in the hospital: supply closets and patient rooms and offices. Then, it hits you. The place is full of on-call rooms for doctors who need to stay overnight to monitor patients. They have beds. And locks.

“Come with me.” He leaves his empty Santa bag at the desk and takes your hand, following along eagerly. You lead him to one of the on-call rooms and then step inside, locking the door behind you. He pulls off the fake beard and Santa hat and then turns back to you.

“Unless you want me to leave them on?” You laugh and shake your head.

“Maybe just the hat.” He grins and shoves it back on his head. This hospital visit is turning out to be much more fun than he expected.

“Your little uniform is cute. Like a nurse elf or somethin’.” He fiddles with the edge of your apron up by your shoulder. You can tell he's nervous now that he's got you alone.

“You gonna get shy on me?” He moves his hand up to the side of your face and shakes his head.

“Not a chance.” Next thing you know, he's kissing you, his hands roaming over your uniform with reckless abandon. His tongue explores your mouth and he grabs your hips, grinding his against yours. He keeps waiting for you to stop him, but you don't, not even when he runs his hands up your thighs to your panty line. His thumbs slip under the edges as he gets on his knees. “You're okay with this, right?”

You grab his face in both hands.

“Yes. I'm sayin’ please.” He smiles.

“Nice girl.” Then, he pulls your panties down your legs and puts his head up under your skirt. You fall back against the door as he finds your pussy with his tongue.

“Fuck.” You moan as he licks over and around your clit.

“Naughty girl.” He mumbles into you and the vibration of his voice has you seeing stars. You feel him tease your entrance with his fingertip before he slips a finger up inside you.

“Oh God…” He licks and sucks and finger-fucks you like his life depends on it and you feel the deep coil of your orgasm pull together in your stomach. Your walls flutter around his finger and he knows you're getting close.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for daddy.” He eats you like a man starved and you know you won't last much longer.

“Oh fuck… oh God… yes!” You moan loudly as the waves of your orgasm crest and break inside you. He tongues you through it, prolonging it for as long as possible. Finally, he emerges from under your skirt, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. His erect cock is painfully obvious in the thin red pants, so you push him backwards towards the bed. Before he sits, you pull the pants down and let them fall to his ankles. You're surprised he's not wearing underwear in what is undoubtedly a rented suit. You unbutton the coat and then push him onto the edge of the bed. His hands are under your skirt again, holding your hips as you straddle him. You use your hand to drag the head of his cock through your folds and get it wet enough.

“You ready?” He looks up at you to see if you're going to stop him, but instead you just nod and start to sink onto him. His hands guide your hips as you fully envelop him and he groans. “Goddamn, naughty girl. That's a sweet little pussy.”

“You like it?” You start to roll your hips against him, pushing him deeper with each thrust.

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He holds your asscheeks with both hands as you roll against him, already feeling the pressure of his climax gather in his balls. He lifts your hips and starts to drop you onto him with more force. You whimper with each crash of your hips into his. After a few more minutes, he lays back on the bed and pulls you over on top of his chest, slamming into you from underneath. “Mmmm, daddy’s gonna cum, honey.”

You don't even have time to respond before he pulls you off of him and cums hard, shooting his load into the folds of your uniform skirt. He leans against your shoulder and groans as he finishes and you giggle.

“Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.” He smiles and sits up, holding the side of your neck.

“Merry Christmas, naughty girl. That was nice.”

You lean in and kiss him softly as there's a sharp knock on the door.

“My boy, surely I don't need to remind you that the suit is rented. We need to leave.” He groans and whispers.

“That's my cue. How do I find you again?” You climb off of him and locate your panties as he pulls up his pants and buttons the coat. There's a small desk in the corner of the room with a cup full of pens. You grab one and write your number on the inside of his arm. He smiles and kisses your forehead. As he goes to leave the room he turns back to you. “What's your name, naughty girl?”

You giggle and tell him your name. He walks back to you and wraps you in a deep kiss.

“This was really fun. I'll call you.”

And then he disappears through the door, back to his life of obligation and public appearances. You don't expect to ever hear from him again. But he calls you that night and the rest, they say, is history.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! 😆

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.

[marciaillust]

hey, i hope you're doing great! i feel this may be unorthodox, but i really wanted to reach out to extend my engagement?— awe?— solidarity?— (some variant of those, anyways) with your most recent "workposting" art. i don't normally do this. I've maybe sent 3 asks in my whole life. there's no pressure to respond to this, as i mostly just wanted to cheer you on. also, I'm really sorry this is so long.

i only just recently landed my very first freelance art job, at a start-up company dedicated to making comics + DND inspired art content. I've always felt that "Its nothing to call home about", and so i really resonated with your feelings regarding your work for Brawl Stars. I felt kind of ashamed of my job, that its just a small start up— that I'm not enough and that i should be trying harder, or something like that. Specifically i resonated with your comment of "presenting brawl stars art feels like showing my anime girl oc to an art teacher" and i don't think i could have solidified any better.

Anyways. all's to say. I really found your work quite jaw-dropping. I was shocked when i read it was for Brawl Stars. I didn't know anything about it, but when i did some research i was even more amazed. they're really, really compositionally beautiful... i mean, i know its just "work" to you ultimately, but it really does feel lively, and everything about it makes it feel like you care. I think sometimes you're just able to tell when an artist genuinely cares about their work; about its end outcome. there's so many intricacies. and a lot of attention to detail. you kept the style that was necessary of you but i also can feel the warmth and the care of the artist behind it— its not corporate, or stale, it doesn't come across as "just work".

since you mentioned League, i genuinely do think it serves an equal purpose and weight to what League of Legends would produce. from a biased standpoint, i would actually value your work more. Its not even that its "more obtainable"/"more realistic" but that there's genuinely more feeling to it. Compositionally/artistically, yeah, League makes great stuff, but occasionally, the feeling or the sense of warmth and care from the creator of the art is lost along the way. I value seeing the artist within their own art a lot, which is why I've admitted to a degree of bias. either way. what you put out there is really gorgeous, and crazy impressive.

I know a stranger with a dumb, fandom-oriented art blog cant solve the self-indited art elitism (you and me both, man💀) and that you've already received plenty of love/reblogs saying similar things, but i wanted to extend my feelings anyways. Its really heart-warming, i guess. It brings me hopefulness, and deep adoration for the craft. I'm not very good with words. Anyways. don't undersell yourself. seeing your work meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm obviously nowhere near your skill level, but it meant more to me as an aspiration. i think that regardless of who you work for, your work is really valuable and downright incredible. because you bring that sense of warmth, care, time, and patience regardless of the media it portrays. and you're able to do that while being objectively talented— utilizing great compositions, colour pallets, shading, characterization, mood, etc. That is more valuable. That is much much cooler than working for Riot. imo.

Initially, i also wanted to ask you some questions about how you assembled your portfolio, if you went to school, (if so) what it did/didn't provide for you going into the art field, and just how you landed the job in general. But i respect you and your time, and wouldnt want to be a burden or anything. If you ever have time for it, i would love to ask them, among others, and we can chat in DM if you'd prefer. Absolutely no pressure. Im happy just watching from the sidelines. I dont anticipate anything from you to begin with! I just hope youll know how influential your post was to read & see, to someone like me!

