#I showed them how to do it & they were delighted

[nemo-in-wonderland]

I'll swim and sail on savage seas With ne're a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me No scorching sun nor freezing cold Will stop me on my journey If you will promise me your heart And love me for enternity My dearest one, my darling dear Your mighty words astound me But I've no need of mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me But I would bring you rings of gold I'd even sing you poetry And I would keep you from all harm If you would stay beside me I have no use for rings of gold I care not for your poetry I only want your hand to hold I only want you near me To love to kiss to sweetly hold For the dancing and the dreaming Through all the sorrows and delights I'll keep your love beside me I'll swim and sail on savage seas With ne're a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you will marry me If you will marry me

"FOR THE DANCING AND THE DREAMING"- cover by Peter Hollens

AND I AM FINALLY DONE, OMG.

And I am actually so happy with how it turned out! In the end, I decided to go with an appearance that made it look as if Hiraeth and Gale were part of one of Gale's book (I can honestly imagine him doing something like this and just immortalizing a moment together and keep it in his book for keepsake).

What more to say aside that these two cinnamon rolls ABSOLUTELY deserve each other????

Also, fun fact about Hiraeth´s appearance: she usually wears a glamour to hide away her scales, but with Gale, she can definitely let her guard down and show them to him.

I like to imagine that this moment portrayed here happened after Hiraeth was finally free from her pact with her Patron, Titania, after absolving her duty to her and Damh (I will explain more once I manage to write her profile, which will come soon alongside Asra's) and she is *finally* free to just be Hiraeth.

So, OF COURSE, she is celebrating in the arms of the man she loves the most! <3

Well, I hope you will like this <3

--Nemo

[inthehouseoffinwe]

I sometimes think about Fingolfin being the sole Uncle looking after all his nephews/niece/kids. Like, there’s 16 children. Before taking the Helcaraxë he no doubt promised Finarfin that he would take care of them. And I feel like once he found out about Fëanor, and especially saw the state of Maedhros, he silently promised his half brother he’d do his best to look after them too. Not that he wasn’t going to anyway.

But the burden that must have been, especially with how volatile and independant all these kids are. Oh they might be grown. But he’ll never see them as such. Even now he remembers Nelyo’s birth and how the baby would toddle after him, crying when it was time to leave. Curvo going through all his mechanical devices, Turukano right behind him as Fingolfin explained where each came from and listened to the children tell him all about the workings. Carnistir carefully running little hands over the embroidery of his cloak, Anairë laughing quietly and explaining the techniques that went into it. Ambarussa and all the chaos they caused, enough so that Fëanor and Nerdanel would dump them at his house for days at a time, usually a couple of brothers tagging along. Tyelko and Irissë wrestling in the mud, neither group of parents knowing what to do when they trudged in, a sticky trail behind them.

Findekáno’s duets with Makalaurë, the little musician quietly asking to play before his uncle and cousin to make sure it was perfect before he showed his father. Finno, Nelyo, and Findarato encouraging him with whoops, Fingolfin and Anairë applauding with wide smiles at the end as he was swarmed by his cousins and brother. The four’s ‘secret’ sleepovers whenever they were in the same place. Aikanaro and Angamaitë raiding his kitchens, Fingolfin joining in with a finger on his lips, helping steal pastries in the middle of the night. Artanis insisting she could join in whatever game his boys were playing, Ireth backing her with a scowl until they were let in. Little Orodreth and his own Arakano, friends since birth. The screams of delight whenever they saw each other.

Despite everything, or maybe because of everything, he doesn’t know. All of them are now his children. He couldn’t stop the Fëanorions from taking the most dangerous lands because he had no argument to give. He can’t stop Turno and Ingo from making hidden kingdoms and taking Ireth and Artaresto with them. He couldn’t save little Arakano. He can’t stop Artanis hiding in Doriath, although he’s grateful at least one of his kids is safe… even if that safety comes with disowning the rest of her family.

He can’t even protect little Tyelpë and Itarillë who never asked for any of this.

So when the Dagor Bragollach comes and he hears Aegnor and Angrod are definitely dead, Curufin, Celegorm, and Celebrimbor might as well be for the trail of bodies leading to Doriath and the mass murder at the Girdle, Maglor’s land has been burned so far beyond recognition, they can’t even *find* bodies, Turgon, Idril, and Aredhel he wouldn’t even know if they were killed, and he hasn’t heard from Finrod in months-

He can’t.

So he makes a last ditch attempt because maybe, just maybe, he can make their battle the slightest bit easier. Give his kids if any of them survive a weakness to exploit. A slight advantage to turn the tables…

A stab to the foot does the trick. Morgoth will be limping on that one for millennia.

He hopes his brothers can forgive him.

[sgtpeppers]

Okay so the quick version of this is: saw Two Of Us today, adored it even more than I adore the film, the choice to keep them in John's building worked really well to further highlight the mental health message the director talks about in his little note in the programme, the rooftop scene is somehow even more intimate and lovely in this version and the ending is even more painful! I'm gonna write down more under the cut about it all:

Playlist: The playlist before the show/during the interval is everything you would want it to be and it includes Monkberry Moon Delight which I feel like I never hear in public! 

The overall experience was also just super wholesome, one thing I always love about Beatles events is the range of people there it just makes you feel like your part of such a special thing, so shout out to all the old women talking about Paul near me, the middle aged men in their Beatles shirts, and the girl behind me who was sooo excited to be there and I hope she got to meet the cast after like she wanted to! ALSO the Beatles drinks are so funny, idk why Ringo’s is just earl grey tea 😭

Performances: OKAY let’s get into it. So one of my only real complaints about the film is that although I think overall Jared Harris and Aiden Quinn do an amazing job but I do find the quality a little inconsistent (especially the accents) but Richard Short and Barry Sloane are soooo so good, the accents, the little verbal quirks (which also, kudos to the writer as well) and the physicalities are jarringly good at points, especially Barry Sloane’s John. I also feel like a lot of Get Back was watched in preparation because there were so many little things, like the way John plays with his hair that just took me right back to that. Sometimes with fictional Beatles things I’m constantly thinking about how you’re watching two people try to portray these real people, but I definitely found that they were convincing enough that I wasn’t thinking about it too much. 

Outfits: I did find it kinda weird they went for the Get Back looks rather than how they looked in 76, I feel robbed of the New York City vest tbh but they did look great 

Changes from the film: basically they cut out them going for the walk to the park and to Luigi’s and instead John sets up the table for them like they’re in a restaurant in his kitchen. I think it works really well because they play into John not wanting to leave the building, which just adds into that whole mental health thing, and I think it actually makes the rooftop scene more poignant when they get there, because it feels more like Paul has broken through a bit and coaxed him outside, even if it’s baby steps. Anyway, they still have all the same conversations really the script is just chopped up a bit. 

One interesting thing is that the conversation that happens with the fan in Luigi’s still happens, but John sort of pesters Paul about whether he really thinks silly love songs should be number one, and it’s a nice extra layer to Paul’s insecurity which I enjoyed 

Mental health conversations: I think going into it knowing that the director wanted to make this because of the mental health themes, specifically men’s mental health and how having someone to reach out to is so important, is really interesting. They definitely amped up John’s anxiety from the film, his fidgeting and little moments to himself where he’s trying to get himself together were just so palpable, and Paul talking about his depression after the Beatles broke up was even more raw and upsetting seeing it in front of you. My absolute favourite line in the film is ‘I’m thirty-five years old and I still feel like I’ve done something wrong’ and god, my heart just broke seeing it on stage, I think that’s such a common feeling, just that sense that you’re in trouble for something but you’re not really sure what? Anyway, I just loved Sloane’s delivery of it. 

The Kiss: Okay, look I actually don’t care that much about the kiss in the film, I’m glad it’s in there as a little nod to John’s queerness but it really isn’t anything imo, but I liked it a lot more in this! For one thing rather than coming after a little play fight (which is still cute, don’t get me wrong) they do one of their silly dances where they’re spinning each other round etc, so the scene already feels more tender, and then John just kinda grabs him and it goes on a little longer than in the film. I still think it’s far from one of the most intimate moments in the show, but I do think they made it into something more here. 

