#excellent liquor gift

[chadwick211]

Christmas is a time for celebration and a chance to spend time with family and friends. You might have already begun shopping for Christmas gifts for your loved ones. A gift for an alcohol lover can, however, be a bit tricky and confusing. In order to make it easier for you, Sendgifts has come up with the best Christmas alcohol gifts that can be perfect gifts for your loved ones.

[jjkilll]

-✫HMHAS | i.LUNCH | JJK✫-

— pairing | artist jk x actress y/n

— summary | Jungkook realizes he has a crush on you. One small problem, You're his sister's best friend who she's made clear is off limits.

— warning | smut

— word count | 3.5K

— song | LUNCH - Billie Eilish

2:47 pm

"Jungkook, Y/n is coming over will you straighten up the house before she gets there? She'll be there before I get home." Jungkook listens as his younger sister and roommate explain. "Y/n? I haven't heard about her in forever."

"Yeah, I know! She moved away for school and work, but she's back in town visiting family for a month. So please make sure the house looks good."

"Will do," he replies before hanging up. You haven't seen Jungkook since you and Jangmi's high school graduation. You and Jangmi have grown up together and you two were inseparable. Jungkook always found you adorable, your braces and round cheeks made him think you were as cute as a doll. He couldn't even lie and say he wasn't excited to catch up with you. Your brother Stephen and Jungkook were excellent friends and seeing you reminded him of his good friend. Your families were close and it had been a while, now as adults you could drink and talk shit about your family drama which everyone probably overindulges in.

Jungkook cleaned the shared house and took the best liquor out of the cabinet and the nice crystal his mother bought for him on his 19th birthday. Suddenly he hears a knock at the door. He quickly runs to the door and opens it.

There you stand. No braces but still with the cutest cheeks in the world. Your hair short and brown shined against the sun. You were not the little girl he remembers, you were...hot. "Jungkook!" you exclaim hugging him quickly. "Wow, Y/n you look..."

"I know the plane ride was a little rocky, my hair is kinda a mess. I forgot how humid it is here," you explain brushing through your hair with your hands. Jungkook stood there in awe, his arms still out from the hug. "You look great, is what I was trying to say." he finishes.

"Don't flatter me just let me in, it's hot," you say pointing behind him. "Oh right, sorry" he apologies letting you by.

you kick off your shoes and say "So... do I get a house tour? It's so crazy that we're homeowners now." you say reminiscing. "Yeah sure, although Jangmi will for sure be upset so just act surprised when she wants to show you around." You giggle at his idea and follow behind as you two meet in the corridor. "Don't worry Kook, I can keep a secret." He smiles and asks, "Would you like a drink?" you nod and he pours whiskey into two glasses. He hands you one and you clink them together. "cheers." you say softly.

Your voice sounds like honey to him, smooth, sweet, and soft. He wondered if you'd taste the same. He quickly shook the crazy thought out of his head, he had never thought of you that way and couldn't quite understand why he'd felt that way to begin. You stop at the first door in the hall. "This is my studio and office. It's the best room in the house in my opinion." Jungkook was an artist, and his paintings were gaining popularity in the art world pretty quickly. Everyone seemingly loved his art and so did you. "Can I go in?" you ask starstruck by the art. He nods still standing in the doorway as you walk in. "Kook, these are amazing. I love every single one seriously, you're talented." He shakes his head putting it down shyly. "and you're still so humble. I don't get you." You joke. He smiles, "Thanks Y/n, it means a lot coming from you, really."

"I wish I did though... get you, maybe I'd understand your art more. Get inside your head a little." You say really scanning each canvas not necessarily paying him any attention and taking a small sip from the alcohol. The way you spoke made his body tingle. The sultriness of your voice was music to his ears. "Can I buy one?" You turn around asking him. "You don't have to pay, let it be a gift," he says rubbing his neck. "Hell no! If everyone else has to pay then so do I. And this deserved payment." You point to an abstract piece that no one but your families would be able to recognize. "You painted my our backyards," You pointed out.

You and Jangmi became friends after having to line up according to birthday in 1st grade. So every year until you were both 18 you had a joint birthday party. With your family's gates opening up to each other you basically have a big baseball field-sized birthday party filled with all of your family and friends. It's something you missed after moving away for school.

"Now seriously it'd be an honor if you took it, you're actually the first person to guess it right on the first try and not turn your head to the side and say 'ohhhhh'. You definitely deserve it more." He laughs. "Well, I appreciate it, Kook. It reminds me of how much fun we had as kids." You say giggling along with him, taking another sip from the cup.

