#all looking dapper as per usual

[haven-of-dusk]

Warner Bros. Emmy Nomination Party Photos!:

[bimobuddy]

Feeling Better

Hazbin TK fic

Lee!Alastor, Lers! Husk and Niffty

Everything in this fic is platonic

Soft and caring Husk :]

CW: Alastor in the bath, but everything is covered and nothing NSFW happens, angst as per usual in my fics at this point, mention of blood, mention of scars and past trauma (brief)

Spoilers

Summary: Alastor, while quite the dapper gentlemen, smells like swamp and deer carcass, as that is what his bedroom is. After some back and forth, his companions decide to take it upon themselves to take care of the issue (and take care of him)

Edit: I dont think this was my best work

It was no secret that Alastor wasn't the cleanest person. He turned his bedroom into a swamp to feel more at home, and often left blood stains from his meals on his suit, leaving it to rot and smell.

However, what many people didn't know, is that he also wasn't the best at keeping up with hygiene. Something that only Husk and Niffty knew about him was that he despised bathing. They didn't know why, they just knew that he did.

And they put up with it.. For as long as they could.

As Alastor sat at the bar, Husk found himself scrunching up his nose. To be polite, he made sure no one was listening first, then he turned to his boss, ears down. "Jesus, Al, when's the last time you bathed?" The radio host stared at Husk, trying to intimidate him, but for once, Husk wasn't budging. "I'm serious, Alastor. Not only does it reek, but I'm sure you don't feel good either. Right?"

This caught him off guard. He wasn't used to people other than Charlie showing him genuine concern. His smile remained as normal, but the folding of his ears seemed to give away how he was feeling. "I'll admit it has.. been a while."

Husk nodded and leaned against the counter. "Then maybe you should do something about it?" He asked, raising a brow. The other demon seemed to go quiet. Husk studied him, as if trying to read his mind. "Maybe... We can do something about it then? Niff and I?"

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Niffty appeared out of seemingly nowhere, hopping up onto the counter. "You know you can trust us, Alastor! I like cleaning!" She grinned.

"And you know I'm not going to judge or tell anyone." Husk said, looking him in the eye. Alastor thought it over for a moment. Niffty and Husk were two out of a small select group of people he genuinely trusted the most. "Fine." He shrugged, trying to make it appear as if there wasn't a growing sense of unease and anxiety sinking into his stomach.

Husk nodded. "Niffty, why don't you go ahead and go run the bath for Al. Use my room, I don't trust that he even has a tub in his." Niffty gave a quick salute then hopped down from the counter, running off.

Husk turned his attention back to Alastor, lowering his voice. "Is there a reason you don't like bathing, Al?" He asked, catching the demon off guard. "Why Husker, what makes you ask such a silly little-" "Don't think you can fool me, I saw the way you froze earlier. Al, you might own my soul, and you might scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I don't hate you," this surprised Alastor, "I'm only asking so I know how to go about this properly. If there's something about it that bothers you, I don't want to force you into it."

Alastor looked back at Husk for a solid minute, thinking it over. He stood suddenly and started to walk toward the hallway, where Husk's room was, signaling the other to follow, which he did. Once they were alone, Alastor finally spoke.

"What I'm about to tell you does not leave that silly little kitty mouth of yours, understood? If I find out that-" "You have my word, Alastor, you don't have to threaten it out of me." ".....Right. Well- Thank you.. Husk."

It wasn't often that Alastor used his actual name instead of 'Husker,' but when he did, the cat felt a sense of equality between them. No longer 'Owner of Soul and Servant,' but like they knew each other. All the more reason he decided to take this issue seriously, for Alastor.

"While I was alive, let's just say I've been through a lot. In my life, over many years, and many incidents, I acquired many scars. Reminders. Let's just say I do not enjoy them. I hated them, and hated looking at them. I assume that is why fate decided they would stick with me even in the afterlife." There was a moment of silence before Husk replied, "They make you feel vulnerable again. They remind you of those.. incidents.. Don't they?"

Alastor didn't verbally respond, but the glance he gave him confirmed to Husk that he may have been correct about this. Husk nodded. "You can trust us, Al."

As they stepped into Husk's room, they noticed just how much effort Niffty had put into this. She had drawn a bath, filled it with bubbles, already gotten a towel ready, and fresh new clothes for Alastor, folded neatly by the sink. As the Radio Host looked closer, he noticed some of the holes and tears had been mended.

"Wow, Niff, I'm impressed." Husk said, taking his hat off. Another sign that this wasn't between co-workers, but friends. His hair was slicked back as usual, though Alastor hadn't seen it like that since the day he won his soul.

When Husk looked back at Alastor, he noticed the look in his eye, his posture, everything. The look of 'I am trying very hard to be okay with this.'

Husk gave him a slight nod before turning to Niffty. "Why don't we give him some space real quick, alright?" He turned to Alastor. "Go ahead and get yourself ready in the bathroom, we'll be right out here." As he walked past the deer demon, he lowered his voice again, "We won't leave you."

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He did deep down truly appreciate how supportive Husk and Niffty were being, it did help him feel less.. anxious about everything. Though he also no longer felt like an overlord. He felt like a kid again. The constant reassurance, the sudden comfort and concern he was being shown.. It reminded him of his mother. It was hard to describe, but if he had to, he would have said he felt 'weak, but in a way that was okay with him.'

He got himself ready and sat himself in the bath, the heat of the water somehow immediately helping him relax more than he thought it would. He was grateful for the bubbles as well, not only did it cover him, but he wasn't able to see his scars that much.

There was a gentle knock, then Husk's voice. "Al?" Wanting to at least pretend he still had control, he replied, "Enter."

Husk opened the door and before he even got a full step in, Niffty darted in, grabbed Alastor's discarded clothes and then ran back out, fussing about the blood stains under her breath.

"... Alright, well while she goes and does whatever it is she's decided she's going to do, I'll get started, if that's okay with you." Husk said, shutting the door behind him. Alastor nodded. It did feel odd to him to have someone elss in the room, but he reminded himself that he could trust the bartender.

As Husk stepped closer, he did catch a glimpse of a couple scars, littered across his skin. He didn't mention them, instead grabbing a rag nearby that Niffty had left out. "I know you don't like being touched, so I'm warning you beforehand that I'm about to, so you don't kill me. Satan knows Niffty would fuss at you over the mess." He said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though Alastor didn't laugh, his grin did widen slightly, indicating that it had worked.

Husk dampened the cloth and got started, touching it to Alastor's back. As the radio demon jumped a little and suddenly gripped the sides of the tub, he paused, gave him time to calm back down, and continued. He knew he could have laughed at him, teased him for being such a powerful demon scared of something as small as a bath, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Because he understood. Sure, he was a feared overlord, rivaling with the King of Hell himself, but before that, he was a person.

A person that, surprisingly, he had come to understand and even care about. As Alastor suddenly jolted again, letting out a sudden ring of static, Husk thought it was due to him being anxious again, only to see his shoulders shaking a little bit.

At first, he worried that Alastor either was in pain or had started crying (a thought that really concerned him), but as he looked down, he noticed he had the rag placed on the back of his ribs, and that Alastor was arching away from the touch. Now this was something he could tease him about.

"Ticklish, kid?" He grinned, making a point to wiggle his fingers through the rag, making Alastor do the radio feedback noise again. "I-I'm oholder thahan you, you ahabsolute-" "Yeah but you died younger than I did, I'm more of an adult than you are."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but Husk had already slipped the rag under his right arm, wiggling his claws through the thin fabric. The radio demon slammed his arm down, trying hard to keep it together. He shook with contained laughter, his grin wide and wobbly, ears pinned back. He was doing quite well until Husk suddenly skittered his claws along the back of his neck.

He scrunched his nose up and broke, giggling hysterically, reflexively kicking a leg out, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. "Hey," Husk playfully scolded, "Keep it together down there, you know Niffty is gonna chastise you about that later." "My floor!"

Husk and Alastor jumped, the latter accidentally letting out more mic feedback, as both startled at the sudden sound of Niffty. Neither had seen or heard her enter the bathroom. She huffed, hands on her hips. "You boys. Always giving me more work." She shook her head, hopping up on a stool left by the tub so she could reach Alastor.

"I swear she appears whenever her name is mentioned, did you do that when you got her soul?" Husk whispered. Alastor shook his head, his eyes showing he was just as freaked out as Husk was.

Niffty ignored them, filling a cup with water. "Ears," was all the warning she gave before she dumped it over the deer's head, giving him a split second to fold his ears back to protect them from the water. Husk had to bite back a chuckle as Alastor's hair fell into his face, covering his eyes. He almost resembled a grumpy, wet dog. He reached up and pushed his hair from his eyes, looking slightly annoyed, but Husk knew he had all the patience in the world when it came to Niffty. She could get away with anything.

Even when she started to work in the shampoo, scritching behind his ears. Alastor visibly tensed up, his cheeks turning pink (something Husk had never seen him do). The cat grinned at him, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Your ears are ticklish too?" He chuckled.

As muffled, staticky snickers bubbled out of the overlord, Niffty just smiled. "Husk, dont tease him when you're worse." This shut him up quickly, Husk pinning his own ears back grumbling. Alastor would have laughed at him, had he not already been fighting it back so hard.

When Niffty started to gently scritch at the base of his ears, he started to crack more, giggling louder, yet it was clear he was trying to sit still for her. "Pff- Hmph.. M-Mhmhmhmhm- hahahaha nohoho!" His eyes flew open to glare at Husk, who had picked the rag up to start at the other side of his ribs now, under his left arm.

Alastor's ears were flicking from Niffty's tickling, as he gripped Husk's wrist, more just to have something to ground himself rather than to push him away.

Husk gently scrubbed lower down his side, earning higher giggles before Alastor gasped and flinched away. He hadn't been hurt, but Husk knew it more him trying to avoid getting hurt before it actually happened. The slash he had gotten from Adam was still healing. "Relax, Bucky, I'm not gonna hit it." Husk said.

"Don't call me Bu-hahahaha!" He had gotten cut off when Husk simply switched to his other side.

"Ears." Niffty warned before immediately pouring water over his head again. Alastor coughed a little before lifting his bangs again. "Careful, Niff, don't drown him." Husk chuckled, giving him a break to catch his breath.