Rooftop scene: It’s just. It’s everything. They sit right at the front of the stage, facing each other, cross legged and Paul gives him the whole ‘I see a beautiful baby boy speech’ and it’s PERFECT, this was the moment I was most worried about them screwing up and it was perfectly delivered and they have this lovely big hug after it and it made my heart ache in the best way. And idk, if seeing some guy dressed up as Paul McCartney saying that we should focus on fun and get out our own heads and how we don’t have to stay stuck as the kids who were just scared and trying to survive, doesn’t do something for you, then we’re just very different people. 

SNL scene: okay it’s pretty much the same but the way John is sleeping on Paul was everything, it wasn’t just a head on the shoulder he was fully laying back against Paul!! 

The ending: this is just so brutal because Paul doesn’t leave the flat to get his guitar, he borrows one of John’s and so when Yoko calls and John starts doing the whole ‘I wish you were here, you’re the only one who stops me disappearing’ it’s literally…. In Paul’s face. And it hurts. Then at the very end they cut between John on the phone to Yoko and Paul on the phone to Linda, and so Paul says ‘I love you’ to Linda, then John says ‘I love you too’ to Yoko but it sounds like they said it to each other, and then Here Today plays. The fact most people didn’t appear to be crying baffled me quite frankly. 

Yoko: They decided to have Yoko be the one who actually invited Paul, which felt like an odd choice and didn’t really add anything for me, but there we go 

Okay I’m gonna shut up there because this is way too long and I doubt anyone’s read it but ahhhhhhhhh it was so good and you’re just all lucky I can’t text you because my friends have had much more incoherent versions of all this

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 12

With two back-to-back shows in Paris, with a new song added to the set list, Kara expects to largely watch Lena sleep. But somehow, the morning after the first show, Kara is woken early by movement beyond the shared door of their suites.

Upon knocking, she receives a bright "come in!" and opens the door to find Lena bustling around the room. She's dressed in leggings and spandex top, complete with brightly colored sneakers on her feet. Her face is bare of makeup, but retains the dewey vibrancy only youth can give.

"Good morning!" Lena greets, bouncing to Kara with more energy than she has any right to have. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sure," Kara returns drolly. "But not enough--- how are you even awake? We only got back at 3am!"

Lena laughs. "I've got to get a workout in before the meet and greet later." She lifts one of her earbuds in one hand, nestling its pair in her ear with the other. "Wanna join?"

"The meet and greet, or the workout?" Kara asks dubiously.

"Why not both?"

Why not both. She's here with the express purpose of supporting Lena, but now she's faced with the dilemma of deciding whether that included running. She hasn't seriously trained since she played volleyball in college... she'd probably trip over her own feet.

"Sure," she finds herself saying, before her brain can catch up. When it does, she hesitates. "Oh-- I didn't bring--"

"I've got some looser gear that should fit," Lena responds easily. She cocks a grin. "Or you can just spot me."

"Yeah... I should probably do that. I can run out and grab some gear later today. At least some sneakers."

She does take Lena up on the offer of her looser workout gear-- sweatpants that were more capris on Kara than not, and a tank top that would have sagged on Lena, but comfortably snugs against Kara's curves.

"Oooh," Lena says when she sees her. She trots over and gives Kara a peck on the lips. "I like this look."

"You speak of this to no one," Kara warns, more self conscious of her bare ankles than anything else.

"What happens in Paris, stays in Paris," Lena promises, then tilts her head towards the other room. "Come on."

Kara expects them to use whatever gym amenities the hotel offers its guests, but it turns out the suite of rooms includes its own exercise area, complete with treadmill, freeweights, and aerobic equipment.

"I prefer not to use the shared amenities downstairs," Lena explains lightly. "I don't want to hog the machines. Or disturb anyone else's workout."

Seeing Kara's curious look, Lena gives her a mysterious smile. "It'll make sense later."

Lena trains like a professional athlete. Kara is exhausted just watching, and almost an hour in, it seems like Lena is only getting started. At least, Kara reassures herself, the woman sweats like a normal human.

"What?" Lena pants as she pistol squats with a fifteen pound dumbell under her chin.

"You really like this stuff, don't you?" she asks. Watching from the weight bench, Kara can see that this isn't just a means to an end. She enjoys it.

Lena smiles. "Yeah, I do. I can't help it."

Her enthusiasm is infectious, as proven by the fact Kara is compelled to join Lena in her floor exercises. Core had always been her strong suit in college, but it's clear from her lackluster plank and crunch stamina that she's lost any and all conditioning she might have had.

Even so, instead of feeling discouraged, Lena's delighted giggle, Kara looks forward to her next attempt. The workout ends with cardio on the treadmill-- or so Kara thinks.

"I gotta put these in," she warns. "That okay?"

Kara nods. Lena's mystery smile returns for a brief moment, before the treadmill beeps on and Lena starts with a brisk walk. After five minutes Lena expertly keeps up with an increasing pace, until her sneakers are pounding out a heavy rhythm at a rate Kara can scarcely fathom. Only the most dedicated of players on Kara's volleyball team had been able to keep up that kind of pace for very long, yet there Lena is, strides long and even and surefooted.

Then the singing starts. Lena begins with a scale or two, then a few vocal warm ups. Kara recognizes the first song of Lena's setlist from the opening note, and from there can only listen in awe as Lena belts through her entire concert from start to finish.

It sounds as steady as any true performance, the notes strong and clear without any shortness of breath. It's... astounding.

When the treadmill finally slows to a walk once more, Kara comes around to rest her forearms on the rail. She looks at Lena expectantly, who is patently pleased with herself.

She shrugs with false modesty. "It's sort of my superpower."

In answer, Kara crooks a beckoning finger, prompting Lena to lean down and receive a kiss for her efforts. Lena doesn't even break stride, but she does fumble for the off button, slowing to a stop as the kiss persists, deepening.

When Lena hops off the machine, Kara has half a mind to press Lena up against it to kiss her senseless-- a temptation she fails to resist when Lena's hand slides up her shirt to run warm fingers over Kara's ribs.

"Jesus," Kara mutters, pausing for breath. "Lena, you... I don't know if I--"

"We go at your pace, darling," Lena murmurs back. "Just know that I really, really want--"

Kara swallows her next words with another, deeper kiss. Helpless to the attraction tugging under her ribs, Kara lets her fingers wander up Lena's side, until her palm cups Lena's breast. It earns her a heady moan into her mouth, and a tightening of Lena's arms around her neck, pulling her closer--

"Lena? We have two hours before the meet and greet!"

Jess' voice calls, innocent yet conspicuous behind a door that stays shut. Lena sags, the moment broken but not it's tension.

"Thank you, Jess!" she calls back, not bothering to unloop her arms from Kara's shoulders. "I'll be in the shower shortly."

Jess' footsteps pad away, but Lena doesn't resume their previous activities.

"We don't have a lot of time..." she starts conspiratorially, voice low. "Not enough to do *this* justice. But..." Her green eyes darken with desire. "Think we can make up some time by doubling up on the shower?"

Kara reaches up and grasps Lena's hand, bending to capture another kiss.

"There's only one way to find out."

They do not make up any time whatsoever.

[aayakashii]

❤️17 fluffy towa please!!

i LOVEE your fics so muchh keep up the good work!! :D

17❤️ An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss

21❤️ wildcard

This is very short but I hope you guys like it! It's not proof read, so forgive any grammar mistakes ;w;

You braced yourself as you approached the pathway that led straight to your dorm, holding the straps of your backpack tightly. You breathed deeply and steeled your resolve, gathering all the courage you had in you.

That night, you were going to put an end to that. That night, you wouldn’t get spooked. That night, in fact, you planned to act on your revenge plan once and for all.

You would NOT let Towa jump at you from the tree branches and startle you out of your skin like he had been doing for the past week.

It started innocent, it truly did. The first time he just wanted to show you the tree he loved so much – the one with dimming colored lights.

But apparently, your reaction was so interesting, that Towa simply couldn't have enough of it and what was supposed to be one silly little prank, soon became almost a daily routine.