"It actually reminds me, I can tell you now so it's not weird and we're grown up but I used to have the most intense crush on you. You took Audriana Cooper to prom your senior year. You were 18 turning 19 and I was 13 getting ready to turn 14 two days later, and I sobbed in the back of my parents' car after watching you make out with her. I did my makeup and everything, hoping you'd notice me it's kinda sad if you think too hard so just... don't" You laugh and he giggles with you.

In that moment you remember how cute you thought he was back then. You'd think about him more than you expressed to Jangmi, but you'd love it when he'd hug you a little tighter so you could smell him. You had always been so drawn to him until the prom incident. Your mom explained to you that you and Jungkook would never work since Jungkook was about to graduate high school whilst you still had three years to finish. Soon after your little crush dissipated, and Jungkook was just your best friend's hot older brother and not SpiderMan or something.

"I don't really know what to say, I can say I was kinda the guy to fool around," he says embarrassed at the memory. "I can't blame you, if anybody looked as hot as you did at 19, I'm sure they'd do the same." You sip your drink once again.

"Are you saying I look old now? I'm only 26." he jokes with you. "No! No! I didn't mean it like that, I mean I still think you're hot." You say before quickly trying to correct yourself. "I just mean like you're attractive... not like in a weird way like I'm super attracted to you, I mean like I'm not saying that I do not find you attractive, I'm just saying- " You stop to take a breath realizing you were rambling on. "You know what maybe day drinking isn't my thing. I say weird things... I'm learning." you sat the cup down on his desk. You close your eyes trying to not be so embarrassed by your randomness.

"Maybe- maybe we should go to the next room?" You question looking at him. "Not like that. I mean you should show me the next room with us both standing outside of it." Jungkook looks at you and laughs. You embarrassed and watched him and joined in after realizing he wasn't upset by your awkwardness. "Someone's a lightweight, huh? Didn't do much drinking in college I guess." you laugh. You shake your head.

"Well if it makes things less weird. When I opened the door I was stunned. Your beautiful Y/n." You blush but turn your head to the window not to look at him, hoping he wouldn't notice. "Come on, I'll show you the next room over." You follow behind him. "This is Jangmi's room, we kinda have our own floors, her office is on my floor." He explains. "We found that working like this is better for us."

"I bet you're so proud of Jangmi. She's found success quickly." You mention Jangmi was a fashion designer, he has recently found herself being the creator director for Prada. She was truly talented. You were beyond happy for her too. She deserves it all.

"I am. Jangmi is still my annoying little sister, but just successful." you laugh. "I'm sorry," you say looking at him with a sad expression. "For what?" he asked confused. "I missed you so much, Stephen always calls to tell me the good things that happened here. It makes me wish I never moved away."

"I mean but look at you, little miss actress. Not even little you have an Emmy. Talk about stardom." Jungkook says bringing up your most recent accomplishment.

You didn't like to talk about your career, acting was fun and the greatest thing to ever come into your life, but it's definitely made you a different person. You went from being a little shy girl to a movie star. "Stop..." You blush looking away from him again. It reminded him you're still the same. Still so cute.

"Don't ever feel bad for chasing your dreams, Y/n. Stephen, Jangmi, and I... we've all chosen different paths. Don't feel bad for choosing yours."

You would be lying if you said Jungkook didn't lift a little weight off your shoulders. Moving to LA was a huge deal and when you first moved you regretted it and often spent nights wondering what was right for you. But, he's right, you chose and thankfully you chose right.

"Plus we're all still here. Look..." he says motioning to himself. "I'm me and you're you. We're still the same." He smiles holding his hand out for a hug. You slowly walk into his arms and you hugs you tightly. "I'm serious, you're great." He kisses the top of your head. "Thanks, Kook"

"What the hell?!" You heard Jangmi scream from down the hall. "Move idiot, you will not hog my bestie!" She runs up pushing Jungkook out of the way. "Jangmi!" You squeal. You lock arms with her going with her to finish the house tour. You turn and nod to Jungkook as a small thank you. He nods back with a small smile on his face. Jesus, he's still so cute.

✫ --------------------✫

8:09 pm

"I could eat her for lunch seriously. She's hot like sexy." Jungkook explains to Namjoon, "Hot like sexy?" he repeats, "Dude she'll never fuck you if you talk like that." He rolls his eyes, punching Namjoon in the shoulder. "Ow, I'm serious. Wait, didn't Jangmi say she was off limits?" He sighs being reminded of the warning from his younger sister. "She'll never have to know." Joon chuckles at his answer. "Hyung, don't laugh this is serious. I don't know what to do."

