#Adding content level description

[mathmusicreading]

Blog(ger) Shift

I am, so weird and bad about original posting and about reblogging and about saving things on Tumblr and that's why my blog has been mostly inactive or the lurking consumer type. But I don't want my fears about putting myself out there, being seen and known, articulating myself well vs. having been told my whole life I'm too wordy and opinionated vs. not managing to articulate myself well enough to justify being verbose and passionate, etc. to continue to control me so much.

So for my new specific-interest sideblog that I'm not locking, I hope it being themed will help me with making more original posts and reblogging, and I'm publicizing that here to push myself and also welcome interaction.

RIP to my other public specific-interest sideblog and the fandom sideblog I took over for someone that I didn't take further and to my private sideblogs that were meant to make me reblog and save and say stuff because they would be personal and just for me. I still would like to make those happen and reblogging and posting things that matter to me here, and oh my heart for the content ideas I haven't been working on, but they're pipedreams with how I'm (not) managing my life and I keep kicking those cans down the road.

To the person who I developed a real relationship with as a beta but who by now I probably count as having disappeared on with how long it's been and my not coming back to explicitly say I still can't help and don't know when I can, I am so sorry. I'm being a coward languishing in hoping I can tell you soon that I can get back into beta-ing for you and talking, but that's turned into me not talking to you because I'm waiting to be able to say something positive. Hopefully my vaguing here can help push me into talking to you, or at least this is here for you to read if you happen to see it; and I want you to know you absolutely can talk to me, can call me out, and if you're so gracious as to still want to be friends with me and just chat despite my dropping being your beta, I'm here for you and still want to be your friend even if I don't know if I'll have the spoons to be a good one and I know my saying that preemptively isn't apology or justification enough.

Honest assessment, I'm going to curse and say my living situation and work have both become even more of a shitshow, and with those things in mind I can't begin to imagine handling a real project until basically literally a year from now.

Which segues back into the main topic of this post. My goal isn't to have my new sideblog be like an active mainblog nor to abandon this blog—people interested in that blog can and should still interact with me here given how primary vs. secondary blogs on Tumblr work, and in terms of using that blog to help make me be a better Tumblr user, I think I should make certain original posts here and reblog them there as opposed to them being original there. With my mental-emotional and time resources, I want that blog to be "active" for a given definition of active, but really I think I should see my objective as "clear out tabs and likes and photos and lists and notes and drafts, etc. from the last four months" by saving stuff there, as opposed to my goal being the original posts I want to make there, and actually my long-term goal should be to use that momentum to do the same for older digital and physical storage that hasn't been lost or stolen. In my failure to be an interesting person, do I at least manage to be fascinating as a basket-case? Ha. But, also, as expressed above the Read More, the exercise of my danmei/Chinese sideblog is supposed to be a foray into me allowing myself to be an interesting person.

[akawifeyy]

drive you crazy | fic (CS55)

description: short and sweet — you prank your boyfriend, carlos sainz jr.

tropes: lovers with secrets, he's absolutely obsessed with you, age gap (mid 20s and 30), girlfriend!fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: hehehe i just know carlos would be adorable

You rolled over, facing your boyfriend, who was lying on the bed beside you. He was focused on a video that was playing on his phone, accompanied by an obnoxious laugh track. "Carlos," you whined softly.

He looked at you, pausing the reel, concern marring his beautiful features. "¿Sí?"

A half-formed plan embedded itself in your mind, and a small smirk grew on your lips. Carlos hadn't been very attentive to you all evening, which was understandable because of his enormous workload, but you were still frustrated, in more ways than one. And you knew just the way to pay him back.

"I was at the paddock yesterday and..." you huffed, hesitating for dramatic effect, twirling a strand of your hair in mock-agitation. "Don't kill either one of us." Carlos's eyebrows shot up like twin rockets shooting to space. "Uh, Lando asked me out on a date."

Carlos' face shuttered, his jaw clenching and his eyes turning into flint. "Lando asked you out..." he said, testing the words out and uttering them like they were poisonous. "Even though he knows you're in a relationship with me? Why? What did you say?" His questions were slow, betrayal and hurt shining through his words.

You averted your gaze, heat flooding your cheeks as you fidgeted with your fingers. "I don't know. I just thought it might be nice to see how other guys are, because I've only ever been with you."

"So you want to be with Lando?" Carlos laughed derisively. "Mi amor, he's been with so many women. He won't make you feel special, not like I do."

You shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. "At least he has experience."

"Princesa, why are you telling me this? Do I not pamper you enough?" Carlos pouted, confused. "I bought you that necklace you wanted, and as many books as you could wish for. What am I doing wrong? Why do you want to go to another man?"

The whole time you were holding onto the prank, adding more fuel to the fire, guilt had been building up in your stomach. Unable to hold it back any longer, you blurted, "This was a prank. I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry."

Carlos made a choking sound, his eyes widening. "You were joking? ¿Qué carajo? Why would you do that?"

"I know it was a horrible thing for me to do, I just feel super neglected," you confessed, shame sucker-punching you in the gut. "I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you."

Carlos shoved off the bedsheet covers, suddenly stalking to the other side of the room. "I need space."

"What?" Horror sunk its claws into you, flooding with you with fear.

"I thought I lost you, princesa. To Lando, of all people. My best friend." Carlos winced, his pain evident. "You're the love of my life. I thought you didn't want me anymore and... I..."

You covered your mouth with your hands. "I'm really sorry. I do want you." You got up from where you were lying, walking to Carlos with shaky feet, and tugging him to your level so you could kiss him. "I love you, Carlos."

"Mhm," he murmured, deepening the kiss, all anger dissipated at the first second of your touch.

"I mean it. I won't ever abandon you, not for anyone or anything."

"Good. Somos solo tu y yo, por el infinito."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[myownwholewildworld]

wicked whims — a javier peña oneshot

pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as pretty nails, can be read as a standalone) summary: javi catches you playing wicked whims in the sims and decides to make your fantasies a reality. a/n: I AM NOT OKAY, OKAY? this is the definition of a crackfic. muchísimas gracias a @gothcsz for the inspiration and for convincing me to play this mod, i'll be eternally grateful 😭 i'm loving the levels of freak we're reaching <3 ANYWAY please enjoy this delusion! warnings: 18+, mdni. filthy smut. f! solo masturbation. rough anal sex. creampie. no use of y/n. javi and reader speak spanish. no description of reader other than hair that can be yanked, but i do imagine her as a latina. w/c: ~1.6k

You unglued your eyes from the screen for a second to look at your phone.

8:37 PM.

“¡Mierda! (shit),” you muttered under your breath, checking the time one more time.

No, your eyes hadn’t betrayed you. You really had been playing Sims for the last four hours, completely losing track of time. You were supposed to do laundry today, clothes piling up in the hamper behind you. Damn, you had even planned to run to the shop too for a few ingredients missing from your cupboard.

But this new mod you had just discovered, Wicked Whims, had you on a fucking chokehold, unable to refrain yourself from having your simself perform all the depravities your mind could come up with. You had created yourself and Javi in the game, spending a ridiculuous amount of time on getting the shape of his aquiline nose right. Then spent countless hours looking for the right animations and custom content to live your best life.

In the darkness of your shared room, you unpaused the game again, deciding it was too late for laundry or food shopping.

Your simself and Javi were awaiting further instructions.

Wicked > Sex > Oraljob > Rough deep-throating.

You watched eagerly as your simself choked on Javi’s cock. The slapping of his balls against your chin, along with the lewd noises, was so realistic it soon replaced your smirk with a gentle bite on your plush bottom lip. Saliva and precum overflowed from your lips the moment Javi grabbed your head and began jackhammering into your mouth.

You were gagging loud.

This was too good. So much so, you felt your pussy wetting, your clit pulsing softly. Pressing your knees together, you immersed yourself in the gameplay, your imagination running wild. It even got to a point where you slid your hand under your panties, your fingerpads tracing the slick seam of your cunt.

Leaning back on the chair, one leg propped up over the armrest, you pressed slow, lazy circles on your bundle of nerves, a soft sigh leaving your lips with half-lidded eyes. How was this mod getting you all messy? No idea, but you were horny as fuck.

Stalking your gushing hole, you tentatively sank one finger in your pussy, eyes glued on Javi cumming on the face of your simself.

“Ah, sí, mi Javi haría exactamente eso… (Ah, yes, my Javi would do exactly same),” you hummed in approval, adding a second finger, curling them to reach that precise spot of pleasure.

“¿Qué es lo que yo haría, reina? (What is it that I would do, queen?)”

His actual, real voice interrupted you.

Startled, you jumped to your feet, pushing the chair to one side and switching off the screen of the computer as fast as you could. Turning around, you saw him right behind you.

“¿Cuánto tiempo llevas ahí parado? (How long have you been standing there?)” you asked rather nervously. You really hadn’t heard him come home.

The real question you wanted to ask though was how much had he seen. But you didn’t want to betray yourself in case he hadn’t paid much attention to your gameplay.

“El suficiente (Enough),” he replied with a smirk, closing the distance between you.

His warm hands landed on your naked hips. You were only wearing a tee shirt and underwear, always making yourself comfortable the moment you crossed the frontdoor. Javi leaned in, a knowing smile curling his mouth as his moustache prickled the curve of your neck.

“¿Un día duro en el trabajo? (Hard day at work?)” you attempted to divert the conversation, biting down your lip as Javi left a trail of wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Lo único duro que tengo es mi verga después de ver lo que estabas jugando (the only hard thing I have is my cock after watching you play),” he husked as you craned your neck a bit more. Javi groped your ass and pressed your clothed pussy against his growing bulge. “¿Somos nosotros? (Is that us?)”

Well, there was no point in denying the truth, so you nodded.

“Eso es lo que pensaba. Te gusta que te la meta hasta el fondo de la garganta, ¿cierto? (That’s what I thought. You like it when I shove it down your throat, right?)” he questioned, one hand replacing his lips, wrapping it gently around your throat.

You gasped. Your pussy gushed.

This man was a menace to your senses, both in game and in real life. Although virtual Javi could never compare to the real one.

“Javi—”

“Nuh-uh,” he tutted at you. “Odiaría interrupir. Por favor, sigue jugando (I’d hate to interrupt. Please, keep playing),” he ordered, because there was no room for discussion after that.

Javier turned you around, pushing you towards the desk and switching the screen back on. You had forgotten to pause the game, so your sims had decided not to wait for your commands any longer.

Javi and your simself were going at it on the bed, you laying down on your belly as Javi fucked your ass, his chest flush with your back.

“Me gusta lo que veo (I like what I see),” he groaned behind you, his fingers hooking around the bottom part of your panties to push them aside. “No me hagas caso, encanto. Tú juega tranquila (Don’t mind me, darling. Take your time playing).”

Easier said than done. It was hard to focus on the game when you heard Javi unzip his jeans behind you and ramming his throbbing cock between your inner thighs. Gripping the edge of the desk, you stuck your ass out for him. Javi humped your damp slit, his angry cockhead kissing your clit every time he pushed forward.

You whimpered, eyes half closed, watching the faces your simself put on as Javi destroyed her ass.

“Estás bien mojada. ¿Te estuviste tocando mientras jugagas? (You’re so wet. Were you touching yourself while playing?),” his voice hitched in the back of his throat, his mushroom head intruding in your clenching opening.

“Sí. No me pude resistir… Me estabas cogiendo bien duro (Yes, I couldn’t resist… You were fucking me so rough),” you whispered, eyes fully shut and mouth agape, eager for him to impale you from behind.