“Boo!” Towa dropped from the tree, legs firmly holding him on the branch as his upper body was upside down and dangling in front of you.

“WAAH!” you jumped in place, almost colliding with his face.

“Hehehe! Dandelion, your reactions are so cute. I love them!” he said, blushing furiously as all the blood from his body went straight to his head while he dangled in front of you like a Christmas tree ornament.

You tried very hard to look him in his eyes instead of the exposed skin of his tummy. He had a mole right next to his belly button and it took all your self-control not to touch it nor pinch that apparently soft skin.

You put a hand over your racing heart and sighed, shutting your eyes tightly.

“Towa! This is the fourth time in, like, seven days! You're gonna give me a heart attack!”

He quickly sat upright on the branch again and leapt down, walking leisurely towards you as if he didn't just show insane core strength and aerobic prowess.

“I can't help it, you're so cute. I like seeing you surprised.”

You pursed your lips in a thin line. There it was. His flirting. You still weren't used to it after all that time.

“Well it's not that fun for me, you know… I get scared.”

Towa pouted, giving you his killer puppy eyes.

“Awww… but I like it.” He shrugged, completely ignoring your complaints, and grabbed your hand. “Now let's go see the tree!”

It was basically a new routine you'd have to be prepared for at that point: Towa would spook you, grab your hand and pull you towards the tree. Then you two would hug it and lay down to watch the stars until he'd begin to fluster you whenever he hovered a little bit too close for comfort from your lips. And your poor heart would beat faster and faster once again.

You just had to give your frazzled nerves a break.

So, you had planned to knock him off his feet and surprise him just as much.

The problem was, you didn't know when he would show up.

Two days had passed since your last spook and you've been bracing yourself ever since. The anticipation was causing you so much anxiety that you feared this would be his biggest fright yet, since you had been on edge all along.

You walked slowly, giving yourself a pep talk in your mind about how he'd be just as surprised (and probably delighted) with your idea as you were spooked every single time he dropped from one of those trees. You also hoped that would give him time to arrive and act on his little prank.

As you kept on walking, you heard leaves shuffling on the tree a few steps in front of you. It was either him or some of the many cats that lived on campus. You crossed your fingers and moved forward, hoping it was him, so you'd be done with your anxiety.

And sure enough, after you took a few steps, a familiar mop of lavender hair dropped down in front of you.

“Boooo!!!”

“GAAAH!!” you yelled, your voice going up pitches you've never reached before.

“Hahaha!! Dandelion! You yelled so loud today! That was so cute!” Towa reached out his arms towards you and placed them on your shoulders as he giggled uncontrollably, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose, finding your distress absolutely hilarious.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm your heart down as much as you could, as you stared straight into his eyes.

At your silence, Towa stopped giggling and opened his eyes. He tilted his head once he saw how serious you looked while you quietly observed him.

“Hm? What's wrong, Dandelion? Did you get too scared?”

You exhaled slowly through your mouth and stepped closer, awkwardly placing your hands on his cheeks. He just tilted his head again, to the other side that time, clearly curious about your weird actions.

“What are you doing, Dandelion? Are you still sc–”

You interrupted his question by hastily crashing your lips on his – his upside-down position making for the weirdest kiss you have ever given in your life. You didn't know what to do nor where to move, so you just held his face tenderly and placed your lips against his as comfortably as you could.

Once you broke the kiss, you breathed deeply once again, heart still racing but mildly satisfied to see his mouth agape and eyes wide open.

“N-now I've surprised you too.” you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows and pouting.

Towa blinked at your words and, in half a second, he had gotten down the tree and stood straight in front of you.

His cheeks were still flushed while a small smile began tugging at the corner of his lips. His hands rested comfortably on your neck and he leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Can you do that again, Dandelion?” he whispered, voice full of glee.

You gulped before nodding and placing a small peck on his red lips.

Towa licked his lips, eyes closed as if he was savoring the taste of your mouth on his, and you felt a shiver run down your spine while you observed his actions.

He opened his eyes, iris barely visible around his dilated pupils.

“Again.” he whispered, and you complied, lips resting a little longer on his.

“Again.” and you ran your hands through his hair, bringing him closer.

“Again.” he said, diving back into a kiss before you could even register he had whispered that word once more.

“Again. Again… Again, again, again” he kept on whispering, placing a kiss on your lips for every word he repeated.

You turned into a flustered mess in his hands and your heart drummed loudly while he held you tightly and flush against his body, suffocating you with his kisses.

But, this time, you definitely weren't complaining.

[leiascully]

Fic: Heaven Is A Place On Earth (M, MSR)

1300 words; M for sexual situations; no if, ands, or bees or: what if the outtake FTF kiss was the sex we had along the way

Scully’s panting on his lap, her face flushed and her blue eyes wide and hungry. Her knees are deep in his couch; her thighs quiver outside his. He’s trembling too, with anticipation and need. He’s pressing his hips down into the couch, fighting the urge to surge up into her. The latex-clad head of his cock is pressed against her entrance.

“We don’t have to,” he says. It might be the single bravest act any human has ever committed.

He watches emotions flicker over her face: lust, anxiety, delight, desire, love. “Mulder, I want to. It’s just been a while.” She takes a deep breath.

He reaches up to touch her face. “You’re in charge here.”

Ten minutes ago, they were in his hallway. It feels like a lifetime. He told her what she meant to him, that she saved him. She kissed his forehead. And then…and then they reached for each other, inevitably, as if this has been their logical destination all along. He couldn’t remember who had initiated it. Her mouth opened against his and he melted into her. She moved against him and he slipped his hands under her ass and hefted her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as they stumbled backwards into his apartment, lips still locked.

Five minutes ago, they were peeling each other out of their clothes. He’d been hard since the first brush of her lips. He couldn’t let go of her, couldn’t stop touching her. Her hands were all over him, deft and urgent. When he slipped his fingers between her folds, she was soaking wet. He’s not ashamed to admit he moaned out loud. Her eyes widened. She touched his cock, her fingers suddenly tentative.

“I knew you were…substantial,” she said. “But I can’t say I expected this.”

He knows. Phoebe used to drag her palm down the length of him when they were out with friends. Showing him off, she always said, but it was embarrassing. He’s not embarrassed when Scully touches him.

“Guess I’m a grower and a shower,” he teased.

She bit her lip as she considered him. There was a hunger in her face he’d only glimpsed before. Now she was letting him see it. It made fire lick through his veins.

“You on top,” he suggested. “Control the pace.”

“On the couch,” she told him, and he was halfway there before he realized he’d moved.

And that brings them here: to Scully, naked, hovering above him. Somehow in the haze of need, he found a condom and a bottle of lube. She’s so fucking wet, but lube doesn’t hurt. His hands drop from her face to span her waist, holding her steady. Her tits, fuck, her tits are so close to his face.

“Mulder, I want this,” she says. Her voice only shakes a little. “I want it so badly.”

“Go slow,” he says.

She sinks onto him. His cock presses into her, just the head, just past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance. She gasps.

“Oh God,” she says.

He’d agree, if he could say anything. But he’s forgotten every word he knows but her name and the word yes.

She rises, ever so slightly, and he slides out again. She whimpers and so does he. But then she’s sinking onto him again, a little deeper. This time she just stays there, a look of ravenous bliss on her face. He can feel her adjusting around him. Her knees tighten and then relax. He can’t help himself anymore. He leans forward to kiss her tits. He takes one nipple into his mouth, pulling at it with his lips and tongue until she groans his name.

Inch by inch, she takes him. He tells her how brave she is, how gorgeous. He worships her tits the way he’s always longed to. He loves the way she hisses when he scrapes the edges of his teeth across her nipples or sucks at the delicate skin under her ear. She’ll have love bites later, unmistakable marks of the things they’re doing. He thinks she’ll be proud of them.

Finally he’s deep, deep inside her. She’s so goddamn tight around him. Her eyes are closed and her face is a Baroque painting. The urge to pound up into her is so strong that he’s shaking holding back. Scully undressed is so delicate and so strong. He wants to overwhelm her with pleasure, make her eyes roll back in her head again. But he stays still. He waits for her. He needs her to take what she wants from him. He needs her to get what she needs.

