#and also Does Worse (notes wise)

[jorvikzelda]

Hm. Why have I not considered writing my novel drafts in screenplay-ish format before.

[almostempty]

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of  Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 |  Other fics | Rating: 18+ 

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit  

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3 

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and  Part 2 a read for a refresh <3 

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know 

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual. 

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice. 

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him. 

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist. 

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text? 

No. No, no, no. 

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right? 

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway. 

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you. 

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it. 

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great. 

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face. 

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down. 

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug. 

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.” 

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her. 

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up. 

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking. 

“What did he say?” 

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately. 

“Who?” 

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety. 

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.  

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks. 

“Oh, you meant Joel?” 

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought. 

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh. 

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it. 

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason. 

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?” 

“You’ve got that look on your face.” 

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?” 

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it. 

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust. 

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out. 

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.” 

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up. 

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—” 

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.” 

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask. 

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod. 

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo. 

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late. 

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him. 

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world. 

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers. 

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat. 

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn. 

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you. 

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench. 

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp. 

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.” 

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work. 

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie. 

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man. 

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong. 

Except for, well, everything. 

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day? 

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem. 

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening. 

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again? 

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later. 

Joel: More 

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise. 

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line. 

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more 

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative. 

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day. 

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.” 

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason. 

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store— 

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply. 

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly. 

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that. 

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone. 

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.” 

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door. 

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.  

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone. 

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you. 

“Jesus,” he grumbles. 

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh. 

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies. 

“Yep.” 

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name. 

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.” 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once. 

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work. 

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?” 

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.” 

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. 

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now. 

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently. 

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations. 

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you. 

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head. 

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together. 

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you. 

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out. 

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want. 

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine. 

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt. 

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic? 

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.” 

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening. 

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain. 

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted. 

“How did you know?” 

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.” 

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?” 

“Don’t.” 

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket. 

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering. 

You: You been thinking about me? 

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed. 

Joel: Maybe 

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already? 

Joel: Have you? 

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous? 

You: A little  

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment. 

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby 

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond. 

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away 

That has you shaking your head. 

You: Patience is a virtue 

He’s quick to respond again. 

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man 

That makes you genuinely laugh. 

You: Good 

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting. 

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous. 

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery. 

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath. 

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good. 

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly. 

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam. 

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him. 

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon. 

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan. 

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore. 

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?” 

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms! 

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you. 

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable. 

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace. 

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers! 

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research. 

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback. 

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it. 

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.” 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night. 

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips. 

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that. 

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts. 

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should. 

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”  

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself. 

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists. 

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“They have food, too.” you counter. 

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head. 

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it. 

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.” 

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it. 

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions. 

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening. 

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up. 

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?” 

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.” 

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.” 

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first. 

“Relax,” you purr. 

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax. 

“Do you have cash?” you ask. 

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused. 

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows. 

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’. 

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter. 

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same. 

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts. 

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize. 

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there 

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue 

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts. 

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick. 

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold. 

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles. 

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach. 

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush. 

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?” 

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul. 

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous. 

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp? 

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear. 

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties. 

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.” 

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off. 

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up. 

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue. 

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date. 

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right? 

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking. 

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand. 

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.” 

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.” 

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.” 

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild. 

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him. 

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you. 

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.” 

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control. 

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back. 

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow. 

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly. 

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?” 

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.” 

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.” 

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams. 

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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[luvpixx]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤTOXIC LOVERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Liyue Men x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What is their red flags in a relationship?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Chongyun.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— CHILDE ⋆

Loving Childe is like being caught in a storm that smiles at you. He loves you with everything — laughter, loyalty, devotion — but he’s always got blood on his hands.

His red flag? He romanticizes danger and brings it home.

He treats you like his light, his world. But he also brings the world’s weight to your doorstep — Fatui politics, enemies with knives, bruises he brushes off like they’re jokes. He tells you you’re safe while covered in blood.

“Don’t worry, babe. I handled it. Just a little mess.”

And you know he’d kill for you. He probably already has. But what happens when you're tired of being protected like a damsel in a warzone? What happens when you want peace, and he only knows how to fight?

He says he’ll change. But some part of him? Lives for the blood.

— ZHONGLI ⋆

He’s wise. Gentle. Worships you like a temple he built himself. But sometimes, you wonder if he sees you or just a role he needs to fill.

Zhongli’s red flag is control disguised as care and treating you like something fragile.

He never raises his voice. Never forgets a promise. But he decides things for you — what you should eat, where you should go, how much you should work — like he knows better.

“Rest now. I’ve taken care of it. You shouldn’t worry.”

He over-explains everything but never asks how you feel. He talks to you, not with you. And sometimes, it feels like he’s loving an ideal version of you — not the flawed, chaotic, living girl you actually are.

You don’t want to be a porcelain doll he keeps safe on a pedestal. You want to be his equal. His partner. But gods have a way of forgetting that mortals have teeth, too.

— XIAO ⋆

He tells you not to love him. You do anyway.

But Xiao’s red flag? He disappears when you need him most. He thinks suffering is noble. That protecting you means leaving you. That you deserve someone better, someone cleaner.

“Don’t wait up. I’m not... meant for peace.”

He doesn’t know how to exist in a relationship. He watches you sleep from the shadows but won’t sleep beside you. He brings you gifts but won’t accept any. When he finally breaks down — hands shaking, voice cracking — it’s always followed by, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You just want to love him. But he thinks loving you back would ruin you. He punishes himself by keeping his distance, and it turns your love into a lonely altar.

He aches for you. But love shouldn’t feel like penance.

— CHONGYUN ⋆

You love how earnest he is. How pure. But loving Chongyun feels like constantly holding your breath — afraid he’ll break.

His red flag is fear of emotion — especially his own. He’s terrified of losing control. Of getting too happy. Too jealous. Too close. And when he does feel those things? He shuts down.

“I-I need to go cool off. I can’t talk right now.”

He vanishes. Or worse — he spirals. He thinks if he lets himself love too loudly, something awful will happen. He doesn’t trust himself around passion. And loving someone who’s afraid of feeling you… hurts.

You end up tiptoeing. Around your own heart. Around his.

He’s a good boy. But love isn’t something you’re supposed to repress to survive it.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luvpixx. don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[paper-mario-wiki]

This isnt directed at anything specific, just want to do my best to help out the many people fleeing countries to seek aid in thailand as someone who both grew up here/speaks the language Id like to provide some specific experiences that help foreigners adjust.

First its extremely likely if someone moves to the south east that has been living in the northern hemisphere you will struggle most with the heat and humidity. White People Especially. All of you need to be drinking extra water everyday, this is not a joke heat stroke is very common for white people here because they dont realize how dehydrated they are until its already causing harm. Please stay safe.

If the summers start getting too hot take day trips to mountain towns/businesses there's a lot of local industry around people going to cooler weather at higher elevations during the hottest times of year.

Addition for health, Please get vaccinated Before coming here. We all trust all foreigners/tourists do (and since covid screenings in airports are much more common) Especially for mosquito transmissible diseases.

Thailand uses yearly field burning for crop rotation, this causes periods of the year with extreme air pollution/smog. cities will put out air warnings in advance so people can either seal their homes to prevent air from getting in unfiltered or wear smoke masks. I recommend people do this asap before its a necessity.

Language wise thailand has a large enough tourism base that most people also learn at least some english/there's businesses that teach foreigners thai. Learning before traveling is appreciated, the main thing to keep in mind is that since thai is a tonal language without tone control words can get mixed up/confused. (this is pretty normal for new speakers tho)

If people want to learn thai i highly recommend watching news broadcasts! you get to see a wide variety of speakers and use in conversations. Searching "ข่าว PP" or "ข่าว TNN" on youtube will get you fairly official political broadcasts, but even if you just search ข่าว or ข่าวดึก can bring up a lot of good examples of people speaking.

If youre an english speaker one of the best jobs you can look for is as an english teacher or tutor. It's a very searched for job and usually provides good opportunity for learning the language as well.

If youre in a big city look up the local train routes and use those, as finding parking/driving places will generally be much worse than just using the trains. That being said getting a motor bike is fairly easy and inexpensive for commutes if needed.