As Niffty hopped down off the stool, Husk tossed the rag to Alastor for him to get his own legs, making a joke about how 'I know neither of us want me reaching down there.'

Husk took a seat on the stool as Niffty ran back in with a jar. "What's that?" Husk questioned. "Hoof polish!" She grinned. Alastor let a quiet growl escape his throat, though it was more out of embarrassment than anger, making the cat laugh a little. "As funny as that would be Niffty, I don't think we need it. I'm not pampering his spoiled ass more than I have to." She nodded and ran back out of the room.

"I couldn't help but notice," Husk started, "That you didn't try very hard to get away from the ticklin', especially around your ears." He smirked. Alastor just threw a soft glare his way and didnt confirm nor deny anything.

Once Alastor was done, Husk turned his head away and handed him a towel, before leaving the bathroom to leave him to it.

Alone once again, Alastor took a moment to take in just how much better he felt. Not only physically, but mentally. In the past, bathing would drain him of his energy, leaving him mentally exhausted. But this time he felt better than ever. He looked over at his newly mended suit, patched up by Niffty.

She didn't have to do that.. But she did. Because she looked up to Alastor and cared for him. And Husk didn't have to sit with him the entire time and help him. But he did. Because he saw him as a friend.

He got dressed and left the bathroom, meeting Husk again in his bedroom. Husk's ear flicked as he heard the door open, and he looked up at Alastor. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Alastor walked past him, quickly scritching behind the cat's ears as he passed, earning a loud snort as his hand was batted away. "Much." He smiled, and headed back out to the lobby.

It may not have been a verbal 'thank you,' but Husk had gotten the message anyway.

[iicarused]

More on that whole Alastor having a spouse thing (spoilers for ep5).

A dynamic I've had rotating in my mind is of Alastor having a partner who died and went to hell with him. They represent the stereotypical couple from their time and all around are just happy, despite being in hell. Before they died Al's darling helped him cover up his crimes. Being his alibi, lying to people and cleaning up any messes he might have accidentally left behind. Even on occasions helping him cook or even back using the meat he hunted for. And when they both eventually kicked the bucket they held those values as they did when they were alive.

From an onlookers perspective they come off as a couple who's madly in love with one another, still holding that adoration towards each other through the decades they've been together. They dance together, they hold hands, they kiss… But it's not love. Ok, let me rephrase that for you. They gouge out other people's eyes out of jealousy, they pick their next victims together, they have eachothers back through thick and thin. It's not love, it's deeper.

The thing about those two is that no one can really understand them, as cheesy as that sounds. It gives them a sense of solidarity, that there is no one else for them because there is no one else like them. They are the only ones they would consider… Equals. Heh, one of the reasons why they're so intertwined with each other is because they're both just so terrible. His darling spouse just seems more negotiable, but their passiveness is a ruse. Coming of as motherly/fatherly (whatever the gender neutral term is) easily reeling in any weak minded sinners. Their diabolical antis have Alastor weak. HAH, the demon/angel, whoever has Alastor on contract wishes they had this amount of power over him because he, is, whipped.

Oh, and we can't forget the hotel's residents finding out about Al's little darling doe. Either it was Alastor who mentioned them or Mimzy did through her retelling of how Al rose to power. Or they already meet them (Husker, Niffty), but nevertheless the crew has only heard good things about you. Much to their surprise considering how self centered the dear demon is, while Vaggie is weirded out by this her girlfriend is happy and wishes to meet them someday/night. And when they do meat? They weren't very surprised, they kinda already had an image of who they were due to Alastor's ramblings.

.

.

.

Holding you close he kisses your neck where the burn marks are most visible. You can feel his everlasting smile tugging into a frown against your skin, the mere thought of you taking your own life still makes him sick. How afraid you must have been without him. You lean back cupping his cheek with your hand looking deep into his sorrowful eyes. An unfamiliar look for the usually dapper man, it didn't suit him.

“There's no need to get so worked up over old scars dear, I don't, so why should you? Besides, I'm here now aren't i?”

At your words the radio demon saged and let out a content sigh, his lovely smile returning.

“Your right” he said, kissing the inside of your palm before returning back to snuggling with his lover.

…

I can't imagine the reader not having a twang to their voice, their own vibe, not radio per say but something like from this youtube clip. It probably wouldn't make sense for them to sound like that but I couldn't get it out of my head.

If there's one thing I love , it's when others explore the relationship between the two individuals before they went six feet down under. And one of those versions that i quite enjoy is Deer Dolly by ohproserpine check em out. And also, Where do I begin? on ao3 (be warned, for there is implication of SA in it, nothing too graphic but still, protective Alastro being protective, love it).

I think the appeal of Alastor was how different he was (except for in the creepy ass twink department, we've got plenty of those). Mainly in the way he was presented. “a show made independently, and the voice actors are making streams talking in their characters voices? Ö”. And everyone just ran with what they had, we were given just enough to fall for the colorful cast, enough to make fan content before the pilot was out. Like the dad jokes, fan animations, Alastor saying darling~ and the many accounts of them flustering Ashley, among other things :) (all the letters are links, haven't seen some of these in years dafuq). I'm surprised that not many people use what they said in the streams in their writings, I'd wish to see more of that. There's some real gold in there to be utilized.

But anyways, back to the topic at hand. There's always been one song I've associated Alastor with, since I was like 15 to16 years old, and it's something has to happen. Can't help but imagine a chase sequence whenever I listen to it, and I recently found some more inspiration in the form of this! and that.

.

.

.

He could smell the fear radiating from his prey, they ran with haste, trying to put distance between them and their pursuer. The demon chuckled to himself at their persistence. Such a lively prey they were, truly, he couldn't wait to hold them close to his chest, to trap them in the grip of his teeth, tearing tissue and bones in his jaws. Oh He loves them, he hunts them.

…

Man, I remember back in the day there were so many stories revolving around Alastor appearing in the living world to torment his darling, or to make a meaningful connection with them. But I've never seen one where his darling is his accomplice, helping him spread his “curse” onto unsuspecting victims. I got this idea from this piece of artwork by lanveril.

i remember the days of that too! it was such a great time of alastor and obsession fics yknow, but also small??? since it was just the pilot and we had a lot to toy around with. but you are so right about him and his s/o being a cheesy couple.

the sweetest couple on the block who seem very normal and overall a prime example of love. “darling, i have the meat!” and you would beckon him in the kitchen with a sweet smile so you could prepare it.

i think he would be a cliche husband, but also one who enjoys a little rough housing form time to time.

i had to gatekeep this ask for awhile mb LMFAOO i loved it so much😭

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

❤️Valentine - Charles Leclerc

 'It don't matter be combative or be sweet cherry pie, it don't matter just as long as I get all you tonight'

<word count - 1317>

Valentines day. The one day a year that all couples were supposed to get along, and act like they were totally, unbelievably, undeniably in love. Throwing around the balloons, teddy bears and the chocolate eclairs around like they meant nothing, because they didn't. 

What really meant something was the real love. The real love that proper couples shared on a day to day basis. That was why Valentines day wasn't really for you and Charles. You loved each other whether it was the 14th of February or not. 

You didn't need one specified day a year to love each other with your heart and soul. Therefore, neither of you were really a fan of Valentines. You both felt it was a cheap shot at what love was supposed to be. It wasn't all chocolates and roses, it wasn't all hearts and cupid's arrows. 

But just because it wasn't that, didn't mean it wasn't a wonderful thing that was meant to be cherished. You didn't need cards with acrostic poems or sonnets to know that you loved each other, so you never really bothered with Valentines. 

This year, though, you had suggested that the two of you go out for dinner. It wasn't for any special reason, you just wanted to since you hadn't been out for dinner together in a little while. Plus, restaurants tended to be a lot nicer on Valentines Day, so it was an added incentive. 

Charles had agreed without a second thought, thinking it would be nine to go out for dinner with you. To be honest, he didn't really care where you were, as long as he got to spend time with you. He could take you out, or you could kill some time, stay home. 

As long as you were together, he didn't care in the slightest. You had just finished putting your heels on, ready to go for your dinner reservation at seven. Both of you had agreed to get all dressed up, just for the novelty of it. 

"Ready to go?" you asked, walking out of your bedroom as you shrugged your coat onto your shoulders. As per usual, Charles was looking handsome as ever in his suit, a single red rose in his hand. "That for me or your side chick?" you laughed. 

"Only for you, mon amour. Although, it was a tough choice," he quipped back, tucking the rose behind your ear. "And you look absolutely breathtaking," he complimented, looking you up and down. Of course, he always thought you were the prettiest thing to ever set foot on the earth, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it when you put in some extra effort. 

Looking at you, dinner wasn't looking so appealing right now. He wanted to skip straight to the dessert. 

"And you're looking rather dapper, my love," you smiled, tugging him in by his lapels for a quick kiss before starting to walk towards your front door. That was enough for him to definitely rule going to dinner as an option for tonight. 

There were others on the table, well, you were the only option on the table. It didn't have to be a table, it could've been anywhere in the house, but that wasn't the point. He wanted you, and he wanted you now. "You coming?" you asked, turning to look at him as he was rooted to the spot. 

Within a split second, he has rushed up to you and pinned you against the door with his body. "No, I don't think I want to," he smirked, crashing his lips down onto yours. It was easy to feel how much he wanted to keep you at home, but you still wanted to go to dinner. 

"Charles, hey, come on," you said, pulling away from the kiss. The devilish smirk that was dancing on his lips told you that you were in for it, but that had never necessarily been a bad thing. 

"What?" he said innocently, as if he were completely oblivious as to where you were supposed to be going. 

"Love, I want dinner, I'm hungry," you told him, batting your eyelashes at him. 

"Why would I need dinner when I've got a twelve course banquet standing right in front of me?" he asked as if it were a serious question. He couldn't resist kissing you again, pushing your body harder against the door with his own. 

"Please, mon amour," he whined with a pout, staring deep into your eyes. They could make you melt into a puddle of nothing on the floor with a single glance, and he was very hard to resist. He'd normally do whatever you asked of him, and the same went for you, but not tonight. 

"Darling come on, let's go," you dismissed, pushing him away with a gentle nudge, before slipping out of the door. 