"Don't date your sister's best friend. That seems like the safest option. If Jangmi finds out, she'll put your head on a stick. I mean, who says Y/n wants to have sex with you anyway?" he asks. "she told me she had a crush on me in high school. I don't just want to have sex with her either. I mean she's a sweet girl. I'd love to take her out somewhere. Get to know her some, she's not the girl I remember."

"But she's into you now?" Joon asks curiously. "I think, you had to see the way she looked at me. It was like hungry like she could eat me alive." Joon shakes his head. "Look all I'm gonna say is this, be careful, and make sure you really want her and you're not lusting over her. you could fuck up years worth of friendship." Jungkook finally realized what was at stake here. It's not just you and his relationship. It's you and Jangmi, him and Stephen, and your parents. He had to be right about this and didn't want to hurt you. You were still someone he cared deeply about. He knew how much you mean to Jangmi too. He didn't want to hurt her either.

✫ --------------------✫

10:46 pm

When Jungkook got back home he found you on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a satin pink pajama set on. "Oh hey! You're back," you say catching yourself sounding more excited than you should be. "Yeah! Where's Jangmi?" he asks. "She's gotta get up early so she went to bed." you motion to her room. "Want some wine?" You ask him. "Absolutely. What are you watching?" He flops down beside you and you hand him a glass half filled with white wine. "It's called Mr. and Mrs. Smith, it's a new series based on the movie." He hums focusing in on the show. "fuck!" you groan rubbing your neck. "Could you massage my neck and shoulders? Those plane seats seriously suck and an old man fell asleep on my shoulder and I was too nice to move." He laughs nodding and setting his glass on the coffee table. You turn so your back faces him now. He starts rubbing your shoulders and you sigh. "holy shit your hands are magic." you laugh softly.

you're soft, and you smell like flowers and it's getting harder for Jungkook to contain himself. Your wavy hair falls right at your shoulders and is the most beautiful he's ever seen. "Jungkook?" you say lightly. He notices you hesitate before speaking. "What's new in you're life? You know, outside of being an artist. What do you like?" He hums, still rubbing at your shoulders. "Well, I've been working on some music. Nothing serious, like not anything I think is worth releasing." He explains to you. "I would want to hear if you're willing to share. No pressure," you say melting into him. "Absolutely. You have plans tomorrow?" He asks. You shake your head, "Family dinner later in the day but I'm free," you tell him. He hums and the noise of the TV takes over. You focus on his movement. His hands are big and he feels strong and... safe. Something you haven't felt in a while. He feels right.

"So." You say breaking the short silence. He hums acknowledging you. You stay silent for a while nervous the say what you're thinking. He peeks at you from the side. "I hope it's not weird if I ask but..." you trail off.

"Are you seeing someone?" you finally blurt. he chuckles dryly a little shocked by your question.

"I am not. Why'd you ask?" Still rubbing your shoulders gently but firm enough. "I don't know. I was just curious I guess," You lie. You clear your throat and Jungkook stops, and his hand runs down your arm, "Turn around." He says sternly, only seriousness found in his tone. You turn to face him. Your eyes lock for a moment and his eyes grow a little darker "Tell me the truth Y/n." He says. You hesitate looking him in the eyes a little longer before leaning in closely to say,

"I wanted to know before I did this" You kiss him softly. His hand cups your face, pulling you in closer to him. You climb into his lap and slip your tongue into his mouth. He moans into the kiss. He pulls back quickly to look at you. "Jangmi is gonna be pissed," he whispers as you're still a few inches from his face. "I told you, Kook, I can keep a secret." He grips your hips and pulls you closer in. "Fuck, you are so hot," he says before kissing you once more. You feel a tent growing in his pants. You grind against him and he moans into the kiss once more. You nibble on his lip as you pull away. You unbutton his jeans and slip your hand in, you stroke his hard-clothed cock. "Fuuuckk" he groans lowly. "You aren't as innocent as I remember," he says watching your every move. You climb off of him and kneel in front of him. You pull his pants down to his ankles and rub your hand across him. "Can I suck you off?" you ask. He nods, "I need you to say something."