This is a disappointing but necessary heads up for foreigners, colorism is still a fairly wide spread issue in thailand. People arent violent but things like finding work/some aid does have discriminatory practices still and its extremely disappointing. There are local movements and people fighting to end it, but its been ingrained in a lot of people.

speaking of local communities if anyone who's coming to thailand is coming for hrt/trans support i highly recommend getting into contact with the local trans fem communities/gay centers. There's massive international culture and groups of people that will help you both get what you need and with support.

I know i said a lot here but i am genuinely really happy my home can provide safety and aid to people in hard times. I know from a lot of personal experience how scary it is when you have to flee your home, and if there's anything i can do to help ease that process even with limited resources i will do my best.

stay safe everyone and keep going.

noted. thank you so much. this is all incredibly helpful info, and it is obvious in how you delivered it that you sincerely care. i appreciate that a lot.

posting for anyone else eyeing Thailand.

[nicknackpw]

Polyancients headcanons because I can

Body type wise both dark cacao and hollyberry are the biggest. Both of them are insanely muscular, the difference is hollyberry has wide hips and thighs that could kill and dark cacao has broad shoulders and man titties with a snatched waist

Golden cheese is all lean muscle. Great abs, muscular thighs, but she's not big. She's the second smallest just over pure vanilla and lords it over him every chance she gets (she's like 2 inches taller)

Pure vanilla is a short king, like 5'2" but cookie equivalent, he kinda has a sleeper build, but it doesn't matter because the others can just pick him up whenever they please

White Lilly cookie is the tallest of all of them, and also the skinniest. She's all beanpole, and while her posture already wasn't great, it gets even worse after she's woken up

Now I don't know enough about the lore to take a hard stance but I don't actually think that they all got together before the flour wars or after them either. I think that they all wanted to, but assumed no one else was interested so never confessed. Afterwards they're all busy with their kingdoms and lives and it isn't until after they finally pass on their kingdoms and soul jams that they can get together and just live on a farm somewhere

(On another note i know it's not really confirmed how or when cookies get old or how immortality works, so I'm just gonna assume it's power scaled and since all of them were strong before they had the soul jams I'm just going to assume they have plenty of years to live out their lives)

Also on the note of soul jams, who do I think they would be passed to? Well I saw a parallel between the main story characters and the ancients that I reblogged, but! there's a more interesting answer I believe

For the soul jam of truth I think pv would either give it to custard cookie the iii or to raisin cookie (this is under the assumption that raisin cookie wouldn't join the polycule which is a whole other story)

For passion, I think the obvious answer is princess cookie, she's a direct descendant and basically proved her worth in the princess contest, but other than that I think choco werehound brute would be the funny answer

For resilience I am literally begging and pleading for dark cacao cookie to apologize to his son and give him the soul jam. I would give anything for it I would write it I would draw it if I could I just need it so so desperately

For abundance it would probably go to one of the other cheese cookies, buttttt from the very little I know of capsaicin cookie (literally nothing I saw the thumbnail of one YouTube video) I think he should get it

Lastly freedom, I think white Lilly would either give it to silverbell, or I think that cream puff cookie should get it purely based on vibes

Also all the ancients are different brands of autistic except golden cheese, she has adhd

Pure vanilla and white Lilly cookie both have the, "wait they were flirting with/bullying/wanted to be friends with me?" Mostly, and pv does the blunt truth thing that neurotypicals hate and white Lilly goes into research mode and doesn't eat or drink for a day or two unless someone makes her

Dark cacao is kinda obvious, there's only so much one man can talk about his literal sword and it feels like every time he has a moment in the story it has to be mentioned once, he's always bringing up his special interest (just like me fr)

Hollyberry is audhd, but sadly cannot claim the uncanny adhd reading people. It's very rare that she dedicates herself to one special interest and instead cycles through a few (she's also just like me fr)

I don't have more depth on golden cheese because I'm still learning about her character, but she just has the vibes

[rosemaryblossoms]

The Future Leper Queen of Gotham part one

Quick author’s note: Besides learning about Jesus, God our Heavenly Father, the Angels in Heaven, and Marie Antoinette, I love learning about King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem. He’s God fearing and is respected. I decided to due a female reader inspired off of him, also reader is 16 year old. This story takes place in @euphoria-looney’s story Who Said Money Can’t But Happiness? But however this world has a few twists. The characters Palmola and Serena belong to @euphoria-looney

Warnings: Reader has Leprosy so there might be descriptions of skin or other things that would make you uncomfortable, out of character moments possibly, religious beliefs and mentioning, Serena, background character deaths, Batfamily guilt. Viewers discretion is advised.

Divider Creds: @selysie and @abyslita who inspired them.

Princess Y/n was raised with out the love of her family, however, her mentor Churchill Williams (parody of William of Tyre.) Williams was a well educated and well respected man who was a father figure and better teacher to Y/n than Bruce and Palmola was. Williams would however notice his dear princess’s behavior turn strange, he noticed on day that when accidentally pricking her finger on a needle she didn’t flinch and looked really calm and patient for someone to prick themselves. Later in that same day, he noticed how even when the skin of her arm was pinched in the door when she closed it. Not a flinch, not a yelp of pain or surprise either. Williams would keep an eye throughout the days for any similar situations, which did occur, he then remembered wise words from a wise man, “It is a certainty that a limb which is without feeling is not conducive to health and that a sick man who does not feel himself to be so inscurs great danger.”

The worried educator took it to Bruce who summoned the top doctors to help in this situation; repeated fomentation, oil rubs, and even poisonous remedies were employed without in the result to help her. However it was too late to help, she had a disease deemed incurable, leprosy, or more specifically, Lepromatous Leprosy. You were quarantined and you were moved into a tower separated from all the rooms, your room was burned and rebuilt before Serena took it. Word of your leprosy got out from the gossiping maids who were grateful for not serving you no longer. Williams stepped up to take care of you, no one visited you but him and Alfred. During your time isolated, you found God. For once there was peace in your heart. 1 Peter 5:7: “Cast all of your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.” You also became more calm and left the competition of love with Serena. You instead find ways to help Gotham, sure they don’t deserve it but this WAS still YOUR HOME and you will DEFEND IT. You decided to join Saint Lazarus of Gotham, these are knights that have leprosy and continued to fight until they couldn’t any more. Despite being the only female, they accepted you and taught you the ropes. Your disease got worse as it carried on, it disfigured your face and gave you numbness in one hand, you also began to wear a mask. The angry red itchy splotches littered your precious skin. You refrained from self pity, you were a survivor, not an infant. You thrived but sadly got Malaria, however YOU STILL SURVIVED. One day, a threat of an enemy came to Gotham, a Sultan wanted to invade and take over Gotham. You couldn’t let this happen, Dick had lost an arm from the last battle with the same fricken Sultan. You took this opportunity to not only to prove your commitment to your royal duties despite your condition but to show your love, loyalty, and strength to Gotham.

[cheezeybread]

Hello! i do have a request headcannons with the housewardens with g/n reader who is very physical affection, yet they are also very smart on academics. They also loves to take a notes during a lessons so imagine they saw reader who writes a lot that definitely until a whole paragraf (even worse if they ran out of the paper or books, they can be write until the table)

I hope you like the idea if you can't you can ignore it, and i'm sorry for the bad grammar, have a good day! (⌒∇⌒)ノ"

Will do! You have a good day, too! :D

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮-𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

𝐅𝐭: 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥, 𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦, 𝐕𝐢𝐥, 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬, 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚

No, this is not proof-read, I'm lazy, sorry TwT

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Oh my goodness, you show him physical affection AND you're studious despite not having any magic to practice on in class? He's so in love it's crazy

He finds it very admirable how you pour your heart and soul into the technical aspects of class...which only serves to make Grim look worse in his eyes (I mean, the little Direbeast is your magic-half and he doesn't even pull his own weight! Grim is single-handedly dropping your grades down with every magical assignment)

Anytime there's a group assignment, you bet your bottom dollar that Riddle's going to convince the teacher to make the two of you partners! You both pull your own weight in the task and always manage to get the highest grades on projects! Plus, he enjoys spending class with you

Although he's not exactly the best with physical affection (words of affirmation are more his own love language because of his STUPID MOM-), he does his best to reciprocate, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

Expect some hand-holding from him in public, because that's all he can work himself up to do, PDA-wise. In class, though, he's more prone to absentmindedly touching you. Hand-holding, for sure, or maybe just resting a hand on your side, nudging you with his elbow to see what sort of notes you're writing down. His attention in class is split between the teacher and you, a fair 50/50

But sometimes it leans more towards 40/60 when you squeeze his hand affectionately.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

A big cat at heart (and physically, lol), Leona's a bit iffy with the physical affection. It mainly depends on the mood you catch him in.