Oh man. I. How. Where do I even start except

This is one of the most uplifting, touching and encouraging messages I received in my life. I read it thrice. And I still can't believe how full of love it is. This is such high praise, I want you to know I will cherish it and carry it with me for a long long time. It's not often that an artist gets to learn how their art is perceived, not to mention in such a positive light. It really means a lot to me.

It makes me so happy to hear that my work illustrations retain a piece of me that is visible to others. I myself can't see it, but I imagine my closeness to the matter at hand heavily impacts my ability to see objectively at all. There was a time where I was worried that work was overriding the me that makes my art mine, that I was becoming a corporate rendering machine and that what I did at work (the shape language and style) was bleeding into my personal art. There is a part of me that is now breathing easier after reading your message. I would love to answer any questions you have, it's the least I can do to repay you! Feel free to send an ask or even an email, I'll try to be as thorough as I can be with my answers. I wish you happy holidays! Take care! And again thank you so much for taking the time to write this message!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Over-the-top 2022 modern mansion in Fort Lauderdale, Fl has 6bds, 11ba, 11,812 sq ft, and comes completely furnished for $47.9m.

it looks like the lobby of an office building with the elevator on the left. This floor is so huge, there's no way that you could Swiffer it. You'd need a Zamboni or something.

Since it comes fully furnished, this display cycle under the stairs must come with it.

Look at the lighting in the ceiling. This area is so huge, you could have a lot of company at one time, but they would be spread out all over the place.

Lots of marble and glass.

Look at the big bottle of wine on the lawn. That's different.

Speaking of lawn, what is it doing on the ceiling?

Look at how long the fireplace is. More lawn on the end table. I don't like that, it looks cheap.

The piano looks small in this huge space.

A kitchen that doesn't really look like a kitchen. All those bulbs above the counter.

Dining table next to the kitchen.

A full sized wet bar is a must in a home like this.

So, you get this modern pool table with it.

Not sure I like the wood ceiling, although it's better than the Astroturf.

Now, this is the primary bedroom. Look at the black and gold upholstered feature wall.

Not really liking those 3 things In the wall.

Gigantic ensuite.

Here's another bedroom. This one's nice.

I even like the ensuite better.

Sauna with a starry ceiling.

Separate hot tub- there's also another one in the pool.

Look at the wall of water.

That's not a helipad, it's for drones. The lot is only .37 acre, so you're not paying for the land. Maybe you're paying for the water.

I wonder if this boat is considered part of the furnishings.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/733-Middle-River-Dr-Fort-Lauderdale-FL-33304/43191080_zpid/

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The appearance of a stranger in Jackson has your world turning upside down as Joel tries to keep you grounded.

Warnings: Violence, torture with a knife, guns, SA, mentions of gang rape (Neither are depicted in detail) Language, death.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Alright, strap in folks, here we go.

May 2024

It happens in the blink of an eye, Ellie's voice yells his name, and all of a sudden you're no longer standing. Instead, you've straddled the newcomer and well for lack of a better word, attacked him.

"Woah, wait!"

Joel hands his gun off to someone he can't quite remember the name of before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you off the man you've dubbed Adam.

You're kicking and screaming, cursing out both him and the stranger and Joel looks back at the man. Angry red streaks from your nails run down his face, close to his eyes, and in the dim light, Joel can see the finest streaks of blood.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

Your loud voice bounces off the surrounding buildings as he holds you back. Joel tells you to calm down but it doesn't do much good as you thrash. His eyes fall to Adam again and Joel can't help but wonder, who was this man?

"Take 'em to the stables." Joel nods to Louis who forces the man to his feet and motions for another man to carry the woman, "In an empty stall, tie 'em up."

As soon as Adam fades from view, Joel releases you. You deliver a hard shove to his chest and he stumbles back a step.

"You mind tellin' me what the hell is going on?" Joel huffs, his arms burning from holding you back.

"No." You seethe, your eyes remain fixed on the stable doors.

The next day, early morning...

Ellie watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. Joel had put you to bed last night on their couch. Ellie wasn't sure what was wrong with you. Just a day ago you'd been composed, laughing with her about Gladiator and now you were pulling apart at the seams.

She could tell you knew that man, Adam. Whoever he was, you clearly hated him. Ellie hadn't been able to get a good look but she was pretty sure you'd done a good number on his face.

"She up?" Joel asks quietly as he descends the stairs.

"No," Ellie sighs, "She looks exhausted though."

Joel nods as he peers over the back of the couch to get a better look.

"Why don't you get a move on. School's starting in," He glances at the clock, "Twenty minutes."

"It's a five-minute walk." Ellie points out, not eager to leave so soon.

"Just get going. Maybe that Dina girl will be early like you. Y'can talk to her while you wait." Joel says

Ellie groans but stands up anyway, hoping Joel can't see the way her face has gotten a bit red at the mention of Dina. How embarrassing he was!

The door slams shut five minutes later and Joel glances at the couch again.

"You can stop fakin'. She's gone."

You shift a bit under the blankets, you remind Joel of a big burrito. Last night, he'd tucked you under what had to have been at least 7 blankets. Your eyes had been glassy with fear and he'd sat by your side until you dozed off.

Joel sits down on the couch cushion your feet are closest to, he pats your calf through the blankets, "Gonna tell me what's wrong now?"

Another shift of the blankets and Joel hears a small sniffle before you sit up. Your hair is a mess as you push it from your eyes and look over at him. Your usually bright eyes are dull, stained red with tears while your nose is irritated from wiping it too many times as you sniffle again.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Joel softly asks again

He hadn't expected to see tears. You were worrying him, first your erratic behavior last night and now you were crying the world's biggest stain into his couch.

It's quiet for a moment, so quiet Joel can hear the birds singing outside. Another moment passes before you look over at him, anger brimming in your eyes.

"We have to kill him."

Approximately 9 hours ago...

Joel watches as Ellie and Brett take you back to his house. He sighs and runs a hand down your weary face. You're in good hands, Brett, even if he's an idiot, won't hurt you. As for Ellie, well, at this point Joel would probably let her shave his whole head if it was necessary. He trusted her to take care of you until he could get back.

The stables reek. Even though they had just been mucked out before dinner, they still stunk. Shimmer lets out a snort as Joel passes.

Louis and another man, his name might be Matt stand at the doors to the last stall, their guns pointed at the strangers.

"Alright, let's try this again," Joel says looking down at the man, "Names."

"Adam." The redhead spits out, refusing to look up at Joel

So you were right. Just who was this Adam and what had he done.

"And her?" Joel nods to the woman, still unconscious.

"Lana."

"Why is Lana unconscious, Adam? One of the scouts said she was already out when they'd picked you up down by the dam." Joel says, remembering what Brett had said before walking off with you tucked into his side

"I don't fucking know. Can we please just get some food and water?" Adam scoffs

Joel shakes his head, what an ego this one had.

"You're not calling the shots here. I want answers. Then we'll think about getting you food."

The man lets out a small whimper. How pathetic.

"She passed out maybe an hour before your crew found us. I don't know what's wrong with her." Adam says looking down at the woman

Joel looks at Lana. She's deathly pale and looks more bone than flesh even in Louis' dim flashlight.