"Yes please." He says quickly. You smile pulling his cock out of his boxers. You stoke him twice before licking his tip, then fully putting it in your mouth. You look up at him before fitting all of him in your mouth. His mouth falls open and you never take your eyes off of him. "Cum in my mouth," you say after sucking on his tip once more. You suck him more stroking him too. "I'm gonna-" you hum as he empties his load in your mouth. you open your mouth to show him his mess before swallowing. You flash him a smile before standing up. You get ready to go to the bathroom before he says "Go upstairs to my room." he says hungrily. you walk up the stairs and he quickly fixes his clothes before following behind.

You're sitting on his bed as he walks in and closes the door. "take off your shorts...panties too." you obey and kick them to the side. he kissed you, you fell backward on the bed and you felt so small under him. He kisses your neck and unbuttons your top. Kissing your tits and down your stomach. He kisses the inside of your thighs and stops every time he gets closer to your cunt. "Jungkook," you moan getting needier by the second. "Please" you beg. Before you can even get your words out, he licks a long stripe up your cunt. Sucking your clit driving you crazy. you moan breathily as you watch him eat you like he's a starving man. your eyes on his and swirls his tongue around your clit. he's so messy, his sheets were an afterthought. The only thing on his mind was making you come all over his tongue. "you taste like heaven." He says before slowly putting his index and middle finger in your cunt. "Fuck, Jungkook please." He curls his fingers hitting the spot to make you see stars. You almost moan loudly but with his other hand he tells you "Suck."

He loved seeing you like this, you were now like a drug to him. He knew he had to have more. Your body drove him insane. Your hips and how perfect your tits looked in your bra.

You obey and wrap your lips around his fingers. "Shhh, doll you don't want us to get caught, do you?" He shushed and truly the rush of getting caught turned you on more. He quickens the pace of his finger his head returning back in between your thighs. Sucking on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

you were a moaning mess and he felt good. He felt SO good. You'd do anything for him to make you cum. "Please can I come?" you moan quickly begging him for release. "You're such an obedient girl. Such good manners..." he trails off watching you squirm under him. "Cum for me." He curls his fingers hitting your perfect spot once again and you cum all over his fingers. You see stars and grip his arm tightly and he rubs slow circles on your clit as you come.

He flops down beside you, and you both lay there as your breath slows.

"i think-"

"Maybe we-"

you both speak at the same time. "You first," you say with a small giggle. He smiles looking over at you before he speaks. "I was thinking, maybe we could go out? I feel like we skipped a few steps." He says looking up at the ceiling. "We'll go when Jangmi, leaves for work." You respond. You roll over straddling him. "I know that Jangmi told you to stay away from me... But seeing you again brought me back." His hands draw circles on your lower back. "I want you Jungkook. I have for a long time." He smiles. "I want you too, Y/n." He kisses you deeply.

"Good." you stand after breaking the kiss, his hands lingering as you stand before him. You walk to his connecting bathroom and stop in the doorway. "Can I ask you something?" you say tilting your head to the side. He nods to you, "How did you know I was lying? On the couch, you told me to tell you the truth. How'd you know?" He smiled.

"You've had the same tell since we were kids, but I'm not telling. If I do I'll never know if you're lying to me." You smile at him and roll your eyes. "Whatever, Jungkook. Are you gonna join me in the shower or are you just gonna lay there?" you tease. He hops up quickly, "Right behind you baby." He says stripping himself of the rest of his clothing.

This might just be the start of his new craving. And you've got him wrapped around your finger.

✫ --------------------✫

a/n: AHHHHHH!!! hi I'm in love with Billie's new album and Jungkook, so i thought I'd make this lil series :)))

until next week my dolls.

mwah. 

[wistfulcynic]

the inn is a metaphor

They are terrible at running an inn. 

In the beginning. 

They don’t know the first goddamn thing about the hospitality industry. Or carpentry, plumbing, invoicing, logistics. Anything, really. They know nothing. 

They learn. 

There’s a lot of trial, even more error. But by the first time the Revenge returns for a visit they have something. A roof that doesn’t leak. Un-rotted floorboards. Nooks and crannies free from feral beasts of any kind. Zero spiders. Twin armchairs in front of the fire and a bed just big enough for the two of them. It’s a start. 

The Revenge comes bearing gifts. Wee John has knitted them some afghans and Frenchie sewed an enormous quilt, which takes pride of place on the bed. They’ve towed in another ship as well, a wreck whose timber they all pitch in to rebuild into an extension and some outbuildings. Roach helps them plant a kitchen garden and a medicinal one. 