If he's in a particularly gracious mood, he'll allow the physical contact and even give some back, preferring to wrap an arm around you or rest his head on your shoulder

If he's in one of his leave-me-alone kitty phases, he'll allow the touch, of course, but he might be a little less prone to give you any in return. But he'll never say no to you if you want to show him your own way of love

Because of Ruggie, you're now his un-official tutor! I mean, you are his partner, so you might as well help him learn some stuff with all the time you spend around each other, right?

Pretty much how the tutoring sessions go: *y/n, opening their notebook for a class, preparing to read to Leona since he missed that day's lesson* Leona: Wtf y/n: What? Leona: Why do you have so many notes for just one lesson? y/n: Oh, this isn't all of them, actually. Leona:....Why does it say 'Page 1 out of 32'.

Whether he likes it or not, he's gonna learn something from those notes of yours!

Of course, when he does come to class, his attention is always on you throughout the entire lesson.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎

You're actually his soulmate, he's convinced.

Physical affection? Poor little guy needs all he can get! It helps assure him that 1) You don't find him absolutely repulsive, and 2) That you like him! He's the sort where if you don't give him a kiss upon first seeing him, he'll spiral into a "omg they hate my guts and want me to die now" mindset. Poor fella.

During any lessons the two of you have together, he's found that since you have the better notes out of the two of them, he can look over yours and add to his notes. So expect him to ask to borrow your notebooks after every single class. Or maybe he'll just forgo writing his own notes and copy yours entirely, hm? Nah, he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing-

This man is clingy af

He's always got a hand on you in some way, shape, or form, and always, always finds a way to touch you in passing. Your hanging out with him in the Mostro Lounge? He's leaning up against you, legs crossed. You two are out walking? Arm around your waist. In class? He's got his ankle hooked around yours.

Expect him to constantly ask you if what he's doing is alright or not. He's not well-versed in the relationship-styles of humans, and he knows that merfolk can come off a bit...too much. So he figures that it's better safe than sorry!

He's also totally going to ask you to read over any contracts that he drafts up, asking if you can find any loopholes written in the fine print or not. A second pair of eyes helps out more often than he'd like to admit!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌

FINALLY, someone on his level of affection!

PDA? Hell yeah!

Always touching, always hugging, and he gives zero regards to who might be looking when he gives you a lil smooch!

"Oh, yn, you took notes today? You always do, you're such a good student! Can you come back to Scarabia with me and help me out with my classwork? Jamil is busy, and I really want to get better so I can beat him fair and square!" :D

Of course, whenever you go over to help him study, or just to review notes, it ends up in a cuddle-fest.

Are you complaining? You better not!

Every time there's an option to pick partners, you'd best believe he's picking you! Even if somehow he doesn't end up being your partner, he'll congratulate the person who is, telling them how nice and kind you are, and how smart, too!

The world doesn't deserve Kalim, fr fr

But you sure do!

And he'll make sure that you know how much you mean to him, whether it's by an ungodly amount of gifts, compliments to make you all flustered, or even just insisting on hanging around you 24/7!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

Due to his own preoccupation with his looks and such, Vil unfortunately misses some parts of lessons. He'll pull out a small mirror to double-check if his eyeliner is smudged, and bam! Suddenly the teacher is onto the next subject.

Not to worry, though, because he has you!

With a bat of his eyelashes and a few small kisses on the back of your hands, he can convince you to show him your prized notes (of course, you'd be more than willing to give them to him with just a please, but you quite like the effort he puts into it)

In return for you re-reading your notes to him out loud, he'll fidget with your appearance, or simply caress the back of your hands

You two are working in the courtyard? He's running a hand through your hair, braiding it if it's long enough. You're in his dorm reading? He's painting your nails. You're in the library? He's running a hand up and down your arm.

He's more into the low-key physical affection out in public, but who's to say he won't openly kiss you if someone starts trying to hit on you? Or maybe he just feels like a bit of PDA is deserved after all your hard works! Who can tell with that guy!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃

Definitely one to gift you with custom-made notebooks.

It started with him watching as you tried to make your handwriting smaller, attempting to fit your last notes onto the veeeeery last page in your journal.

When he got back to his room, Idia found some basic journals that he never got around to using, and he puts stickers on them, quotes, any and everything he thinks that you'd like. It's a sloppy mess, since arts and crafts isn't his strong suit, but it's handmade!

Eventually, though, he'll get frustrated with making the notebooks, and he'll just make some piece of technology that prints spoken words onto a notebook for you, so you don't have to have an aching wrist from writing so much.

God love him, he's trying, A for effort.

On the side of affection, though...he's still getting used to it. If you do ANYTHING in public, he's going to turn into an absolute mess and get all flustered. It's especially bad in class. You accidentally brush your hand up against his and he gives a shriek in response, slamming his head on the table in embarrassment and asking to leave

In private, he's still liable to get flustered, but if you assure him constantly that he's fine, he'll eventually settle down...eventually.

He's determined to get better at physical affection for you, so he's definitely trying...just give him a little bit, and he'll come around.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀

This is just normal human behavior, is it not?

Most definitely, though, he finds it refreshing to have someone at the school who doesn't fear him and treats him like an equal (although who's to say that there isn't a mutual worshiping going on between the two of you?)

Since you are the Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, you are required to attend the Housewarden meetings! On the occasions that Malleus is unreachable and unfindable, you take it upon yourself to write down the notes of the meeting, nearly word-for-word of what transpired. Later on, you'll hunt down Malleus and give him the notes, which in turn you'll receive a kiss as a thank-you.

He truly does appreciate you, in every way, shape, and form. Just so ya know ;)

He'll find old journals around the Diasomnia dorm (either journals that Lilia has and never used, or just ones that were bought for dorm use), and he'll give them to you, seeing as how you make the most use out of them!

And by gosh, these journals are gorgeous! They're rugged and antique-looking, leatherbound, and some of them even have an ancient design burned into the cover. It almost makes you sad to use them, but Malleus is overjoyed when he sees you writing down notes or anything in one of them

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[pukefactory]

ik you get this a lot but ur works are so amazing!! i luv how fleshed out you write the characters if that makes sense :))) i was wondering if could do something with sprout and comforting his s/o pls ? like reader’s mental health is at its worse and they just break down sobbing in front of him because they can’t hide it anymore. sorry if this is too specific lol didn’t want to be too vague 😭!!! again ur writing is amazing and i hope this doesn’t overwhelm u💗💗💗💗

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thank you for the kind words! Here’s Sprout helping you get a little spring back in your step during a meltdown. He may be a little dry humour-wise but he’s certainly trying is best.

- SAINT RUNE

‎♡‧₊˚✧ WHITE VOID ✧˚₊‧♡

𖦹 Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Sprout Comforting The Reader During A Breakdown

𖦹 Character(s): Sprout Seedly (Dandy’s World)

𖦹 Genre: Headcanons, SFW

𖦹 Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

𖦹 Image Credits: @decotel

➸ You collapse behind a crate, trying to breathe, but the lights blur and your ears are ringing. You don’t realize Sprout’s even there until you hear his scarf shuffling against the ground and the faintest grumble: “…Didn’t think I’d find you tucked behind here like a napkin under a croissant.” He doesn’t touch you at first. He just crouches beside you, scarf draping around like a safety net. “You breathing alright?” His tone isn’t sugar coated. He means are you alive. You nod. Barely. “…Good. Then I’m gonna talk, and you don’t have to. Deal?”