"Matt, I want you to take her to the clinic. Have the doc take a look at her but keep her tied to the bed."

Matt nods and gathers her up in his arms with ease before slowly walking off.

"Matt!" Joel calls to the younger man, "Keep her away from Maria."

"Will do, Joel."

Joel turns back to Adam whose hands are still bound to a post behind him.

"Now, where are you comin' from, Adam?"

June 2017, two weeks before the escape...

A warm washcloth roams your back. Weeks of dirt, blood, and grime stain the once-clean water. You focus on your fingernails, they're cracked and the cuticles are dry.

"Need to keep these clean."

A big hand traces the edge of a fresh wound and you shiver at the pain it causes.

"I know."

Your voice is barely a whisper as you try not to cry. This happened often, swallowing your tears. He hated it so much, the tears and the snot that came with them.

Adam liked smiles and pleases and thank you's, so that's what you did. You nodded and smiled when he asked you things, you asked him questions and tried to memorize things about him. Adam liked the color red, he didn't like flannels or the winter. He preferred deer over rabbit, he hated the taste of dog but didn't mind duck.

The house they'd holed up in wasn't big. A small ranch but it was good enough to wait out the horrible storm that had lasted through the night. Tomorrow they'd drag you back out on the road and leave you tied to a tree for the night. This home was a luxury you hadn't felt in a long time.

Adam had boiled water for you to bathe. In any other circumstance, it would've been considered thoughtful, romantic even. But it just made your skin crawl, the way his eyes roamed your body as you sat there, knees tucked to your chest while he cleaned you.

"Louder. I don't like mumbling." Adam says

"Sorry." You say, louder this time.

He nods and pushes your knees into the water. The rag runs across your chest as he gropes you a smirk lining his features when you shiver.

"You fucking slut."

Your head snaps to look at him. What had you done wrong now? You thought he liked it when you were responsive to his touches, grant it you'd been shivering in fear but he didn't need to know that.

"Three of us fucked you an hour ago and you're still lusting for more." He laughs

"N-No I-"

"No?" He scoffs, his face dropping the smile that'd been on his face just a second ago

You raise your hands up, bracing them against his forearms, "I didn't mean it like that I-"

His arms, which are so much stronger than yours after weeks of being tied, slam into you. Your feet kick in the water as he slams you down, your head hitting the floor of the tub. Dirty water fills your lungs as you grapple against the hand that has wrapped itself around your neck.

A muffled voice reaches your ears as your broken nails dig into rough flesh. Your gasp fills the air as he heaves you back up, your hair dripping water into your eyes.

"You don't get to say no to me."

Back to the Present...

Joel feels hot rage burn through him. He doesn't know if he's ever been this angry. You're scurrying after him, yelling his name as you pull a normal shirt on, Ellie had changed you into pajamas last night.

The door to the stables slams open, and horses snort and whinny in protest to his sudden entrance. Joel stalks toward the last stall where the guard, Kent has fallen asleep, his gun discarded on the floor.

Adam is in a daze of sleep when Joel cuts him from the post and hauls him to his feet.

"Wha-"

He doesn't get a word out before Joel's fist slams into his jaw. Adam howls in pain and falls to the ground. Joel feels his hand throb in protest as he gets another hit. Joel wants him to really feel it, he wants him to feel every ounce of pain he ever caused you and then some more. One more punch to his face lands when Adam tries to stand back up, this time it's for your cat and what this smug fucker helped to do to it.

"Wait! Stop!"

Adam is sputtering on the ground, his tied-up hands lifted to cradle his jaw.

Joel looms over the man, "Bet that's what she said to you when you hurt her, you fucking bastard."

"Who are you talking about, man? Lana? I never hurt her!"

Blood as red as his hair is streaming from Adam's nose as Joel sneers at him, "I think you know who I'm talking about."

Your name forms on Adam's lips, Joel can see the way his mouth quivers a bit as he gets the first letter out. Joel cuts him off with a kick to the face, he's not fit to say your name ever again.

Joel looks at Kent who is still out cold. A knife is tucked into his boot and Joel scoops it up.

He's going to make this hurt.

"Joel!"

You rip the stable doors open to see what looks like a horror scene. Joel stands over Adam while blood pours from the latters face like a faucet.

You rush over to Joel, keeping your eyes on Adam who just stares at you though a rapidly forming black eye. Joel looks down at you as you approach him. His free hand gently cups your cheek and his thumb runs across the skin.

"Go home, sweetheart, I'll take care of him."

You shake your head, you want to be here for it, for his ending.

"I want to watch."

A pained whimper leaves Adam's lips, "You fucking bitch."

A thump sounds and Adam's form crumples to the floor. Joel has kicked him unconscious. He glances behind himself at the sleeping guard you're pretty sure is Kent.

"Can't do it here. He'll scream too much."

Sneaking out of Jackson is easy. You and Joel ride right out of the gates, Adam's body wrapped in a large tarp, slung across Joel's horse. The guards on the wall are barely awake, not interested in you and Joel as you leave.

Joel leads you what must be at least five miles out from Jackson. The trees are denser here and when you reach a small clearing, Joel stops.

You tie your horses off as Joel pushes Adam's tarp-covered body to the ground and drags him a few hundred feet to your right. Your shaky hands run through Turnip's mane. She snorts at you as you offer her an apple. Pepper nudges you from the left, she wants a snack as well.

You watch as Joel unveils the man who has tormented you for years. You shiver as you think of your time with him. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like ages. Even in your dreams, you had been haunted by him.

"He's not dead right?" You breathe, Adam looks so still and Joel had kicked him so hard

"He's not," Joel says, reaching for his canteen.

Cold water trickles out of the spout and onto Adam's bruised face. He gasps and puts a hand up, commanding Joel to stop. Joel puts the lid back on his canteen, muttering something about not wanting to waste water.

Adam's eyes fall on Joel before they look at you. His eyes roam your figure for the first time in years and you want to jump behind Joel.

"How the fuck are you alive?" Adam asks, standing up, his hands tied in front of him. Clearly, he doesn't like the idea of you being taller than him.

You scoff, of course, that's his first question.

"I'm not as helpless as you think I am." You say

He scoffs in a way that makes you think he doesn't believe you.

Adam shakes his head, "If you're not helpless then you'll do it. I heard what you said at the stables. You want to watch. You want to watch him kill me. If you're so fucking independent then you'll do it yourself."

He's baiting you. Even now in his starved state he still had a good fifteen pounds on you. All he'd need to do is knock you down and wrap those hands around your throat.

"No." You look at him, "I don't ever want to touch you again."

Adam snorts out a laugh, fresh blood oozes from his nose as he does. Joel shoots you a look, he's ready when you are.

"You coward. You always were afraid of me." Adam takes a step towards you and Joel pushes him back,

"Don't fucking move." Joel's deep voice fills the clearing.

"I'm a part of you. I always will be." Adam looks back at you, his feet still, his eyes meet yours as a coy smile remains on his face.

"No, you're not." You clench your jaw, and Joel stares at you, waiting for the sign to start.