Jackie gives them business advice and contacts for her old suppliers. Lucius has a guestbook for them, with marginalia he drew himself. Some of it at least is appropriate for guests to see. The rest…

“Are you planning to have guests who’ll faint at the sight of a cock?” Lucius inquires innocently. “Because I’ll be honest with you, that seems unlikely.” 

The idea of guests of any kind is still a long way off, but they’re getting there. They can envision it now, and not just as a wild fantasy they spin each other at night as they lie entwined with sweat cooling on their skin. They have actual plans, concrete ones, and a decent understanding of how to realise them. 

They get to work. 

Jackie’s contacts prove invaluable. Soon they have a liquor supplier, deals with local butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, and even a reliable fisherman to give them first dibs on his haul. 

(It’s not Pop-Pop.) 

A few survivors of Zheng’s old crew hire on as housekeeping and kitchen staff. The soup is phenomenal. Ed learns how to make it and how to cook a fish without burning it. They have fresh-smelling towels, expertly folded. They have guest rooms, and soon they have guests. 

It’s an adjustment, having new people in their space. Some of the guests are gawkers, eager for a piece of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate. They reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, namely those particular assholes. But other guests are much more pleasant. Locals looking for a bit of a mini-break, people from nearby islands wanting a getaway, even the occasional European who doesn’t know who they are. 

The guests are mostly happy with their stay. There’s excellent soup and decent fish, fresh linens and great views. The walls could be a bit thicker, perhaps, for everyone’s comfort, but the hosts are always most apologetic in the morning and offer copious marmalade in exchange for good reviews. 

The Revenge returns frequently, each time with some new trinkets and finery for their former co-captains. In exchange, they host bonfires on the beach with music and dancing and wine, until they all fall asleep together in a pile, so like the old days on the ship that Stede watches them in the soft light of the embers with tears in his eyes. 

“All right, love?” Ed asks him. He slips an arm around Stede’s waist. Stede tugs him in until Ed’s head is nestled against his shoulder. He strokes Ed’s hair. Ed sighs and snuggles closer. 

“I’m all right,” Stede says. “A bit nostalgic is all.” 

“You miss it.” 

“I miss the crew. I wish they could visit more often. I suppose I miss the sea, though of course it’s right there in front of us. But I’m happy, Ed. I have no regrets.” 

“Really?” The whisper of doubt in Ed’s voice has Stede pulling back to look down at his dear face. 

“Yes really! Do you doubt it?” 

“Kind of.” Ed shrugs. “It’s easier for me, I think. I was ready to be done with it, Stede. Desperate to do anything else but be Blackbeard. But you—you had just got started. You could be out there now with the crew, pirating away. You could be famous. You could—” 

“Ed Teach, you listen to me.” Stede’s got his Captain Voice on now and the sound of it has Ed’s stomach turning cartwheels, his dick leaping to attention. “I don’t care about any of that. I only wanted to be a pirate for the freedom. To escape my old life. But I have a life now that I would never want to escape. Do you know why?” 

Ed shakes his head. 

“Because I chose it. I chose you. I love you and I would be happy anywhere you were.” He cups Ed’s cheek in his palm and kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ed moans and presses closer but Stede pulls back, just far enough to whisper, “You make Stede happy.” 

They spend that night alone in the inn, no guests, far enough from the beach that when they serve breakfast to the crew the next morning not a single smirk or smart remark is sent their way. 

They wave goodbye to their friends that evening and stand together on their porch to watch the ship sail off into the sunset. Stede turns to Ed with a smile. “New guests checking in tomorrow,” he says. “We should probably fix the creak in the door hinge of Room 1.” 

“I’ll do it,” says Ed, “if you polish the candlesticks. Fuckin’ polish makes my nose itch.” 

“Deal,” says Stede. He turns to head inside. “What’ll we have for dinner?” 

“Got a nice turbot we could roast.” 

“Ooh, fab.” 

The inn’s front door closes behind them. 

It’s still a bit rickety, their inn. It’s old, it creaks, it springs leaks from time to time. It’s hard work, keeping it going. But they are devoted to the task. Whatever it takes, they will see their inn thrive. 

It’s what makes them happy. 

[curioscurio]

The Fellowship based on their alcohol preferences:

Frodo: a wine man no question. him and bilbo are constantly being annoying about the delicate aftertones and nutty aromas of wine and whatnot. They really do have excellent taste though, and Gandalf's go-to Yuletide gift is a bottle of Hobbit Wine. Despite how he looks, Frodo isn't a lightweight, and will happily drink whatevers on tap if the wine isn't to his liking.