➸ Sprout doesn’t do flowery speeches. He does small, grounding facts. “There’s a bakery back a few floors down that only makes star-shaped rolls. You’d hate it, too chewy.” “I left the oven on again. I think. Cosmo might be mad, but he also might forget.” “One time I fell asleep next to a bag of flour. Woke up and Cosmo was decorating my face with frosting.” He tells you about flour because it’s solid. Tangible. He wants to remind you this world has weight, has colour, has stupid sugar spills and burned crusts. You exist in it. Still.

➸ When your breath hitches again, hands shaking, Sprout mutters: “…Okay. Nope. We’re not doing this. Not alone.” He wraps his scarf around your shoulders—not tightly, but enough to feel like something is holding you together. It smells like cinnamon. It’s absurdly soft. “You’re not breaking apart. You’re here. Right now. You hear me?” His voice isn’t calm. It’s determined. Like he’s building a little barricade around you with every word.

➸ He tries to offer you a treat. Half of a scone, slightly squished. “Cosmo made these. I… helped. A little.” You don’t take it. Can’t. “…Right. Too soon.” He sets it down gently in front of you anyway. “It’s here. Like me. When you’re ready.”

➸ Sprout is not the softest Toon. He doesn’t always get how big feelings work, but when you cry, he turns his back so you don’t feel watched. Still, he stays close. Mutters: “Everyone breaks down sometimes. You think I don’t?” He shifts his scarf forward like a curtain. “I nearly cried when Cosmo burned the cinnamon rolls. Didn’t. But I almost did. Big almost.”

➸ If you start spiraling—saying things like “I’m a burden,” or “They’d be better off without me”— his entire face goes serious. He grabs a leaf from his head and dramatically waves it like a pointer: “Wrong. Wrong. Extra wrong. Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop Cosmo from putting jellybeans in soup? I need you. We need you. So no, you don’t get to say stuff like that. Not while I’m here.”

➸ Sometimes you shake so hard your teeth chatter. Sprout notices. He inches closer until he’s basically pressed against your side like a little space heater. “…You know. If this keeps happening, I’ll need to bake some kind of comfort tart. Special recipe. Maybe something that doesn’t melt like what your brain wants to do right now.” He’s not good at jokes. But he tries. For you.

➸ If you try to apologize—if you croak out “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be like this”— Sprout just sighs. “Okay, first of all. You’re not a dessert. You don’t have to come out perfect. Second… You’re not weak. You’re having a moment. That’s allowed. Third… Don’t apologise for needing help. Ever.” He bumps his head gently against yours. “Even I do, sometimes. And I’m basically amazing.”

➸ Eventually, when the shaking fades and your vision clears, Sprout stands and brushes off his scarf. “…Still breathing?” You nod. “Good. Then I’ll walk you back. I mean—uh, only if you want. But I’m not letting you stay behind this crate. Too cold. Too dusty. Weird smell.” He offers a hand. It’s stubby. Solid. Stronger than it looks.

➸ Later, when things are calm, Sprout makes a point of checking on you more. Not obviously—he’s subtle. Leaves little baked goods on your desk. Tells you about weird floor discoveries. One day, he says, “You don’t have to talk about it. But if you ever do, I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.” Then, after a beat: “…Also, I remembered to turn off the oven. So that’s a win.”

[dj-triumph]

fuck it i'm posting a poto essay.

Okay so listen I know I do a lot of shitposting about The Phantom of the Opera, and this more like...Advanced Shitposting Literary Critique from a former English major who prefers to do analyses in serious shits and giggles format. So, here goes:

In true Austenian fashion, for a moment I would like us to consider Christine’s marriage prospects from the SEXIEST possible angle. That is, from the perspective of marriage as a financial proposition.

Because what is a single man in possession of a good fortune in want of? Why, a wife, of course!

As we know, marriage as a financial proposition certainly comes up in the story, namely when Philippe is trying to convince Raoul not to marry Christine. Philippe knows it would be exceedingly beneficial to Christine if she does exactly what he is afraid she’s doing: marry up. Find a rich husband and then have a kid to seal the deal.

This is because our girl Christine is as poor as a church mouse. She’s a ballet dancer who just got promoted to opera singer. Both of these are synonyms for “fancy prostitute” as far as society is concerned. And of course, she's an orphan.

Christine MAYBE stands to inherit whatever Madame Valerius leaves behind because I don’t think she has any heirs. The Valeriuses "treated Christine like a daughter," but who knows what’s in Prof. Valerius's will. If there is no will or she's not in it, and it goes to probate, Christine is fucked. Her dad refused to take any money for their busking together and they were nomads, so he left her with exactly nothing. 

On the other hand, Raoul has money, but like both of his sisters, he's entrusted Philippe with the entire estate and from this Raoul receives an allowance. It’s probably a comfortable sum, and he’s in the navy and lives in the family home when he’s not away doing navy stuff, so probably his portion is continuing to grow (idk, hopefully Philippe is a good investor, his siblings certainly think he’s doing it fine). 

Meanwhile, Erik, a hermit who hasn’t had a real job since the Populaire opened like 15 years ago, is coasting on his extortion checks that must FAR exceed the monthly pin money of the fourth child of even one of the oldest French estates. Like, I would be willing to bet that what Erik pulls in a month is equal to or more than what Raoul makes in a year.

Erik is…well. Many of us in the phandom think he’s a catch, in a sense, because we are Built DifferentTM, but career-wise he’s an architect conman etc.

As far as husbands go, Christine could do better, and she could do worse. Financially speaking! There are very few ways she could do worse in the broader sense of a marriage. I AM SO SORRY, I LOVE ERIK TOO, BUT IT HAS TO BE SAID. And I’m not including his looks in the equation! As we know, Erik does enough to self-sabotage without his face even being part of the conversation.

Those who know me know that I ship Erik/Christine, and every time I talk about Raoul I end up making fun of him. HOWEVER I also know, objectively, Raoul is the better choice. (Erik also knows this; he had to hold a barely metaphorical gun to Christine’s head about it.) I ship Erik/Christine in my heart, spiritually, but lord if I wasn’t praying for his downfall throughout that entire book.

“I’ll be as gentle as a lamb” he says. INCORRECT BUZZER. YOU TIED HER UP, ERIK. Y’ALL HAVE BEEN IN FISTICUFFS BEFORE.

“I’ll make you laugh every day” he says. Y’all the way I almost threw the book across the room when he started doing his ventriloquist act for her. I couldn’t take it.

“I’ve invented a mask that makes me look like everybody else and we will live in a normal apartment and go for walks in the park” Now I’m just making myself sad.

So, you know, Erik is a “catch” in his own right but Christine is not the world’s best fisherman.

But financially….Erik is making the modern equivalent of $3.1M USD each year in today’s money. Dude is LOADED. (Side note but I do not know how the Populaire afforded this? One might theorize that a big reason why Poligny retired is because he was tired of fundraising.)

Okay now WHAT do I mean by all of this. Stay with me.

If we are balancing the scales, looking at this love triangle situation in its entirety, Leroux gives him the biggest conceivable advantage in marriage for the time and place in history, but does Erik anytime reference this in conversations with Christine about their impending marriage? OF COURSE NOT. At least not directly and not as far as we ever see. There are a few reasons for this. First of all, Erik and Christine are romantics. They care about music, about love, about eternally divinely entwined souls, etc. 

Also Erik and Christine are Catholic so probably they wouldn’t get divorced over finances like everyone in the modern era in a place where no-fault divorce is a thing. He’s certainly not worried! He’s going to build them matching coffins!

For all the grand promises Erik makes throughout this book (Empress Giry, anyone?), he only promises Christine an apartment and music. That's literally it. Meanwhile he is making, once again, THREE MILLION UNITED STATES DOLLARS A YEAR and has been doing so for years! He wants to have a normal life, he's tired of living in a house with a torture chamber and a false bottom, but is he equally as tired of having more money than god??

Many a fandom scholar has asked this, but literally WHAT are the 20k francs per month for? Like I know he just wants to inflict pain, cause chaos, wreck havoc, etc, but dude can't even figure out how to enjoy his spoils properly! Erik doesn’t eat or drink, and he has all his mom’s horrible furniture. I personally think he stole all the bouquets of flowers from upstairs, so those were free, too. Nice paper, red ink, enough candles to light all of Paris, and a few romantic moonlit carriage rides can be expensive…for people making normal amounts of money. His bribe to Madame Giry is a box of chocolates and a little cash here and there. This man isn’t even paying property taxes. Erik more than likely has more money than he knows what to do with by a lot.