"We're one now, you and I..." Adam nods to Joel, "You can run off, spread your legs like a whore for this one here-"

Whatever was going to come out next never does, Joel moves faster than you've ever seen him move and slams the knife he was holding into Adam's leg.

A howl of pain leaves Adam's mouth as he tumbles to the ground, surrounded by pine needles and patches of clovers.

"Not another fucking word." Joel's gruff voice says

You stumble backward and sit down on a rock where Joel's saddle bag sits. Joel twists the knife free and blood pours out. Adams's screams begin to blend together as Joel runs the knife along his sensitive flesh. Long cuts begin to appear on his once smooth skin, they bear a remarkable resemblance to the ones that hide under your clothes.

How poetic this all is.

Joel reminds you of an artist as he works. Blood stains the once-perfect forest floor as Adam begins to beg.

"Please, Please, let me go! I'll never come back! Please!"

Joel grunts and shakes his head, "I'm not calling the shots here. Have to ask her."

You look over at Joel who holds the knife still.

"Go on, ask her." Joel's voice is strong yet quiet at the same time, "Ask her if you can live."

Adam turns to you and for a second you think he might be too proud to do it, that his ego will prevent him from pleading. A moment later, you're proven wrong,

"Please...." He gasps as his hand puts pressure on his leg, "Let me live, you'll never see me again!"

Your jaw tightens as your hands begin to shake.

"I-I'm sorry. F-For everything."

Joel lets out a scoff, "For everything? Actin' like you came into her home and broke a lamp."

Another shallow cut appears on Adam's skin, this time on his cheek.

Adam begins to sob and the stench of urine hits your nose, a wet patch has begun to form on his pants.

"I'm sorry!" He cries wet tears mixing with the blood on his face, "I raped you, and I-I'm sorry! Please, let me go!"

You swallow your spit, has your mouth always been this dry. You're a bit dizzy as you stand up.

"Say the word, sweetheart," Joel says, the knife at Adam's throat.

Your gun, the one you never leave Jackson without is tucked into the back of your pants. It's a simple thing really, a Colt Python that you had found two years ago stashed under the floorboards of an abandoned home.

Now, the gun is in your hands as you try to get them to stop shaking. Joel has stepped off to the side, his knife still in his hands.

"Please..." Adam begs again looking up at you from the ground in a puddle of his own urine and blood.

You shake your head, he's not leaving this clearing ever again. You cock your gun and Adam begins to sob in earnest.

"No!"

A crow caws loudly into the air. Somehow its eerie song gives you strength as your hands finally go still. You stare at him from the other end of the gun, and your lips move as a memory of a bathtub somewhere comes to mind.

"You don't get to say no to me."

The shot that rings out is deafening.

Next Part

Now, *cracks knuckles* we can focus in on the romance.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you from me. My gift? Adam's death. Let's throw a party and dance on his grave.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

[sabreensthings]

Neve x Rook

summary: a pessimist falls for an optimist

Neve Gallus was a cynic at heart.

She didn't take most things at face value, always looked for the smallest details in every interaction, every piece of information she could get her polished hands on. Look close enough and you'd always find an answer hidden between the lines - the honeyed words of a patron, the subtle mannerisms of restless fingers, or the smudged ink scattered across letters of intrigue. Motives were always concealed, but she knew how to unsheathe them in the end, how to use her skepticism to unfurl lies and deception.

Neve also knew the world was never fair on a good day and outright cruel on a bad one. So she learned never to ask for anything. She lived her life like she was on borrowed time, waiting for the day a job would turn sideways, for the day that the tables would turn. Expect the worst and you can never be disappointed in the end.

The pessimism was consistent; it was the foundation that kept her stable, kept her anchored.

Rook, on the other hand, was an optimist.

He liked to see the good in people, placed his trust in those who perhaps didn't deserve it, and always embraced the hardships of life as possibilities for growth. Some called him naive, Neve included, but he didn't care. Rook was the very essence of the sun. He was bright, warm, inviting. He sought out connections, made others thrive in the rays of his positivity, and his very presence was radiant.

Rook also wore his heart on his sleeve, determined to find the silver linings of life and carried on unwavering. Despite having the Blight inside him, he never allowed those shadows to take root. He didn't let anything dull his light, didn't let anything keep him from aiming for a brighter tomorrow.

Neve really shouldn't have gotten so close, but honestly, who could blame her? Rook was too charming for his own good.

He had snuck his way under her defenses, disarmed her, the warmth of his spirit lingering in the crevices of her heart. Soft and steady, like the sunlight that bathed Dock Town's morning sky. Honestly, it was maddening at first. His silent confidence, his relentless optimism. She both envied and resented it. Those sort of thoughts were trouble and she had no business getting mixed up in it - not with the profession she's in. But he was genuine, kind, the quiet promise of hope radiating from him as if Rook himself was a beacon that drew Neve in. She had allowed herself to follow that light. Allowed herself to believe, for just a moment.

And then the eve of the Eclipse arrived. Her hopes and beliefs shattered. Rook had tried speaking with her that night, speaking of an "after", but Neve stopped him. She couldn't think of an after because that meant the possibility of losing him.

"People say a lot of things. They don't always see it through." Neve had told him.

"I'll always try." Rook replied.

He scared her. She knew in her heart he was trouble but his optimism must have rubbed off on her because she had let herself believe. Let herself ask for something - ask for his safe return. When they arrived in the blighted state of Minrathous, Neve pleaded for him to find a way out, and he told her he would, and she believed him. When the lyrium blade embedded itself into Ghilan'nain's heart, and when Rook went forward to retrieve it, she truly believed him. Maybe there really would be an after.

But then Rook disappeared. And her foundation crumbled.

Neve Gallus was a cynic at heart. She should have known better than to let trouble in.

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 7

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 3,724 of 19,250

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AO3 Link

The festivities start before the sun sets. I watch as it sinks below the horizon, a fat red apple amongst the crooked charred tops of green houses and shops. Its dying light falls gently on the shoulders of ladies and gentlemen as they arrive, like a glowing kiss of welcome as strokes of real gold, gold that could be minted, bathe their cheeks and laughter-filled smiles. They arrive in pairs, by themselves, in whole parties that tumble out of stuffed carriages. I watch from the window of my room, having already been done up for an hour at that point. I have dragged the vanity stool over to the window so that I can watch better. Anything to pass the time as I wait for the inevitable final guest of the party: myself.

I have no desire or intent to go down to the feast because I knew that he would be there: the Wizard. Every stroke of the makeup brushes this afternoon felt like porcupine bristles being dragged across the skin of my cheeks, eyelids, and lips. The lips had stung the worst, right in the spot where he had touched his thumb. It was embarrassing really, the way I fell for it all. Emily didn't know anything about what had happened in the throne room, but her words from weeks ago echoed in my head as she wound locks of my hair around the hot iron. You're not the first dummy to try and sleep her way to head maid. The fact that I wasn't the first one was what was eating at me. Was this the kind of treatment that they got? How many had there been before me?

I shake my head at that. No, not before me. I am not a part of any line of women who would sleep with the Wizard, and I do not want to be any part of that line. I'm sure he has needs that are natural to his human body, just the same as he needs to bathe or dress or sleep, but I refuse to think of him like that. It feels disrespectful to even think that he could be so carnally biased that sleeping with him would earn you a higher rank and station, rather than merit.