Sam: He's a fan of a stout ale and local brews. Most wine is too dry and sweet for him, though he'll have a glass if Frodo asks him to try it because he wants Sam's valued opinion. Also not a lightweight and handles his alcohol better than Frodo. Unfortunately has a habit of drinking whatever someone hands him as the night goes on and Merry and Pippin love to see how drunk they can get him.

Merry: Loves fruity and refreshing cocktails. Likes to get fancy with it. Probably would LOVE an espresso martini. Drinks that high quality Brandybuck distilled spirits and has spent a LOT of time researching fancy drinks and how to make them. Probably bartends occasionally and likes to show off. Alcohol Nerd. Get him drunk enough and he'll start infodumping about the difference between Shire-grown Old Toby and the stuff that grows all over Gondor.

Pippin: GARBAGE TASTE. he has college student alcohol preferences. like the guy is a Took so he can hold his liquor well but often overdoes it. vodka and fruity soda white girl wasted bull shit. He sometimes just mixes random shit with alcohol and calls it a day which infuriates Merry to no end. Someone once saw him mix together unsteeped tea, tomato juice, 4 warm olives from his pocket, and bud light. Calls it Pippin's Surprise as the olives get substituted with whatever he has in his pockets at the moment (that's what makes it a surprise). He has a tendency to get cut off and then steals other people's drinks when they're not looking. He is the one who wanderers off.

Gandalf: The man loves Hobbit Wine. Also mostly a wine guy. It's not that he can't drink, he just has a wizards constitution (lightweight) and doesn't like to get drunk often. He gets pleasantly tipsy on special occasions, though. He also has exquisite taste in fancy liquor even if he doesn't like them. Merry has for sure talked his ear off about different types of alcohol and the drinks they can make; and even though Gandalf pretends to be annoyed by it, he's always listening intently.

Aragorn: Old Fashioned. Whiskey on the rocks. Also really loves a high quality nigori sake. He travels a lot so he has a diverse pallete but forgets the names of certain drinks and spirits so he goes for what he can remember. Only let's himself get proper drunk at celebrations or occasionally by himself when he's brooding. He likes to loiter in bar corners as we know, but he's a really good listener if you give him a chance.

Legolas: In Mirkwood, Legolas has some chronic alcoholic tendencies. Being a prince is stressful and hard, and when you have access to the finest of alcohol you damn well drink it. He's used to fancy and complicated cocktails, (which he and Merry bond over) and thinks beer is piss. Shotguns beer for attention though FOR SURE but then he'll go and raid your parents expensive whiskey cabinet or something. His dad was the kind of guy to let him drink wine with dinner when he was young. Absolutely will drink you under the table. Forgets you at the bar for a one night stand.

Gimli: He enjoys the occasional sweet port wine, bourbon whiskey, Dwarven Spirits, and ale. Needless to say, Dwarven Moonshine will end you, though Gimli dislikes the taste (except for root beer flavor). He won't back down from a drinking challenge, as we know, but isn't always very good at them. He didn't like the "frou-frou" cocktails that Legolas drinks for a long time until Merry and Legolas introduced him to a Moscow Mule. A joy to drink with tbh he's the life of the party alongside Merry and Pippin.

Boromir: Doesn't drink because he dislikes the way it makes him feel. Will sip a Coors light at the bar or share a toast with his men. If he does drink, he drinks to forget. Usually the DD. Alcohol sparks his temper easily, so he avoids the flames as much as possible. He has a great time going out with the Fellowship though, and is basically the Mom friend. He makes all the Hobbits drink water and makes sure Aragorn has some food in him, and that Legolas has all his clothes on, and that Gimli is still breathing. Occasionally he has to go find Gandalf, who is in the basement, cleaning 5 bitter Rhorrim out of their entire stock of imported Hobbit pipeweed from a game of cards.

[kulemiwrites]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥.|𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐠𝐢

Genre: Angst, Romance, & Smut

Part: i of ii

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5.6 k

Character(s): Osamu Kashiwagi, fem!Reader

Author's Note: This is another that's been sitting in my drive for a while that I keep fiddling with on and off. I'm ready to post the first part at least. Part two not so much. I'm not sure how anyone feels about my Kashiwagi so.. I don't feel the need to rush and drop it all at once anyway. I'm not sure what the general fandom consensus is for him but like most things I write, his personality and story is based on something much bigger that I've been working on for a while.