Other than pregnancy, “I’m ugly and horrible but I’m rich” is like THE most classic marriage trap there is, and that has literally zero effect on the story. Leroux gives Erik this huge W that he doesn’t cash in on. He makes his blorbo richer than the vicomte, writes about it as the entire B plot with the managers, but in terms of the A plot, it means NOTHING TO NOBODY.

Leroux even cuts off Raoul at the kneecaps for a while when Philippe threatens to cut him off from his inheritance. A navy man’s salary is nowhere near the cash Erik is bringing in! But what does that matter to any of them. (Of course, Raoul will get his money when Philippe dies, so Leroux brings it all back around to a…happy…ending of sorts.)

Really, the truth of the matter is that not a single character in this book is a practical person. Maybe the managers but they’re also idiots. Maybe Philippe. But they're not even impractical in the Pride & Prejudice sense. It's an entirely gothic romantic point of view to have this ghost-turned-romantic lead with a grossly extorted fortune just for shits and giggles. Just because fuck you and what about it. God, I love this frustrating novel so much.

From a character pov, I find it so interesting that Erik cannot for the life of him figure out how to try to make this shit work in his own favor. He has actually seen too many operas at this point and of course we know he’s not exactly living in a shared reality with anyone else, but he wanted to have more money than god because he could and so he did, and he ends up giving it away in the end as this sort of symbolic do-good thing. Or at least, he gives away 40k francs of it. Who knows what happened to the rest.

Why all this fuss, with the murders and the pranks? Was it fun, do you think, just to hoard the way rich people do? More fun than telling your gf she's about to become the wealthiest woman in Paris??? Would Christine have even cared a little bit if that was true???? Probably not! Her dad taught her that shit didn't matter, although surely by now she knows that's not true.

Obviously in either marriage she would’ve been just fine (again, financially, as long as Raoul retains his inheritance) but it is so funny to me that Erik is soooo much richer than everybody else for no reason. An outlandishly competitive suitor and for what.

This is just like him, though, isn’t it? To be so desirable, so full of potential and everything this woman could want, yet to be so unattractive, so unwanted? And further, to be re-imposing society’s burdens upon himself.

Anyway, poor Erik, poor everybody, even the rich ones, and most of all, poor Christine. Hope you and your hubby figured out the inheritance stuff for the de Chagny estate before you fucked off to Scandinavia!

[kinkyniragi]

Until the debt is paid – Chapter 4: Guidance

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Genre: Smut 18+

Word count: 1,6k

Summary: As payment for your father’s debt, you’ve been handed over to Thomas Shelby—a ruthless criminal with a reputation as dangerous as his smirk. It’s getting dangerous for you—food and water are running low. Your attempt to coax some mercy out of Tommy comes at a cost…

CN: Power play, degradation, humiliation. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care.

Author’s note: After writing a lot of smut for Niragi from Alice in Borderland, I’m now diving into the world of Cillian Murphy. Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing. Also, I’m not a native speaker, so if you spot any creative grammar choices…call them artistic liberties, ok?

***

<<Chapter 3

The second night in the stable is worse than the first. No surprise there. The cold has seeped into your bones, straw clings to your skin, and your stomach aches with hunger. You try to ignore the dull, persistent thirst scratching at your throat, but it’s no use. Your body betrays you with its needs, making it impossible to maintain even a shred of dignity.

You need water. Food. A chance to wash the filth from your skin.

But more than that, you need answers.

So, when the heavy barn doors groan open in the - you assume - early morning hours, and he steps inside, your pulse kicks up—fear and something else twisting in your stomach like a vice.

Thomas Shelby stands there, silhouetted against the dim lantern light, his ice-blue eyes scanning you with something in them that is neither amusement nor pity. Just quiet, calculating interest. The kind of attitude that strips away pretense, that pins you in place without even trying.

You push yourself up from the pile of hay, ignoring the way your body protests. You don’t want to look weak. Not in front of him.

"What about my father? I am sure he must have paid off his debts by now.” The words leave your lips before you can second-guess them.

The look on his face makes you realize that it was a mistake to have asked at all, though it’s crystl clear that this is all that counts for you right now.

"That’s a dangerous question, love."

A slow inhale, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.

"He has time."

A pause.

"Let’s hope he uses it wisely," but there’s not a trace of real hope in his voice—if anything, quite the opposite.

A sick feeling settles in your stomach. Your mind screams at you to back down, to accept the non-answer, but you can't. You won’t.

"What does that mean?" You look at him with wide eyes, struggling to keep your dismay from showing.

His response is a quiet chuckle, one that carries no warmth. "When you plan something well, there’s no need to rush, you know?”

You hate the way he speaks in riddles and yet seems to reveal so much that he fuels your worries. So much on point that it hurts. A dangerous question, you almost get angry that you fell for it. No, at least you won't play this game anymore. But what's the alternative? Maybe he'll give out information if you try a different approach—less...directly.

„Look at you.“ His voice is smooth, the mockery laced with something almost gentle—almost. „Filthy. Desperate. Poor thing, eh.“

A pause. Then softer, yet audibly crueler: "It’s a shame, really. You could be something else entirely, under the right… circumstances." Even though his attempts to degrade you are so obvious, they still hurt you. Is he also alluding to your father's complicated role in Birmingham's gang activities? You couldn’t tell.

"You’re right. That’s why I can’t stay out here forever," you grasp at the only solid piece in the wreckage of his humiliation, ignoring the true intention. Your voice is steady, though it takes effort. "I need something to drink. Food. To clean myself up. Thomas, you know it," you try to appeal to his compassion even though you know it’s hopeless.

He takes a slow step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots.

"Need," he repeats, savoring the word. "You do like making demands, eh?"

Your jaw clenches. This is fucking victim blaming. You won’t beg. You won’t—

His head tilts, as if considering. " And what makes you think that I will comply with your impudent demands?”

You swallow hard.

You won’t beg Thomas fucking Shelby.

But the thought of another cold night in this shed, weak and filthy, is worse than whatever game he’s playing—At least that is your assumption at this moment.

"Because I can’t be of any use to you if I starve," you say, lifting your chin. "You’re keeping me for a reason, aren’t you?"

Something flickers in his expression—approval, maybe. Amusement. Something darker.

"Clever girl."

He steps closer, his boots nearly brushing against your bare toes. You should step back, but there’s nowhere to go. For a moment, he simply looks at you, dragging his gaze over you like he's peeling away layers, stripping you down past skin and bone more effectively than hands ever could. You feel it, the way he takes his time, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make you squirm. The grime on your skin should be a shield, a layer between you and him, but under his eyes, it feels like an open wound.

You hate the way it unsettles you, how it coils something hot and unwanted in your core. He is everything you should despise, a man who holds power over you and enjoys it far too much. And yet, the slow drag of his eyes over your body sends a pulse of something dark and traitorous through you that you can hardly deny.

You force yourself to hold his stare, to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

He can’t know.

He can’t see.

And yet, the slight curve of his lips suggests that he already does.

Then, with deliberate ease, he flicks his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot.

"Fine," he eventually gives in, almost bored. "You can come inside."

Relief flutters in your chest, but it’s short-lived.

„If you ask nicely.“ He raises his head.

Self-assured.

Dominant.

Watching your struggle. His attitude carries something disgustingly arrogant in it, as if your resistance is just a minor inconvenience rather than a real obstacle.

You hate it.

„On your knees would be a start,” he says, his words cold and devoid of emotion. His face remains an impassable mask, offering no hint of what he thinks or feels, just the same unreadable expression that never betrays a thing.

Your body stiffens. You lift your chin, refusing to break under his unflinching stare.“

On your knees? Over your dead body.

Slowly, resolutely, you take a step toward him. Not submissively—never that—but with a quiet, simmering resistance. Your heart pounds, the scent of whiskey and smoke fills your nose. You meet his gaze head-on, daring him to push further.

„Not happening,“ you bite out.

Something dark flickers in his eyes, and his smirk spreads— disturbingly relaxed, knowing, pleased.