But instead of doing that, his hips slanted back, your pussy crying, craving him.

“Los ojos en la pantalla, reina (Eyes on the screen, queen),” he retorted, clicking his tongue.

You rapidly obliged.

Wicked > Sex > Anal > Rectal Jackhammer.

Javi snickered behind you, getting the hint.

You felt his hard cock drag along your sticky pussy lips and tapped his glans on your clit a few times, until your knees were trembling with pleasure. Then slid his cock backwards, going past your leaking entrance, until it caught on your rimmed hole.

Slowly he fed his thudding cock into your ass, parting your soft walls as he inched forward. You squirmed and hiccuped, fighting to keep your eyes open and focused on the game whilst the stinging feeling blossomed into something else.

Your sphincter hugged him tight once he was fully seated inside you and Javier grumbled with satisfaction.

Javi pumped out, then back in, testing your resolution. When he was satisfied that you were ready, he grabbed your hair in a fistful and started jackhammering into you—the thrusts hard and unforgiving. Your moans soon followed, the cacophony of your bodies meeting each other filling the room as Javi yanked at your hair, your back arching.

You could feel him in your fucking guts, and that was what made it all even more enjoyable. But what had you tripping over was Javi’s hand going over the swell of your buttocks, down your belly and finding your clit.

“¡Dios, sí, justo ahí! (God, yes, right there!),” you wailed with tears brimming and running down your cheeks, messing up your eyeliner. “¡Más fuerte, Peña! (Harder, Peña!)”

Javi grumbled behind you, fucking into you in a frenzy, like a man possessed by his worst demons.

“Te voy a destrozar el culo, muñeca (I’m gonna destroy your ass, babydoll),” he snarled, rutting into you so hard your knees almost gave way.

You collapsed onto the desk, resting your forehead on the keyboard. Your mind was too fuzzy to focus on the game anymore. Javi was blasting your entrails so hard, he’d wiped out any thought in your brain. You couldn’t think, only feel.

Grabbing your hair one more time and pulling, your face lifted off the keyboard, just in time to see how sim Javi cummed in your simself’s ass.

His fingers rubbed your clit desperately, the coil inside you finally snapping, releasing the tension building inside your body. You came hard, your poor pussy clutching around nothing as your juices leaked through your panties and down your inner thighs. It felt like a motherfucking tsunami had washed over you.

Javi picked up his pace, your ass sheathing him just right, and after one last harsh jerk at your hair, he finally found peace in your puckered, fucked out hole. You felt his warm cum filling you up, sticking to your inner walls and clinging onto them.

A heavy sigh later, Javi let go of your hair and pulled out, spanking your round globe with a sly grin and wiping the sweat off his forehead.

You were still sprawled across the desk, trying to tame your heaving.

“Mira, están cogiendo otra vez. No podemos dejar que nos ganen, reina (Look, they are fucking again. We can’t let them win, queen),” he said, tapping the screen to direct your wavering attention there.

Fuck.

[lokileaf]

Comfort

Loki x f!reader blurb

Reader is on her period and Loki wants to help!

Established relationship, female reader, fluff.

You woke with a groan, pulling your duvet over your head to block out the sun shining through the curtains. You cringed at the dull pain that radiated from your midsection, curling yourself into a ball.

You had slept horribly the night before, unable to achieve any level of comfort regardless of your positioning. You had taken the maximum dose of ibuprofen, which had done almost nothing to manage the pain, leaving you essentially bed bound.

"Darling, are you alright?," you heard Loki ask from your living room.

"You haven't been answering your-" he cut himself off upon entering your room and seeing your sorry state, his concern evident on his face.

"Hi, Lokes," you mumbled, making him smile with the nickname.

You force yourself to sit up, allowing yourself a moment to rest on the edge of your bed before standing and making your way to your bathroom. You grab the box of tampons on the counter only to realize it was nearly empty. You sigh and toss it in the trash, quickly taking care of your business before washing your hands and returning to your room.

"Is everything alright?" Loki asks, pulling you into a hug and resting his chin on the top of your head. You smile into his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Not really..." you trail off, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours.

"What can I do for you?"

You looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"Can you go get me some pads and tampons? And maybe some ice cream?"

"Of course, my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your phone buzzed with a text from Loki.

I may have overestimated how simple this would be, it read.

You smiled down at your screen, typing out a description of the exact products you wanted.

Multipack with both regulars and supers and then a box of pads with wings.

Oh, and the fudge-iest pint of ice cream you can find, you added.

You waited a few moments for his reply.

Anything for you.

You couldn't help but grin, wondering how you got so lucky. You grabbed the TV remote, throwing on a random romcom while you scrolled on Twitter in an attempt to distract yourself from how awful you felt.

Thirty minutes later, you heard your apartment door open and the rustle of plastic grocery bags as Loki made his way back to your room. You giggled as you realized what he had in his hands: a box of tampons, a box of pads, and a to go box of chicken wings.

“What?” he asked, genuine confusion lacing his voice.

“You stopped for chicken wings?”

“I thought you said you needed ice cream, tampons, and pads with wings!” he said defensively.

You pulled yourself out of bed, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re so cute,” you said softly, releasing him and taking the boxes of products from him.

“I do try, darling,” he replied, kissing the top of your head as you disappeared into the bathroom once again.

You took care of your business, washing your hands as you checked yourself in the mirror. You look exhausted, to put it simply. Dark circles stained your under eyes, your hair still a mess from sleep. You sighed, leaving the bathroom before you could dissect your appearance further.

Loki was waiting for you on your bed, the box of wings open and a movie queued up. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you took your place beside him and opened the box of wings.

Not even an hour later and you were nestled back under the covers, fighting sleep as Loki rubbed light circles on your back and used his seidr to help ease your pain. You sighed in contentment as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you mumbled quietly.

“I love you too, darling.”

[astermath]

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter​ @stevenose​ 

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week. 

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin. 

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page. 

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head. 

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you. 

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response. 

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse. 

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in. 

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you. 

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?” 

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up. 

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses. 

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.” 

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was. 

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really. 

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him. 

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you. 

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.” 

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?” 

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier. 

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love. 

[notetakers-blog-of-holding]

Adding Texture Into Your Campaign

What is Texture?

I'm talking about all of the little details that add up to create a complete description. Texture is the color of a sword's hilt, the sound of distant rumbling thunder, or the smell of baked pies as one passes through a village. It's knowing the reason why the villain is so villainous, and hinting at secrets that are never revealed. Everything that makes the world feel like a place where people live, rather than just an exercise in problem-solving.

Chances are, you already have some texture in your game. If you are running a pre-published adventure or world, there are almost certainly many little details that you normally don't see in your homebrew adventures. The goal is to add enough texture into your game so that your players won't notice the difference between a store-bought adventure and a homebrew.

I use the word "texture" for these details because for me, they are the difference between a flat, predictable description and one that is alive and vibrant. When adding details to your game, your goal should be to have enough volume so that the descriptions blur together into a patina of verbal imagery.

Texture cannot exist in a vacuum; if one part of an image has texture and the remainder does not, it will be obvious. Players should not be able to pick out what is important to their plot based on the level of detail in your description. For example, pretend your DM gave you the following description:

You enter the wizard's study. There are some bookcases, a desk, and a chair. There are books all over the place, and a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, stands in a brass pot of ink on the desk.

Nine out of ten players will go immediately for the pen. Why? Because it was the only item in the room truly given texture. The rest of the area was painted in only in the broadest of strokes. If the DM was trying to set that quill up as a clue of some kind, he has now robbed the players of the opportunity to discover that on their own. Now, consider the following alternative:

You enter the wizard's study. A musty smell fills the air, and swirls of dust follow you as you move. A pair of oak bookcases sit on opposite sides of the room, each filled with leather-bound tomes in assorted shades of brown. On the left bookcase, one shelf has broken, spilling its contents over the shelf below and onto the floor. A massive desk, at least seven feet in length, fills the center of the room, with dozens of tiny brass-handled drawers. A large book lies open on the desk, near a single red quill pen, eight inches in length, standing in a brass pot of ink.

The DM has given the exact same description of the pen, but has instead hidden its importance by giving detailed accounts of the room's furnishings. He knows that the only important clue in the room is the pen, but the players do not. Their actions will thus deal with the entirety of the room rather than the metagame thinking that would lead them to the pen. One might decide to check out the broken bookshelf, another might want to check the desk drawers. If they eventually look at the pen and discover its relevance, they will feel that much more of a sense of accomplishment.

This example also illustrates one of the key features of texture: it is most often irrelevant. In other words, if the players have a mission to accomplish, most of the texture you put into your descriptions will have no direct bearing on that mission. But that's the point; if I go to mail my phone bill, the fact that I pass a parked police car on the way to the mailbox isn't important. It does, however, tell me something about the immediate area and what might be going on there. This is why adding texture to your game creates the illusion of reality; you are basically giving players proof that the world is turning with or without them.

Here are 5 simple ways you can add texture to a room or character description:

Color: People spend a lot of energy making sure the things they own are a pleasing color. Anywhere intelligent beings live, there is the opportunity for changing the color of the walls, the doors, the furniture, the upholstery, the curtains, etc. Of course, natural settings can also have a bewildering variety of unexpected color. Why talk about a tree when you can talk about an ancient, grey-barked tree with green mossy overgrowth climbing its branches?

Brokenness: Things break, often. Whether they have been repaired or not is a good indicator to the players about the level of attention a room receives. How well they are fixed might also be a clue; if the bookshelf was propped up with another book but generally left broken, it says that the owner doesn't care too much.

Juryrigging: Spaces are often not used in the manner for which they were designed. People tend to adapt a room or object to the purpose they require, rather than the crafter's intent. This is especially true of dungeons, where the current inhabitants almost certainly did not build the place. Think about how they may have altered the room's purpose, and what changes they might have made as a result.

Bodily Functions: Living creatures need to eat, sleep, eliminate, and possibly mate. If you set up a monster's lair in a location where the occupant cannot realistically achieve all of these needs, it will be far less believable. Likewise, NPCs also need to fulfill these functions, and often at the worst possible time.

Scars: Creatures who are surviving in the wild or who fight regularly should be scarred, especially if they do not have access to healing magic. Scars hint at a story that the player's don't know; they imply that the creature has lived an entire life up to the point when it appears "on screen". An Owlbear with a jagged scar across its beak is more memorable, and perhaps more fearsome, than one without.

Those are just my opening thoughts on the subject. I'll be posting more examples of Campaign Texture in the future. In the meantime, dm me! I'd love to hear about descriptions from your campaign of which you are particularly proud of!

[scorpioriesling]

Invisible String - Finale

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Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): Please be advised; this part might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution. 18+, MDNI

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: This is the final part! If you've stuck around this long, thank you -- I hope this series was enjoyable and everything you'd hoped it'd be. I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't read the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come, however the (canon) NSFW portion of this part can be bypassed & not affect the story in it's entirety! So, if you're not about reading that, I have included warnings in the passage so you know what to skip , but for those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Thank you all for your patience with me as far as this series goes, it has truly been a pleasure to write. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @mellowmusings @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori @dannul @velarisdusk @lamarmotta @paintedbyshadows @i-know-i-can @adventure-awaits13 @acourtofbatboydreams (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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Part 6

"When's daddy coming back?"

You slide the tray of warm cookies from the oven, keeping a careful eye on the curious girl standing a few feet behind you. Setting it down atop the stove, you push the oven door shut and hold a hand in front of her as she inches closer.

"Stand back Riles -- the oven is really hot, okay?"

She sighs, taking a half step away from the oven and frowning.