"Do I have to get on me knees and beg you to forget about dinner? Because I will," he said, leaning against the doorframe as you walked down the corridor of your apartment complex. His statement had taken you off guard, if you were being honest. 

"Don't do that, let's go," you repeated, looking at him with your arms crossed in defiance. 

"I know that face. You want to cave in, but you're just doing this to prove a point. You don't have to prove anything to me, my love. Now, come back here and let me show you how much I love you," he stated, extending his hand out to you. 

For a moment, you just looked at him. You hated how well he knew you, but it also made you squirm slightly. He knew he'd get you at some point in the night, but he was growing more and more impatient as the time went by. 

"How much you love me, huh?" you said with a cocky smirk, trying to hide your crumbling resolve. 

"Yeah, get your ass over here and I'll show you," he reiterated with a charming wink. 

You took one small step towards him, and that was enough for him to grab your arm and tug you back into the apartment. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? You can be a good girl when you want to," he snickered.

"Charles, really?" you groaned, trying to bite back an embarrassed giggle as your cheeks turned red. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could before slowly walking you through the apartment and towards your bedroom. 

"What, mon amour?" he grinned, softly kissing you. He loved how easy it was to make you blush, and it was honestly his favourite pastime. You were nearly red as the rose tucked behind your ear as you spoke.

"You're a dick sometimes," you rolled your eyes at him.

"But you love me," he stated, since it was a fact. Yes, you loved him, even when he tried to push your buttons. If anything, that made you love him more. 

"It's a good job I do," you confirmed as your back came into contact with your bedroom door. 

"And I fall more in love every day, my Valentine," he said, taking one hand off you to open the door and gently nudge you inside. "Now how about less talking and more showing?" he asked, but the question was fully rhetorical. 

Closing the door behind him, Charles pushed you down onto the bed and loomed over you. "More showing sounds like a great idea," you agreed, pulling him in by his lapels again to kiss him.   

"Good girl," he praised, before getting lost in the kiss. Valentines was all about expressing your love, and the two of you certainly didn't need dinner for that. Not when you had each other. 

A/N - Happy valentines day my loves! Whether you're spending today with a special someone or not, I hope you've had a wonderful day and love you loads! I'm sat here, with a nice glass of rhubarb and raspberry tonic, enjoying a cozy night in with a box of chocolates my dad bought for me, what about you?

This is based off of Valentine by 5SOS, and it's such a bop. Keep a look out for Lando's Valentines Special, which is all done and ready to go in an hour or two!

|masterlist|

[lionheartedmusings]

i will never not be endlessly fascinated with pomme and q!bad's dynamic, especially now after the egg disappearance, purgatory, and returning to the island.

because pomme's adoption wasn't this huge emotional moment or him stepping in for someone who wasn't there, their bond was built out of time and care and love, to the point that it was just the next natural step in their relationship. even after that, it took a while for pomme to call q!bad dad because she was nervous and wanted it to be at the right time -- q!bad was aware of it too, because when she did call him dad for the first time he melted, took a photo of the sign, and made it not a big deal per se but acknowledged that it was a meaningful moment between them. then they moved on and kept going as usual.

their time together is cherished and not an afterthought -- yes, when her french parents are on pomme will always do the rounds with them! of course, she wants to spend time with them! q!bad's time with her is after, and they both know that in an inherently healthy and comforting way. it's their schedule, and even if she's with q!bad and one of her other parents log on off stream she'll go to hang out and q!bad only *once* interrupted that time, and it was to ask for her opinion on footage when he thought someone was in his house.

pomme is also both a mini-bad in a lot of ways inherently, and his absolute antithesis. they both share vicious anger when those they love are endangered, are fiercely protective and paranoid, are planners and worries to a fault... i don't think pomme would be surprised to hear what her dad did in purgatory at all, even if it would make her sad. that's where they're not similar at all: pomme is vengeful too, don't get me wrong, she's an eye for an eye girlie *but* she has a level of restraint that q!bad doesn't, and a moral compass that actually sees right and wrong vs. something i care about and something i don't. q!bad has been anchored by pomme before, brought to heel so to speak, in a way that needed no convincing because there's a level of trust there that's inherent.

and yet pomme knows and q!bad has acknowledged that dapper is his priority -- not in terms of love, never that, but still a priority. and that's just okay. pomme knows she's loved, she knows her dad adores her and she also knows that she has other parents that love her whereas ultimately dapper doesn't. she knows her mom q!baghera would prioritise her, and so would q!antoine, and q!aypierre, and q!etoiles -- it's okay that q!bad doesn't because he's looking out for her brother and she loves her brother more than anything.

the one thing that's interesting to me about their dynamic is the fact that pomme is loud and proud about being q!bad's daughter and has expressed frustration that people don't know / acknowledge her as his kid, but q!bad is almost reluctant to say she's his more often than not.

i can count on one hand the times he's corrected someone when they mention only dapper, or added that pomme is his too... and yet in private to him it's always dapper and pomme. he grieved them both in their time away, left pomme a message, checked her room too. he sang her happy birthday and got her the flowers she likes. he lost it when the eggs went missing not at seeing dapper's empty bed, but pomme's. he, in the throes of his memory loss and confusion, proudly said "this has got to be pomme's, this is exactly how my daughter would organise things" about the egg rooms.

there's a duality there that is fascinating and confusing and seems... purposeful on q!bad's behalf in a way i truly can't figure out entirely.

maybe he's trying to protect her, to distance himself from her in the rest of the island's minds so if something goes wrong she can be safe in a way he knows dapper could never be -- after all, elquackity didn't take pomme, he had no idea she was his.

i guess it's all about love, anyway.

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early. 

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close. 

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked. 

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to. 

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is. 

Birdie. 

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?” 

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me. 

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie. 

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?” 

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.” 

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker. 

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The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project. 

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her? 

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me. 

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail. 

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her. 

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year. 

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always. 

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me. 

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers. 

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye. 

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight. 

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff. 

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head. 

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her. 

“Mhmm.” 

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly. 

I smile wide, now looking down at her. 

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out. 

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’  

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us. 

She pulls out her phone, tapping away. 

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection. 

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her. 

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste. 

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me. 

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?” 

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.” 

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.” 

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before. 

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.” 

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.” 

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach. 

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.  

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?” 

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.” 

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question. 

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?” 

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face. 

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp. 

“How can you possibly drink that?” 

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.” 

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids. 

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch. 

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.  

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all. 

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over. 

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches. 

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”  

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search. 

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable. 

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on. 

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small. 

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs. 

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud. 

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film. 

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips. 

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’. 

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 Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together. 

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner. 

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.” 

“Jeremy Allen White?” 

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone. 

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom. 

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low. 

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her. 

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine. 

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time. 

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get. 

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern. 

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again. 

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now. 

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out. 

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone. 

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot. 

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh. 

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion. 

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly. 

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk. 

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.” 

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.” 

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me. 

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front. 

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck. 

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window. 

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs. 

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair. 

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in. 

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet. 

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes. 

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime. 

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him. 

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic. 

 The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one.  He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?” 

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?” 

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth. 

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more. 

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes. 

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip. 

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table. 

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?” 

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing. 

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.”  I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.” 

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff. 

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch. 

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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Other fics / one shots are here

Taglist bestiees! (I missed you all week and i'm so glad that we're back together again 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy the chapter!!)

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @ourlovesdesire , @threadofstars , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @takenbythemadness , @i-love-gvf , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Heres the ramon xcom backstory ask to motivate us both to do the thing <3 what could have possibly happened to my beautiful baby boy made in heaven by god himself?

- barbietoiles

Okay! Ramón hours (and that's the one time this infodump you're getting the accent as UK keyboard and I have to number-code it every time)

As per standard for egg backstories, contact warnings for child abuse. As less standard, this one has major (but qsmp-canonical) character death too

So, Ramon. Ramon comes in a set with Dapper and Leonarda, because do not seperate the eggy triplets. Of all of the eggs, these three are the only ones who have not been found to be defective, or for other reasons discarded or repurposed by the aliens. As such, they continue living in the main alien base. As high-quality bodies, the three of them are being slowly raised and trained - A1 as an example is low-quality and so speed grown, but this leads to some problems such as improper muscle mass distribution and neurological stuff not quite forming in the right shape.

So, um, quick side note incase you didn't catch this bit in my prior rambles - eggs in this setting are lab-developed human-alien(-sometimes also animal) hybrids, specifically 'grown' so they can be possessed by one of the senior members of the big bad alien race in control of the whole thing. These aliens have an incurable muscle wastage plague which is killing them, but a lot of brain-based magic, so are building themselves custom bodies with immunity to the plague that they can take for their own. High quality ones are custom made to a specific senior alien's requests, then allowed to just develop from babies to adults, at which point the alien then possesses them, consuming the soul native to the body and thus murdering the egg in the process. The success rate is pretty low as they have very high standards, but yk.

So! Back to the point.

Ramon, Dapper, and Leo are entirely unaware of their intended purpose. They live in... well, the nature of the base I do a bit want to keep secret, but they live there and are being raised mostly by human test subjects from previous experiments. The aliens don't have time for that, and because humans are both immune to the plague *and* the potential for brain magic, form the majority of egg DNA.

But these adults do grow old and die, as its been a long time since the aliens brought more back - at which point its alien babysitters which the three absolutely run circles around.

It's not happy childhood exactly, but think Promised Neverland style children being unaware they are being raised for the slaughter sort of thing. Hobbies and interests and learning are encouraged, as is sports and such, because it makes their bodies higher quality for the later possession! And so on.

This, however, all changes when the aliens capture a very specific human.

A bear-hybrid by the name of Spreen.

With the base being to the alien's knowledge... well someone has escaped before, but they tightened security since! So it's inescapable *now*. So the aliens just come and get Spreen when he's needed for torture or experiments, but otherwise Spreen is now responsible for the kids.

Spreen, kidnapped and tortured... Look, it's not a good situation, you know? He does not cope well with any of this, and it's usually the kids on the short end of the stick. He tries to be a reasonable adult about it all but, again, kidnapped and tortured and xcom!q!spreen has never been the best at keeping his frustrations in check. As Roier can tell you. He maybe could have been a fine parent on his own terms, but absolutely not on these ones.

And that.. it's not fine, but it's fine.