„Oh, I do appreciate watching you fight, love.“

He gives an affected sigh, the kind a teacher might give when a particularly slow student just can't grasp the lesson. „You know what,” he continues. “Women usually beg me for a place in my house. You, however… You’re just lucky I enjoy watching you act coy, knowing full well that you're going to do it anyway.”

You hesitate, heat rising in your cheeks. His eyes gleam with a dark kind of arousal, waiting. Expecting.

"I won’t kneel for you."

"No?" He snorts contemptuously and pulls a metal bottle out of the pocket of his coat, unscrewing the lid with one flick of his thumb.

Water. Your throat tightens at the sight.

His lips curl, as if enjoying your desparation. " You must be very thirsty, eh? Go on, love. Show some manners if you want me to share some drops with you!"

He swirls the liquid, letting it slosh against the metal walls of the bottle. "Shame. And here I thought you might be a fast learner."

Your pride wars with the raw, aching thirst in your body. You refuse to look at the water, but he notices anyway.

Of course, he does.

"Go on," he coaxes, voice deceptively smooth. "Ask nicely, and I’ll let you have some."

You swallow hard. Every second stretches, thick with tension. The stable is silent except for your breathing, the distant creak of wood shifting in the cold.

And then—slowly—you sink to your knees.

A victorious hum rumbles in his throat. He takes a sip from the bottle, then crouches before you, fingers tilting your chin up.

"Open."

The command is soft, but absolute.

Your lips part, shame burning through you as he leans in. He takes another sip, then—deliberate, taunting—he presses his fingers to your jaw, prying your mouth open further.

And then, he slowly lets the water spill from his mouth into yours.

It’s warm, laced with the taste of whiskey and something else, something distinctly him. You swallow instinctively, the relief of the water mingling with humiliation, fury, something you can’t quite name.

When he finally pulls away, his thumb brushes over your lower lip, catching the last drop of water before smirking.

"See?" he murmurs, savoring your reaction. "You just needed a little guidance."

His fingers lift, just barely brushing against your jaw. The touch is light—mocking in its gentleness. "Now, you’ll say ‘thank you’ like a good girl," he says in a stern tone. "And you’ll mean it."

Your hands curl into fists, but you force the words out between clenched teeth. The words catch in your throat, pride and desperation warring inside you.

The ‘thank you’ barely makes it past your lips, agonized and brittle.

A small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

"Very well. Peter will take you into the house right away and provide you with everything you need."

He turns, already walking away, but tosses one last remark over his shoulder. "I don't want to hear any complaints from him, got it? If I hear a single word of whining, I’ll make sure you regret it."

The stable door closes behind him.

Peter.

That disgusting man who ate bread in front of you while you starved.

And just like that, you realize—you may be stepping out of the shed, but you’re walking straight into the lion’s den.

Chapter 5>>

[theaologies]

spinning my chair around and sitting in it backwards: GOOOOOD MORNING CLASS

FIRST AND FOREMOST: this is not a panic post. It’s an informational preparedness post. Don’t panic. Just be prepared for this like you’d be prepared for an earthquake but you know it’s coming and it’s wet.

I’m 30, lived in Central Florida for the first 26 years of my life, and have experienced more hurricanes and tropical storms than you can imagine. Never in my life did I think I would have to discuss HURRICANE SAFETY again after moving to LOS ANGELES from FLORIDA and yet HERE WE ARE-

(This information is accurate as of 8/17 at 9am PST)

SO models are still early but it seems like as of last night, Pacific Hurricane Hilary is rapidly intensified AND has shifted its track pretty severely inland. Originally SoCal was predicted to get some bands off the coast but this does NOT seem to be the case anymore

As our good friend Jim Cantore mentioned above, if Hilary DOES make landfall in SoCal, it will be the first tropical storm to do so since 1939. Fucking yikes.

THE GOOD NEWS:

It isn’t looking like Hilary will make landfall anywhere as a strong hurricane. If it makes landfall in central Baja it looks like it’ll be a Cat 2 which isn’t great but still- better than the Cat 5 it’s currently strengthening to.

As for SoCal, we’re not predicted to get anything over a Tropical Storm. And mountains tear up tropical cyclones like crazy. It’ll (probably) be weak and, wind wise, no worse than the Santa Ana’s

THE BAD NEWS:

Our Cone of Uncertainty is currently pretty wide- this fluctuation matters as it determines which side of the storm hits us. Is this significant? Yes. The right side of a Hurricane is considered the “dirty” side- it’s the side that is most likely to produce severe weather, such as severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. It’s still too early to determine what side will affect us the most but it’s something to keep in mind.

Also, I can’t speak for the rest of SoCal, but I would not bet on the LA infrastructure doing well even with a weak tropical storm. Which is why I have brought you here today, to run down the IMPORTANT HURRICANE CHECKLIST

NOTE: I made this several years ago for FLORIDA so not all of it will be accurate to SoCal. Most of us live in apartments and have no say over tree trimmings and the likes. If the storm is feeling like it’s going to get bad, I would recommend moving important things and electronics away from windows and hanging out in areas of the apartment that have the least amount of windows. I don’t think boarding up windows or anything will be necessary but here’s information if you need/want it

ANOTHER NOTE: if you have the means, please check up on your unhoused neighbors and immediate community groups that do so, as well. As always, they will be the ones most affected by severe weather. Tarps, anything that rises up off the ground, waterproof bags, etc would be good to grab for them. I am not an expert here and would recommend following the lead of your community groups that work with your unhoused neighbors to find out what will be needed most.

I don’t at all think we’ll see any shutdowns so if the rain does get bad be prepared for dangerous driving conditions. I know it’s dangerous to drive any time it rains in LA but, you know. The Weather Channel isn’t predicting a TON of rain at the moment (for LA) but, just like our winter/spring this year, be on the look out for flash floods.

And again, this is all JUST IN CASE. It’s better to be prepared than not. SoCal’s infrastructure is not at all prepared to handle a tropical event so who knows! Anything is possible. If I was in Florida I wouldn’t at all be worrying about this but I’m not anymore and our wet winter absolutely fucked our roads in LA so I’d rather everyone be safe than sorry.

I’m sure it’ll all be fine and now you just have more safety information, which is never bad! Because frankly climate change is very real and I would not be surprised to see this happening more and more in the coming years. And it does have me worrying that El Niño this year is going to be worse than we imagined.

[gtwscratch]

Saw the Jimmy and Lizzie testing ask and I just had to write this (This is just some head cannons + me playing out scenes in my head)

Testing was bad for everyone but testing never was the thing that really got Joel. It was seeing his loved ones after getting tested on themselves. Just watching Jimmy and Lizzie come back from testing hurt more than anything they could do to him. He always had a bit of a temper but he could mostly keep it in line but seeing his loved ones like that after testing just exploded something inside him.

Maybe once he woke up from a nap to see Lizzie unresponsive and well maybe yelling at scientists about what he’d do to said scientists after he got out of this cell (Which he knew would probably never happen but he was just a bit delulu) is obviously not the best of ideas and always ended up with him on the floor with considerably more bruises than before. His efforts were always in vain. Lizzie and Jimmy were still tested on regardless and probably just gained more trauma from watching all of that. But Joel was persistent, always trying his best to protect them. Though it just kept getting sadder and well Joel never considered how Lizzie and Jimmy felt about it. He’d always just end up in worse condition than he already was in and it just made them more scared of the scientists. Sorry Joel but cringy motivational speeches won’t make anything better. And the more scared they were of the scientists the chance of Joel escaping gets lower and lower. He could just escape but what if they just hurt Lizzie more. That’s what kept Joel there. The scientists mostly found his persistence comical and how he was slowly losing his mind just to protect those he loved.

Testing wise they mostly tested the height of his jumps and if his emotions affect the height of said jumps. They did test if he was affected by the fall after jumping but that was proved false. He definitely was forced to jump over a dangerous substance to test how far he could jump and he failed multiple times causing burns on his knees

For escape they kept an eye on him but they mostly relied on Lizzie and Jimmy. If Joel really was set to escape they might not be able to stop him with his abilities anyway.

Joels VERY hostile with scientists and does not comply unless physical force is executed.