"Y/N, when is daddy home?" She asks again. You turn to face her, unlacing your apron and setting it on the counter before kneeling to her level.

"Sweetheart, we talked about this, remember? Just a few more days and-"

Your hand stills from brushing a stray hair from her ponytail out of her face as a knock sounds at the front door. Riley sucks in a breath, her attention snapping toward the sound in the foyer.

"Daddy!" She squeals, and your heart sinks. Before you can grab ahold of her, she's darting for the front door -- but you know deep down, it's not him. He never knocks, its his home anyway.

"Riley... Riley please, wait-" You round the corner, seconds late as her arms strain to pull the front door open. Your heart jumps into your throat as nerves and fear sweep in, anxiety for who is at Eris' home while he would be away.

Silence stretches as you make up the last few steps to the door, pulling Riley behind you as the visitor is exposed at once.

The face before you doesn't exactly calm any of those nerves, though.

"Gram?" Riley squeaks, peeking around your leg as she grips your pants fabric. The older woman smiles warmly, offering the little one a small wave.

"Hello, dear," she turns her gaze to you, surely met with a look of confusion. "Hello, Y/N."

You swallow, dipping your head in greeting. She waves a light but dismissive hand.

"Please -- no need for that. I just came by to say hello," she explains. Riley loosens her grip on your pants, peering around your leg once more.

"Oh," you say, not really sure of the situation. You take a step back, pulling Riley to your side as the Lady of Autumn takes a small step forward.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

✧･ﾟ: *

"...and this one is bunny, my very favorite." RIley explains, extending her stuffed rabbit to her grandmother. The Lady of Autumn takes it, inspecting it with faux wonder.

"Oh wow, my dear, yes -- bunny is quite lovely, isn't she?" Riley giggles, taking her well-loved stuffie back and making to stand.

"Bunny says its tea party time." She states, stepping out of the small circle the three of you had been sitting in for the past half hour and making way to her room. "I be back!" She shouts, making the Lady of Autumn chuckle.

"A quite unique one, she is," she states, her attention focusing back on you. You offer a smile, thinking of all the unique qualities Riley bestows.

"Oh yes, she's always so interested in... well, everything," you laugh. "She's so kind, and full of wonder... so curious about the world-"

"Mmm, just like her father was." She nods once, remembering. "He was quite the handful as a small boy; you've done such a great job with her, she is a very respectful young lady."

Your cheeks pinken, the compliment seeming so opposite to how her husband had treated you mere nights before.

"Oh... that's, well..." you fumble. "Eris, is... an amazing dad. Riley is always wondering when he'll be home next." You shrug. The Lady of Autumn chuckles, placing a hand over yours resting in your lap.

"Indeed, he is," she agrees. You meet the warm browns of her irises as she looks to you. "But, he could never have done any of this without you, dear."

You weren't sure where all this was coming from -- the visit, the niceties, the compliments -- it seemed that just last week, her husband had been so against you being in the picture in any way.

"And," she sighs, straightening once more. "As far as being gone so much, all the missions and errands he must attend..." she trails off, searching for the right words. "Well, let's just say he'll be doing less of that, real soon."

Your brow furrows in confusion as Riley's footsteps are heard bounding down the hallway. In seconds, she's setting down her fancy pink trunk full of plastic tea cups, saucers, you name it. It seems she's also taken interest in her tiara again -- the plastic one, of course.

"Gram, you like tea too?" She asks, working hastily to set out all the place settings. The Lady of Autumn helps, adding a fourth one beside her.

"Oh, yes -- it's been so long since I had a tea party," she says. As though it was the most normal thing in the world, Riley adjusts Bunny to sit behind the fourth place her grandma had set up.

"Ok... let me pour the tea."

✧･ﾟ: *

The sun was setting when the Lady of Autumn declared it was time for her to head back, most of the day spent talking and exchanging pleasant conversations. Along with playing tea time, of course.

"Why leaving?" Riley says, munching on one of the forgotten cookies from this morning. The Lady of Autumn pats her head as they walk to the front door together.

"Well, I need to get back because it's almost dinner time," she explains, and Riley nods. Five year old logic.

You open the door, watching as the Lady of Autumn embraces her granddaughter one last time.

"I'll visit again soon, sweetheart." She promises, and Riley nods in agreement. "Do you want to go put on your pajamas before dinner?"

Her face lights up, remembering the cozy pink footie jumper she'd abandoned this morning. She trots to her room, not thinking twice.

The Lady of Autumn chuckles, making for the entryway when she abruptly turns to you.

"I almost forgot dear -- I brought a few things for you." She says, quickly heading toward the awaiting horse she'd rode in on. You watch as she hauls a trunk of her own back inside, and you watch with confusion as she bends to start unlatching it.

"What's this for?" You ask, and she flashes you a wicked smile from below. The trunk finally gives, springing open to reveal quite literally the smoothest fabrics you'd ever seen.

She stands, pulling a wad of fabric with her and unraveling it to reveal a long, velvet green gown. Golden swirls adorn the neckline and sleeves, as small flecks of golden sparkle down the skirt.

You gasp, and she gazes at the piece adoringly.

"I wore this one," she says, swaying it side to side. "The first time I attended the Autumn Court Ball," she smiles at the memory. "It's surely one of my favorites." She drapes it across the back of the couch, reaching down to unveil a similar gown in peach -- less glitter on this one, but just as refined.

"This one, ooh..." she shudders. "I met Beron while wearing this. We were at a royal luncheon, and," she shakes her head in disapproval. "Ugh, the memory completely ruins that one for me -- though it's a gorgeous work, indeed." Along with the green one, she drapes it over the couch, reaching for another packed neatly inside; maroon, this time.

"Lady of Autumn," you interrupt, your hand reaching to lightly touch her forearm as she holds up the next burgundy piece. "I-"

"Please," she insists. "Just call me Autumn."

"Oh, umm... okay, Autumn." She winks at you, then turning to inspect her gown once more. "I'm just... I suppose I'm, confused." You say, your fingers fumbling with one another.

"What about?" She asks, nonchalantly.

You bite your lip. "I... I don't understand. Giving me these... are you wanting me to keep them for Riley-"

"Oh, Heavens no -- gowns like these are meant to be worn." She says simply, draping the maroon one over the couch and finally meeting your eye. "These, dear, are for you."

Your stomach twists, confusion knotting it into a complicated, ball of yarn to untangle.

"But... why?" You ask quietly. She smiles sidelong at you.

"Because -- they're mine to give. And, I choose you to recieve them." She chuckles, brushing a hand over the dress laid on top.

"I... I thought, typically a daughter-in-law would-"

"And I want you to be the one who has them." She states, looking to you in finality. Your cheeks heat, and you watch as she folds her arms across her chest.

After a moment of silence, you try and form a sentence. "What... what if, Eris marries, and then you'll need these to give-"

"Oh, my dear, Eris won't be marrying anyone else." She shrugs, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Other than you, of course." She looks you straight in the eyes.

"He speaks of you often, so much that I hadn't even realized you'd started simply as a nanny," she elaborates. “I’d been delighted to hear he’d found someone so wonderful after that witch of a woman left him and my granddaughter all those years ago.”

Your face deepens in color, and she reaches for you. "He is in love, Y/N. He truly is." Pulling you into a soft embrace, she sighs delightfully. "And if I’m reading this right, it seems you are too."

You swear your heart could burst as joyful tears prick the backs of your eyes.

"I believe he's finally fallen in true love. With you, my dear."

✧･ﾟ: *

You adjusted the ribbon that tied your hair half-back, looking up and down at yourself in the mirror before you. Usually not one for black, you felt you should wear it -- you were, after all, attenting the High Lord's funeral.

When Eris had returned earlier in the week, he came bearing news -- Beron, news, that is. During this last mission, the High Lord did not return from battle so unmarred as his son, being killed while protecting the Autumn court.

Or so Eris tells you.

He had barely shed a tear since returning. Sure, the High Lord (or, previous? High Lord?) was a pain -- a rude, entitled, royal pain. But, was is son truly so unaffected by his own father's death?

"You look lovely."

His voice is rich from behind you, his hands snaking around your waist as he approaches in a simple black suit. The lack of color is so contrasting to the firey red atop his head, making every freckle on his face stand out against his cream-white skin.

"Well, I hoped you wouldn't say that... we are attending your dad's funeral, rather." You sighed, and he pursed his lips. "I wasn't trying to look anything."

He scoffs, his hands sliding from your waist. "Well, that's unfortunate, because I think you'd look ravishing even in a potato sack."

You can't help but giggle, the thought of him making jokes the day of his father's funeral barely phasing you.

"Shoes?" He asks, heading for your closet. You glance down at your bare feet.

"Yes -- the pointed-toe ones, please, they should be in the back." You straighten your skirts once more, as Eris rifles through your wardrobe.

"Darling I'm not finding..."

The rustling stops.

"Where did you get these?" He asks quietly.

You glance over to the closet, realizing what he has stumbled upon. You rush over, attempting to close the doors before him.

"I... I, uh-"

"These," he says, reaching out to feel the maroon fabric with a soft hand. "These, are my mother's." He turns to you, eyes full of intrigue and... shock?

"Eris... she came by, while you were gone." You mumble. You hadn’t told him of his mother’s unannounced visit, let alone the extraordinary gift she’d given to you.

He stares blankly at the gowns hung before him, looking in awe at them hanging in your closet. "She said... well, she said she wanted me to have them."

He turns slowly to face you, the adoration written all over his face.

"My mother, gave you these?"

"Yes." You whisper. He smiles softly, a tiny blush fanning over his cheekbones. You reach out, your fingers brushing over the warmed skin.

"I can give them back if you're uncomfort-"

"No, no." He smiles, his eyes looking down before he pulls you to his chest. "They're exactly where they should be."

Now, it's your turn to blush. He holds you against him, his long arms wrapped around you as you both take in the garments before you. Your eye catches on the peach one, and you grin up at him.

"You know... I think I may change, before we head out."

✧･ﾟ: *

The funeral was nothing short of what you'd expect -- royals, dressed head to toe in the most luxurious fabrics, weeping and mourning the loss of the High Lord. Fae from other courts attended, extending their condolences to all of the Vanserra family; but, Eris didn't need any. He didn't let a single tear fall for the entirety of the ceremony.

Honestly, the Lady of Autumn didn't either. In fact, she looked truly delighted when she spotted you wearing the new peach gown she'd given to you, murmuring to Eris how she understood his liking to you.

You had to admit, watching his mother get him all flustered and bashful in front of you was quite the entertainment.

What was different was the empty house you returned to afterward -- Riley had spent the day with Autumn's first hand maidens, so you were able to attend the funeral with Eris. He didn’t want her exposed to it all quite yet, instead opting to tell her himself one day when she was a bit older and would understand the concept better. You couldn’t agree with him more — however, Autumn’s offer to spend time with the little girl herself extended to the night following.

"Odd to be here, without those little feet running about." Eris noticed it too. You shrugged off your shawl, kicking your heels off in the foyer before heading for the kitchen.

"Yes, quite odd for this place to be so... quiet." You say, unpinning your hair and allowing it to fall freely over your shoulders. You groan at the feeling, running your fingers through it as you rounded the corner of the island.

Eris follows, setting his cufflinks on the marble and trying (failing) not to allow you to catch him staring.

"Are you.." you begin, after a few quiet moments. "Are you... okay, Eris?"

He looks to you, setting the other metal set beside him and shrugging.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Why wouldn't I be?"

You sigh, stepping closer to him. That gets his attention.

"Eris... you buried your father today."