And then Chayanne and Bobby get rescued.

Now Chayanne and Bobby are in no way part of this group, but their rescue from their situation sparks *ideas* in the heads of the aliens. They notice how those two have psychically bonded to some of the main characters and... well... the aliens are *curious*.

And curious aliens means experimentation.

And the specific experiment?

Spreen and Ramon are forcibly soul-bonded to each other.

Now. A soul bond can be great. Telepathy, emotional awareness, in an eggs' case easier feeding for psychic powers development... But a forced soul bond? A soul bond naturally develops through being compatible plus shared traumatic and stressful experience over a prolongued time, or an egg can form one willingly, or instinctively if sufficiently injured or starved. (human-to-human and human-to-egg both work slightly differently)

So how do they force Spreen and Ramon to bond? Well the aliens aren't sure how it works, so prolongued physical and mental torture for both of them. Also forcing Ramon to call Spreen papa, because they caught wind of Bobby calling Roier that and think maybe it could be a part of it.

And it works.

But please consider that Spreen was really struggling already. And now he has an about 10 year old inside his head, constantly. Neither Ramon nor Spreen know how to keep emotions or memories or thoughts away from each other, but neither do they know how to share them. The two get forcibly mentally entangled, and can pick themselves from the mess but cannot keep themself to themself.

So now Ramon is different from his triplets. They try help, but also... what can they even do?

And being linked? Ramon can hear every frustration in Spreen's mind, every time he steps out because the kids annoyed him and he needs to go break something and calm down. Every secret Spreen has ever had, the ways he regrets what he did to Roier, the way he misses Missa, the horrors that were done to the Quackities...

... Just how much despite it Spreen does actually care, despite everything, and the fact Ramon is his favourite of the three.

It fucks Ramon up. It fucks Spreen up. The natural bonds are much better shielded from accidental memory and thought spillage, but there's basically no gap for Spreen and Ramon. For a kid? Utterly horrifying.

Now Ramon has some experience - the eggs all have some level of psychic connection to each other - but the thing with Spreen? Nothing like what he has with his siblings.

And the experiments carry on, testing the nature and limits of the soulbond.

Meanwhile, Dapper and Leo are sneaking around, the aliens distracted by their experiments. In their sneaking... They discover their true purpose.

And they do not want to die.

And they do not want their brother to die.

They... sort of know how to leave, but only sort of.

So one night, Dapper goes to Ramon's cell while Leo gathers supplies, getting him up. So the three of them can run away because gdi they're still triplets and besties both.

But waking Ramon wakes Spreen.

Though to be fair, Spreen is 200000% down for getting the fuck out of here, and is very willing to do things like grab things too high for them, use being all black fur to help them hide in the dark, etc.

They make it to the portal room.

Ramon gets out his tech goggles and starts trying to override the portal controls, so they can escape.

He nearly gets it.

The guards discover them missing, and find them. Start a gunfight. Which... is mostly the four cowering from bullets until the portal turns on.

Ramon activates it.

Guard shoots at the kids as they run.

Spreen jumps in the way, and is fatally shot.

Ramon knows the exact moment that he dies, because their souls are fused, and so bits of himself are being either torn off or dying beside him. It's... Ramon can do *nothing* but scream.

Leo manages to grab him and pull him through the portal, and Dapper manages to close it - at least for now - on the other side.

It is, thankfully, a long way from where they were - the strength of soulbonds lessens with physical distance. While this can be extremely difficult and traumatising for people... Ramon's bond was already traumatic, and the distance is enough to pull his soul just far enough from Spreen's that he doesn't actually die. Just. You know. Horrible trauma from experiencing death itself. Plus *everything*.

The triplets just... Ramon is still really sick and needs recovery time from this, so they hide themselves as best they can.

And stay hidden until some humans come by - one of whom, Fit, is very very familiar... not to Ramon precisely, but to Spreen's memories that Ramon accidentally saw...

(Side note - Ramon will not call anyone dad or papa or similar for a good long time, because of being forced to use it for Spreen. He also clings extremely hard to Fit, not just for familiarity but also because the wasteland nature of where Fit grew up means Fit's personal psychic field is *so* fucked up its literally impossible to telepathy with him. So, Ramon can get just enough of the bond to keep feeding psionic energy and not stop growing and developing because of a lack of it, without risking ever having the brain sharing thing.)

(Obvious recovery for Ramon goes from the fic already written where he tells Fit Fit will never be dad. Then one set after the aliens are gone where he nervously calls Pac pai [this is an au where everyone is in a polycule so I can have all my ships gdi. the fitpac needs more obvious but yk what bits i do and don't write get mess]. Then calling Fit dad. Then extremely nervously also soulbonding with Pac, one where the telepathy thing is plausible [though Pac is very practiced having both Mike and Richas in his head already]. Partly so he doesn't only feed from Fit. Feeding from one person psionically won't harm anyone and works, but if anything happens... Well Fit gently encouraged it, just in case anything ever happens to him. Just like Ramon encourages Fit to have many relationships, just incase he dies.)

[siremasterlawrence]

Moving James

James is so deeply in love with me the man of his dreams well at least the one I mind conditioned him to be over the phone to serve me.

I receive a call from him with unknown cell phone number as per usual he is on his work cell and can’t use his number or so he says to me.

I suppose he is better than all of the awful ass submissive’s I dealt with over the years to serve only with me my love soon he will swoon to me.

“Hello?” I answer the call knowing full well he is my boy. “Daddy…I miss you” he says in dry boring low tonal voice echoing in to my lowly.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm” he whispers I crack up seeing he reminds me of how I use to be so quiet but had to let an to fight back against all sorts.

He agrees to meet finally with my heavy set of programming inducing the need to push him and force him to do only as I say when I say.

The sheer will of it all seeing him battle me in fiery fury for the last years before he came back to me once more in a deep need for me.

He drove to me after an extremely long stead fast conversation he parks his car near my house and he dials my number with a many familiar tone.

I head from my apartment to the four flights of staircase down to the bottom exiting the glass door and smirks happily when I see him waiting by the gate.

I did not notice the cell phone vibration rings shaking my cell phone I can feel it deep in my pants making my rock solid hard in total excitement.

I take a peak at the pictures sent to me from him looking quite dapper though I never saw him before it is shock to see this chiseled guy.

He is so..so scared to the bones sending me any picture up till now at this point he is all can imagine and despite my effect most people never appreciate what they see in me.

He stood all smiles with his arms wide open in the air begging me to take ownership of him and he slowly makes a small effort to blow me a kiss.

“Take me back to your car immediately boi so we can speak in private.” I command and he obliges happily a slow smirk creeps over his face.

“You make me so hard that I have to serve you for my life, and I need to commit my life to you.”

“Will you serve me willingly my boi?” I ask in his passenger car seat cupping his chin to his shock.

“Yes blindly Daddy.” He pledges himself so profoundly.

“Good boi! NOW SLEEP!” I demand in a loud bit I begin snapping my finger.

“Yyyyeeeessssss!” He swears head falling to his chin.

“Are you in love and attracted with me?”

“Yes Daddy”

“I — I — love you”

“Drive me back to your place”

“Yes Master”

“Wake up”

“Will your fuck me Daddy?”

“You are ready”

“We are here “

“Let’s go”

“So excited and nervous “

“Don’t speak “

“Sleep”

“Yes”

“Kneel at my feet”

“Open my pants, grab my cock and sucks me off.”

“Sir Yes Daddy Sir”

“Do you love me badly?”

“More then you know”

“You will serve my will”

“You belong to me”

“Stand up and turn around “

“Drop your pants”

“Your underpants”

“Knelt over”

“Bend over”

“Yes Daddy!”

“Mmmmnnnnnnnnn”

“Aaahhhuuuuhhhhh”

“FUCK!”

“It’s hurts but feels”

“Ssssssoooooooo Ggggooooddddd”

“Use me”

“I love you Daddy”

“After I slam in to you hard we will cum at once “

“Your body will collapse on to the floor “

“Your mind will reset”

“James will be no more “

“You will be all mine”

“1 getting closer “

“2 at the edge “

“3 cum”

“Ooooohhhhh aaaaaahhhhh!”

“Yyyyyyeeeessss”

“James…James”

“Can you hear me?”

“Who is James?”

“Could not have done it any better”

“Follow the spiral “

“Yes Daddy”

“Your name is Bucky”

“I am your Daddy”

“From this point on I am all you know”

The end

[3gremlins]

so i finally started a dark urge ("durge") pt in bg3, despite having some concerns that it was too dark for me (like all the "gamer" website descriptions of it make it sounds so bleak and a little gross) but it's actually really funny. Like yeah, it's still a bit gross but done for comedy and less for fear.

plus your murder butler's fashion is on point

his little dapper hat with the real snake skeleton? his false leather?? metal? nose? that suit?!?

i'm still not sure which direction with the dark urge i want to go with this character, i usually veer towards "good" (ish) characters so maybe i'll just full murder? idk, but the act one stuff is very funny.

Also talking to all your companions about your concerns is hilarious, you're like "i'm having dark dreams about swimming in pools of blood" and they're all like "oh yeah that's normal don't worry about it sweetheart *head pats*" but it def feels like they're all distracted by their own messy bitch problems that they're not really listening lol.

i also don't know how it took me *4* pts in to summon basket (aka shovel/fork) but i love her and would die for this little murder quasit. kinda sad i'm not a spellcaster this pt b/c apparently you can make her permanent/resummonable (per reddit anyway). I'll prob just have her turn invisible at the start of combat and not fight to keep her alive for the whole game if i can.

this pt i'm also playing a gnome rogue b/c i never play gnomes and so i figured why not. she's pretty cute and all the dialogue scenes are silly b/c they're like 2-3 feet shorter than all your companions.

it's not quite the DAI dwarf camera problems (it does adjust) where you were completely mike wazowski'd in most of the cinematics etc, but it's similar for sure (it's worse when it's from behind you, because you're looking up at a character who is much taller so it's usually the top of your head staring at their crotch lol. But when it switches to the taller npcs, they're all look like they're staring at the floor)

anyway this is nix stumbleduck (she/they), deep gnome thief

there is still something about the gnome proportions in this game that bugs me tho (i think their hands and heads seem slightly too big? idk, but it is kinda fun to be tiny and sneaky. plus rogue bonuses are RIDICULOUS, like if you're used to playing druids or bards, and you switch to fighters/rogues who are very good at one thing, it's like oh yeah, being a specialist can also be good. tho i do miss turning into an owlbear- unrelated- do the gnomes shapechange proportionally or is it all the one model? kinda think it'd be funny if you turned into a very small owlbear but just as heavy as a regular sized one, kinda how strength works in the discworld where smaller beings like gnomes and dwarves are very concentrated in strength)

[redolentgrove]

"For the last time, Mille-Feuille, darling, your father and I have a business deal to close with this 'Loki' who promised us the most gorgeous display for Madeleine's wedding tomorrow. Personally, I doubt any one Pokemon could produce as many flowers as she requested, but at least this florist made an attempt to provide as much as she could!"