The thought of him brushing my lips stings me again and I wince, getting up from the window and throwing myself on the bed. There is something about watching the guests arrive that is causing my mind to lose itself, fixating on... I grit my teeth as I push my face into the pillow, not even trying to protect the curls Emily had set or the makeup that had been painted. The cotton pillow is soft against my made-up face and when I try to breathe in, my lungs are confused by the lack of oxygen. Good. If I knock myself out maybe I'll get out of the whole thing altogether.

There is a knock at the door and I dig my claws into the comforter. It's only been a few minutes since Emily left the room and already someone is coming to bother me. I breathe in the pillow quicker, hoping to speed up the process. There's the sound of the door opening and then an unexpected voice.

"You planning to fall through the floor to get to the party?" Bruno says. He bats at my shoe. "C'mon. He wants you downstairs."

What? So he can embarrass me? It was one thing when we were in the darkness of the control room, or even teasing remarks in front of Humak, but to do it in front of hundreds of strangers? "I'm not going," I muffle into the pillow.

"I don't know what you said, but you'd better get up before I make you," he says.

I turn my head just enough and find myself involuntarily sucking in clean air. "I said 'I'm not going', okay? You can't make me."

"For Oz's sake," he says, and then he yanks me by the ankle as I squeak in protest. "This is the hill you're going to die on? A stupid party is worth your sister's life?" He yanks me once more and I tumble to the floor, the wind going out of me in a yelp.

"No! I'll run away!" I say, scrambling to my feet. I say this, despite never having thought about it before or knowing how I would survive outside of the Emerald City with no money and a second mouth to feed. I don’t even know how I would get out of the palace without a guard stopping me.

"You look fine," he says. "Now, let's go."

"No," I say.

"What the hell is wrong with you?” he says “You see a ghost or something? There's food downstairs and drinks and dancing.” Dancing. The thought of the Wizard's hands on me again, the knowledge that I'd fall for it again like an idiot... The Wizard had magic in more ways than one.

"I don't want to dance," I say, "...with strangers, that is. Have you seen the Arjiki guards? They're frightening." They aren't, but it's better than confessing my relational problems to no-nonsense Bruno. What would he know of... whatever the Wizard and I were?

"Well, then you can dance with me then," he says.

I blink, having never considered the possibility before. The party would be better than hiding in my room upstairs because I would have an excuse to not see the Wizard. How could he dance with me if I filled my entire dance card with other people? Up here I ran the risk of him slipping away from the party to come torment me in private. "You mean it?" I ask. Bruno simply offers his arm, and I take it.

We take our time walking down to the Grand Ballroom. I ask Bruno how Leo is doing. Apparently, he got in trouble at school the other day for beating a kid up on the playground. I ask him if the kid deserved it and he laughs, asking me about Fileah instead. There's nothing new to report back besides telling him I'm trying to be on my best behavior so I can see her again. We don't talk about the riot. I hope Fileah has stopped talking about it by herself as I hadn't had the chance to tell her to. The Wizard has been keeping me busy with etiquette assignments and other stupid tasks that seem to take up the whole day past when visiting hours are over. As we enter the Grand Ballroom, I can feel the puzzle piece of the confusing social training click into place and realize that he had this party planned for a while and was truly planning to surprise me.

Tulle and taffeta skim across the floor in coiling circles as partners guide them along, sometimes breaking off and weaving in and out of the ladies and gentlemen, all the while laughing. Toward the front of the room parallel to the wall, and on the dais there are tables laden with food. As we draw closer I can see suckling pigs that have been roasted until bronzed, the skin pulled so tight that you could taste the way it would crackle in your mouth without ever sinking your teeth into it. There are turkeys that have been herbed and stuffed and are twice the size of the biggest one I've ever seen. In between the meats are bowls so big that you would have to carry them with both arms filled with buttered turnips, roasted brussel sprouts, sugared beets, whipped and airy potatoes, and several others that I ignore once I see the towers of desserts. The guests who are not dizzying themselves with merriment have taken seats along these tables, filling their plates with any and all of the offerings.

The table on the dais is packed. Fiyero, Humak, and some of their guards that I had seen earlier are seated on the left, a few strangers are seated on the right, and in dead-center there’s him. The Wizard's lips are pressed together in a hard line, goblet draped lazily in hand, and an empty seat beside him. His eyes are scanning the room, and I know he is looking for me.

"This was a mistake," I say, pressing against Bruno to try and get past him.

"I'll be here and ready to dance with you when it's time," he says reassuringly. He takes my wrist which now has a dance card attached to it. Someone must have slipped it on me while I was salivating over the food. Quickly, he pencils his name into two or three slots – I'm not sure how many as I'm watching the Wizard stare at me, not once breaking the gaze – and then he guides me up to the dais. "I'll come get you when it's time."

I climb the stairs on the right side of the dais, trying to find a seat that hasn't been taken already. Unfortunately, all of the seats at the table are labeled with place cards, little bits of cream cardstock that have been etched in curling script with names and titles. I try to keep my eyes on the whirling bodies of the dance floor and away from the Wizard's tiger-like gaze. The dancers seem to have moved onto a reel, two great ovals smashed together as couples take turns dancing down the aisle of refined and all-green and gold clothing. I watch intently, even as I take my seat next to him, even as I can smell the spiced cloud of his cologne, even as I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face to make it so hot that I wonder if I have a fever and might be excused from the party to undisturbed bed rest.

We sit like this for an eternity, letting the full orchestra swallow up our unsaid words, until a familiar voice asks, "Are you a big dancer?" It's Fiyero, goblet in hand, and much more fashionably dressed than the last time I saw him, a satin blue military jacket perfectly accompanying his blinding smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

I have to ask him to repeat himself, feigning that the orchestra is too loud to hear him. He does, and I swear I could go down to the Unionist chapel right now and thank the Unnamed God for getting me away from the man sitting next to me. "Oh yes!" I say. "I love dancing. I don't get to do it much, so I'm really trying to take it all in."

Prince Fiyero laughs at that. "Wouldn't it be better to take it in on the dance floor?" He offers me a hand, and I don't have to think twice before taking it.

I don't have to imagine that Fiyero is a heartbreaker back in Winkie Country. I can feel my own butterflies flap their wings in curiosity at how graceful and perfectly gentlemanlike he is: the way his hand warmly guides me by the waist, the way he laughs at anything that I say and always has the perfect banter ready to shoot back. Even his eyes, his hair, and his teeth are perfectly perfect, and yet I am still not completely sold. Stopping me from falling for him fully is almost equally the shock that a prince has asked me to dance with him when I had been sharing a bed for warmth and stealing ribbons weeks ago, and the fact that I can still feel the Wizard's eyes on me.

I look to the dais, and even though we are a good hundred feet away, I can see the anger seeping from him, how Humak who was sitting to his right looks at him nervously as if the man in the satin green tuxedo were going to explode and kill him in the process. Good, I think. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. It wouldn't hurt him to see me dancing with the enemy. It's just a little harmless fun so maybe he'd stop trying to mess with my head and toy with me.