“Fuck,” she says. She opens her eyes. “Mulder.” His name is a prayer.

He rubs his face against her chest, drags his lips over her flushed skin. She shifts, groaning as the pressure of his cock inside her changes. She rises a little, sinks again, splays her knees to take him even deeper, and then does it all again. He sees God, and he isn’t even close to coming.

She rides him, so slowly at first and then faster, and he watches her. There’s an expression on her face he can’t quantify. It’s beyond pleasure. She’s so hot and tight and wet around him. He can feel the way he fills her up and it only fuels his pleasure. He reaches down to thumb her clit. He has to make her come. He has to feel her come. He has to feel her come around his cock, because of his cock, because of his fingers and his lips and the rough edge in his voice that he can tell she likes.

He plays her by ear, tuning the pitch of her moans higher and higher. He’s moaning too, and she likes that. Her muscles clutch around him when he gets loud. She’s dragging him closer and closer to the edge. The curls around his cock are absolutely soaked with her wetness. His fingers are slick with her as he draws quick circles around her clit.

“Come for me,” he begs her.

“Fuck me,” she says, and God, he can’t help himself after that. He presses his hands around her hips and surges into her, up and up and up while she cries out and her tits bounce. And she’s coming, her cunt fluttering around him. He fucks her through it and then slows down to let her catch her breath.

“Don’t stop,” she says.

“Never,” he promises, picking up her hand and kissing it. She rises and sinks, gazing into his eyes, and it’s slow and sweet and everything he imagined. He’s close, he’s so close, and the slick of her, the heat of her is astonishing. He can feel every vein in his body as his heart thuds. He loves her. He loves her so fucking much. And he loves her most of all in this moment as she holds him with her stare, fucking herself deliberately with his cock and letting him see each nerve light up with the pleasure his body gives her. There are sparks in her smile and fireworks in her eyes.

“Do it for me,” she croons to him and he comes apart, shivering under her.

He makes her come again, after, on her back with her knees by his ears. She tastes like latex but he licks her until her body shakes and shakes. She pulls him on top of her. He’s still half-hard, worried about the condom but unable to deny her his weight if that’s what she wants. She wraps her arms around him and holds him close. He buries his face against her.

“I could never have left you,” she says into the hollow of his shoulder. “Not really.”

He kisses her temple. “I would have followed you.”

Across the room, a bee staggers out from under the collar of her jacket, topples over, and goes to bee heaven. They don’t notice. They’re in their own private heaven.

[smallraindrops-blog]

Sacred Ingredients

Zagreus/Male!reader 

Fandom: Hades (2019 game)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: There was a new cook in the house

warnings: Implied reader death, no beta.

Notes:

The fic that is the reason yall have been seeing so many food posts lately.

This is the first response for the wholesome Zagreus x male reader request. I took my time with this since I wasn’t sure if I was following the prompt.

To the anon, thanks for the wait. If this isn’t what you wanted, please lmk and I will be happy to redo it. I do hope you enjoy this one.

Important: often people would use other names for the gods to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to themselves. Our reader is one of those people.

Enjoy!

~

One of your first memories was of your Mom holding a small bit of cake between her fingers. 

It was made of thin layers of dough, heavy with sheep cheese, crushed nuts and honey, so heavy with it that the dipping honey caught the sunlight just before you bit in.

Sweet. Creamy. Nutty. All combining together in your mouth as you chew.

You groaned in pure delight as she laughed, getting you a plate with a much bigger piece. See? I told you that you would like it. Mama is never wrong. Not with food.

Just like that, food had became your life. To you, there was no better way to say ‘I love you’ than by cooking someone a good meal.

You learned how to perfectly roast fishes, how to stuffed chicken, the right moment to add herbs or how to use olive oils or butter to add rich flavors to the dish. You learned how to knead the bread, how to time the rise just right and the best spots in the stone ovens to place the loaf. 

Food was everything. It was the bittersweet memory of your mama’s hand on your cheek after a sickness took her far too soon, it was a way to feed your family while working hard as a fisherman, it was a way to earn your place among warriors and kings. 

You loved all of it, even as the other men had scoffed at you for enjoying women’ work. However they never turned away a meal you cooked, at home or in the war tents.

The very last thing you cooked, a recipe your mama taught you, was a simple bread, meant for dipping in wine. 

Barley flour. Dry yeast from the grapes. Then you added the simple spice mix you came up with and always added in. The one that had people waiting outside for your bakery before the markets opened.

Parsley. Rosemary. Oregano. Garlic cloves smashed up and added into the bread, and just a little dash of salt.

You had set one aside for yourself for later.

You never got to eat it. 

~

When the news came that the terrifying god of the underworld was looking for a new cook, you didn’t hesitate.

To get a spot in the house of the gods was prime time. It meant respect, a place to live and most importantly it meant regular income. That was money you can send to your mama and sisters so they can get into a better area of Asphodel.

You had spent hours over the cake. 

You made sure that each layer of the dough was perfect, thin and flakey with a satisfying bite, that the cheese was the perfect amount of tangy creaminess, that nuts were crushed to the right size, that the honey was placed in the perfect spot to complement the cheese and nuts.

This had to work because your family worked hard to get the coin to order such things from the expensive shop of the boatman.

Even the neighbors had pitched in, with the promise that you will pay them back.

You took a nervous breath as you shifted on your feet, winced as the terrifying King of Below tossed aside the meal someone brought him, promptly dismissing them. 

“And another one bites the dust.” The sleep god muttered as he crossed something off a list.

He looked up, blinking heavy downturned eyes at them. You and the other commoners were careful to keep their gazes low, not willing to show any disrespect to any of the gods.

The gentle one huffed and gestured for the one before you to go ahead. You were up after this, assuming that the person before you didn’t have something amazing. 

The underworld King made a loud gagging sound and wordlessly dismissed the shade. Gentle one only clicked his tongue as he crossed out another line and shook his head, white curls flopping around. 

“Good luck, buddy.” He told you with a cheerful grin, using his quill to point to the desk.

Did the gods normally call people buddy?

With a deep breath, you went to the looming desk, feeling like you were meeting the fates themselves. 

“And what is this?” The King of those below growled, his haunting eyes locked onto you like a predatory bird. His hellhound shifted next to him, their three noses twitching at the food.

“This is a plakous, my lord.” You said, proud that your voice was stronger than you expected. “Made with wheat dough, rich honey-“

The King held up a large hand and you stopped speaking, fearing you had already lost your chance. A shade took the plate from you and brought it to their master. 

You held your breath as he took the first bite, your heart no longer beat but you swore you felt it in that moment, slamming against your chest. He chewed slowly and his bloody red eyes slowly went wide.

A hush fell over the grand hall.

Then the King did something he didn’t do with any other meal, he went back for a second bite.

After that bite, he peered down at you for a long, long time.

“Is this all you can cook?” His voice broke over you like thunder. You shook your head, your hands curled up nervously 

“No, my lord. I have created meals for kings and I can cook many things. Meat of all kinds. And bread, vegetables and so on.” You wished you were a more eloquent man, but that had never been needed before.

Not to mention such an education was beyond your reach.

And your food alway did the talking for you. 

The king took a third bite then tossed the rest to the hellhound, the animal eating in a single swipe of its tongue. The tail wagged once, thumping on the floor. 

The Wealthy One nodded slowly.  “You may start today.”

~

The kitchen size alone would have made your mama weep with joy. The amount of fresh produce, herbs and clean grains along with plenty of meat made your jaw drop. 

You clapped your hand together in thought then…You hit the ground running. 

There was an endless list of tasks to be done before the kitchen would be ready to open and you went through all the tasks with horse blinders on, determination fueling you.

The first meal you officially served Master was a few of salted and peppered trout with a garlic lemon sauce with butter and herbs along with a hearty lentils soup, warm sourdough bread for the soup and sauce.

You added a fresh cucumber salad along with a large plate filled with cheeses and fruits that would compliment the fish.

When the plates came back, clean of even a drop of sauce, you felt something loosen in your chest. 

~

Eventually you began to learn the house's routine and the many shades. You learned to always have some type of bread readied with olive oil. 