A shiny Dachsbun anthro, clad in her Harmonia University uniform, followed along behind a pair of much more spiffily-dressed canines. There was a Dachsbun female, non-shiny, and a Furfrou male, shiny, in a Debutante trim, the former wearing a long white "mermaid-style" dress and holding a black handbag, and the latter in a dapper purple tuxdeo. They both carried hot-to-trot attitudes, the Dachsbun more than the Furfrou, much unlike their daughter, who clearly wasn't sure why she was here to begin with. Usually if she wasn't in some sort of gala-level get-up, her elders would refuse to be seen near her.

Morning birds sang and the grass buzzed with fresh dewdrops. The sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon, still obscured by many of White Forest's treelines. But in a particular Redolent Grove, there were little clearings where the rising sun was quite visible, a harbinger of another hot, summer day to come.

"Look, Mom," the younger canid began, "that's not really what I meant. I mean… why do you want me here if I'm just going to be in this university clothing? Don't you usually like me being in, oh, I don't know… some sort of elevated level of clothing? Some sort of label, a designer ballgown, heels, anything to actually seem like I'm related to you besides just being a Dachsbun? And why are you so dressed up for that matter? For a forest?"

The elder fairy cackled. "Oh, for once you're not here to look good, Mille-Feuille," she chimed, her tail wagging heatedly. "No, I want you here because I caught wind that our florist happens to have a child attending school with you next year, and I want you to show our dear 'Loki' that we're not that far above her, despite what any paychecks and estates would , even though your father and I wish to maintain our… elegance, despite the climates. You're our... humility belt, as it were.

"Har-har. And her child? Yeah, you mean Bijoux." Mille-Feuille perked her left brow. "I told you all about her when I got back from the tour, remember? They ended up assigning us to the same dorm as roommates… she's the shiny Cinccino-taur in all of the pictures I showed you."

"Ah, this '-taur' thing…" The Furfrou interjected himself into the conversation uneasily, but carried forward. "I spoke with miss Loki over the phone; she said she was one as well. Remind me, Mille-Feuille… what exactly does that mean, per se? It sounds a bit like 'tower;' does that mean she's going to be especially tall? I can't imagine how good one would be with flowers as a giant… suddenly I'm a bit worried."

"I can assure you, good sir, that I'm no giant."

The three canids all whipped their heads to the voice's source. Loki stepped out from behind a tree to show herself, causing all three of them to step back in varied degrees of shock. The two elder Pokemon, much more pronouncedly, while Mille-Feuille seemed to only slightly quiver. It was almost forced, like she just didn't want to make her parents look bad.

"Dear Arceus…" The elder Dachsbun woman covered her snout. "You're a Shaymin? And a hybrid, no less! But darling, that limb count, the ears, all superfluous… I suppose this would be one of the… very few mixtures of Shaymin that pulls together a cohesive look, but still…"

Loki watched the group with perked ears, trying to judge if this dog was just being the standard brand of snooty, or if she was going to have to end up getting something to use for self-defence, or to beat some sense. She narrowed her eyes. "That, dear lady, is not a compliment. Not exactly the greatest way to a first impression, no, no…"

The Furfrou shook his head and bowed slightly before the Dachsbun could protest. "Ah - l-listen, miss Loki, I do apologise for my wife; she's… incredibly blunt with her words. Anyway… I'm Hugh Carême; we spoke over the phone earlier this morning. This is my wife, Vera, and my daughter, Mille-Feuille." He offered Loki a handpaw to shake. He was clearly there for damage control, a notion that most merchants would greatly appreciate.

Loki smiled at Hugh. Okay. At least one of the parents isn't a total head-ass. I feel bad for the kid, though. She really doesn't look like she's enjoying this at all. She accepted the offer gladly, also returning the bow briefly before standing back up. "Ah yes, the Carême family… you had quite a challenging order! Ten dozen white roses, ten dozen black roses, ten dozen purple roses, ten dozen pink roses, five dozen Gracidea flowers… I'll return momentarily."

Vera tapped a footpaw impatiently. "Yes, yes; I'm well aware of our order, now the question is, did you actually fulfill it…"

"Mom, don't start," Mille-Feuille protested briefly, as Loki stepped cautiously away from the trio, "I mean, you do remember the last florist you did this to banned us from her shop entirely? Miss Loki is one of the only florists Dad called that didn't have all our numbers and faces on a 'do not serve' file!"

"Now, Mille-Feuille," Vera rebutted, "A woman knows what she wants, and does what she must, to get it. Feelings are not part of a job description, and let no one convince you otherwise."

"Dad! Can you talk some sense into her for once and tell her to stop trying to make enemies with everyone she meets?"

Hugh just shook his head and turned to the right, clearly knowing better than to even try at this point. Some would have called him a genius, others would consider him a coward. Either way, it was a survival instinct to him.

"Smartest thing he's said all year," Vera mumbled. "Now, where is that florist with my flowers…"

"Madeleine's flowers," Mille-Feuille countered. "These are for her wedding, remember? This isn't about you for once…" She could feel Vera's preparation of a verbal lashing, but just then…

"Well, I've got the cart packed. You said the event was in Undella Town?" Loki returned to the group, outfitted with a harness that attached herself to a wooden cart. Inside the cart, there were many bundles of flowers… forty-five dozen, to be exact. All of the requested colours, all of them arranged in precise order and pruned to perfection. "Ah, but wait, before we go…"

"Of course, time to shake me down for money, I get it…" Vera reached into her handbag.

"No, no, miss Carême, not yet; I was going to say, you should look and count your order, make sure it's all correct." Loki gestured to her to come forward and look into the cart. "Wouldn't want to get all the way to Undella and miss a single stem, would we? You'll pay me once the count's right. And before we get there, we should make sure your order's complete. You'd like to do so alone, I presume? I won't hover; wouldn't want me creating a rush or a false sense of counting."

"Smart; I trust my numbers way more than yours. Glad to see there's a brain in your head after all." Vera gestured her head toward the Furfrou. "Hugh, I swear to Arceus, stop moping over there and put that mathematical brain of yours to actual use, why don't you? And Mille-Feuille… you seem to know how to speak to these 'taur' creatures; ask if your little friend is around to see you." She and Hugh went over to the back of the cart, looking carefully and counting through the bundles, sorting them back into colours to keep track.

I'm right here, you know. But Loki let the comments slide; words were only words and the ones disparaging her looks had long since lost their punch. But maybe it'd be better for the little one to be away from your influence for a bit.

"Miss… Loki?" Mille-Feuille walked over to Loki's front right flank, admiring the size of her Gracidea bloom while her parents toiled in their inspection. She was surprised that she was taller than yet another Pokemon-taur, given that most of the legends spoke of them being rather large. She tried not to stare too long, not wanting to give off the wrong impression.

"You don't want to be here right now, do you, Mille-Feuille?" Loki asked in a hushed tone, her right ear perked slightly. "You've had the most uneasy look on your face since the instant I saw you…"

"Uh… really, I'd just prefer Millie," the teen whispered, her snout wrinkling. "And no, ma'am, but n-not because of you! I promise! I just… our family's Undella villa, this wedding…" She looked over at her parents, causing Loki to raise a hand.

"Say no more. You must be the roommate Bijoux's been so excited to move in with next year." She handed Millie a single Gracidea bloom and a forest map. "Keep this one between us, okay?"

"M-miss Loki, I couldn't-"

"I'd prefer just Loki," the hybrid replied, with a kind smile. "At this time of day? Bijoux's probably over by the eastern lake clearing. I'm sure she could use the sight of a friendly face."

"How did you know I was Bijoux's roommate? You didn't show up until well after I said that."

Loki wiggled her ears. "You think these things are just for catching radio signals and being giant leaves? I heard a lot more than you think I did, Millie… and it doesn't help that I was behind that tree for a good five minutes before you even got here. Now, make an escape, before they realise what I'm doing. I'll buy you until sundown, okay?"

"T-thank you…" Millie ran off, and about a minute later, Vera returned to Loki with an angry huff. Hugh strode right behind her, clearing his throat as he announced their findings.

"Okay, that's… ten dozen white roses, ten dozen black roses, ten dozen pink roses, ten dozen purple roses, and five dozen Gracideas. Forty-five dozen, all accounted for, all prim and proper, beautifully trimmed, perfect condition. Miss Loki, you've done the impossible!"

"What can I say," Loki said with a shrug. "This hybrid mix is like the Midas touch for flowers; you ask for it, I'll make it happen."

"Damn you for being right," Vera fussed, reaching into her handbag once again and pulling out her checkbook, beginning to date and sign the topmost one. "What was the quote again, two million?"

"Two million, yes ma'am." Loki watched Vera finish the check with a proud hum.

"Here." The Dachsbun sighed defeatedly and handed Loki the check. "Didn't think you had a ghost of a chance to pull it off, but guess I'm eating Honchkrow pie tonight. Whatever. Are we going to Undella Town now?"

"Of course." Loki put the check in her saddlebag, and looked back at her cart. "There should be some seating space in the cart, just hop on in amongst your flowers and-"

"Are you insane!?" the Dachsbun interjected. "Ride in a cart; what is this, a family Halloween adventure? I'm not walking; If I'm being chauffeured, it's on your back or bust."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "No, ma'am, I don't think that's going to be happening; I'm not a ride Pokemon. Not unless you're willing to write another two million check…"

Vera scoffed. "Two million to go one route on a taur's back… maybe a cross-Unova expedition, but not that short of a distance!"