I'm not familiar with the dance that plays next, but Fiyero is such an excellent partner that everyone who looks at us would think I had known it my whole life. He jokes with me about how the party hadn't really started until I showed up and I almost believe him. By the end of it, I have a stitch in my side from all of the dancing and the laughing. I feel as if I could down an entire bottle of fizzy wine the way I'm out of breath and giddy to go again. I don't need the wine as I feel a strange warmth spreading within me. Looking at Fiyero, I'm more than glad he came to the Emerald City, and not just glad that he got me away from the Wizard.

"Come on! Come on!" a man in spectacles that pinch his pupils into reptilian slits shouts. "Let's play a game of Blind Man's Buff!"

This sends the crowd into a tizzy of excitement, young women shrieking with delight and pushing each other, the gentlemen gathering closer to the bespectacled man.

"Blind Man's Buff?" I say, grabbing Fiyero's arm. "What is it?"

Fiyero's grin spreads wide in excitement and he pulls me into the throng of those who have had enough of dancing. The man in the lizard glasses is now waving a white scarf as if it were a flag of surrender as the mob pushes in.

"Who shall be our Blind Man?" Lizard Eyes asks.

Fiyero pulls me forward and pushes me to the front. "Take her!" he shouts, waving my hand above my head. "She's a virgin!"

"A virgin!?" Lizard Eyes exclaims.

I'm short-circuiting over them discussing whether I've slept with anyone before when Fiyero whispers in my ear, "It just means you've never played before, love." The butterflies are now beating their wings in earnest.

"Yes! Yes!" Lizard Eyes says. "It will be a special Lurlinemas treat, then. A real game to remember!" Quickly, Lizard Eyes blindfolds me, the world going dark as the soft and warm cashmere is wrapped snuggly around my eyes. Despite the scarf being white, there is still a green light that comes through, and I realize just how truly green the entire palace and city are if even a thick scarf can't block the verdant glow. "Should we make it a special game?" the voice of Lizard Eyes says.

"Lover's fate!" Fiyero shouts out.

"What's that?" I try to ask Lizard Eyes. However, I can't see him, and my guess as to where he is remains in the last place I saw him. I reach out to my right and touch nothing but air. This earns a laugh from the crowd.

"Lover's fate!" people agree, some even starting a chant.

"Lover's fate it will be!" Lizard Eyes says. He must have moved back behind me, I realize, turning in that direction. "You will have to search the room looking for people. Once you grab someone, you must identify them." He giggles.

"Sounds easy," I say. I hope I catch Fiyero, I think. He's familiar enough and I wouldn't mind an excuse to touch that perfect face of his.

"Well, it would be, except you can't use your hands," Lizard Eyes says. "You'll have to kiss them to figure it out."

I want to rip off the scarf and go hide under one of the banquet tables when Lizard Eyes grabs me by the shoulders and starts spinning me around and around until I'm so dizzy that I want to lay on the floor until my head comes back to normal. Even if I lay there all evening, it would never stop the spinning on account of how many strangers there were and that I would have to kiss one of them. The thought makes my stomach go cold, so I know that I have to find Fiyero. Maybe I’ll be glad that I came to the party after all. Maybe...

The mob that had gathered around Lizard Eyes is now quickly dispersing and reeling back in. Their whoops and hollers are growing distant and then occasionally they bump past me in taunt, but I don’t care. Frankly, there are too many of them, and I'm trying to pick out Fiyero's voice. The slight Winkie accent is what I'm looking for, the way it sparkles. I think I hear him 10 feet diagonally to the right of me. I go chasing after it and can hear his laugh as I fall through the air in my attempt to catch him.

"If I had known you wanted to kiss me that bad," he says, "we could have skipped the dancing."

I'm following his voice once again, trying to sneak up on him. "Okay," I say. "So then get over here." Another snatch and a miss.

"Nuh-uh," he says. "I'm undefeated in this game. You can kiss me afterward if you really want to."

I make a dash for him and miss the grab again. I stomp my foot, willing him to hold still.

"You know, you're supposed to chase other people too," he says. Another missed grab.

"Well nobody told me that," I retort back. I fake going after other people, trying to keep his location in mind. When I'm satisfied with enough squeals and laughs, I taunt him again. "Maybe you're undefeated because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he says. 8 feet to my left. I reach for the rustle of a skirt that I hear closest to me, pretending to chase it as I make a semicircle to cut him off. I shoot my hand out and grab hold of an arm clad in a soft satin. The blue and gold dress military jacket.

"Too easy," I say with a smirk. The room has gone silent and I can't stop grinning at the thought of the Arjiki prince kissing the Wizard’s special guest. Serve’s him right. "Kiss me."

His fingertips are warm as his hands cradle my face. The room is still holding its breath as I feel just the brush of his lips against my own.

"You call that a kiss?" I whisper. "Kiss me."

His lips crush mine openly, an invitation. I let my tongue slide against his lower lip as his tongue slips against mine and into my mouth, pressing my tongue back into submission. It's everything I can do to not fall into his arms and let him carry me out of the party. He was certainly better than any schoolyard kisses and there was a promise of domination in the way his tongue danced with mine that sent a thrill up my spine.

When he pulls away, his name is already on my lips as I tear the scarf off. I don't make it past the first syllable.

It's him. There's a look of hurt in his eyes and I can't help but feel like an idiot. I was so wrapped up in the idea of kissing Fiyero that I couldn't even recognize the same small scars that had touched my hands earlier that day or the way his mustache and goatee had scratched the delicate skin of my lips.

So many things are crashing and burying me like an avalanche: the way he's looking at me, the way the room is still silent and staring at us, the way Fiyero has a shit-eating grin and I can tell he's holding in a laugh, the way I liked it and still want more. This last part is what sends me running from the room and out into the winding halls of the Emerald Palace.

I need to get away from him, to think this out. How was I ever going to face him again? I remember telling Bruno about how I would run away, and now I'm seriously considering it. How much could a train ticket possibly cost? Fileah and I could probably run away and live in the jungle off of the fruits of the forest until we found somewhere nice in Munchkinland to house us. Maybe Bruno had some family outside of the Emerald City that could hide us.

I burst through the hallway and find myself back in the throne room. Sweet Oz, anywhere but here. The face is well hidden amongst the vines again. I consider going up into it to cry – it'd probably be the last place he'd expect to find me – when I hear a queer wooden sound. It sounds like a penny made of wood is spinning around and around before it falls flat. Then the crash happens, followed by cursing.

I run over to the source of the commotion to see Humak Tigelaar with a funny-looking object in his hands.

"Humak," I say through a tear-constricted throat, "you're missing the party."

Humak laughs nervously at this, agreeing with me. It is as he's trying to slip away that I realize what he's holding.

"The Grimmerie," I breathe.

Humak's smile drops and instantaneously he's bolting into the hallways.

All I wanted to do was to be left alone, to just go somewhere where no one would find me while I tried to sort out what would be best for me, what would be best for Fileah. No, in truth, it was just what would be best for me. If I had really been selfless I would have played whatever part he had set for me and done it happily. Ribbons were a fraction of his generosity, and she could have had anything in the world if I had just played the stupid part.