You learned what went fast and what you had to jazz up to get rid of. 

The most important lesson you had learned in life and one that remained unchanged even now was that most souls just wanted something that tasted like home. 

It was toward the end of the kitchen hours when you heard someone take a seat.

Even at this late hour and working alone, you weren’t one to turn away a hungry soul so after wiping your hands on your apron, you turned with a smile.

“Welcome! What can I…” your words trailed off, your eyes going wide as you realized who was sitting in one of the barstools.

The Prince of the underworld gave you an exhausted, crooked grin. There was a curious gleam in those mismatched eyes, the strong lines of his cheeks softened by the dim lights of the lounge.

He was inhumanly beautiful in the ways all divine beings were.

But there was something different to his handsomeness.

Unlike the soft loveliness of Sleep, the sleek grace of the Fury or the dark shocking beauty of Night herself, this god before looked almost moral like. It was his eyes that revealed his godhood. It was the power in his broad shoulders.

You were surprised by how much you liked it.

“So you are the new cook everyone is raving about.” The Prince said, leaning on his forearms to peer at you. You saw the strength in his arms, his quick grace as he moved. Strong and muscular with thick tendons upward from the knuckles. 

It was clear this god was a warrior of a sort.

Your eyes flickered down in embarrassment when you realized you were being disrespectful in your staring. 

“I believe so, your highness.” You said, bowing your head in a show of respect for his position. “How may I serve you?” 

“Honestly?” The Prince leaned, scanning the area behind you. “Whatever you have will work. The last cook we had working here would just give us sliced onions if we came in this late. Once he gave Hypnos a single apple peel for daring to ask for something else.”

He sounded amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich.

You couldn’t imagine being so rude to the gods. Your mom was a pious woman and even a quiet sigh during prayers would get you a disapproving look.

With a nod, you went to get the Prince his meal and drink.

Thankfully you had a leftover trout and tossed one onto the grill to cook as you prepared a bowl of cabbage for him, added in spices along with honey vinegar and silphium.

You had some bread and garlic cheese so you plated those as well with olives and grapes.

You decided to give him a rich red that most enjoyed, filling it up to the brim.

“Oh wow.” The prince muttered as you set everything in front of him and with a bow, you rushed back to the fish, flipping it over. Once it was ready with some garlic butter sauce, you brought it to him. 

“Please let me know if you would like for me to serve you more or cook something else for you.” You told him and the prince blinked at you, his mouth filled with bread and cheese. 

The prince waved a hand before you left him for his meal. He drank the wine deeply before placing it back down. You immediately refilled it. “This is plenty, my good shade. Thank you.”

With a respectful nod, you resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Counters got wiped down, supplies restocked but it wasn’t the usual relaxing routine it normally was.

You felt the weight of those divine eyes on you. The Prince was quiet as he ate but you caught quick glimpses of his curious gaze on the shine of the plates, or reflection in your knives.

It was only when the Prince left that you let yourself breathe.

~

Master liked large meals but only if they could be eaten quickly. The only thing you had been warned never to add was pomegranates. No one would tell you why.

The Gorgon, the creature was surprisingly sweet for all the horrible tales you heard of her kind, ate in a rush as well.

If you were smarter, maybe you could have made a clever joke about how the lowest server and the King of the Underworld ate the same way.

But one look into her smiling face held your tongue. She was always kind so you would be so in return.

The Fury was a regular companion of hers, requesting simple meals of fish and some types of roasted vegetables. Mostly she would drink deeply, often you would have a pitcher of wine put aside for her. 

Sometimes Dreaded Death would join her, unwelcoming to all and cool. He rarely ordered any food, his fingers drumming on the table sounded like funeral marches to your ears. 

His twin was the complete opposite, Gentle Sleep had a sweet tooth unlike anything else you have seen. Often he would ignore the dinner option altogether and eat slices of cake, candied figs or honeycombs. 

If you weren’t careful around the god, plates of cookies that were meant for the whole house would go missing around him. 

You still haven’t found the last two plates he stole from you.

And...

There was The Prince himself. 

He was a regular now, always sitting close to wherever your work station was that day. He also was the only one who ate anything you put on a plate for him, and would shove the meal into his mouth like a starving creature. You always made sure to give him larger servings.

“Tell me your name.”  He ordered you one day. His tone was deep, firm. Making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  “You keep feeding me delicious food, no matter the hour. And I don't know what to call you.”

Then he added with raised eyebrows, sounding more like a playful suitor than a Chthonic god. “Please?”

You considered it, your hands still on the bowl of the hardy stew just placed before the god. You stared at the stew for a moment, then at him.

Or just past him, not willing to meet the god’s eyes, life and death danced in those unusual eyes of his.

You were a moral, a simple one at that. 

You never picked up a sword, never learned all the fancy learnings that a prince might, never learned much beyond what you needed to but you knew names had powers, could decide whole destinies before a babe even wailed out their first cry. 

Names could summon the gods themselves.

Quietly, you told him.

The prince grinned at you, his smile fierce and beautiful like a victorious lion. Your breath hitched, forgetting that one was to never look the gods in the eye.

Then the next words he spoke early jumped started your heart into beating once more. 

“It suits you, my good cook. Call me Zagreus.” 

~

Later, alone in the kitchen, recipes laid in front of you, you tried to will yourself to focus.

Schooling was too costly for your family especially after your Mother’s death. Your reading went far as basic words and numbers, just enough to get by in the markets.

You never needed much. 

Right now, however, the recipes might as well be another language. 

You were too lost in thought, several times you had already caught yourself even daring to think The Prince’s name in your mind.

What would happen if you dare to…

Zagreus.

A soft noise came behind you and You whirled around, glancing everywhere as if expecting him to appear right behind you. 

He didn’t. 

You realized you heard the sounds of the Wretched Broker restocking his shelves. Thankfully, he was too busy to realize that the House’s cook had gone mad simply by learning a God’s name. 

Maybe you should start wearing a pot on your head.

“Zagreus.” You whispered, fingernails digging your palm nervously. “Zagreus.”

When the god didn’t appear, you didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

~

Slowly, you learned more. 

There were the loud fights between Father and Son that would cause the house to rattle. Many shades would escape into the lounge, hands over their ears.

”Tell me, do you get along with your father?” Zagreus grumbled, his plate cleared of any crumbs. His legs were bouncing, filled with an endless energy you knew you would never be able to match. 

“No.” You said, not wanting to think of that man. You knew he was somewhere in the underworld but the less you knew, the better. “I suspect few do.”

Once, over a glass of white wine and a simple meal of sourdough bread and warm vegetable soup, He told you was looking for his mother.  

“You will find her. I know you will.” You told him quietly, holding his stare. “Have faith, Zagreus.”

Another time, over a cake from a new recipe you came up with, Zagreus asked about you. Maybe it was the exhaustion after a successful dinner rush but you told him everything. 

His smile was warm, his eyes watchful of your every move as you told him of your family and their new place you brought for them. 

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he was staring at you.

“I will have to stop by then.” He teased, his hand almost brushing against yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed in a whisper, your mouth suddenly dry.

~

“Cook me your favorite meal.” Zagreus ordered one day, not even bothering to sit down. You lifted a cool eyebrow, well used to his impulsiveness by now.  

“Hello, Zagreus.” You greeted dryly, wiping your hands on your apron, not actually that upset.

Not too long ago, you would have wilted from the thought of being so playful with a divine creature but things changed.

Zagreus brought it out of you somehow simply by being himself. 

“I am doing well, thank you.” You continued to teased despite his oddly serious expression.

Zagreus blinked, then chuckled with a bright grin. “I am a horrible influence on you, I fear.”

You laughed, cheeks flushing at his smile. “I am afraid so, your Highness. Now what is this about a favorite meal?”

“Yours. I want to know what your favorite food is.” 

“Oh.” You grabbed an apple, rolling it in your hands for something to do. Butterflies dancing in your stomach as Zagreus leaned in, his hands on the counter. This close, you caught the scent of copper.

unwillingly, your gaze tangled with his, caught like a fly in a complex web. A stray thought reached you, could a mere fly understand the geometric structure, beauty of such things?