Loki smiled broadly. "Didn't think so. Besides, don't you want to be close to the flowers, miss Carême? If you're riding in the cart, you can make sure they don't get damaged in the transport process! Do you really think you can trust just one set of eyes back there to keep everything safe?"

Vera looked back at Hugh, who let out a bit of a whine. Loki flashed a brief look of apology before she could be spotted, and as the Dachsbun's eyes returned to Loki's…

"Damn it! Fine. You're right; I can't trust Hugh with anything that isn't mathematics. Poor bastard gets lost finding his wardrobe every morning. I can't argue I'd rather see things firsthand and make sure nothing happens, after all the work you did to make these." The last words seethed in a seeming protest, but Vera knew when she had been beaten.

She and Hugh carefully arranged the floral bundles to make themselves room in the cart, and once the two were in, Hugh closed the cart's back gate to lock themselves in safely.

"Is the safety latch locked tightly back there?" Loki questioned. "I can't unharness myself without causing you to tilt, and I don't want to risk the flowers being smashed…"

Vera waved Loki off with a nod. "Yes… my husband sealed everything; you're good to go. Say… what did you give my daughter up there?"

"Your daughter? Oh, Mille-Feuille… ah, yes, I gave her a forest map. She saw the cart and knew all three of you wouldn't fit, so she thought she'd use the time to see if she could find Bijoux, since she was already here. She said she'll meet you back at your villa to watch the sunset."

"Oh, that stubborn girl… living the high life and she wants to go play with commoners… ah, well, at least she knows where the villa is. Very well. But if a single hair on her head is missing or she doesn't make the sunset…" Vera made a bit of a slashing motion with her right hand.

"Yes, yes, you know where to find me," Loki trilled unshakenly, stepping forward to begin the journey to Undella Town, keeping a jaunty but safe pace. At their current run it would be about midday before the three made it to the beachside villa, almost too long for any of them to stand, for varied reasons...

(( Millie has been introduced! ))

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

 GOLDEN TRACKS AU [Shaw & Magnus]

AU:

with @sebastianshaw

In a world where medieval fantasy meets Art Deco 1920s, families and mobs have taken over various parts of the grand city of New Genosha, Max "Magnus" Eisenhardt rules the steel and mechanical industry and created the first, consistent cross-country train system. The Acolytes, who have the regional radio under their whim, follow his lead. It took a revolution for them to get power and more powerful groups intent to get a piece. Former alliances and enemies quickly go out the window for new eras.

(aka. the Shaw and Magnus Noir Edits finally have their Plotline!! Inspired by Streets of New Capenna)

[ First meetings and impressions. ]

This specific club, had a most unfortunate position among New Genosha’s streets.

Where usually various homes and factories were endangered by the iron-suspended bridge above, shadowing the labyrinth of streets, this golden-clad club did not budge. Each time a train dashed over the tracks of the great bridge above, the walls, glasses of champagne and a chandelier trembled.

The force did not throw over, or ripped something from the ceiling, but it interrupted the tunes of any singer and band. The gold, magic-induced neon lights, candles and pretentious get-ups of this society made up for the shadowed landscape. The purple-tinted grand mosaic windows lit up with the headlights of an oncoming train before all returned to the same. The club’s program had been sorted accordingly ever since. A train passing through meant a break or the end of a performance. Singers had to keep their schedule or fall on stage.

With the truly pointedly timely train system, there was nothing not appointed for. Just aside from the bar sat a horned, pale imp, studying the radio with an expression of focus as if his life depended on it. For its unfortunate position, it was one of the richest clubs in the main station district. Perhaps the richest one belonging to the Eisenhardt’s from this to the factory district.

It had to be because of its determination to keep the chandelier stapled to the ceiling.

Magnus sits at one of the red-velveted card booths, positioned on a higher part of the club, away from the well-lit stage. The metallic buttons on his vest and coat shine in the colors of the mosaic and chandelier. The pipe at the corner of his mouth sheds just the faintest light unto his handsome features.

While all others the like were occupied by dapper creatures and indulging in games, with cheating of all their kind, he sat back with a pipe, pen and paper. Sketches of machinery, motors and electrical constructions powered by forces of magic and magnetism had been brought unto the sketchbook within the past few performances and trains leaving per schedule.

Max recalls the feel of the wires and cogs, the way the machinery rattled not too differently from the club every once in a while. It whistled and carried the stench of oil and mad-flying fire in its core. Now it was but coal on paper. His fingertips look not much less black than the day he worked in the old factories to create the very machinery he sketched.

Those days passed. Not enough. The coal lingers in his fingertips, the heavy load of the work is a ghost in his bones and the smog one in his lungs. What a mess, he thought, he had cleaned up. Just before his pen once more finds the paper under the faint electrical lights, a note is slipped underneath it. The radio man leaves quicker than he dares eye the Lord.

Guests are arriving.

Not ones commonly found in a club beneath the main station. The great river split New Genosha into its districts, brutal enough to be a city defined by borders of wealth and family insignia.

Eisenhardt had his monopole of mechanical industry, trains transport and radio like a vein running just from the core of split canals to the outer industry districts. To have unfamiliar ‘guests’ cross the banks and canals on party boats to come pay a humble visit to a trembling club, meant business.

The bridges came down, they extended the shore. They sent the electricity and magic through the network. But the telegrapher used to be quicker, Magnus notes. The foyer is left in a ruckus of workers grabbing coats, guards giving each other signals and the bar getting ready for what might be an onslaught of people. Perhaps with an intention of an onslaught in their minds and loaded guns.

The performance has stopped for the minute, cheers fill the room and in the next moment the onlookers patiently eye their watches.

The doors swing open. One dashing man steps inside. A train rattles the walls. The performance continues. A waiter points towards the upper velvet booths and offers a few glasses of mixed drinks in various shining colours. Guards have their eyes fixed on the man whose face was one difficult to get out of the newspapers- especially the economics section. The Acolytes had their field day reporting about his newest endeavors.

Sebastian Shaw was nothing alike a dirty, mortal mediocrity. Magnus' heart lunged into his stomach and his face showed the bit of anger. What a strange new kind of business this would become. He could only anticipate it in his greatest preparations. But there was no need for them. For now. He extends his hand.

"Sebastian Shaw. You could have surprised me with your sudden visit if not for your heads-up."

There was none. He almost threatened to smile. But the visit of one of the greater economic lords would have come sooner or later.

With the revolution just passed, there was little that could surprise him.

@sebastianshaw

[squeiky]

As per usual, I'm talking bout' something again.

No promises, but recently I was talking to a mutual, and it really got me thinking about why i DONT talk about my oc's much or if at all.

Which is kind of funny because I used to.

I know part of it is that I don't want to muddle the grounds with the more news-related stuff and well to put it frankly, Palestine go-fund-me stuff I've been trying to bring attention to. Since I do find these topics important to shed light on.

But aside from that, I think part of it is also that I have a tendency to be extremely self-aware on how I am possibly portraying myself to an audience or peoples, and feel that any deviation from that "set" portrayal (i.e reblogging new-related stuff, or otherwise).

(Simply put, its like I'm putting on a mask, and forget how to take it off.)

-----

However, I do realize that talking about my original characters, is often a back-and-forth type conversation for me. I think I'm very mentally accustomed to my older blogs, where people would interact and send "asks" to my characters.

(it was so easy then. I barely had any followers and I still got interactions??)

And i do have blogs like my sonic-au blog @fusionswap-au or my art blog @dapper-squeiky. In which the story and characters I am obbsesed about and would LOVE to gush on and on about, gets an average of 0-1 likes.I

(Note: I consider "likes" as an indication for "person". It's less of a number and more of "oh shit 2 people saw this, and was like "yeah thats cool". I actually celebrating these things with mini-parties.)

Also, It's not that I haven't, or wont talk about them. I think its just I have no one to talk TO. Plus, I talked about my OC's before, and they very much still exist! I'll literally re-create my OC list (for public viewing), if a few people ask.

--

In conclusion, I dunno. It seems that taking a break from tumblr is actually incentivizing people to look at the stuff I make vs. the stuff I frantically reblog. I think its a wake up call that I need to uhh.. make a life for myself? touch some grass, go swimming, play ball?

P.S. Just like to thank my mutual because this isn't something I normally think about- like at all. So it was nice to really figure out the whys-and-hows of my psyche.

[informels]

Countless Choices of Shirts for men that go wow with blue Pant:

Hey there! After reading the title, this thought must have come to your mind why blue pants? Blue is the most universal hue in every man’s wardrobe. Be it pants, T-shirts, jeans, or shirts for men, blue is every man's favorite color. And why it shouldn't be. After all, blue is the color that has represented the dedication and hard work of the Indian cricket team for years.  

Some man wears blue color in the form of pants regularly as per their fashion sense, while others get confused about which shirt to style with blue pants. In this article, we will explore the art of matching and styling Formal and Casual shirts to complement blue pants. You can achieve a rich and classy look with the right shirt selection.

When matching shirts with blue pants keep in your mind the fact that you don't need to be afraid to match different and unique textures, colors, prints, and fabrics to create a truly unique combination.

6 timeless Shirt Combination with Blue Pants:

When men make a pair of shirt and pant the first thing that comes to their mind is the color contrast, For example, if the pant is bottle green then they will like a pistol green colored shirt, after that, they will give preference to the pattern. Let us discuss some tips that will help you clear the confusion about which shirt to wear with blue pants.

When choosing a pair of shirts and pants usually a man emphasizes color and pattern first but many times it becomes a hard take to find the right combination. Here are some classic suggestions that you can try on with a blue pant

These tips and suggestions are only meant to help you, consider these just as some classy combinations.

1. Navy Blue pants with Blue Beach Printed Shirt:

Printed shirts for men are not only trendy but they look classy and fashionable too. Nowadays heavy print is in trend. These can be worn both casually and formally. Printed shirts add a touch of happiness to your personality, especially during trips with friends.

2. Checkerd blue pants with Siberian white 2ply Premium Shirt:

White shirts for men: Simple, attractive, and most staple essential clothing of men’s wardrobe. White is a color of those categories that goes perfectly perfect with both dark and light shades. You can wear our Siberian white 2ply premium shirts with Checkered Blue pants for many occasions such as wedding receptions, party nights, dates, and formal dinners for a classy and cool look.