I feel like Lizard Eyes has spun me around and around for a second time as the machine that is Oz the Great and Terrible seems to be floating up with its ropes towards the ceiling, the ceiling falling to the floor. I stumble, feeling for any sort of familiarity or guidepost in what to do, and I keep stumbling, footstep after footstep until I reach the entrance to the Officer's wing.

My voice sounds a thousand yards away as I yell for help.

[chrysanthemumgames]

I have a perhaps personal ask, and at the same time struggling with how to phrase it. I've been looking into making an interactive story myself, however, I... cannot code. For the life of me. I can tell one hell of a story, but coding it beyond my grasp, and the system I currently use, while it ought to be simple enough even someone like me could do so, isn't exactly working for how I want it to. Do you perhaps know anything anywhere that I might start looking for someone who would be willing to work with me? I am so sorry if this is a bothersome ask.

Hi anon!

I'm probably not the best person for advice on this, because I've never been in that situation before. I've put some thoughts under the cut, with the caveat that only a small portion of them actually address the question you've asked, with the majority being related but perhaps not helpful for you, depending.

So, I think where you'd go to find a coding person depends on what language you're using. If it's ChoiceScript, probably the forums. If it's Twine... I honestly don't know. Maybe the subreddit, though you'll want to double-check that such requests are not against the rules there.

I sincerely doubt you'll have an easy time finding someone, though. Most folks who code in the systems used for IF are IF authors who taught themselves the coding techniques in order to tell their own stories, not someone else's.

That said, and this is the part you can ignore, because you know yourself better than I do, but... I'm pretty sure you can learn to code. It's not easy, necessarily, and it doesn't come intuitively to everyone, but there are resources out there to help you. Again, this will depend on what system you're using, but the CS forums are very useful for figuring out CS (as is the wiki, once you know enough to parse it). For Twine, there are loads of archived posts on their forums and on the subreddit for specific questions, but for general ones, the documentation for your preferred program (e.g. SugarCube), the Twine Cookbook, and similar resources will break things down into smaller, more digestible chunks. I personally recommend the Twine Grimoire (volumes 1 and 2), for basic interface aesthetics, once you get to that point.

Here on tumblr, @/nyhelism, @/cerberus-writes, @/manonamora-if, @/idrellegames, and others have all answered questions about Twine coding or even in some cases made templates that take a lot of the work out of it. Most have a masterpost regarding things they've answered about Twine or made for others' use, but be sure to check that they're currently accepting coding questions before sending them any, of course.

Learning to code may be slow and incremental, and lots of people manage better if they start with a small project just to learn how to do the basic things in their language of choice. I'd really recommend figuring out what you need your game to be able to do, and learning those functions one by one—it's less overwhelming than trying to tackle everything at once while also writing a huge project.

If all else fails, my most esoteric suggestion is to familiarize yourself with the basic principles of symbolic logic. I took a class in it as part of my degree, and have since also taught that class, and I think understanding things like the logic of conditionals (if statements) as they're used in coding (rather than natural language) really gave me a leg up in learning to code. Not that I'm an expert, but I know enough to make a basic game, at least.

Most (all?) of these things should be findable with a google search; I know there are at least some Twine tutorials on youtube as well, though I'm unsure of CS or any of the languages I'm less familiar with, like Ink, etc.

I do apologize that the section where I encourage you to do the thing you don't think you can do is longer than the one where I answered your actual question, but that's the part I might actually have something useful to say about. If you're absolutely certain you can't do it, I'm sorry for banging on about it, but if you're not sure or on the fence, maybe give it another go before trying to find another person. I've seen a lot of writers looking for coders in the past, but maybe only once was a coder offering their services to writers (and that was a long time ago).

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

For a Christmas request maybe a scenario with younger brother group with their S/O on Christmas who’s spent a LOT of time making them matching sweaters but it’s just… the ugliest thing they’ve ever seen but their partner is really excited about it.

Featuring: Papyrus, Edge, Honey, Cash, Rus, Mutt, Coffee.

Masterlist

Papyrus

They're good! Just needs some... Practice until it doesn't look like Santa Claus gave up on his own holiday and send Grinch to deliver the Christmas gifts..

Papyrus asks if you'd actually like to knit matching sweaters but with him, he's knitted multiple times before when younger, so why not knit again with his partner?

Sneakily hides the sweaters in a box in the attic if you accept, of course he labels the box to know what it is, yet he does it in winding so you don't understand the "Christmas sweaters my dear partner made with much love yet are very ugly 20XX" written on it

If you ask about where the ones you made are, Papyrus simply says it's somewhere safe.

Edge

He's only wearing it because it's from you, because otherwise he'd take it as a personal offense.

Definitely yells at his brother for teasing him about the thing.

"SHUT UP RED!! AT LEAST, I HAVE SOMEONE TO MATCH SWEATERS UNLIKE YOU!!"

Surprisingly, after Christmas he puts the sweater in his 'everything I like' drawer, yet right at the bottom, even his first ever belt, something he says it's his least favorite thing out of his favorite things, is on top of the sweater..

Honey

Honey doesn't have the heart to tell you how ugly the thing is, not after seeing your excitement. Oh well guess he'll wear the sweater, only for your happiness.

Sky teases him about why on earth is he wearing something ugly like that, which Honey only chuckles and pretty much ignores.

"Yeah it's ugly, but it was made by (_____) with much care, that's what matters bro."

"Well, If You're Happy With That Fashion Atrocity.."

His brother now made himself the mission to make you learn how to knit correctly.

Cash

"Not even homeless people would wear this darlin', upps sorry."

Did it slip out without though? Yes. Did he mean it. 100%. Could he have done better? Not in a million years.

Though after humiliating you he proudly wears the sweater, and if anyone tries to tell him it's ugly, he's saying they're just jealous they don't have an amazing partner who does sweaters like he does.

You think he probably sold the sweater since you never saw it anywhere in his room again, yet he actually keeps it in a box where he stores everything he finds special.

Rus

"Aw that's cute babe."

He's only wearing it when you're also wearing yours. Sorry not sorry.

Rus does find it adorable that you made something for him, yet he has a "reputation" to keep (he doesn't want to tell you the thing is ugly.)

When he does wear it, he's not leaving the house. He knows Undyne is gonna tease the shit out of him and genuinely? He isn't with the mind to deal with it peacefully.

Mutt

He's very very very flustered.

Mutt doesn't remember the last time someone, aside from you, gave him anything with a romantic intention, so to say that he's almost in tears from joy is not an exaggeration.

Wears the sweater until winter ends, not even his brother can make him take it off, only to wash.

".. But it's comfortable.."

Coffee

Not ironically he actually likes the shirt. Like Coffee genuinely likes it.

Maybe because the only person who gave him things was his brother, and he really likes receiving things, especially from you..

People can point out how ugly it looks, he doesn't care, it was made with love and care from someone who understands him, so he's wearing it proudly. Even if it doesn't seem like on the outside.

Like Cash, he keeps the sweater in a box full of things you gave him, except you probably have found this box as he doesn't hide it.

[pleasantphantomhologram]

"Please, don't stay sad for too long, okay? I'll be here waiting for you, supporting you through everything. I love you, always"

Title: longing (Part 2) (Previous chapter)

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Reader

Warning: Modern Setting, Fertility problem, Angst, Hurt. 