Also since I have to include the family in here. I feel like before Joel forced them to move him in the same room as Lizzie Joel and Gem were in a room together but they were both very defiant to begin with needing physical force on multiple occasions but them together just made it worse and well their plans of escape was getting better and better and those plans weren’t small and didn’t include just them but everyone or at minimum Lizzie and Jimmy at least. So it was deemed that they were not a good combo and there cells switched real fast also their communication was from then on heavily restricted and monitored. They haven’t talked since the switch besides from not passing since they both see it as a sign of defiance and they definitely hold high respect for each other. Also unrelated head cannon gem definitely tried to fist fight a scientist once (It did not go well for her but hey a for effort right….right) They do occasionally pass notes to each other which is surprising hard to do and no one knows how they got paper and a pen but it was probably just pick pocketing a scientist without their knowledge.

(This kinda just turned into me rambling I just blinked and now it’s this long)

This is so cool. :D

I love all of this.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

When Zoe-oneesama was still mapping out her plans for Scarlet Lady, she made an observation that two of canon!Sabrina’s biggest issues with her own personality are that she operates on both Mean Girl Logic AND Sidekick/Assistant/Slave Logic, which I agree with. This is evident in how, like you said, there are just as many moments — especially earlier on in the show — where Sabrina is gleefully going along with what Chloe wants as there are where she’s shrinking away or scared. Zoe also pointed out how this is highlighted in Evillustrator when Sabrina is trying to switch to being Marinette’s best friend and immediately tries to ingratiate herself by suggesting that they tell the teacher on Chloe and that she does Marinette’s homework. How would you handle a redemption or even just character growth arc for Sabrina with these main flaws in mind?

Here’s the OG post for reference (just for the Sabrina parts, not necessarily the SL parts since a few things were altered for the actual comic): https://zoe-oneesama.tumblr.com/post/180211248479/i-only-have-one-question-about-scarlet

(Link to the post that spawned this ask and a clickable link for @zoe-oneesama's post, which I'll also schedule to reblog the same day as this one if you don't feel like clicking a link)

Zoe is wise and makes excellent points. I've really enjoyed her comic's take on Sabrina and fully agree that people-pleasing Marinette is a poor choice for the character to help Sabrina be a better person in most situations. Marinette is great at standing up to those that she doesn't like, but once she cares about a person, she can be a bit of a pushover, which is a deeply relatable struggle. It's much harder to stand up to people when you care about them and want them to like you.

Adrien would be an even worse person to redeem Sabrina since he's even more of a people-pleaser! Marinette will at least stand up to her enemies, Adrien struggles to stand up to anyone.

This makes it hard to redeem Sabrina in canon because these two are our main characters. We want the plot and most of the subplots to revolve around them or the people close to them. We don't want Sabrina eating up screentime and elevating her narrative status to that of main character or major supporting character unless it benefits the wider story because the show isn't about Sabrina. She's an extremely minor character with zero ties to the leads outside of her role as Marinette's bully. No matter how much you like her, it makes no sense to give her serious narrative weight based on her established role in the narrative.

This means that Sabrina's path to the good side needs to either be very quick or somehow involve our leads and/or their core friend group without making them feel out of character. You could also somehow tie it to the villains and use it to develop them, but I really don't see that working for a redemption.

In spite of all of these issues, there are still a few ways that you might be able to make this work. Here's my pitch list. Note that the first three ideas could probably be mixed and matched into variants of each other where, for example, idea one's setup lead to idea two's plotline. I'm just keeping them separate to keep things simple and avoid repetition.

Idea 1: Remove Chloe and see what happens

Have season three end with Chloe leaving Paris because everyone blames her for Miracle Queen and Andre wants to protect his daughter. Without Chloe to be her leader, Sabrina is left adrift, so she looks for a new leader. She's already clung to Marinette once, so have that happen again, but with Alya more involved. Marinette will feel bad for Sabrina and Alya will be there to call Sabrina out on her bad behavior because you need a character who is willing to do that for this to work. Someone who won't try to sugar coat things like Marinette might if she's feeling sorry for Sabrina.

This path only works if you stick with the show's gender segregation issue where the girls and the guys don't interact much as it doesn't fit a setup where Sabrina is the fifth member of Alya, Nino, Marinette, and Adrien's little group. I don't even think it would work well in the larger group of girl friends. This plot line needs to really focus in on Sabrina and you simply can't do that with a large cast. The end result will probably be Sabrina becoming a pretty major character, pushing the guys even further into the background, so I don't really like this one, but it would work since canon is already giving Marinette and Alya way more importance than Adrien and Nino.

Idea 2: Self-Reflection After the Breakup

Have Chloe dump Sabrina. This could happen in several ways such as Lila not wanting Sabrina around as a witness or Sabrina failing Chloe in some way, leading Chloe to decide that she's better off alone. The cause really doesn't matter. What matters is the fallout.

This separation will play very differently from the one in the first idea. The separation is no longer forced on them, but an active choice made by Chloe, leading Sabrina to go into a full breakdown as she tries to understand what she did wrong. She may even try and fail to fix things. Chloe's continued presence will also make people wary of Sabrina, leading her to really have to face the bed her choices made.

Eventually Sabrina will reach a stage of self reflection where she wants to be better on her own. She will approach the rest of the class from the perspective of wanting help on her self-improvement journey, then someone who isn't a main character - and who hasn't suffered much from Sabrina's actions - will "adopt" Sabrina as their pet project. Sabrina's redemption will now no longer be a real plot line, instead it will be something we see hints of in the background. I liked the idea of this being Alix, that's a good fit. She would be very good at drawing lines in the sand. You could even make this a rabbit thing where Alix knows who Sabrina could be if she really works at improving and so Alix wants to help make that future happen.

Idea 3: Expand on Season Five's Speed-run Redemption

Stick with season five's plot of Sabrina switching sides because Chloe has gone too far, but instead of it being a one-episode thing, make it more drawn out. Make her and Marinette actually work together over multiple episodes and let Sabrina see what it's like to work with someone who cares about others. Someone who has lines that they won't cross. Marinette having a task to focus on will make her much less likely to baby Sabrina and give her Ladybug side a chance to really shine, which works since that's the side that inspires people to be better.

Idea 4: Paying it forward

Redeem Chloe, elevating her narrative role to someone who can have their own subplot, then have Chloe redeem Sabrina. Let their complex, but close friendship become a healthy and even closer friendship. This would let Chloe show how much she's changed and is probably the only path where I could buy Sabrina getting a miraculous as I just don't think that it makes sense for one of her main victims (Marinette) to give her magic powers. Just like Adrien should have picked Chloe, Chloe should pick Sabrina. "I know she's done wrong, but so did I and you still let me be on the team. Plus there's no one on this planet who is more loyal than Sabrina. This miraculous should be hers. She won't let us down."

You can also get real crazy and have Chloe pick Sabrina pre identity reveal so that Sabrina's redemption comes with a level of removal from the bullying baggage, making forgiveness much easier post-reveal. Identity shenanigans don't need to be limited to humor. They can be dramatic, too!

Personal confession time, that last one is my favorite. I just really love the power of love and friendship. I also really love the idea of the secret identities being used for more complex identity shenanigans such as easier redemptions. It's a lot easier to believe that someone has changed when you've become friends with their alter ego and seen the change first hand without the weight of the past hanging over you to bias your judgement. Option two is also pretty solid. Keeps Sabrina in her canon role while allowing her fans to see her grow into a good guy. Very best of both worlds.

I'll also note that the issue from my original post remains true: if you want to redeem Sabrina, then you need to stick to the version from the first three seasons. As soon as you add things like Derision to the mix, it becomes nonsensical to make her friends with her victims. She's simply gone too far with no complicating element to make her victims want a relationship with her.

For all Gabriel's awful actions, it makes sense that Adrien might want his father in his life, so you can potential make that redemption work if you handle it with extreme care, but Sabrina is just a random mean girl. There's no greater connection that would make the heroes want a relationship in spite of all that she's done. The only way to change that is to make Chloe a hero too because Sabrina is Chloe's best friend, so it makes sense that Chloe would want to keep Sabrina around (or at least these two were best friends in the first three seasons. I don't know what they were after that. It seriously felt like season four started with the introduction of Chloe's eviler twin).

[shazzbaa]

Asking the FLoc crayon [neon carrot] bc someone has to.

neon carrot: if you could give them any npc as a spouse, who would it be and why?