3. Royal blue pants with Asher white blue checkered shirts:

Plain royal blue pants can pair well with a contrasting checkered shirt. You can show off your smart dressing sense with this pair. Plus, this shirt has white, dark blue, and sky blue colored check blocks, so if you have to attend an event in the afternoon then you can also wear this shirt with sky blue colored pants.

This pair can be easily worn formally at such events as business meetings, or lunch with clients or colleagues.  

4. Sky blue pants with Dapper Navy Classic Oxford Shirt:

The style symbol of fashion in color, the Dapper Navy Classic Oxford Shirt combination with sky blue pants will give you a modern and rich look. It will help you create an attractive and elegant aura throughout the day and night. So, whenever you have special plans for the evening after work, wear the Dapper Navy Classic Oxford Shirt as a blue pant matching formal shirt option for a regal look.

5. Blue pants with The Rainbow Lines Multicolor Stripe Shirt:

Blue pants can be considered as a solution with striped shirts that work all the time. Whether you are wearing a horizontal and vertical striped shirt, or diagonal. But The Rainbow Lines Multicolor Stripe Shirt with blue pants can stand out in all the positive ways giving a semi-formal and casual vibe. Wear it with dark-colored casual shoes and you are set to kill any occasion.

6. Dark Blue pants with James Denim Grey And White Button Shirt:

The old style of wearing denim pattern shirts continues to trend. They are a cool part of the dark blue pants-matching James denim gray and white button shirt that you must have for picnics, trips, clubs, and party events. Denim shirts help bring the body contours in perfect shape. So, pair this combination with a set of aviators to shine.

Conclusion:

In recent times, men have started wearing pants formally only when absolutely necessary as they are confused about how to pair pants with shirts to get an elegant and classy look. The pants can be styled beautifully with different shirts for different occasions. If you have fewer options for shirts, welcome to the informels lifestyle. Here you will find comfortable shirts of every pattern, and design which are carefully stitched by tailors to enhance your personality.

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[yenzibenji]

He had cold feet, I had dirty hands

Rose-tinted lenses and rosettes in hair. My fingernails tapped the steering wheel with giddy as the headlights’ white spilt onto the road forward— illuminating a minuscule radius ahead while piercing through the solemn night. A quiet night. A date night.

His neighbourhood was dead silent (which was a regular occurrence) as I approached his dirt pathway, some would condemn his lack of chivalry but I’m just the better driver.

He peered from behind the ebony door clad in a dapper tie— charmingly overdressed as per usual. Following an exchange of sheepish smiles, his Oxfords and my heels shuffled to stuff ourselves in my Mini Cooper. “Jesus Christ!”. It was only then under the interior car dome lights did the bags he wore under his eyes become apparent like a grim shadow cast by his sunken sockets. How many nights of slumber had he missed? He remained as silent as the world outside during my interrogation; I decided to not prod any further despite my bleeding concern. Normally, I’d find him getting cold feet cute, but tonight was degrees colder than usual.

I wished to pull over and bring him into my arms in a warm embrace. I wished to whisper in his ear sweet nothings. I dreamt of being his safety blanket. But all that we could do was marinate in the echoes of cheesy radio pop songs until we reached the cafe.

Unveiled from the darkness of the car, he gawked breathlessly at the flourishing frills I was adorned in under the shower of warm light. Giving a smile, a twirl and a reach for his hand, we made our way to a quaint table that sat in quietude by the window. His fingers laid frigid intertwined with mine like frost entangled around liquid sunlight. “Click clack, cling clang” everyone else’s cutlery tap-danced against the plates but the symphony dissipated one by one.

The ‘musician’s’ hands froze still and their mouths hung agape. Is true love really that surprising these days? The clicks of a keypad became the beat of the saxophone sung by the speakers and everyone’s breath became more apparent. “Look we can just leave alright? We don’t have to become victims for them to judge us all night long” I leaned over the table while suggesting into his ear but I think that he was paralysed in fear. Fine then, let them point and gossip. Our date was not going to be ruined.

“Excuse me! Waiter please!” I playfully drew out the vowels and waved my hand in the air. An unsuspecting girl popped up from the cashier in a jolt and tiptoed to our table, “Um w-welcome, what w-would you like to order? O-our soup of the day is pumpkin” she forced a smile, “Pumpkin soup sounds lovely, make it two please” I ordered on his behalf. The girl nodded and scurried behind the counter huddled with her colleagues muttering. Was pumpkin soup that unheard of?

I glared at the clique until light flashed between red and blue in an angry frenzy. “Woop woop!”. The cafe jumped onto its feet at the sound of sirens, except for us. “Bam!” the door swung open. “Hands in the air and step away from the corpse!” a man in blue yelled, motioning to him— the love of my life who sat on his chair patiently. I looked at his glassy eyes glazed over in barren. “He’s more than a dead body, he’s mine!” I screamed and my chair hit the floor. “Ma’am, I said hands in the air!” the officer’s grip suffocated the gun. My arms rose, my hands were up, and my fingernails were dirty from the dug-up dirt from his grave. I just wanted one more night. The night he promised me. A date night.

[rayslittlekitten]

The Little Sister

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

A/N: Okay, so here is the final part. I’m pretty happy with how this came out and wraps up the story. Thank you all for the comments and reblogs and likes. i’m so grateful for all of them and they really motivated me. I didn’t expect the all the attention it got, but I’m so glad you all enjoyed this and stuck with me on this journey. Anon, hope this turned out good for you too even though I deviated a bit from the original request.

RATING: E (18+ONLY)

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader/OFC

Contains: mention of age gap, unprotected? sex (p in v), kissing, fingering, boss/employee sexual relations roleplaying, light hand on neck (no choking)

Ray has been showing you the ropes and how he runs the pub for the past two weeks. He’s been guiding you the whole way although you’ve been making suggestions on ways to possibly make things more efficient.

“I don’t understand why we can’t do it this way instead. There are too many extra steps!” You tell Ray.

“If the process is not broken—“

“You’re broken, you old man!” You huff.

“Excuse me?” Ray adjusts his glasses as he looks at you in disbelief.

“Look, why don’t we try it my way for a lit’el bit and if it doesn’t work, then we’ll go back to your antiquated ways,” you suggest.

“You really think I’m old?” Ray’s face softens.

“Oh, Ray,” you sigh. “I don’t think you’re old. Yes you’re… quite a bit older than I but I don’t see it as a bad thing.”

You get up from your seat and slide over to his lap.

“It just means you’re more experienced and more knowledgeable. I think that’s incredibly sexy.” You put your hands on his chest and shoulders.

Ray smirks and runs one of hands over your thigh and the other grips your waist.

“Yeah? You really think so?” Ray brushes his lips over yours.

“I know so. I love when you teach me things about my body and what gets me off.” You start nibbling on his lower lip. “I love when you teach me things about the world and—“

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts your little moment, causing you to jump out of Ray’s lap and back on to your seat.

“Sorry about that, boss,” Ray apologizes as he quickly turns his chair to hide the tent in his trousers.

“Is this going to be a problem, Ray? I don’t need you to be distracted while you’re working.”

“No!” You and Ray both answer.

“I promise! No more distractions!” You tell Mickey. “Although he’s too stubborn to accept my way of doing things is better than his.” You glare at Ray.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with how I operate the pub!” Ray shoots back.

Mickey walks over and takes a look at some of the notes you had written down. His mouth twists curiously.

“You know, we could give it a shot. It sounds good on paper,” Mickey shrugs.

“You’re not serious, boss.”

“Good job.” Mickey pats your shoulder. “We could use the fresh eyes.”

You flash Ray a smug look.

Later that week, you and Ray go on a date. It is probably the first proper date for the both of you. You’re wearing your favorite dress and heels. It’s a black little number with a low cut neckline and the hem that sits mid-thigh. Ray’s never seen you dressed this way and he is taken away by it.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Ray compliments you.

“Thank you, Ray. You look very handsome, as per usual.” You smile at him. He’s always dressed so dapper, work or otherwise.

“You, you’re always beautiful too but tonight you look extra beautiful.” Ray stumbles on his words and you laugh.

“I know what you meant, Ray. Thank you,” you giggle.

You find it amusing how this man who was so smooth and confident when you first him has turned into this silly and awkward person. It’s charming.

Ray takes you to a nice restaurant where the two of you discussed where your relationship is going and drawing boundaries between work and personal.

“As your boss, I think-“

“Mickey is my boss really, but sure. We can pretend,” you correct him and take a sip of your wine.

Ray narrows his eyes at you.

“But you’re the only boss of me in the bedroom,” you quickly add.

“Good save. I’ll let that one slide,” Ray smirks. “Anyways, we have to keep it professional when we’re at work, you understand? We can’t afford the distraction. I certainly can’t.” Ray cuts into his steak.

“Rossy’s right. You’re too wound up.” You take a bite of your food.

“I’m not too wound up. I just take my job seriously. Michael relies a lot on me.”

“As long as we’re both doing our jobs, it doesn’t hurt to have a lit’el fun.” You shrug.

“Jobs aren’t supposed to be fun,” Ray says. “And in this line of work, you really need to be on top of things.”

“Okay, fine,” you huff. “I’ll let you be on top of me at work.” You wink at him.

“I’m serious!” Ray says, putting his utensils down.

“Okay, I get it. I’m serious about this job too, okay? I ain’t gonna fuck this for up Mickey,” you tell him.

Ray goes back to his meal.

“You start Monday, 8AM sharp,” Ray tells you and then places the cut piece of steak into his mouth.

“Yes, boss.” You flash a smile at him. You see the corner of Ray’s lips curve up a bit and see the wheels in his head turning.

“Good. There’s one more thing left to do.” Ray wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin and places it on his empty plate. ***************************** “Ray, we could get caught,” you say to him as he’s kissing and licking your jawline as he cradles your neck.

“What did I tell you?” Ray reminds you as thumb lightly teases the front of your throat.

“Someone might walk in on us, boss,” you pant, feeling his other hand under your dress between your legs.

The Princess Victoria is closed, but Ray snuck the both of you in. You’re sitting on his desk and he’s standing between your legs, ravaging you. When you jokingly called him “boss” during dinner, it had awakened something inside him and he wanted to take you in the pub.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your hands reach for his belt.