Warning: Age gap is implied but unspecified (reader must be over 21+ for logic reasons- use your own discretion to fill in the blank)

Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3!

It’d been at least 11 years since he could say without a shadow of a doubt that he was in love.

It made him impatient. It made him irresponsible. And at his age, the embarrassment of that fact, kept him irritated but he’d always done what he could to ensure that since that night forward, you saw nothing but his good sides. You were much too out of his league, in his mind, and for that reason, he had no choice but to show you his very best. That was why he tried so hard.

The unlit cigarette dangled from his wet lips as he slipped on his sports coat, his worn reflection staring back at him in the dusty, old mirror. He tilted his head to the side as he sized himself up; a dark gray turtleneck, khaki pants, a black sportcoat and black oxfords. He’d asked his newest bartender Rika, a twenty-something for advice on a trendy outfit for a man of his age. He wasn’t expecting her to volunteer to shop with him but staring at himself all gussied up, he supposed she’d done the job. He just hoped that you would be pleased with it. He slid up the sleeve of his coat to check the time on his silver italian watch- a gift from you for his recent birthday- and saw that he still had an hour before he was supposed to meet with you.

“It was the same time when I last checked it.” he grumbled to himself, patting himself down as he searched for his lighter.

He supposed it was nerves that were making him so impatient. Those same nerves that badgered him every time you had plans to meet, even after all this time. They’d always gotten the better of him wherever you were concerned. He’d realized that the night he’d opened his eyes to you.

You were a bartender at a lowkey little bar he’d happened upon while on some business in the next town over. It was a little run down but it was quiet and had an excellent selection, almost on par with Survive (without the markups) which was questionable due to the overall ambience of the place- the college kids either hadn’t found it yet or it wasn’t inviting enough for the younger crowd these days but he appreciated the silence. He spent many nights drinking and reminiscing while reading bottles. It reminded him of his younger years, nights out with the men he once called brothers before anyone knew the name Osamu Kashiwagi.

He always took the same exact seat upon every visit as if it were assigned to him, a barstool slotted between the wall and the short end of the bartop. From there, he had a full view of the entire room and was able to keep an eye on both the bar and the door. Each time, he’d order the same drink with the same phrase, in the same gruff tone that gave the other bartenders the hint that he simply wanted liquor and not an ounce of additional conversation. No one ever managed to get further than that or rather, no one ever wanted to, that was, until you showed up.

There weren’t many things Kashiwagi cared for in a fellow bartender other than the ability to serve a good drink and to never keep him waiting long. You’d done well. However, over time, observing you and your coworkers he noticed something that stood out about you. Your effortless grace as you navigate your way behind the bar, your sweet smile as you serve your patrons and the candid concentration as you carefully crafted beverages that you were clearly proud of. He’d often get distracted from his studying of missing ceiling tiles just to observe you when you were in the zone. The sparse rushes were his favorite, watching the way you kept your cool as the orders kept pouring in, never once losing that subtle curve to your lips. 

You loved this. He could tell. Adored it.

You were radiant, much too radiant for a place like this and he often wondered why you were there in the first place until he remembered that smile. That answered his question every time. Some nights he wanted to whisk you away from Twilight and have you work at Survive instead but in order to suggest that, he’d need to know more about you. So, he let down his wall but only when you served him.

He found you to be a natural conversationalist and despite the obvious gap in your ages, you were certainly wise beyond your years. Never had there been a time where he felt at a loss about what to talk about with you. You were kind, quick-witted and courteous. He often wondered if you were capable of having bad days because you were always “on”. He enjoyed challenging your knowledge about the bottles you served and often found himself being schooled instead. He’d even picked up a couple of tips from you that he would later use at Survive. 

In the beginning, he’d only visit a couple times a month but the more he got to know you, the more he found himself drawn to the place. Eventually, it’d gotten to the point where he’d leave his place and suddenly find himself on the train as if he’d been teleported- never really making the conscious decision to go on his own but he’d wind up there, hoping it’d be you serving him. He wasn’t sure why but on days you weren’t there, he’d be met with a pang of disappointment and his drinks never tasted as good as when you were the one pouring them.

For a very long time, he’d denied that he’d seemingly developed a bit of a crush on you. Your occasional playful but lighthearted flirtations were never lost on him. He just downplayed it at first and told himself that you were like that with all your regulars- it was just your style; but he’d been observing you well enough to know better than that. Still, he couldn’t imagine that a sweet young thing like you would even give him a second glance let alone flirt with him so brazenly. It wasn’t until one particular night that he was forced to open his eyes to the fact that just as much as he’d been paying attention to you, you’d been doing the same to him.