Summary: After the surgery, you can't help but felt sorry for yourself. how can a woman cant give her husband a kids? But, your husband, Acacius is there hugging you and saying that everything will be alright.

A/N: Hello! it's me again, and happy christmas everyone, here's a gift for me from this holiday. I think i will write so much on this holiday, coz i dont know when will i get my day off again after this holiday, LOL! Enjoy!

After the surgery, the intense pain and aching you'd been feeling all this time vanished, along with your hopes of having a child. That day, you and Acacius had just arrived home after three days in the hospital. The doctor had said you needed another checkup in a week to examine the stitches on your lower abdomen.

Your home with Acacius wasn't big or small, just the right size for a newlywed couple like you. There was a master bedroom and a spare room that you had planned as a nursery for your future child. You hadn't done anything to it yet, but whenever you had free time together, you'd talk about the room. Acacius would always joke about painting it pink if you had a girl.

You opened the door to the room slowly and looked sadly at each corner of the room, which still only contained an unmade bed. You sat on the edge of the bed and ran your hand over the mattress.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, followed by a small sob. No matter how hard you tried to be strong and accept reality, the fact that you couldn't give your husband a child made you feel useless and worthless. What kind of wife couldn't give her husband a child? What was the point of being a woman if you couldn't have children?

You started blaming yourself for everything. You should have taken better care of your health in college; you should have been more careful about what you ate. It was all your fault. Your tears flowed faster, as if something were piercing your heart every time you thought about it. Without realizing it, Marcus came into the room and hugged you tightly.

'It's alright, it's alright. Take a deep breath, babe,' he said. 'I... I... I'm sorry,' you sobbed. 'There's nothing to be sorry for, Y/N. I love you. And that's the only thing that matters,' Acacius said. 'It's okay to be sad now, I know you're feeling so depressed. But I'm here, I'll always be here.'

'I'm so sorry, you married a woman who can't give you a child. You deserve so much better than me.' Hearing Y/N's words, Acacius' heart ached. She shouldn't say that. From the beginning, he had chosen to be with her, not because of that, but because he loved her. He couldn't imagine his life without her.

'No, don't you dare say that again. You're the one I chose, not because of that, but because it's you, Y/N. I can't live without you. I love every day with you, I love every laugh, every smile. Even when you're upset or angry, I accept all of you. All I want is for us to be happy together, in this house, maybe with a cat or two. I know you love those furry little creatures, and maybe we'll adopt a couple later. Please, don't stay sad for too long, okay? I'll be here waiting for you, supporting you through everything. I love you, always.'

Hearing Acacius' words, Y/N could only hug her husband tightly. She was so lucky to have him.

'I love you too,' she whispered. Acacius smiled and wiped away her tears.

'So, what name do you want to give the cats?' Acacius asked, trying to lighten the mood while still smiling at his wife.

Finally, slowly, the tears turned into a small smile. They might not know what the future held, but one thing was certain: everything would be okay as long as they were together.

[nicola-fiore]

A selection of the daily letters (sent but undelivered) to Gio Fiore:

26 August 2017

Dear Gio, I'm writing you this letter because even as summer's ended, my father has yet to give me back my phone and laptop. So I hope that, somehow, this gets to you. Papa, Enzo and I are back in Milan. It's only an hour's drive away from Laglio, but it felt like it went on forever. The whole ride over, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and why you didn't show. You promised last night you'd come see me off but there was no sign of you at all. No call, no text, not even a note. Have I said something last night that's offended you? Or maybe done something to push you away? Whatever it is, please tell me, so I can make things right. I miss you so much already, but love you even more. I hope to hear from you soon. Yours always, Nicola xo

01 September 2017

My dearest Gio, It's been a week since I've seen or heard from you, and every day, I miss you more and more. It's another few days until school starts, but my father's announced at dinner tonight that we'll be moving all the way to the other end of the country — far, far away from you, to his hometown in Palermo, Sicily. At first I didn't understand why he would be pulling me out of school my senior year, but eventually, he came clean. It's to protect the baby, he said. But I don't know if I can fully believe him. Something in me feels like it might have more to do with not letting anyone in Milan know that his teenage daughter is with child. I wish you were here. More than anything. Love always, Nicola xo

08 September 2017

Tesoro mio, Palermo is beautiful, not unlike Laglio. It's sunny here most of the time, and I spend my days taking walks. My doctor here said it's good for both me and the baby. But I get tired often. That's to be expected, she said and I just nod along. I don't tell her that I don't really sleep well at night. I'd hate for it to somehow reach my father's ears. Everyone here knows everybody. But it's okay, I don't really mind the walks. I don't know anyone else here so walking passes the time. I've attached our address at the back of this letter, in case you can come and visit. I hope you do. I miss you terribly. Until then, Nicola xo

15 September 2017

My darling Gio, I had an ultrasound appointment this morning. Our baby's heartbeat is getting stronger with each visit. I wish I could somehow send you a snippet of it but I've no way to send it to you. My father has given me back my laptop, for school, but there's no internet in the house. We should appreciate nature more, he said. As if me taking my daily walks isn't enough. Still, I'll keep the audio file for when I can send you things online again. Thinking about you Nicola xo

03 October 2017

Cuore mio, This letter's a little bulkier than usual. I found this cute birthday card the other day and thought you might find it funny. I've also attached a photo of me and baby. As you can see, my bump's more noticeable now. I hope you're celebrating your special day as wonderfully as we had planned it should be. I'm sorry I'm not there to personally wish you a happy birthday. But please know that I'm thinking of you always. Happy birthday, my love. May you have many, many more to come. Love you forever, Nicola xo

16 October 2017

My love! We're having a boy! I just got back from another ultrasound check and was told that we're having a boy! I've included a snapshot of him in the envelope. It's a little hard to see but I promise, it's there! Haha! I know it's late but perhaps this can serve as my late birthday present. :) Wish you were here, Nicola xo

28 November 2017

Dear Gio, Felt our son kick for the very first time just now, and the first thing I thought of was to tell you so you could feel it, too. That is, until I remembered that you're not here. Oh well, at least you'll know when this gets to you. Better late than never, I guess. Goodnight for now, Nicola xo

25 December 2017

Dearest darling, I hope you're keeping warm there in Laglio. When my mother was still alive, she used to tell me of how the winters there can get quite cold. So, please don't forget to wear your jacket. And gloves. And a hat! I'd hate for you to ever get sick, especially during the holidays. I wish we were spending Christmas together but hearing from you would be more than enough for me. Either way, I wish you and your family a very happy holiday season. And I hope you receive everything you've wished for. Merry Christmas, amore mio. I love you. Forever yours, Nicola xo

27 December 2017

Love of my life, I hope that by the time this reaches you, it'd be New Year's Eve, so that in a way, I'm there with you when the new year rolls around. As the year slowly comes to a close, I find myself torn. Saying goodbye to this year feels like bidding you — and our memory together — a final farewell. But as much as it pains me that we won't be starting 2018 like we wanted to, in three months' time, our son will be here. And I can only pray that you will be with us by then, too. Please never forget how much I love you. Until my last breath, I am forever yours. Your Nicola xo