You swallowed nervously. “It’s nothing special, Zagreus. Just something my mom cooked up for me.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes, his jaw firm in his resolve. “Excellent, then. I trust you have all the ingredients you need?”

You nodded but opened your mouth to dissuade the prince from his idea, however he was already walking away, “I expect a meal to be waiting for me when I get back!”

~

One day, staring at a wooden spoon in your hand, cake batter dipping from the tip, you realized that Zagreus had became someone very, very dear to you. 

Morals and gods didn't mix together well. At least, not for the morals. Cracked eggs and spilled milk and all left would be a big mess with no one to clean it. 

What did it mean when a shade, a mere ghost of who you were, was in love with a god that shone like the sun, whose very presence made you felt like you were alive once more?

~

When Zagreus returned, his hair was still damp from the Styx river and you had to look away from his beauty.

Quietly, you put the final touches on your favorite meal. You swallowed nervously as you picked up the plate and went over to him. 

Thin layers of dough. Creamy cheese. Crushed nuts. Honey.

A long ago memory of your mom's smiling face as she watched you take a bite. Sunlight made her golden and immortal in that singular moment in your very heart.

You offered it up like the cake was a sacrifice, like you were offering yourself up to the god to make the final decision of the worth of your mortal soul.

“This is the first thing I can remember my mom making for me.” You whispered, your work rough fingers curled nervously against the counter. “This meal is what got me a job here. I got to know you because of this cake.”

Zagreus took a small bite, then closed his eyes in bliss. He said your name with a weight that you never heard before. 

When he looked at you, his expression gentle and hopelessly fond, there was no need for more words. 

~

When he kissed you for the first time, he tasted like home. 

[snarky-wallflower]

Coin Flip: A Ship Name Study

Otherwise known as: yes, hi, I am coping with the end of Searcher by focusing on this hot mess of a couple. I did one for Radiant Words, might as well again!

So, first off, I can't take credit for the name! That goes to my friend @amethystunarmed, a genius as always. I just wanna dive a little deeper into it, to convince others to start using it! So, why Coin Flip? Well, obviously it pulls on their titular song Two Sides of a Coin (god, I still think it's beautiful that the entire chat started shipping them at that.) The fascinating thing about Dakkar and Kal is that they truly seem to be just that! Two sides of the same coin! Neither of them can ever fully keep a victory, always struggling against each other. A flip of a coin - who wins? Who loses? Will there ever be an end to this fight, this relationship, that clearly has them both in a grip? They always fight to a draw, it's cosmic law.

What would you do without me, I'm not certain...

It's pretty clear that Kal respects Dakkar in a way he hasn't done so for any other character so far - Samuel, and AJ, for example. He spends time actually talking to Dakkar, negotiating with him. He doesn't see it as a joke, like Dakkar is beneath him. He didn't do that for anyone else!

Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Dak!

Everyone else has been boring.

Dakkar is the main event.

Meanwhile, Dakkar has kept on moving. He never even says Kal's name throughout the whole show. Mobilis in mobili, right? But he also knows where to dig when he needs to, insulting Kal with ease. Dakkar is furious here, practically brimming with rage. Kal brings out a side of him we haven't seen yet, and it's delightful to listen to.

I will stand, and you will falter! I'll be the rock of Gibraltar!

I will float and watch you sink, and it eats you up inside!

What is so interesting about this ship is the amount of history we can tell is there from a song that is only a couple of minutes! There's bitterness, there's knowing - these two go right for the THROAT when it comes to each other. Kal's jabs at Dakkar are a lot more personal than his to Sia ever were. (He went STRAIGHT for the daddy issues with Dakkar, damn.) Their strikes aim true, while they get in each other's heads.

They know each other like their other half--because maybe they were, once. Like the palm of their hand. Like the other side of a coin.

How well did they know each other?

Two sides of a coin.

The coin flips. Which side will it turn up on this time?

[dreamyyesenia]

list 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore ʚ♡ɞ

Top and middle: Alexander and Delilah O‘Neil. Bottom: Delilah with Lillian (her youngest daughter)

I have thought about this a long time. Because I love all of my sims, I‘m attached to all of them. But, I would do her injustice if I didn’t mention her first. Delilah O‘Neil, Gen 2 of my personal legacy (Always Keep Simming Save). So, I‘ll take this opportunity to post some throwbacks! It ties in well to the story of my Gen 4 as well 😉

Delilah was born in Chestnut Ridge, daughter of Shaina and Justin Preston. I don’t think of the nationality/race of my sims in regards to our world - because for me, it doesn’t matter in my Sims World. There’s no discrimination and racism. It’s my dream world after all 🩷 Shaina I imagined to have ancestors from Sulani and Justin from Windenburg and Tartosa. Her parents were equestrians, so Delilah learned to ride a horse early on. She also met Alexander in CR.

Delilah became a Celebrity Chef and a global superstar. She was always invited to big events and she hostest her own show (Delilah‘s Tasty Delights). She won the starlight accolades for her show 🌟

She had 5 children, 4 of them with Alexander. When he had to go to prison and developed an addiction, they got divorced. She remarried an actor but her second husband cheated on her while she was pregnant with Violet. Alexander and her remarried many years later once he was released and had gone to rehab.

Going on vacation in Sulani was basically tradition in their family. They owned a summer villa. Delilah befriended the Dolphins and taught her children how to dive.

Her favorite hobby was jogging and yoga. Usually, after a long day at work, she’d do a quick workout and then prepare dinner for everyone.

Bonus: Her favorite dishes were all Gourmet Recipes available. Needless to say, she had a refined taste and would get very upset if she had to eat fast-food 😅

Hope you like her! This info is good to have for the next parts of Aileen’s story. I‘ll share a few more screenshots:

A few more screenies from Delilah and Alexander’s (second) wedding and Sulani scenery 🧡

[lousypotatoes]

I've Got A Smile On My Face

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11

Song Recommendation:

Always - Irving Berlin

Warning! This chapter contains depictions of panic attacks, and graphic violence! If this triggers you or makes you uncomfy in any way shape or form, please read with caution.

90 years ago...

It had been six months since Alastor kissed Y/N on her front porch. As expected, the two of them were now an item.

During the span of those six months, everything was absolutely perfect. The flower shop was thriving, Alastor's radio show was more popular than ever, Jasper didn't come by the shop since their interaction, and most importantly, Alastor and Y/N were so very much in love, Y/N felt that she fell more in love with him every time she saw him.

The only thing she didn't like about their relationship was the big secret she had to keep from him.

There were times that she oh so badly wanted to tell Alastor that her real job was killing people, and that running the flower shop was a cover up, but she was terrified that he was going to be disgusted with her, and leave her.

And Y/N didn't know what she would do if Alastor left.

It was mid afternoon, almost noon. The weather outside was very rainy and very stormy. Y/N was arranging the shelves, making sure the flower buds were facing the front.

It always annoyed her when customers would look at flowers and not put them back the correct way.

When she was done, she walked to the register and counted the money.

She sighed. Business was very slow that day, obviously because of the rain. She had almost considered closing the shop up early and going home, but felt it was better to just stay, just in case any customers came in after the rain cleared up.

Sitting down the chair behind the counter, Y/N put her head in her hands, bored as ever.

Hopefully Alastor would come and visit her. He always did, but Y/N thought he might not today obviously because of the stormy weather.

To her surprise and delight, she heard the bell ring, signaling that there was a customer.

"Hello can I help yo-Alastor!"

"Hello, my love," Alastor said, swooping down to catch Y/N in a kiss.

Y/N would never get tired of kissing Alastor, no matter how many time she did kiss him. It was like magic every time.

"How has your day been?" Alastor asked as he pulled away.

"Very slow, but much better now that you're here," Y/N smiled. "How was yours?"

"As slow as molasses," Alastor sighed. "I had to cancel all my broadcasts today because of this damn weather."

"Oh, that's a shame," she said. "It seems like this weather is bringin' everybody down."

"You can say that again," he said. "You thinking of heading home early?"

"I was thinkin' 'bout it," she replied. "I think I'll stick around for a few more hours."

"Well, if you're not busy tonight," Alastor said, grabbing onto her hips. "How about dinner at my place?"