THIS IS SUCH A HARD QUESTION.

To address the obvious answer given recent activities: no i dont think he should marry Feducci, but he… might, if given the chance. The man CANONICALLY sent Sam 12 cellars of wine with a note reading "TO PASSIONS UNMATCHED" i dont think anyone can blame him for feeling like they had something special!!!! Feducci seems like he could make him very satisfied intimacy-wise but would also almost certainly Make Him Worse.

Samuel's constant difficulty with Marriage is that he isn't really… romantic in the traditional sense. HE HAS A LOT OF PHYSICAL DESIRE but romance rarely does anything for him outside of stories, and he gets antsy whenever he's locked in to a particular life plan. HOWEVER: he is usually too Catholic(TM) to really embrace a no-strings-attached lifestyle, and his tastes are well outside the typical Veilgarden hookup anyway (one of his most sensual experiences was getting murdered by an actual literal lance through the gut, so…). The real reason he bought multiple viric dreams of the Bishop of Southwark was that he was trying SO hard to Want Marriage, but even with someone so physically intense and driven, that dream of settling down for life isn't what he really wants; he just wants the part where they're wrestling by the fire.

The other complication is that he has finally found partners he can be happily intimate with: Peter and Jack (@little-red-notebook and @reliably-derogaffectionate's characters, respectively), to whom he is essentially a friend with benefits. He was best man at their wedding somewhat wistfully, but since they've both assured him that they still want him involved in their relationship, it feels very easy to be with them; a closeness he wants without the expectations that come with being a Spouse. It's still, you know, making love outside of marriage, but Samuel has never been good at avoiding that, and at least here he knows he's not leading anyone on or cheating on anyone.

An Ideal Marriage for Sam would involve some amount of polyamory to give him room for these inevitable, ah, extracurricular activities, someone that doesn't tie him down, ideally someone he can do physically dangerous things with and, importantly, have sex (these two activities can be combined). But I also think in an ideal world he would have someone who respects his own principles and doesn't try to smother his hope for compassion with duty, which feels like the big sticking point for a lot of the aggressive characters (like Southwark and Feducci) that Sam's attracted to.

I don't remember well enough to say how many of these points she hits, but I keep thinking of the Zubmariner from the Sunken River ES, as someone no-nonsense in a way Sam really respected and found attractive, but who also has people she cares about. She might be too cool to fall for this soggy loser, though, and the chances of her turning out to be a lesbian seem high. (Also Sam left her behind…. that's a choice he regrets, and I kinda wanna replay that story at some point, with the idea of him actually trying to go back for her). But in general, the idea of Samuel marrying a principled pirate where they both know their first love will always be the zee feels like something that could turn out to be a genuinely happy partnership for him. BUT WHO KNOWS maybe in a year I'll come back with a totally different answer I never saw coming.

[knight-dwx-09]

Just A Normal Check Up

Jaune: So can you tell me where does it hurt, Jay?

Jay: Well, I often feel pained around the side of my stomach that it makes difficult to stand still. It is even worse when I try to relief myself, it is like the inside of my testicles just spark fire every time I do it.

Jaune: *Raised an eyebrow* Let’s hope it’s what I think it is, other wise we might need a different kind of specialist

The boy stared in confusion until it hit him as his eyes open widely.

Jay: Peeing! I was talking about pee!

Jaune: I know, just messing with you a bit

Jay: *Sigh* Is all of the doctor here a jokester like you

Jaune: No, unless they have to deal with emergency case almost everyday, dealing patiences like you, and fight against Grimm while make sure everyone stay alive, I am the only one

Jay: What?

Jaune: Don’t worry about it, to answer your first question, it seem like you have a kidney stone

Jay: Kidney stone?

Jaune: yeah, have you been skipping water lately? Going to gym a lot? Eating or drinking sustained that contained a lot of sugar or salt?

Jay: Well, I did drink a lot of soft drinks than water, take out fast foods, and chips *scratched the back of his head awkwardly and nervously* I don’t have much time to cook because of my collage’s life lately

Jaune: There we go, we find the cause quite easily *Write something on a paper and give it to him* Here, I advise you to stop all of that for now and drinks a lot of water if you don’t want to get a surgery. And next time, cut those bad habits of yours, or at least buy heathy foods unless you want another visit anytime soon or the dentist and make your wallet bleeds

Jay: *Nod* Thanks for telling me that

Jay then get up and leave the room.

Author Note: I will start to make a short story for every AU I will be focusing on like this and I will put “AUextras” in the tags. Also, next will be extra weird than this. Since this is my first, I didn’t all the way and make it normal so be prepared for the next I guess

[ukiyowi]

Spirit guides personality and messages

Note: Hope you like it! Reblogs help a ton. I got hospitalised recently and it would be a huge help if anyone would be interested in buying paid readings or tipping! Every little penny helps! Thank you so much 🩷🩷🩷

Pile 1

Personality

Cards: The Devil (rev.), Wheel of Fortune, Queen of Swords.

The strong female energy that's coming through, I heard warrior/generational warrior. Your spirit guide is cold and detached, independent I'm seeing they're very very strong and loyal. They're also extremely powerful, I'm getting that they'll only communicate with you if needed, letting you fight your own battles, however they're very protective. I feel if anyone ever does you wrong, it always comes back to them in the worst way possible. They're someone who's very wise and travelled, they don't like meddling too much. I also get strong maternal energy, so maybe this is a female ancestor. What's funny is when the first two cards fell out, I was thinking of a warrior with flowing hair in an Armor with a sword and then the queen of swords fell out. Again, giving me warrior, very strong and analytical. They're straightforward and blunt, may come off as grumpy or annoyed occasionally. Like their space, someone who's fair and trustworthy. I'm getting they may like things staying the same, they love routine.

Messages

Card: The Tower (rev.)

Stop trying to resist good change. If something is falling apart, it's meant to trying to hold on to it will bring nothing but delay, hurt and harm. Go with the flow, stay true to yourself. Rebuild what was fallen because now by then you'll have learnt from your mistakes.

Song: Lullaby for a cat – Epik High

Pile 2

Personality

Cards: The Moon, Page of Wands, 7 of Pentacles

Okay first message I got is they're very communicative, and may try to talk to you or send messages through your dreams. They may be emotional and irrational at times, I'm also getting may be doting in a way. They seem optimistic and cheerful! I'm getting extremely fun and daring energy, there's not much that scares them probably because of how long they've been around, the kind to have seen everything. They may be a little fast-paced however, I'm getting if you're not progressing fast enough, they may try to step in, guide you in the right direction (or try) so that you can grow faster, they just want what's best for you. They're determined and persistent, very balanced energy, they value stability a lot especially mental and emotional stability and may help you manifest faster. They're selfless and fiercely protective especially against evil eye or the envy of others. You may have a lot of people who dislike you because of your success, your spirit guides protect you from that negative energy so it doesn't manifest into your life.

Messages

Card: Page of Cups (rev.)

Don't let others envy bring you down, nurture your inner child. If you keep working all day every day without giving yourself time to heal and replenish your energy, everything you've worked for will come falling down. It's not easy to forget or forgive the happenings of the past and you don't have to, but stop holding onto them with a vice grip.

Song: Fall - Sasha Sloan

Pile 3

Personality

Cards: The Fools, The Lovers, 3 of Cups (rev.)

First thing that came through: past life lover, a past life lover is your spirit guide, or someone who carries that energy. They can be a little scattered at times but they're youthful and love adventure. They also seem pretty idealistic for better or for worse, I'm also getting they're very patient and understanding, a lot of compassion is coming through. They're agreeable and cordial, I see that they love new beginnings and cycles, they are also extremely abundant in showing their adoration, either through symbols, signs, animals all of that. They're critical by nature, sometimes too much but they try to tone it down I'm hearing and focus on the positives. Yeah, I'm not getting much to be honest, they would love to communicate with you, I hear they use animals a lot as symbolism and can be blunt when giving advice or guidance simply because they feel like sugar-coating is a waste of your time.

Messages

Card: Page of Pentacles

You've worked very hard so far, keep that up, there's new things coming into your life that will send you back in motion. Lay your foundations before building your empire, don't sway from the goals you set and you'll be good to go. Remember to stay humble and grounded, meditate.

Song: Older - Shallou

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