He purses his lips, his movements stilling as he avoids your eye.

"Are you not upset? At all?" You ask, growing frustrated at his lack of answering. "We've establishled you can talk to me, you know? I mean, you haven't even so much as cried once since-"

"I did it."

You pause. Your heartbeat grows louder and louder in your ears, the only sound between you two are your shared breaths.

"You... you what?" You whisper.

Eris looks up at you, eyes watering as he confesses.

"I did it, Y/N. I... I killed my..." his voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath. "My own father."

You take a step back from him, and watch as his face becomes pained. You feel that all the way to your heart, as though it's been strung too tight with twine.

"Y/N, please, you have to understand-"

You brace your hands on the edge of the island, drawing in a long breath. From everything you'd heard, all that his father put Eris through -- forcing him into marriage, the degradation-

"It's okay."

You turn slowly, looking to the male beside you. Tears silently stream down his face, his wide eyes searching yours for some forgiveness you didn't need to give.

"It's... okay, Eris." You breathe. "I understand."

His chest shakes, his gratitude evident as fresh tears line his eyes. You inch closer to him, your hand finding purchace on his upper arm.

"It's okay." You repeat. He continues to silently cry, and you guide him to you as you wrap your arms around his neck. He breathes heavily against your neck, and you feel the tightening in your heart once more.

"I didn't think you'd love me if you found out what I'd done," he sobs. You run a calming hand through his hair, scratching lightly as he shakes against your embrace.

"Eris, I... I don't think I could ever not love you." You admit, the weight of the words finally lifting from your shoulders. He pulls back slowly, wiping at his eyes with his thumb.

"You really," he sniffles. "You really mean that, Y/N?" He asks. You smile softly, a wave of emotion hitting you as you come to terms with what you'd known for years at this point.

"Eris -- I loved you the day I met you," you admit, a single tear slipping free and trailing down your cheek. His eyes only widen. "I loved you when you were still married, I loved you even more when I met your daughter, I loved you before I'd barely known you," you explain, more tears falling freely and landing on the front of your gown.

"It's always been you, Eris." You say, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. You wrap your arms around his torso, crying right onto the front of his jacket when suddenly, a gleaming, golden spark within makes itself known.

You pull back, your hand clutching your chest as your twine-wrapped heart breaks free -- a warm, golden feeling replacing the discomfort instead. You gasp, staring at Eris in disbelief as he smiles broadly at you, tear-stained face and all.

A hand reaches for the counter to steady yourself as you grapple with the feeling -- so familiar, yet so foreign. The light, as though creating a bridge, flows from your end and outward; the feeling returned full of adoration, the purest form of love. True love.

"H-how long have you known?" You ask. Eris steps closer, taking both of your hands in his as he helps you stand upright.

"Well," he admits sheepishly. "Quite some time, but... I believe the night you finally put me in my place, was what did it for me." He chuckles, and you stare up at him in surprise. "And, I'd be happy if you'd keep doing just that for as long as we both live."

Mate. He was your mate.

You look down, the small bead of uncertainty weaving it's way along the golden bridge between the two of you. "Eris, I... you realize, I'm not like you. I'm not High Fae, or-"

"I don't want any one else, Y/N." He admits, squeezing both of your hands and forcing you to look to him once more. "I didn't tell you about the bond, because... well, because you have a choice, too. I wanted you to be able to choose, whether you loved me or not." He sighs. "You have such a good heart -- I didn't want you to be tied to me just because you felt obligated to."

Your lips part as love flows full force down the bond, and you peer over Eris' shoulder. You depart from him for only a moment, reaching for the cookie jar with only a few left in it.

"Y/N, you're sure you don't want to think on it-"

You face him again, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him to you at once. Those lips, Gods you'd wanted to press yours to them for weeks -- now, you finally could.

His mouth slides against yours, his hands pulling you against him by your waist as he deepens the contact. You're almost too caught up in the moment, the raw feelings and emotion flowing between the two of you that you-

"Wait," you pull away, gasping for air as he heaves before you. You hold up the red velvet cookie, his favorite of course -- and he quietly accepts it from you. "Please, Eris, I need'nt not think on this decision..."

He eats it in two bites, gazing into your eyes as he swallows the rest of it. When he opens his mouth again, you can't help but smile.

"I'm truly grateful, because I don't think I could imagine this family without you in it."

✧･ﾟ: *

(cue the nsfw; 18+, mdni)

You laid back against the silky maroon sheets -- so familiar, but the feeling was new.

You'd sleep on these for the rest of your life. Together.

Eris hovers over you, his hand sliding from beneath your back as he helped you lie down gently against the sheets. His eyes scan your face, looking for any signs of discomfort. As you look back, his eyes are only filled with hunger. Desire. The need for you -- pure lust.

"You have to tell me... if anything is uncomfortable," he huffs, tugging his shirt over his head. You'd never tire of the sight of his exposed, toned torso -- the wounds from months back now fully healed.

"Y/N," he prods.

"Hm?" You'd been so distracted that you forgot to answer. "Oh, uh. Mhm. Okay." Your fingers slid along the ribbed muscles beneath his smooth skin, and he lowered himself to his forearms. His mouth was on yours again, this time more hungry and feverish than when you'd tangoed down the hallway to get to his room minutes before.

You catch his lip between your teeth, playfully tugging it and he groans, his fingers digging into your hips in warning.

"You're... a wicked little thing," he sighs, sliding the gown over your shoulders and tugging it lower and lower beneath him. He sucks in a sharp breath as your chest becomes more and more exposed; and practically orgasms when you're in nothing but your underwear beneath him.

"Gods, Y/N..." he swears, tossing your gown aside and sliding a hand over your breasts. "I've been... thinking about this, for so long..." He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, eyeing your nipples as they harden beneath his touch.

"Eris... please..." you beg. He chuckles, leaning down to take one in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, making you squeak beneath him. He releases his mouth from you, only to press kisses along your collarbone and eventually, you lips.

"I need you," you whimper, and he smiles down at you.

"I'll give you what you want," he whispers, biting the sensitive skin just below your ear. You squirm, your hands threading through his amber strands.

He descends, pressing soft kisses down your body until he gets to your inner thighs. Kissing each side, he toys with you, holding out from where you need him most.

"Eris-"

"Shhh, pretty girl." He kisses the outside of your undies, the inner fabric already soaked with need. Smirking, he hooks a finger around the lace, yanking it from your soaked core as he looks up at you in awe.

"Such a wet little cunt for me," he growls, diving right in and licking a thick stripe between your folds. You groan, the feeling of his tongue playing with you almost too much in your lust-filled state. He continues to torture you -- sucking roughly on your clit, adding one finger, then two... you're a quaking mess by the time your orgasm racks through you.

He leans back, pleased with his work, and wipes his glistening chin before crawling atop you once more. You push up onto your elbows weakly, but he only tuts at you.

"Lie back down, princess." He smirks, kicking off his pants as his cock springs free. The sight of it makes your mouth water -- so. Fucking. Big.

"Eris, let me-"

"Ah ah ah." He shakes his head as his fingers pull on his throbbing dick, pumping himself at the sight of you. "You can taste me next time -- allow me to make you feel good tonight, my darling."

You bite your lip as he aligns himself with your entrance, ever so slowly pushing the head in. The stretch is deliciously tight, so good you moan as he pushes in farther.

"Fuck, Y/N." He grits out, ever so slowly deepening himself. "So fucking tight..." His eyes squeeze shut before he bottoms out, and he opens them as he pulls all the way out and shoves right back in.

"Eris!" You cry out, his cock stretching you out. His fingers hold tight to your waist, and you can't help but grip his hair tighter as he sets his pace fucking into you.

"So good... so, so good," he grunts. You feel your second orgasm quickly approaching, the heat building in your lower stomach with every thrust he gives you. He reaches a hand up, cupping your cheek as he continues to bring you pleasure.

"My perfect girl," he admires breathily, his thumb sliding along your lower lip. You take the opportunity to open your mouth, sucking his finger inside. His eyes roll back as he speeds up, your groans of pleasure only spurring him on.

He's fucking you so hard, he settles both hands on your waist once more, his thrusts becoming rougher.

"Eris... oh Gods, I'm gonna..." Your mouth drops open, a small "o" shape as Eris groans above you.

"My perfect mate... ahhhh, yes, my mate-" He pushes in to the hilt as your walls flutter around him, hot ropes of cum pumping deep into your cunt. You breathe heavily, watching the gorgeous male above you catch his breath.

He sighs, a smile forming on his face as he rests his forehead against yours. After a few moments of quiet, he chuckles.

"I almost don't want to pull out of you," he admits, drawing a giggle from your lips. You smack his shoulder playfully, and he indeed unsheaths himself from you to lie down beside you on the mattress.

It isn't long before your eyelids feel heavy, the small peppering of kisses along your hairline from your mate sending you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

✧･ﾟ: *

(all clean from here on!)

Epilogue

The warmth from the early-autumn sun kissed your bare shoulders as you walked along, wicker basket in hand. You heard the sound of their voices before you saw them -- always listening, just in case it got too quiet.

"Nooo, Olive -- do not put that yucky grass in your mouth!"

You chuckled, rounding the corner and spotting your two little ones seated in the shade of a large apple tree. You'd only been a few feet away, but even in your absence, Riley took the role of "big sister" quite seriously.

"Mom, Olive is trying to eat the grass again. Really, she's trying really hard this time!"

You approach the honest eight year old, watching as she motions to the tiny tot still seated in the grass. Sure enough, each fist is full of freshly yanked grass. She peers up at you with a big grin.

"No need to worry, Riles." You unclench the baby's hands, and the grass stems flutter back to the ground where they came.

Scooping the toddler up, you place a kiss atop Riley's head. "Thank you for being mindful of your baby sister, and for telling me." You turn your attention to the tiny child in your arms, shaking your head slowly.

"Noooo, eating grass, Miss Olive."

She giggles, a string of spit running down her chin as she grips the straps of your sundress. You sigh, looking to the basket for the spit-cloth.

When you turn, Riley is already holding it out to you, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Here you go, mom!" She beams. You smile gratefully to her, accepting the cloth and wiping the baby's chin. Riley hums to herself, and you pull her close for a gentle hug.

"You're such a good sister, Riley." You admit, your voice thick with emotion. You remembered when Riley was barely older than this, still small enough to carry in your arms. Now, she'd grown a bit -- nonetheless, she was still your little girl.

"Ahh, there's my girls!"

You turn, watching Riley bound down the garden path toward her father, walking to her with open arms. He picks her up and spins her around, her dress-up princess dress fanning out behind her. He sets her down with a kiss on the cheek, and they continue their way to you.

"My dear," Eris grins, pulling you in for a kiss as his hand wraps around your waist. His attention snags on Olive, and he kisses her tiny nose. She laughs, and he beams down at her.

"Miss Olive -- I see we've been trying to eat the grass again." He chuckles, brushing a few stray pieces from her little skirt. She reaches out, and you're happy to allow her father to hold her a bit.

"No strenuous High Lord duties today?" You question with a playful brow raise. Eris laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"No, no my darling -- nothing too taxing today." Your heart swells. Eris had done so well taking on his father's title three years ago, and with so much happening at once -- the fall of Beron, accepting your mating bond, the new baby -- he handled it all so well.

"Olive, lookie! Look what I've found!"

Riley trots over to you, holding a bright orange flower in her hand. Eris sets the toddler down, her hand immediately being taken by Riley as she slowly walks the little one along the garden path.

Eris reaches for your hand, pulling you close.