"Depends," Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Are you gonna be the one cookin'?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

"Then I'll have to take a rain check on that," she giggled. "Dinner sounds nice, what time should I swing by?"

"I prefer around six," Alastor answered..

"Six it is," Y/N said. "You gonna head back home?"

"I suppose so, yes. I gotta tidy up a bit."

"All that for me?"

"Only the best for you, my dear," Alastor said, sincere. "I'll catch you later tonight."

"Aw, alright," Y/N pouted. "If I ain't there by at least seven, you better come and get me and drag me back to your place."

"Alright, I will, I promise," he laughed before leaning down and placing his lips on Y/N's.

The kiss was sweet and loving, as it always was. The way their lips perfectly molded against each other, like they were made for each other, made Y/N's heart feel like it was about to burst.

The only reason they broke apart was so they could breath air.

If Y/N could, she would make Alastor her air.

"Goodbye, Al," she smiled up at him. "I love you."

"I love you most," he said, before letting go of her.

He gave her one more smile before walking out of the shop, the bell ringing, signaling his leave.

Y/N walked back behind the counter, a dreamy smile on her face.

"I'm going to marry that man someday," she dreamily said to herself.

Even though it was rainy and story outside, nothing could ruin this perfect day.

It was 5:45 in the evening. Y/N was counting the money in the register for the twelfth time that day.

Besides Alastor, only three other people came in the shop that day.

Screw the rainy weather. No one even likes rain that much anyway.

Looking up at the clock, Y/N decided that she was going to stop working, and head over to Alastor's

Going into the back room, she put the money into a safe under a fake floorboard, checked her nightly schedule for that week (thankfully she only had to kill two people that week), and grabbed her umbrella and her raincoat, preparing to go into the cold rainy weather.

Walking out of the back room, she was stopped dead in her tracks, a look of fear and despair on her face.

"J-Jasper," she choked. "What are you doin' here?"

The two of them hadn't interacted since the incident in the flower shop six months ago. Y/N had hoped that Jasper had taken the hint and decided to leave her alone.

But this was Jasper we're talking about, and things never were easy with him, no matter how big or small the situation was.

"Just came to say hi," he said, a sadistic and gleeful smile on his face. He was holding something behind his back, but Y/N didn't know what.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, thought we could catch up a bit."

He started to walk closer to Y/N, she started to back up.

"So now you're with that mama's boy, Alastor Altruist, huh?" he said, still grinning. "Didn't think you would be into a weirdo like that, but oh well."

Y/N didn't say anything, too frozen in fear to say a single word.

Jasper then revealed what was behind his back. It was a long, thin, razor sharp blade, the kind that Y/N would use when she didn't feel like using any of her guns.

If you wanted to kill someone real quick, you would use a blade like the one Jasper had.

Y/N's eyes widened in fear and terror.

She had a small pistol in her office, but there was no way she was going to be able to get it without putting up a fight.

"Y'know darling," he drawled, creeping very slowly towards her. "I didn't quite like the things you said to me the last time we talked.

Y/N gulped, slowly inching herself towards a shelf holding a dozen flower vases.

Jasper didn't notice. "Not gonna say anything, huh?" he asked, eyes glinting sinisterly.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just gonna spill your fuckin' guts out."

Jasper lunged at Y/N, ready to strike.

Quickly, Y/N grabbed one of the vases on the shelf, and smashed it over Jasper's head, glass shards and flowers going everywhere all over the floor.

"You bitch!" Jasper snarled. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, clutching his bleeding head.

Y/N took this opportunity to try and run out of the front door.

She decided that it was stupid if she locked herself in her back room. If she ran out the front door, she could just run to the nearest public place and get help.

She was just a few feet from the door, when Jasper grabbed onto her wrist, twisting it hard.

Y/N turned around and was getting ready to punch him in the jaw, but that was replaced with a cry of pain and anguish.

Jasper had stabbed Y/N in the stomach, just above where her belly button was.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and fear, crying out again when Jasper stabbed her a second time.

"How does that feel?" he whispered. "Doesn't feel too good does it?"

"F-" Y/N stuttered. "Fuck you!"

With a snarl, Jasper stabbed her in the shoulder.

Blood was oozing out of all three of her stab wounds, staining both her and Jasper's clothes, and staining the white marble tile.

Jasper dragged her away, propping her in a siting position behind the counter.

"No one's gonna find you right here," he smirked. "Besides, you'll die in at least thirty minutes anyway."

Y/N knew that wasn't right, but didn't say anything, scared out of her mind.

What was she going to do?

She wasn't ready to die.

She didn't want to die.

What would happen to her shop?

What would happen to precious dog, Honey?

What would happen to Alastor?

As one last 'fuck you', Jasper bent down, kissed Y/N's sweaty forehead, and walked out the front door, the bell chiming.

As soon as he left, Y/N tried to get off the ground. She tried at least five times. But each time she tried, she failed, she fell back onto the ground with a painful wail.

After the fifth time, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen when someone found her body.

Maybe this was karma for all the people she had killed over the fifteen years she had been an assassin, she thought.

As Y/N thought about it more, she actually didn't feel like she was going to die. Yes, it was painful, but it just felt like she hadn't had any sleep in a really long time.

And she really wanted to sleep.

She looked up at the clock. It was 5:58.

She laughed dryly. If only she had left a little bit earlier, even if it was just a minute, she wouldn't of been on the floor bleeding out.

With one last sigh coming out of her mouth, she closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness, and passed out thinking about Alastor and her dog.

In no way she was ready to die, or wanted to, but she accepted that there was nothing she could do, and that this was karma.

She deserved to die, she thought

CLIFFHANGER

i wont be uploading any time this weekend or next weekend because i'll be in disneyland

i'm so excited

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust @trippoverrt @slytherin4ever @lucifers-silhouette @a-small-tyrant

@mo-0-o @cutiebimbo @mommymilkers0526 @mikariell95 @al-of-the-stars

@martinys-world @bibliophile-yomna @mysticwitchcraftco @notsoaverageguy-1997 @flamewriterr

[brainwashed-babe]

Correctional Training

It had all fallen apart so fast.

Tara wasn't even at the front lines of the protest. She was there, sure, but she didn't see what happened when things broke apart and got bad. She and the rest of the women's rights activists there had been making noise and chanting, sure, demonstrating against the campaign of Robert Walken, the regressive sexist candidate for Congress. But they certainly hadn't broken any laws. Then the counterprotestors showed up - angry, rough-looking men, jeering and laughing and throwing things at the women. Tensions rose. Eventually, somebody pushed things too far, and - well, it was chaos. The police streamed in, grabbing up everyone they could. All the women, at least. It seemed like they were barely interested in the counterprotestors.

Tara was charged, along with dozens of other women, with a long list of crimes. Vandalism. Resisting arrest. Mayhem. Property damage. Larceny. Assault. It was an absolute travesty of a trial - the women were tried as a group, with barely any chance to speak in their own defense. Tara was charged, tried, convicted, and sentenced in less than a day.

Weirdly, she didn't get a fine, or probation, or even prison time. She, like all the other women tried alongside her, was sentenced to "one rotation of recuperative training therapy". Whatever that meant, it sounded better than prison, so she didn't complain.

----------

That's how she ended up in this room. This cell, really. Small and white and sterile, she was isolated here, away from the other women. Each of them were in their own room, she assumed. Here she was left, alone and confused, for a day and a half. She was pretty sure it was about that long, at least. She had no real way to tell.

Eventually, a man came in. Some kind of guard or orderly or something. As much as she hated him for keeping her captive like this, Tara couldn't help but be happy to see him. The isolation was driving her a little crazy already, so any human contact was welcome. He gave her a quick physical, making sure she was healthy and unharmed. He gave her two shots in the arm, telling her they were inoculations to make sure she stayed healthy. 

In fact, they were sedatives. She was groggy and half-conscious within ten minutes. At that point, the man returned with a few others. They stripped Tara, dressing her in skimpy white lingerie. They posed her up into a kneeling position, binding her thighs to her ankles to keep her that way. They strapped her wrists together, and leashed her to the wall. Finally, they slid a VR visor over her eyes.