“If you want this job, you will do as you’re told.” Ray slips a finger inside of you.

You moan and wrap your legs around his hips. You’re playing the role of the employee getting coerced by her boss.

“How bad do you want this job?” Ray asks, slipping another finger in you.

“Really bad,” you groan, unzipping his trousers.

“Yeah? You’d do anything?” Ray pulls down the front of your dress with his other hand and cups your breast.

“Anything for you, boss.” You reach into his pants and start stroking him.

Ray kisses you and moans into your mouth as you work your hand up and down his shaft. Ray pulls his fingers out of you and hooks them on each side of your panties, then slides them down over your hips and all the way down to your ankles. You kick them off and Ray pushes his trousers and boxers down until his cock springs out, ready for action.

“Scoot down a bit,” Ray tells you.

You move yourself closer to the edge of the desk and he lifts your dress up to your waist, and then aligns himself with you.

“Wait, did you bring a rubber?” you stop him.

“Just the tip?” Ray asks in to your ear before nibbling on your lobe and gently pressing against your opening.

“We both know it would be more than just the tip,” you bite your lip and moan.

“I’ll pull out,” Ray pushes a bit further in.

“Are you ready to deal with Rossy if you knock me up?” you ask him.

Ray growls out of frustration and pulls away, but you pull him back in with your legs.

“I’m on birth control, you nit,” you giggle.

“And when were you going to tell me that?” Ray adjusts his glasses.

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “But isn’t it illegal for employers to ask their workers about these sort of things, boss?”

Ray smirks and then smashes his lips against yours before aligning himself with you again and slipping himself inside of you. Your hips buck feeling his rubber-less cock massaging your dripping center. You’ve never had sex without any barrier before and this new sensation is making you dizzy. Ray pumps in and out of you and he’s gliding so easily.

“You feel so good, boss.” You continue to make out with him as he pounds away.

The sounds of your moans, wet slaps and the desk creaking fills the dark empty room. The moonlight and street lamp shines though the large windows, casting a blue glow on the two of you in the corner of the room.

“Fuck me, harder, boss,” you pant into his ear.

The slaps and creaking increase in pace until you both finally come undone onto and into each other. The rhythm breaks and your moans and pants fill the air instead.

“Did I get the job, boss?” you ask with your forehead pressed against Ray’s.

“You sure as hell fucking did.” Ray smiles and kisses you.

[aelaer]

An Unnecessarily Detailed Analysis of the Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness Trailer

(I know I have a couple asks to reply to, but I gotta do this!)

As Tumblr's limited to 10 images per post, I'll be keeping screenshots to that level. Taken by me because I don't know how to make gifs.

This post will be NWH-spoiler free.

First shot: We get voiceovers from both Wong and Stephen with dialogue from the No Way Home trailers about a dangerous spell and the multiverse being a concept "on which we know frightening little". As they speak, a few lit candles on what appears to be the ground (Kamar-Taj perhaps) are blown out by a gust of wind.

Second shot: A cinematographer earns his stripes by catching Stephen's reflection in his broken watch (a gift from Christine from the first film). Possibly CGI, but crossing fingers it's just an amazing shot.

Third shot: Mordo's voiceover says, "Your desecration of reality will not go unpunished" as Stephen walks out of the back alley beside the Sanctum to see New York's streets looking like something out of the Mirror Dimension (only he's not in the Mirror Dimension). Perhaps more importantly, the Cloak has a large rip or a patch?! What monster hurt the Cloak? (I can't decide if the blue is a patch or the back of Stephen's outfit. Thoughts?)

Extra Thoughts: Mordo's likely referring to the Snap and Stephen's part in that with his voiceover. Stephen's V.O. follow up with "It was the only way" supports this, assuming that the trailer is not trying to be misleading with the dialogue they've selected. But you know that's 50/50 with Marvel, hah.

Fourth shot: Stephen is walking up the main staircase in the foyer of the Sanctum. One of the side passages (usually covered up by a tapestry) is now an opening to a beach, only whoever placed the opening there put it way too close to the water and the nice foyer floor is entirely ruined by seawater. Stephen is just as perturbed by the architectural destruction.

Extra Thoughts: This is unlikely to be the Normal Sanctum but rather one of them strung throughout the multiverse. I'm banking on this shot, the previous shot, and the shots with collected detritus and a Not Quite Normal Strange all being the same Sanctum. More on that below.

Fifth shot: Stephen dramatically silhouetted against the Seal of Agamotto window. Possibly evil!Stephen as he lacks Cloak. Possibly an object floating above his hand causing the glow (explained below).

Sixth shot: Stephen looking down something on a New York City street that's obviously experiencing something bad (again). Likely same scene explained further below.

V.O. from Stephen over the last two shots: "But I never meant for any of this to happen."

Seventh shot: Dramatic Wanda red-power-in-hand shot. Dressed in normal clothes.

Eighth shot: Christine Palmer in a wedding dress. Hopefully this means that, as no longer being a love interest of the main character, she won't get killed in some fashion.

Ninth shot: Doctor Stephen Strange looking dapper af in a suit (with a touch of red handkerchief-- maybe transformed Cloak?) and IS THAT DOCTOR NIC WEST? If they don't have an exchange of dialogue in this film about what Stephen's doing these days, I'mma sue. Just a super powerful sorcerer attending a wedding with his old medical colleagues.

Tenth shot: A raven or a crow (I'm no ornithologist) turns and squawks angrily at the camera. Apparently both of them can mean death in some cultures, and the crow's apparently tied to magic as well? Will leave someone with a bit more knowledge of birds to contribute here.

Eleventh shot: The back of America Chavez in what looks like Kamar-Taj, or at least somewhere mystical.

Twelfth shot: Wong holding his hands up with some sort of spell near them, roughed up from battle. Destruction behind him.

Thirteenth shot: One of America Chavez's star-shaped portals that can break through realities and some version of Stephen Strange falling through it.

Fourteenth shot: Marvel "This Movie Is Gonna Make So Much Money" Studios logo. Multiverse-style.

Fifteenth shot: Longest scene in the trailer when Stephen finds Wanda in some sort of orchard and she mistakenly believes that he's there to scold her about Westview, when in reality he's there to ask for her help. His leading question into it: "What do you know about the multiverse?" Her look at him shows that she seems to know something, perhaps via the Darkhold (if you don't know what that is, I recommend watching WandaVision at some point). Also, he looks fine af in this scene.

Sixteenth shot: Stephen, America, and (likely) Wanda open this metal hatch door to a place that definitely isn't natural. Also the Cloak is ripped/patched in this shot! Besides the Cloak, we've got broken pillars somewhere in the sky. On the structure in front of them as they open the door is a pedestal with a white glow. It's possibly the same white glow that we saw in the fifth shot. The room layout is not the same layout as the Eye of Agamotto room from the first Doctor Strange movie.

Seventeenth shot: Mordo, looking fine af with his new dreads and robes, says, "I'm sorry, Stephen."

Eighteenth shot: Stephen looking quite put out over something. Possibly same scene as above.

Mordo's voiceover continues over the next several shots:

Nineteenth shot: A nasty thick fog rolls over Kamar-Taj on an otherwise sunny day. Jeez, I wonder if that's natural. Shot cuts down to Wong and Stephen (both looking dapper af in their new outfits) in the courtyard, quickly realizing that fog usually doesn't work like that.

Twentieth shot: Wanda (also looking, yes, dapper af in her new outfit) sitting cross-legged, floating in a circle of candles. Cinematographer earned more stripes.

Twenty-first shot: Mordo and Stephen (sans Cloak) fighting. But Stephen is handcuffed with some high tech cuffs, which leads a lot of credence to that leaked concept art drawing from Twitter months ago. I won't spoil it here but if you're unaware of it and want to know, send me an ask and I'll reply! Mordo seems to cut them in half by accident at the end of the shot.

Twenty-second shot: Several fireballs bursting through Kamar-Taj. More importantly, I THINK THAT'S FUCKING RINTRAH RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE. Large figure, greenish fur, horns. Tell me that's not a green minotaur in Kamar-Taj clothing?! LMAO I am delighted. Wong gets up from the destruction in what appears to be a part of this scene, as well.

Twenty-third shot: In one of my other favorite scenes in the trailer, Stephen creating this sort of spell diagram that probably represents the multiverse and the pathways through it. What I adore about this diagram we see in the movie is that it looks exactly like the representations we have of the brain's neural network (just Google image search it and you'll see what I mean). It's perfect for the former neurosurgeon. Note that the Seal of Agamotto is broken and the room cluttered, so this is in likely an alternate reality version of the Sanctum.

Twenty-fourth shot: America and Wong get to watch Stephen show off his new trick of making Eastern-styled dragons come out of his hands. It's definitely the MCU Stephen. I don't think his hands outright transformed though.

Twenty-fifth shot: Movie audiences are introduced to a rather minuscule showing of Shuma-Gorath, the Marvel Universe's Lovecraftian horror. He tends to vary in size based on power in the comics, so when he's really dangerous, he's about the size of Dormammu's head from the first film, if not bigger. Basically this version still seems pretty weak if we're basing it on size. Probably for the best; his full version could probably consume the planet without issue. Shuma-Gorath throws a bus, and Stephen protects America by cutting said bus in half with magic. Nice. Likely same scene as the sixth shot, or close to it.

Twenty-sixth shot: We see Stephen's hand as he descends a staircase. His beautiful, unblemished, unscarred hand. Hmmmmmmm.

Twenty-seventh shot: MCU Stephen stands across the room from (likely) Unhinged, Possibly Evil Stephen. Likely the same Sanctum as the one with the broken Agamotto window due to the presence of the harp which is not something the original relic room has (I believe). Floor pattern's the same as well.

V.O. for the above scenes from nineteen to twenty-seven, via Mordo: "I hope you understand the greatest threat to our universe is you."

Twenty-eighth shot: We see Unhinged, Possibly Evil Stephen in all his full glory. He says, "Things just got out of hand" with a rather maniacal grin.

Twenty-ninth shot: MCU Stephen makes that slow squint "WTF" expression. You know the one.

Thirtieth shot:

DOCTOR STRANGE IN THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS

MAY 2022

THIS FILM IS NOT YET RATED

Annnnnd scene.