"This, is a Chrysanthemum. A chris-an-the-mum, Olive." She continues to explain the plant to the baby, who happily steps right along side her big sister, listening intently.

"We truly have the best girls," You say, resting your head on your husband's shoulder as you stroll along behind the two sisters.

He grins, giving your hand a little squeeze.

"Yes, I sure do."

✧･ﾟ: *

[joeliz99]

MET GALA- Joe Keery

Description: (Y/N) navigates her first MET Gala with Joe by her side. After the glamorous event, they both share a tender moment alone.

Warnings: None, Fluff, Established relationship

Word count: 1314

_____________________________________________

For the first time ever, (Y/N) was invited to the Met Gala, donning an exquisite creation by Gaurav Gupta. It was the most elaborate and breathtaking outfit she had ever worn.

Relatively new to the public eye and experiencing this level of recognition, (Y/N) was both thrilled and petrified about what the night would bring. After all, being one of the few Latinxs at this exclusive event only added to the significance of the evening.

Joe, who had been on the verge of canceling due to a Heineken promo deal for the F1 races, managed to make it work. She had also been there as his plus one, so they both traveled from Miami to New York on separate days to beat the tight schedule.

While (Y/N) and Joe prepared in different rooms—given the numerous people involved in perfecting (Y/N)’s look—the moment of transformation was nothing short of magical. When she finally saw her reflection, she was left speechless, her heart racing at the sight of her stunning appearance. This transformative moment was captured for later promotional content on social media.

After expressing heartfelt thanks to the designer, Joe knocked on the door. His reaction was probably the highlight of her evening. Overwhelmed with awe, he struggled to find the right words, simply gazing in wonder at all the details of (Y/N)’s look. He hesitated to touch (Y/N), as if afraid to disturb the perfection before him.

“I’m absolutely floored,” Joe finally said, his smile lighting up the room. He took (Y/N)’s hand, his eyes never leaving theirs. “You’re going to be the star of the night, baby. You guys nailed it!”

They shared a few more quiet moments together, savoring the intimacy before heading out. As they approached the Met Gala, the swarm of paparazzi was already buzzing with anticipation.

In the quiet of the car before arriving, (Y/N) leaned in close to Joe. “I feel like I’m going to burst from nerves. Can you feel my heartbeat?” (Y/N) whispered, guiding Joe’s hand to her chest.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing,” Joe replied softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “Just be yourself and enjoy every moment. Remember, this is your night. I’m right here behind you if you need me. You’ve got this.” (Y/N) nodded, sighing in relief, and gave him a tender peck on the lips. He returned the kiss as the car came to a stop. “Let’s do this,” he said with a grin.

The initial moments at the gala were as overwhelming as expected. With a team directing (Y/N) on where to go, who to talk to, and when to pose, she began to feel more at ease. The girl's charisma started to shine through as she smiled, waved, posed, and engaged in conversations about her projects, taking every opportunity to express gratitude for the chance to be part of such a special night.

Joe, as promised, stayed a few steps behind, allowing (Y/N) to bask in the spotlight while enjoying the evening himself. They did, however, carve out a few moments for themselves amidst the festivities.

In one particularly charming moment, Joe pulled (Y/N) close for a photo. With his arm wrapped securely around (Y/N)’s waist, he leaned in and whispered, “I could spend the entire night just admiring you.” The chemistry between them was palpable in every photo, their connection evident to everyone present. As they approached the final interviews, reporters turned their attention to the couple.

“Let me start by saying, Joeliz, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” (Y/N) replied, her face lighting up with a genuine smile. “I really appreciate that.”

“So, this is your first time attending the gala together, right? How are you feeling?”

“It’s honestly surreal,” Joe said, his hand resting gently on (Y/N)’s waist. “We’re beyond excited to be here and surrounded by such incredible people.”

“Let’s talk about you two,” a reporter said with a grin. “We’re all thrilled to see you together tonight. Is this your first event as a couple?”

“It is, sort of,” (Y/N) chuckled softly. “There’s no one else I’d rather share this moment with than my husband.”

The reporters' eyes widened in surprise at this revelation. The fact that (Y/N) and Joe had been married for two years and had kept their relationship a secret until now was unexpected to many.

After a few more questions, they bid their farewells and headed to the official dinner. The dinner was pleasant but lacked excitement, so after it they decided to make a quick detour to their hotel for a change into more comfortable after-party outfits.

The after-party was in full swing, with upbeat music and lively chatter filling the room. The venue was beautifully decorated, and the crowd was a mix of high-profile artists and industry insiders.

Joe and (Y/N) were on the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of people. Joe, ever the social butterfly, was effortlessly moving through the crowd, introducing (Y/N) to various guests. The atmosphere was electric, but Joe kept glancing over to ensure (Y/N) was comfortable and enjoying herself.

With a mischievous grin, he gently tugged her away from a particularly enthusiastic conversation. “Come dance with me. I think it’s time for a little break from the mingling.”

(Y/N) smiled, allowing Joe to lead her to a quieter corner of the dance floor where the music was softer and more intimate. As they began to sway to the rhythm, (Y/N) rested her head on Joe’s shoulder, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

After a few songs, Joe excused himself to fetch some drinks. He soon returned and, having heard from others that the rooftop area was also available, decided it was the perfect place for a more private escape.

He guided (Y/N) through the bustling party and toward a discreet stairway. They climbed up to the rooftop, where the city lights stretched out below them, and the night sky was clear and serene. The rooftop was a tranquil haven, adorned with cozy seating areas lit by soft, twinkling string lights.

“Welcome to our little escape,” Joe said as he led (Y/N) to a comfortable couch set against the backdrop of the shimmering cityscape. He gestured to the inviting seating area. “I thought we could use a moment away from all the chaos.”

As they settled onto the couch, (Y/N) lay back against Joe’s chest, feeling the strength of his embrace. The quietude of the rooftop was a stark contrast to the party’s energetic buzz, allowing them to fully enjoy the serenity of their private retreat.

“I know it’s been a whirlwind tonight,” Joe murmured, his lips brushing against (Y/N)’s ear. “But I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. You’ve been incredible.”

(Y/N) sighed contentedly, resting her head on Joe’s shoulder. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. Tonight has been magical.”

Turning slightly, (Y/N) faced Joe, their hearts beating faster as their lips met. The kiss was both sweet and passionate, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire. After a moment, Joe pulled back, looking into (Y/N)’s eyes with a warm smile. He reached for the champagne glasses they had brought up, handing one to her. They clinked glasses, enjoying the bubbles and the calm atmosphere.

“Here’s to many more nights like this,” Joe said softly, his gaze warm and loving.

Smiling, (Y/N) snuggled closer. “Here’s to us.”

As the night wore on, they reluctantly left their rooftop retreat, their hearts full and their spirits high. They returned to their hotel, eager to unwind and reflect on the unforgettable evening before heading home the next day.

[damned-punk]

That’s Too Bad (Kidd Pirates x Reader)

@gratefulcheeses Kidd Pirate’s Month 2025 🏴‍☠️

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Content Warning: language

Content Description: you and your crewmates purposefully bicker to liven up the quiet moments at sea ♡

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The last several days had been nothing short of chaos which wasn’t entirely unusual, but things had not slowed down at all. In fact, they’d only grown more hectic with the innumerable pranks that every member of the crew had been pulling on one another. It was like a downhill slope that only continued to get steeper, first starting with Dive attaching rhinestones to Wire’s cape throughout the day and escalating to House snatching Kidd’s goggles from his head and hiding out in the hull for hours. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard so many curse words be used consecutively before.

To add to the tomfoolery, she waited him out until he finally relented to his cabin and dressed the goggles with a bow before laying them on his workbench like a present. He was grumpy the next morning, but no one could deny her commitment to fucking with him relentlessly. Bubblegum felt like you needed to be brought into the fun and took it upon himself to turn nearly everything in your cabin upside down. The bed, your books, the pictures on the walls, your clothes, anything that he could flip or turn inside out without completely destroying was maneuvered out of its place.

“Alright, who did it?”, you asked dumbfoundedly as you entered the mess hall for dinner.

“Who did what?”, Dive asked first, initially causing you to place to the blame on her.

You approached her and leant down to meet her at eye level, her expression not quite faltering but she was known for having a decent poker face.

“It wasn’t enough to take the Captain’s goggles?”, you interrogated her.

“With peace and love, I honestly have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”, she replied while backing away, the sight causing the actual culprit to laugh a little too hard.

Your attention shifted to Bubblegum who seemed to be enjoying your frustration, he honestly thought he’d get away with it but resolved to relent when you approached him.

“C’mon, a little bit of change is good every now and then.”, he attempted to defend himself, which was admittedly funny but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’m going to sleep in your cabin tonight while you put everything back in its place.”, you smiled at him before giving him a swift flick between the eyes.

“Damn, you’re just gonna take that?”, Mosh pushed to get a reaction out of Bubblegum while several onlookers giggled at how unserious the situation was.

“I don’t know, she might beat his ass.”, Heat remarked in a further attempt to keep the rivalry alive.

“Might?”, you eyed the bluenette, “I can take him.”

“In a fight, right?”, Boogie bellowed out in laughter, your face heating up at his explicit comment.

“You know what, fuck it.”, you began trudging toward the door, not at all serious in your demeanor, “I’ve had enough of every single one of you.”

“It’s not like you to back down so easily.”, Killer added one last burn, “I guess it’s not a bad thing to know when to walk away.”

The entire crew began laughing at his remark, he wasn’t typically one to partake in everyone’s antics but it was always so much fun when he did. Killer could not only take a joke, but could give one right back with no hesitation. He balanced Kidd’s hotheadedness which was also so much fun to prod.

“I can handle Bubblegum being an asshole, but you? My heart’s in shambles.”, you feigned being upset and although you couldn’t see it, you could feel the sassy eye roll emanating from beneath his mask.

Just as you stepped out onto the main deck in hopes of getting some fresh air, you nearly walked directly into Kidd who was dangling a giggling Emma above his head by her ankle.

“What the fuck did you do this time?”, you couldn’t help but be amused by the sight.

“I might’ve snuck into Kidd’s workshop to hide under his bench in an attempt to scare him and it also might’ve worked.”, she attempted to stifle her laughter as Kidd’s angry face turned to meet your own.

“That’s too bad, I was gonna try that later.”, you replied, snorting a bit as Kidd huffed loudly.

You glanced up at the Captain and placed a hand over your mouth in a feeble attempt to hide your expression. He rolled his eyes and continued past you into the mess hall where yet another barrage of curses could be heard. You scurried back toward your cabin and away from the ever present chaos that was sure to surmount even further. Despite the minor inconveniences, you couldn’t complain. You loved these dorks, tempers and all.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆

[thesimstree]

10+ unique templates to enhance your The Sims story

An easy way to make your sim’s profile stand out in the sea of family trees and dynasty channels is to use a variety of visual templates. We think these are perfect for character diary entries, adding flair to descriptions, sim galleries, or even the entire family. Of course they’re also great for your sims-themed social media.

In most cases working with templates requires only basic Photoshop skills. We’ve put together a selection of character profile templates, chat and story layouts, passports, travel tickets, and much more! Download your favorite designs below, create something unique, and share your vibrant sim stories with us on the platform. By the way, all these templates are perfect for using in your Sim's diary on TheSimsTree.

Character/sim card template for Photoshop by @cosmicamos-archive

A basic character profile styled in the spirit of our favorite game. It’s super easy to use in-game icons to quickly fill out your sim’s profile, all while keeping it fresh and original.