And before they left, as she started to come back to some level of awareness, they started the program on the visor.

It wasn't a garish, swirling light show. Just pulsing, subtle colors, soothing and calming. There were letters there, but small and distant. They pulsed as they scrolled across her vision. Over time, images appeared. Pictures of the women at the protest, yelling and demonstrating. This was accompanied by low, scraping, buzzing noises that made Tara wince. Pictures of Robert Walken on stage, smiling, orating, telling of his vision for the future of the area. These images came with soaring, lilting, melodic noises that made Tara's heart swell. The words over his picture, words that she couldn't quite read, were things like love and loyalty and power and obedience and awe and devotion and service and delight and yes and anything and worship.

----------

Eleven days later, the newly-elected Congressman Walken toured the facility he'd paid to set up. He'd seen half a dozen women so far, all dutifully kneeling and reciting praises about him. He looked over Tara, who still had her visor on as she answered questions from an examiner.

"Are you happy Congressman Walken won his election?"

"Oh yes! I'm so pleased. He deserves it. He deserves everything."

"How do you feel about him?"

"The Congressman? I love him. I'd do anything for him. Please, can I serve him in some way? That's all I want."

"Are you a feminist, Tara?"

"Oh no, of course not. I believe in the natural order. Women are meant to be of service to the men around them."

The Congressman gave a little flick of his hand, stopping the questions. He nodded, pointing at Tara, who was completely unaware he was there. 

"That one," he said simply, and left the room.

The examiner made a note - when she finished the last couple of days of her training, Tara would be assigned as one of Congressman Walken's personal, full-service aides. 

She'd be so happy.

[peachjagiya]

I hope you don’t take offense to what I am about to say cuz i’ll speak freely. I think the issue here is, so many taekookers kept talking about how much Jungkook didn’t want to do the show and even went as far as claiming that he was forced to do this show no matter how much Jungkook verbally proclaimed how much fun he was having and how he loved the show. Let’s also be serious here, does anyone really believe that Jungkook would have continued shooting in other locations if he hated the first experience in NY? Before someone comes up with the contract excuse, I need to remind everyone that this show was never the company’s idea. It was Jimin who thought of it, told Jungkook about it and then pushed at the level of the company to make it happen. I had never gotten chance to watch ITS friendcation with Tae because honestly I am more a music fan and their variety shows or other healing shows kinda bore me but I recently watched Friendcation and it was Tae too who wanted to film the show with his wooga squad and from what I understood from what they said at the beginning, he was the one who took the idea to the company and they let it happen. So I don’t think it’s fair to claim that Jungkook couldn’t back out of the show even if he didn’t like it because he was contractually bound.

Right now if I were jikookers I would gloat too because so many people have claimed that Jk looked miserable, looked disinterested, didn’t want to do the show at all or didn’t see the point but from his own words we know that is far from the truth. Not only did he declare how much he loved the show and how free he felt during the show, he also thinks that out of all the trips he been on in his life, these trips for AYS were the best. He also mentioned wanting to go back to the start of their trip so anyone still claiming that Jungkook didn’t love being on that show is not being realistic or reasonable at all. He could have just not said anything if he didn’t feel that way because ofcourse he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the trip if he didn’t (or maybe he could) so knowing how blunt Jk can be if he said he loved it, then he loved it. So I think it is wise to just stop with all the stuff about him not liking it or not not wanting to be there because nothing we have seen and heard from him supports that line of thought. He clearly looked bummed that the trip was ending, him and Jimin, and someone wouldn’t feel that way if they didn’t enjoy the trip. I feel like those trips to him, were an opportunity for him to break away from his excessive work load for a few days and just unwind, have fun and eat to his hearts delights. In hindsight, I think it was a great Idea that the show was there to film as after watching his documentary and seeing just how much he worked and pushed himself, I think those few days inbetween schedules to just have fun did him some good.

This is just me stating my honest opinion and I hope I didn’t say anything condescending or rude.

Honest opinions are fine and you're welcome to them.

The only thing I want to query is that jimkookers should gloat. What is this victim storyline? Oh well they're only gloating cos we were so mean to them?

They spent a couple of weeks saying JK visibly hated Tae, laughing at misinterpreted jokes to make it look like JK wanted him gone, mocking their short lay down. Did they all bow at our feet when he finally said it was better with Tae? No they absolutely did not. What they did was just carry on. Cos they perceived events a different way. And I couldn't give a fuck if they do that.... until they get pissy when others do it.

I have never, in my life, been to a JMKK space to "gloat." Or to say anything actually. I've often wondered about their thoughts on things and I just haven't ever. It's not my space.

Imagine if the tumblr Taekookers reacted to, for example, Hawaii this way. Ran into Jikook spaces to "gloat". Because as you say here, we had plenty of reason to. After months and years of "JK can't stand being around him" and "Tae just lies" that became too much even in the short time I've been around, there was vindication. Yeah, we could have gloated.

I bet if we'd done that, the first thing the jmkkrs would say would be "why hasn't this made you feel good?"

What actually happened is we just had a couple of exciting days being dorks about it, feeling good and happy in our "community" here.

So they should go do that.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[lesless]

When I was 16-17 I worked at Target in softlines, which is basically clothing & jewelry. One day I was working in shoes, which was always a mess bc people kick them off & leave them everywhere but I was sick of folding so I was happy to do something else. While I was cleaning up the mess in the ladies section I heard a very timid, “excuse me” & was met by a shy, late 30’s man just a bit taller than me. I gave the standard Target greeting, it was something like ‘how may I help you today’ & he kind of fumbled with his words & said he was looking for heels, for himself. I was like ok! Do you know your size? He said no, so I walked him over to the little sizing floor mat & told him to take off his shoes to size. I cautioned that his left foot may be bigger (like mine) but the mat only had right feet to size so he may need a half to full size bigger, also depending on the width. We figured out his size & I asked him what style he liked. He said he didn’t know, the skinny heels look nice & he pointed to a pair of shiny red ones. I liked those too, I said, do you know how to walk in them? He said no. I said, let’s start off with wedges then, they’re easier & that’s how I learned to walk in heels. I pointed out pairs with ankle straps because that gives you more stability. I also stressed walking heel-toe & made sure he tried them on with BOTH feet. He tried on a few pairs & shuffled up & down the aisle. By the end of the exchange he had opened up & looked excited instead of nervous & was hugging a box of wedges with an ankle strap & the red pair he eyed first. He thanked me profusely. I said it was my job to help, & I’m happy he found a few pairs he liked! I remember that for a split second he just looked at me, smiling, like he wanted to hug me. It made me feel warm. Then, he turned & beelined straight to the registers. I never saw him again, & I didn’t think of it much for a long time except that if my job is in service, I really enjoyed helping someone with something I knew about. I still enjoy that feeling. & now that I’m older I can appreciate the exchange more, how scary it must have felt back then to approach a stranger about something you’re excited about, & that fear of rejection or cruelty that someone might unleash instead. Especially in south Texas, where we were. I wonder about the first time others have bought heels, & how it went for them. I wonder how he’s doing, if he got to embrace other clothing that makes him happy, if he’s still he any more. I hope that wherever that person is, they’re happy. I hope that now there’s a confident strut in shiny red heels. I hope everyone who wants to try something new is greeted with someone who’s just happy to be helping.

[michael-pemulis]

even if you don’t play DnD definitely go see honor among thieves; it’s super fun and well-done and accessible to people who’ve never played. if you want a slightly enhanced experience, do what I did an go with folks who do play, and ask them some of their favorite settings, character types, creatures, or tropes on the way over so you can be delighted when you recognize something.

[courfee]

just went through all my ao3 fics and edited all the tags because i feel like i overtag a lot and it always bothered me. tbf the most overtagging happens in my relationship/character tags but i find it super difficult to judge who/which relationship is important. like friendships are So Important in my fics i dont feel like i cant tag less there? especially my longer fics. amtc james&sirius and black brothers are in my mind at least if not more important than literally amtc jegulus. i know its a jegulus fic but also jegulus is just the catalyst for other relationship dynamics. how do you tag that stuff