"Character in 5 Minutes" Template for Adobe Photoshop by @nulevhroma

A quick and fun questionnaire to reveal your sim’s personality in new ways. The prompts are thoughtfully selected, but you can easily tweak them or add your own ideas.

Character Sheet Template for Canva by thesimbience

An incredibly cute profile template where you can even showcase your favorite outfits for your sim. It's also a great place to highlight hobbies, work, and favorite spots.

Sim Character Sheet for Canva by @stormistargazer

This template is perfect for capturing all the most important details about your sim. You’ll need to decide what truly defines their biography and personality.

Kids’ questionnaire template for Adobe Photoshop by Ephiemera

A nostalgic throwback to the fun of filling out friend questionnaires in school. Why not let your sims enjoy the same experience? Plus it’s a great way for you to get to know them better. 

Of course this isn’t just for kids – see an example design by DiVet below.

Simstagram Story Overlay for Photoshop by @honeycombsims

As they say, “If it’s not on Simstagram, it didn’t happen”. This applies to your sims too! Don’t leave their journals without travel or event stories – your followers won’t forgive you!

Playlist Template for Adobe Photoshop by DiVet

Perfect for those who love fleshing out their characters on every level. Your sim’s favorite music can add more depth and life to their personality.

Text Messaging Template for Photoshop by @kouukie

An amazing way to tell a character’s story – just like forwarding texts to your friends for advice. After all, important decisions often happen in messages, and your sims are no exception.

Wikipedia Template for Photoshop by @lucky-content

In our Sims worlds full of characters and events, some deserve their own Wikipedia page. Movie stars, legendary scientists, infamous criminals, city founders, or the heads of ancient families – this template highlights just how unique your sim or event is.

Criminal Case File Template for Photoshop by @nulevhroma

Not all dynasty members are peaceful, some love to party, cause chaos, or even commit crimes. A police dossier on your sim is a great way to enhance their story.

Let's Travel (Template Pack) by gingenr

If your family members travel often, this pack is for you! Create realistic tickets for planes, trains, or buses. Designing tickets for an upcoming trip is such a delightful touch.

Passport - sims 4 worlds - emtpy PNG by gingenr

Where there’s travel, there are passports. This atmospheric pack includes passport templates for each Sims town. Passports aren’t just for travel, they can come in handy for jobs, weddings, or even police encounters…

Ultimate social bunny templates for Photoshop by pxlverse

No Sim story is complete without posts from their in-game social networks. This beautiful template helps immerse your readers in your sim’s journey.

[jarinnards]

About Messmer and Rellana

Spoilers will be under the cut, so if you haven't seen anything regarding these characters and you don't want to get spoiled, please scroll/click away‼️‼️

So regarding this post from (basically) yesterday, I want to expand on this topic a little and compile some bits I've seen people use as proof that Rellana and Messmer were in love and why I think it was most likely unrequited love on Rellanas part. I want to actually visit each of these points separately.

I will provide a link to each item description as it relates to each point where available. If there is no link, then it is because the point is self evident, (her sword having his flame) or there was no link I could find (the room where her shield is found) (since edited). If you know any lore or extra bits that I've missed, please do let me know and provide a source.

So on to the points I have personally seen:

She abandoned everything to "chase after Messmer"

She was given a sword imbued with his flames

There is a room in the Shadow Keep that has blue fire (like seen in Caria Manor and other locations associated with the moon) where you find Rellanas shield EDIT: added images to the appropriate section

She came to be known as "Messmers Sword" and was extremely devoted to him, even though she knew "the moon brilliance of the moon could not grant him succor"

Okay, so, starting with the first point:

She abandoned everything to chase after Messmer

I genuinely believe that could range from anything between platonic and romantic. With Messmer specifically, we see many people who showed similar devotion to him by abandoning their homes and swearing their undying fealty to him. Without further context, there's really nothing I can see that can be used in either direction to make this any more concrete, so I'll just move on.

She was given a sword imbued with his flame

I think point 2 is undoubtedly the weakest, as the Fire Knights were given swords blessed with his flames as well. In fact, all of Messmers soldiers had weapons blessed with his flame, or used his incantations. We see this with even the most basic Messmer soldier in game, so this point in specific I find rather baseless.

A room modeled after Raya Lucaria

I assume the reasoning behind using this as proof that they are in love is that it would be assumed Messmer himself modeled this room after Rellanas home out of his affection for her or something similar, and while that could be true given Fromsofts love of environmental storytelling, I do think this is too shaky to use as actual concrete evidence. Keep in mind, it is in a storeroom in the keep, and if you look, on the many levels of each of the rooms, we see numerous books, tablets, and other items used for study or knowledge, and many of them are based in different cultures and factions in the setting of the world, so having an area that would contain information regarding Raya Lucaria and associated magic or glinstone sorcery as a whole doesn't feel far fetched to me. Conversely, Messmer is shown to be very benevolent and caring towards those in his charge, so it would also be reasonable to assume that he would allow for her to have that part of the storehouse be modeled in a way that invokes feelings of home for her. But I don't necessarily believe that has to be romantic. I have no specific points to make on the contents of the shield itself, but I will link her shields description for any who want to read it.

EDIT: it seems to be an armory specifically. There are no books, and there are only shields and lances. Sorry I couldn't get a photo with all of the furniture intact, the Fire Knight destroyed it all... That said, I'm not sure if this being an armory would change any context, really.

She came to be known "as Messmers Sword"

This, again, doesn't feel concrete to me, as far as proving anything happening between them. After all, not only were many of his soldiers incredibly devoted to him, but the Fire Knights in specific were the ones who knew him best, and each of them were the ones who answered directly to Messmer, as well as wielding weapons with his flame and his incantations in tandem. They were closest to him. And then there's Gaius, who was outright stated to be Messmers friend and the leader of his men. Lastly, I think being devoted to someone does not always imply romantic love, nor does the title of being their instrument of battle. Blade of Miquella is Malenias title, and I do not believe those two are romantically involved.

Some additional thoughts

I would honestly say that the most convincing piece of evidence to suggest that there were romantic feelings on Rellanas part comes from her sword, which reads: "here, and here alone, were moon and fire ever together." This, to me, is far better evidence that there were deeper feelings on her part than just devotion. However, it also clearly states how they were never together, which I feel is very much the most important part of all of this.

However, in general, while I do believe that all of the in-game lore suggests she may have had romantic feelings for him, I also think it could be as deep as pure devotion. We see it everywhere in this world, both in base game and the DLC. Malenia, Blaidd, Leda, Ansbach... Radahn and Leonard. (sorry) Devotion is seen in all corners of this setting. Messmer in particular seemed to inspire a great deal from many different places and in many people, so it's not entirely impossible that it would be the same for Rellana, though I do believe she has unrequited love for him.

Another thing to keep in mind is Messmers situation. He is cursed and was waging a cleansing war on untold numbers. He is slowly being eaten away at by a serpent that resides in his body, and that says nothing of the flame in him that he utterly despises. He also clearly has many issues where Marika is involved. All of this, coupled with the information that the Fire Knights were the only ones who truly knew and understood Messmer, it feels to me like romance would not only be something he was not concerned with, but also something he might not allow himself. I feel like he's far more worried about more important things.

In closing

At the end of the day, the nature of these games is that of vague droplets of information, even with the most important story beats. So unless there is something I've missed, I genuinely believe there is nothing in the game suggesting that they were in love with each other or that Messmer in any way returned her feelings, and in fact I think the game suggest the exact opposite: that Rellanas feelings were one sided. However, the only person who could say for certain is Miyazaki, and something tells me he wouldn't care to elaborate on this.

So until supplementary material is released that reveals new information or there is lore within the game that I have not seen or has not yet been found, I'd have to say I think it's relatively certain that they were not romantically involved, and that the feelings were very one sided, if any romantic feelings existed at all.

[incognitopolls]

Received a question "Any tips for starting up a poll blog?". The question was off anon, but for reasons related to my final point, I've chosen not to include the asker's identity.

Keep it as simple for yourself as you can. Some general things…

If you want lots of traction, avoid putting yourself in too small of a niche. If you don't care about reach and just want to post some fun polls, go as niche as you like. There just won't be as much buy-in for a blog with an extremely narrow focus like "Do you like this food from the 1870s?", but that's fine if that's what you're passionate about.

Tags are your friends and will be one of the primary ways your polls reach people until you have a large following. Tag appropriately (don't spam tags that aren't relevant), but tag liberally.

I use xkit rewritten to add all the basic tags that get added to every poll, so I only have to add content-related tags to each one as needed.

Keep extra media, links, etc to a minimum. I don't think it's generally necessary for every post to include a photo banner* or links to submit questions, etc; the more things you add to your "template," the more work you have to do for each poll, and it adds up! Also– there was a time where posts with links wouldn't show up in searches. I don't believe that's still the case, but I tend to avoid including links anyway unless they're necessary support for the topic.

*Re: photo banners/photos in general, it is a good rule of thumb to add descriptions to all images. Accessibility is important in and of itself; it also broadens your blog's reach by enabling more people to engage with your posts. To repeat the last point, the fewer images and banners you include, the less work you have to do specifically on adding descriptions.

If it ever becomes not-fun, you don't have to keep doing it.

I would only ever recommend running a poll blog to people who plan to run it from desktop. The poll editor on desktop is much, much easier to use than the mobile one.

And finally– it may not be every poll blogger's preference, but I highly recommend maintaining some level of anonymity. You don't owe anyone any details about who you are, and it helps give you some space at the end of the day to disconnect from public perception and pressure.

[mythauragame]

Development Update - April 2025

Hello hello, folks!

Content development for what we'll have available at launch is well underway, utilizing all the tools that Koa and Sark have built for us—like a dialogue creator that powers all of our questlines and a map builder that's allowing us to build 2.5D levels for your characters to explore. It's full steam ahead for our team as we continue to prepare for Closed Beta next year.

Sark has built a fishing minigame for Mythaura, which we will explore in this update. We also have the results for the Spring Quarter Ko-fi Rewards, and would like to remind everyone interested in winning some Radiant Wolfwasps for their journey through Mythaura to enter our Wolfwasp Giveaway on Instagram by 11:59 AM on May 31!

Fishing

Mythaura is filled with all manner of bodies of water—lakes, rivers, streams, and oceans. In addition to being able to traverse water by swimming, Sark has created a way for players to explore them in another dynamic way: fishing.

The fishing minigame will be available at launch, with some post-launch additions planned as well.

Mechanics

After acquiring a fishing pole from the Grinning Gar, players will be able to fish along any body of water.

Players will have to keep their lure close to the fish in order to reel it in. The higher the rarity of the fish, the more difficult it will be to reel them in.

Rarer fish yield better effects when consumed and have a higher sales value with in-game vendors.

Fishing Rewards

Fishing does not exclusively yield consumables—there's also the chance to fish up certain Companions as well!

Pictured above are just some of the creatures that you can fish up from the rivers and streams around Talon's Rest.

The Grinning Gar

"Mind your fingers around the Ottergrebe. He's insatiable."

The Grinning Gar is an adventurer's destination for all things fishing-related. Its proprietor, Captain Hawthorne, is always quick with a recommendation and quicker yet with a fantastic tale about the epic battles he has waged with the fish in Lake Lacrima.

The shop was designed by our own lovely Sourdeer and Hawthorne's design was pulled from one of the NPC Design Contest that we held. Thank you for the design submission, Satyrn! 🎣✨

Ko-fi Spring Quarter 2025 Winners

Thank you to all the Ko-fi sponsors who voted for the Spring Quarter 2025 rewards. Next month we will show the finalized artwork for the Frilled Nester Companion and the Bumblebaby Ryu Glamour. Stay tuned!

Radiant Wolfwasp Giveaway

A reminder that entries for our Radiant Wolfwasp Giveaway will close on May 31, 2025 at 11:59am PST. We will use Wask to determine our winners, and will stream the award selection on our Discord on May 31, 2025 at 12:00pm PST.

Prizes

1st place: Wolfwasp Queen (Radiant), Wolfwasp King (Radiant)

2nd place: Wolfwasp Warrior Drone (Radiant) and Wolfwasp Worker Drone (Radiant)

3rd place: Corgbee (Radiant)

How to Enter

Users will just need to follow three steps:

Follow the @mythauragame Instagram account

Like the giveaway post

Tag a friend in the comments

Writing & Design Updates

2/8 bespoke levels created for intro quest

Dialogue trees begun for intro quest

Companion descriptions rewritten: 2/95

Item descriptions rewritten: 2/69

Wind's End landmarks named: 1/9

Talon's Rest primary businesses & landmarks named: 3/13

Map regions named: 1/12

Territories named: 1/32

Mythaura v0.37

Quest System Foundation: Players can now take on structured quests with objectives and rewards.

Lineage Data for Beasts: Lineage tracking has been added to beast profiles.

Repeatable Event Support: Events can now be repeated. For example, being able to harvest apple trees in Talon's Rest once a week.

Player Blocking System: Added functionality to block other players.

Buildings can be added to maps and entered: The player can enter and explore buildings with interiors.

Ability to talk to party: You can now interact with your party members to get context-specific dialogue.

New Game Pipeline: Starting a new game now initiates the first quest and generates a random second starter beast.

Map Editor Features: Dozens of new features were added and refined in the internal map tool.

Active Quest Tracking: The codex now shows your active and completed quests. One quest can be tracked as the main quest.

Dynamic Fishing Lighting: When fishing at night, the assets are darker.

Beast Contract Termination: Players are rewarded from a loot pool based on the tier of the terminated beast

Thank You!

Thanks for sticking through to the end of the post, we always look forward to sharing our month's work with all of you--thank you for taking the time to read. We'll see you around the Discord.

[semisomnosres]

I recently re-watched this show and noticed these villains shown literally for 3 seconds, and then I come to my senses in front of an open canvas and a stylus in my hand

Here is my interpretation of ​​them and a couple of sketches, I'm not very good at coming up with names, but for the sake of decency I added them

(I noticed that only the girl's name was shown, if others also had it somewhere, correct me) In order:

Diego Ansford A bounty hunter and a mercenary for hire, perhaps he doesn't even disdain to organize a robbery of a bank that he just met along the way. Judging by his suit, he is not one of those who prefers to carry out tasks quietly, but rather kick down the door and throw grenades for fun, and after 10 minutes there is not a single intact place left inside the building.

W. KING (Willow) She was on Van Rook's client list, maybe she's a collector of ancient artifacts (perhaps it was to her that Van Rook wanted to sell those artifacts from the burial mounds) And now she's in a VERY tense relationship with Abbey (I don't know why, I just wanted to :) so much so that not a single event where these two are together goes by without at least one clump of torn hair.

Dr. Gelfand A bioengineer and neurosurgeon, almost completely fits the description of a "mad scientist" He didn't lose his arm and there is no tragic story about it, he replaced it with a prosthesis himself to make his work easier. He actively buys up cryptids for his experiments (I can imagine how angry Saturdays will be if they meet him. If he had his way, he would have already studied Zak's brain under a microscope.) And I don't know why, but while drawing a sketch with a shot knee, I came up with some kind of friendship between them (?) Where one, many years ago, foolishly gave the other a small amount of money and he hasn't returned it for 20 years. He doesn't even hope that the other will ever return it, but asking at every meeting "what happened to the money" and the other refusing to return it in any way has already become a tradition at the greeting level

Eitor Bergler He became a cyborg after an accident, maybe after a shipwreck. He terrorizes many sea routes and if a ship with valuable contents suddenly disappears, then with a high probability he is involved in it.

Yamamoto Kirahara We have already been shown intelligent cryptids (Argost and the Kumaris) and I got the idea to make him also an intelligent cryptid from the race of mole people. (at first I wanted to make the man a rat, but in the background I had "Inside Job" it talked about mole people) I see him as a businessman who got so rich that he acquired almost impenetrable immunity to the law and has great influence in the criminal world. He doesn't act like Argost, but more covertly

[bluecanvasshoe]

I Still Miss Someone

Chapter 4 of Everything Eats and is Eaten (Time is Fed)

platonic Red Dead Redemption x teen!reader

Summary: Acquaintances and feelings from times passed pop up again.

Warnings/content: angst, descriptions of grief, alcohol poisoning mentions, descriptions of alcoholism and underage drinking (don't drink underage!! i do not condone this!!!!!), big reader backstory drop, talk of death and self-deprecating thoughts

Word count: 2.1k

Title from the song 'I Still Miss Someone' by Johnny Cash

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

a/n: backstory drop!!! wow!!! i had a lot of trouble writings this one, so apologies if it's not great; i’m sick and stressed out from school. i promise we'll have more interactions with people in the next chapter! also........ farewell Guy :¨(

ps… late merry christmas and happy holidays! ❤️

want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment!!

--

“John?”

You asked with a tone of incredulity, grinning nonetheless.

“Goddamn. Look at you! You’ve gotten taller!” He laughed in that raspy voice of his, pulling you into a hug, and patting your back. 

“Why’re you here?” You asked, leaning away a bit with a smile. You were much more on his level, able to face him without craning your neck. 

“Well, Abigail, Jack and I have been uh, movin’ around. We ended up here.”

“Abigail and Jack? They’re here? Where are-”

“Well, not- not right now.”

“...What?”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head a bit. 

“Yeah, uh, Abigail and Jack aren’t here right now. I kept causing trouble with the law, so she took Jack and left. She won’t come back until I’ve sorted myself out.”

“Abigail… left you.”

“No, at least, not for long. I’m looking at a place down near Blackwater-”

“Blackwater!?”

Your chatter had drawn some attention, his coworkers turning their heads and looking up from their tasks. Your vision almost seemed clearer after seeing John; if that made any sense at all.

“Our bounties have been lifted, probably, and the property is far enough away. It’ll be fine, kid. …Anyways, what are you doin’ here?”

You grinned, “I think I found Charles.”

“Charles Smith?” John repeated, his eyes wide.

You nodded, crossing your arms. “In Saint Denis.”

He let out a breath, his hands on his hips. “I always wondered where he went. How’d you know?”

Your confidence faltered, and you grimaced lightly.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest, uh, I found a passage in the newspaper. It just… it included a bit about someone who sounded like Charles.” You replied sheepishly, the faults in your plan suddenly seeming very clear.

John cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “So, you aren’t sure?”

“Not- not really. But I’m still gonna head on out there, just to… make sure I ain't passin’ up a good opportunity.”

He nodded slowly, the smile returning to his face as he patted your shoulder. “Good luck then, kid. I really wish I could go with you, but… I’m working towards getting Abigail and Jack back here at the moment. After the gang and Arthur, things have been… difficult. I’m trying to keep out of trouble, get myself back on my feet. Look, I’ll join you in your search as soon as I can. The place I’m looking at in Blackwater, it’s called Beacher’s Hope.”

You nodded along, the reminder of the gang and Arthur’s subsequent passing sending a pang of hurt to your heart. You understood why John wasn’t coming; the lead you had wasn’t solid and you were taking a huge risk. Yet despite that, it hurt nonetheless. However, you were smart; you understood why going alone would probably be a bit safer.

See, you could take said risk. You’re younger, childless, and with much less to lose compared to John. Making dangerous, riskier decisions is easier when you don’t have much fiscal or sentimental value to yourself or your name; losing money or getting yourself into stupid situations is easier to get out of when you have more potential and life than someone older.

“I understand, I-” “I got you a new bedroll!”

Guy shouted, walking back to you with a crooked grin. His teeth were yellowed, lips cracked. 

He walked up with a rolled-up piece of fabric. John raised an eyebrow, smiling in amusement as he looked from you to the eccentric old man. “...thank you kindly.” you nodded, taking it from him. 

You turned back to John, giving him a lackluster smile. Your mood was quite dampened; both from the fact that John could not join you and the reminder of Arthur.

“I suppose I’ll see you around, Jim,” You slurred the new name, catching yourself before you said ‘John’. “I’ll write to you about updates.” 

“‘Course, kid. I’ll cya. It was great seein’ you again.” The older man pulled you into a brotherly sort of hug, patting your back once or twice before letting you go. 

With a lonesome kind of reluctance, you pivoted on your heel and walked back to your horse waiting patiently for you.

“Would you need a ride home, Guy?” you offered the man, voice faltering when you turned to see he was walking back to the house. With narrowed eyes followed by a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders and returned to your trek towards the hitching posts. 

A few workers looked up briefly before continuing their work, sheep bleating and crows cawing in the distance.

You strapped the new bedroll to your horse’s saddle, giving him a pat on the rump before hosting yourself onto him. 

—

The trees that surrounded you seemed, yet again, endless. It was suffocating in the dark, and repetitive in the light.

The gang, for some reason, plagued your mind. As much as you tried to ignore the nagging, it kept returning. You wanted nothing more than to go back to the gang, even if it was hard back then as a young teenager. 

You wished you screamed a little harder, kicked with more force, hadn’t discarded your gun in fear. Maybe the lawmen wouldn’t have caught you.

Or, maybe, if you didn’t even get found by the gang, things would be better. No, scratch that, things would definitely be better. Maybe you could’ve been taken in by a nice family instead of a group of outlaws. 

But things would never really be different, would they?

See, your mother died during childbirth, and your father passed soon after; the details of which had never been disclosed to you. 

Thus, you were taken in by your grandparents. You hardly remembered the time leading up to their deaths, but the memories you did have were clearer than most. Your grandmother hardly remembered you in the days leading up to her passing; to her, you weren’t her granddaughter. Your grandfather was taken by consumption, or Tuberculosis, as the doctors called it.

When they were gone, your uncle and his wife were the only two left in the family. You were stricken by grief, a child of nine who had spaced out far too much and carried a deep distrust in many due to a conclusion she’d drawn long ago. Said conclusion being that she was a bad omen, something made obvious by the fact that she’d taken a life even before her first breath.

It took a year to finally become comfortable with your aunt and uncle, but it didn’t take long for their relationship to become rocky soon after. Florence never envisioned herself as a mother, the responsibilities of being one to a child who demanded so much aid dragging on her mind. It wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t yours, but it couldn’t be helped.

Your uncle, Ernest, could hardly stand her nagging, as he called it. He changed, becoming irritable and annoyed by her upset. 

They argued a lot. Over you, over finances, over small things that turned into screaming matches.

They divorced, and you never heard from Florence again. Ernest turned to alcohol, hiding his feelings at the bottom of a bottle.

One snowy morning, you woke up in an empty, quiet house. After an hour of mucking around, the town’s sheriff knocked on your door. He delivered the news of your uncle Ernest’s demise: alcohol poisoning in the wee hours of the morning.

You were alone, and you didn’t want to be sent to the orphan trains or, god forbid: an orphanage. So, you took to a life of crime. That brought you to the gang.

And now, you’re here.

Alone again.

When Arthur died, the only news you’d heard of it was in the papers.

In the front of your mind, you’d say you understood Arthur’s death, that he wasn’t around anymore. However, these messages of understanding were laced with a parasitic sense of denial.

Then, you became irate; just like Ernest. 

You’d sneak whiskey from your foster parent’s alcohol cupboards, trying to stomach bourbon and forget your woes. However, they soon noticed the stench of alcohol in your small room and the dwindling supply on the shelves, landing you a harsh punishment and new rules. On top of that, you were reminded of the death of your uncle by Anne and David, your panic and fear being enough to dump the budding habit surprisingly early. 

Without booze, you’d beat yourself down in your room, sobbing night after night until you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. Tears refused to fall from your eyes, and the most you’d get out were pathetic sobs into your thin pillow.

The process took almost a year, but things began to look up.

One day, you were sitting against a tree with a sketchbook in hand. Nothing came to mind and you lacked inspiration, so you turned your head towards the sprawling fields and oak trees.

Amidst your staring, a deer wandered into your line of sight. 

He stood, staring at you.

He was young from what you could remember from Charles and Arthur’s hunting lessons, but surprisingly not skittish.

You felt a sense of odd comfort wash over you, one of familiarity and yearning. It took a few seconds, but he soon wandered off.

This inner peace didn’t come from a deer looking at you a second too long, though. If anything, it was hard to explain; but the deer was relevant.

Arthur would take you out hunting, teaching about deer and other common game. They were scared, easy to frighten, and would run at the snap of a twig because you were looking for food, meat, a meal. You were a threat because you were their killer. Even since birth, death followed you. 

For some people, grief was something they never had to experience, but an experience they looked upon with pity and sympathy. In your case, it dragged on your mind nearly every day since childhood, coming and going in various forms.

But in recent years, things have been different.

Your stupid foster brothers laughed with you and watched you do things with awe. Anne and David encouraged growth and learning within you, and you began to be impressed by things you learned, no matter how small.

You were given a chance to become more.

They proved you weren’t a bad omen, because good things really did happen. You were able to be seen as a big sister, a role model. In your foster parents, you were seen as a soul saved from the clutches of despair. 

In yourself, you saw that things truly did get better. That you were capable of healing, of moving on. That you weren’t just a bad omen; that you weren’t one at all. Because if you were, why did the old farmer smile at you at the market? Why did the woman from town thank you profusely after you offered her a free product, and since then greet you happily every day? Why did your brothers hear your voice and come bounding down the stairs to talk? Why didn’t the deer run off immediately after seeing you?

Since then, the thought that maybe you weren’t unlucky or the cause of death helped you overcome the majority of your grief.

However, memories still haunted you and a feeling of yearning still gripped your heart.

You’d wake up in the morning, alone in a room. You wouldn’t sit around a campfire and joke with Sean. Lenny wasn’t around to read to you; you had to read to yourself nowadays. Ms. Grimshaw doesn’t tell you what to do anymore, and Karen wasn’t around to complain with you. Now, you go to town, alone nearly all the time. You’d see other people your age hanging out and wonder ‘What’s wrong with me’ because you miss outlaws more than you yearn for a normal life. 

You stopped asking yourself that question.

Because instead of that, you wondered what went wrong.

You still do.

–

You miss the gang.

The trees around you closed in on your mind, evergreen appearing black in the evening light. They isolate you from the outside, from the noise of the world. It was just you.

And maybe you aren’t an omen of death, but if you’re being honest, you once again feel stupid. A dumb plan to find someone who is probably dead, leaving your foster family, abandoning a better chance at life, and now finding yourself alone. And this time, no one’s here to listen.

You forgot how desolate the wilderness is. It’s calming by a lake, but right now, you can't help but get lost in your thoughts. Trees cast daunting shadows overhead and at the moment, a person to talk with would be nice. You miss hunting lessons and bad stew and stories told by people thrice your age.

You miss your bed and the fields. 

You’re cold and hungry; you miss fire stoves. 

You miss your family.

You still miss Arthur.

Taglist:

@gallantys, @justsomereaderwholikesanime, @shackspossum

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 5 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

<Previous Chapter & Masterlist Link

Content Warnings: PTSD, Violence, descriptions of wounds, previous taskforce betrayal, angst, drugging, revelation of sexual assault. As always, if I’m missing tags do not hesitate to message me or post a comment. 1595 Word Count

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this (: @greeniegreengreen @aeilani  @poetslastdeath

Ghost has kept a visual on you since you were dismissed for the night. Your muscles ache from sitting around for an ungodly amount of hours, but the soreness won't stop you from finding what you came here for. 

The mission led to an outpost near the Russian/Ukrainian border, the same one you spent months recovering hidden in the musty basement. Laswell wouldn't trust anyone, keeping your survival so under wraps that your medical staff didn't have access to anything but the bare necessities. Just a barely alive soldier that survived going through a fucking blender.

A living corpse, one of the doctors had called you. It still feels fitting.

The pups trail after you like they usually do, but you need them to keep the Lieutenant off your ass. You have to do this alone, slowly approaching the familiar sight of four hallways meeting into an intersection. With a click of your tongue, you and the dogs separate. 

Muscle movement leads you to the stairway, the office-like door easily disguising its true face. Your key slides in perfectly, unlocking it with a twist of your wrist that sends pain up your arm. Gritting your teeth, you push on and enter. The automatic lock engages once the door closes, and you descend into the abyss.

Each step is weighted, lead-filled limbs slowing your descent. The echoes penetrate your mind, the sound bringing back too many memories. The quick descent of staff rushing to stabilize. Others run up despite their lungs begging for breath.

Taking in a deep breath, you smell the change in air. Damp and pungent, reeking of compromised concrete and cut corners. You let the darkness wrap around you, leaving most of the lights off until you finally reach it-

Flicking on the farthest light, THE filing cabinet jumps out of the dark. You don't know what to expect, too many unknowns quickly careening into chaotic assumptions that all lead to the same question: How did you survive? 

Sucking in a breath, you push forward and unlock the drawers. Shaky hands pull open the first. Nothing. The same goes for the second. The third opens to reveal a singular, hefty, file. Blinking the unwanted tears away, you grab it and sit at an open desk. It's just paper and ink. It is, but what will it say? The file can't be the answer to all of your questions, but it's a start. You open it.  Your tears fall once you see the choppy medical report at the top. 

Near-fatal trauma to the head, installation of metal plating, or similar in progress at the time of report. Five gunshot wounds, all dressed correctly by the patient. Handled by staff. Broken bones, scarring, superficial wounds... 

Then the drug screening. Your tears blur your vision. No, no, no nononononono.

The patient’s uncommon brain chemistry and hormone levels are likely the result of heavy doses of aphrodisiacs for an unknown segment of time. The medication provided by the investigation corroborates this-

The paper crumples under the force of your hands, the chair screaming against the floor as you back away from the words. The floor gives out, the biting cold of the concrete doing little to ground you. Rage shakes your entire form, the cold only adding to it as the filing cabinet slams onto the ground.

Metal slams against metal as the chair soars into the cabinet, the plastic seat shattering on impact. Your skin splits open with red ichor flowing out. It jolts down your knuckles with each heavy breath you force out of your lungs. Black dots threaten to obscure your vision, but it only tunnels. 

The world falls away as your lungs burn from your screams, but you can’t hear them. Not when you can still feel Dane’s hands on you. Warm and loving touches followed by words of support, of wanting a family with you, vowing to be by your side on and off the field. 

How long were you drugged? When did this all start? How could you be so stupid, careless? You pour through every memory you can, peeling back the rose-colored lens until you see everything properly for the first time. It’s so clear now. 

When did Dane begin bringing you food? How many times has your team fetched your drinks? His fingers sink in deeper, your muscles twitching in reaction to the phantom pain. How did he go from co-worker to lover? Too fuzzy, too out of reach when his hands blind your eyes.

All the digging questions, getting nervous when you reached out to allies behind his back. Distracting you. Making you more reliant on the team until it became second nature. A habit that he curated until you did all the work for him.

Sucking in a breath, you recalibrate and take in your surroundings. Ghost is by the desk, all papers scattered and scanned through. Fuck. Fuck. You couldn’t even make it past the first two fucking pages.

“You couldn’t have known,” Ghost utters, his eyes drifting from the file to you. “Did every dirty trick in the book and they still failed.”

Bile churns in your stomach, nothing but disgust polluting your thoughts. His hands. His hands are everywhere. A comforting warmth that now burns through you like lava. You’d rather deal with the burning pain of heated metal than this. Drugged to act like a bitch in heat, keeping you stupid with false love and lust.

“They did enough, Simon,” you choke out, your throat raw and aching. How long were you screaming?

He’s on you before you realize it, gloved hands dragging you from the ground. Your hands claw at his, trying to break from his grasp as the dogs bark.

You land on the desk, eyes wide as he digs around your pockets until he finds your photo. He takes your knife and takes his time slicing out each person with precision. 

The sisters flutter to the ground first, easily forgotten as he moves on to August who meets the same fate. The worn paper disappears from view until Dane meets his end in the trash. The remaining photo, just you and the dogs,  is gently returned to its resting place. The knife slides back into its sheath without resistance.

Simon Riley is a confusing man, one of a kind that prevents you from coming up with anything tangible to compare him to. An abyss, that’s all you see in his eyes. The very same one that stares back at you in the mirror, yearning to consume what little humanity you have left. 

“Y’know my name. Wanted me, did you?” He teased, invading your space even more. His hand, ungloved, pulls you closer. 

“Wanted th’ best,” you mutter, sagging against the wall. “Price got you before I could.”

“Laswell kept her trap shut about tha’.”

You close your eyes, leaning into the warmth of his hand and finally letting the tears fall unrestricted. Your hands grab his arm, needing some form of control even now. You open your eyes as his other hand drags across ancient injuries.

The patch of hair on your scalp that refuses to fully grow back after Urszula. The divot on the side of your skull where your metal plate resides. Your incomplete ear, eviscerated by Dane’s bullet. Scarred bites on your hands and arms from K9 training. Too much war carved into your flesh, a constant reminder you will never escape. Each touch met with a flinch.

You haven’t let someone touch you like this in so long.

Simon stares at you for a few moments, then he wanders to the door. The lights are getting to you again, his voice no longer distracting you from the screaming bulbs. Your hands shoot up to cover your ears, the papers wrinkling under your legs as you curl in on yourself. They’re going to send you away, you know it. No matter the experience, no matter how decorated you are, you’re going to end up forgotten and-

The lights flick off, killing the screaming and leaving you in darkness. You can see his silhouette approach, getting closer and closer until he’s in front of you again. Consumed by his mass. There’s a rustling of fabric, then it’s in your hand. You run your fingers along the breathable fabric of a balaclava. Then you feel something sewn into it, digging your fingers into the eye holes of a mask. 

“Ruse chewed up your bag,” Simon mutters, guiding your hand to feel the rest of the mask. “Gaz found it. Johnny fixed it up for you.”

Your mask. He guides your fingers along the open mouthpiece, the jagged edges replaced with a smooth texture. 

“‘S not finished, needs paint,” Simon continues, remaining silent when your tears hit his skin. “He removed some features, had to change it, but kept most of its charm. He kept bitching about the sanding. Passed it off to Gaz when his hands started cramping.”

“How long have I been down here?” you ask him, hands squeezing the fabric.

“Nearly half a day,” he responds, helping you down.  He steadies you when you wobble. “C’mon, let’s get some grub in ya. Price has some news.”

He guides you to the door, opening it to reveal Sunshine and Mohawk, no, Gaz and Johnny, resting at the bottom of the stairs with Price above them. The captain gives you a knowing look. 

What did he say in the forest? He’ll take care of you. They all will. You’re starting to believe him… and it fucking terrifies you.

(Next Chapter in Progress)