He’d shown up at Twilight that night, taking his usual seat at the bar- that night, emptier than usual and before he could huff out his typical order, you’d already placed it in front of him. He met your eyes, so full of concern and grumbled a ‘thank you’. You took a look around the bar, likely aware that he would be one of your only customers that night and you placed your hand atop his. 

“You’re not looking like yourself tonight, Kashiwagi-san.” you said just low enough for him to hear. 

He stared at your hand, his heart doing somersaults in his chest as pangs of guilt filled his gut. The warmth of your touch felt almost like a cure for the dull pain he was feeling that night. Staring at your smooth, pretty hand, he felt ashamed. There he was mourning the loss of the one woman who had ever meant anything to him while simultaneously feeling at peace from the touch of another. 

“Is that so?” he said, balling his fist against the counter to hide that he’d begun to tremble to which you withdrew.

“What’s troubling you?” you asked, then gestured toward the empty bar. “As you can see, I’m all yours tonight.”

He opened his mouth and his bottom lip quivered but he said nothing. Osamu felt compelled to open up to you though he was never much for talking about his feelings. Only one other person had done that for him and the thought of that swelled his guilt. 

And so, he said nothing.

“Not in the mood to talk, huh? I know just the trick.” you winked, “How about I make you something special?”

“Special?”

“Very special!” You drummed on the counter and beamed, “I call it The Kashiwagi Sidecar. It’s a cocktail I crafted… with you in mind.”

His brow quirked, “Me?”

“Yes, you…” you said. “Now, I know that The Kashiwagi Sidecar doesn’t quite have a nice ring to it.”

He disagreed.

“But, I want the namesake to have a taste and tell me what you think. If you like it well enough, I’ll put it on the secret menu– after you help me rename it, of course. Oh, but close your eyes, you can’t see what I put in it.” 

“That sounds a little suspicious.”

“C’mon, don't you trust me? It’s just so that we can play a little guessing game.” you whined.

Playfully clicking his tongue and inhaling sharply, he rested his eyes shut. “Oh fine but know that I have a good nose. So no funny business.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

He couldn’t see a thing but he’d watched you make hundreds of drinks by now that he could practically picture you behind his shut lids, graciously gliding behind the bar, collecting what you needed and then putting them into the shaker before mixing it all. He could bet every yen in his wallet that you were sporting a sweet smile as you did so and he ached at the fact that he couldn’t see it.

“Alright, everything is put away. You can open your eyes.” you said, pouring the mixture into a martini glass and garnishing it with a citrus peel.

You placed the orange concoction in front of him and he smiled for the first time since he entered the bar, “The Kashiwagi Sidecar, huh?”

You gestured for him to try it and with your nudge, he swirled the cocktail a bit by his nose, taking in the notes of tangerine and bourbon. Finally, he placed his lips at the rim and took in a polite sip. He let it rest in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down, tart when it first hit the tongue but mellowed into a subtle sweet but smoky finish. 

It was good... Delicious, even.

Closing his eyes, he titled back his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swiped his tongue over his lips, “That’s certainly bourbon.”

“Which bourbon?” 

“Top shelf stuff for sure.” He swiped a thumb over his lip as he thought, “Stagg… That sweet smokiness is unmistakable.”

“Wow.” you whistled lowly, impressed. “Go on.”

“Liqueur…” he hummed, “Grand Marnier, maybe?”

“Damn, Kashiwagi-san, that’s right. Alright, what else?”

He opened his eyes to see yours sparkling back at him hopefully as he took another sip. He pinched the stem of the glass as he twisted it around, “And… orange juice?”

You cheesed, seemingly happy to have stumped him. “What makes you think that?”

“The orange peel.” 

“That’s a tangerine peel.”

“Ah, damn it… Tangerine. What else did I miss?”

“Just a splash of lemon juice.” you said with a pinching motion.

He clapped, “It was right there on the tip of my tongue. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Ah ha, but you didn’t.” you said, wagging your finger teasingly.

“You win this round.”

“I know I do. Now, drink up, we’ve got some brainstorming to do.”

“I’m not sure I can name your drink.”

“Sure, you can. We’ve got all night.” you said, leaning onto the bar. “And while you think, maybe that little cocktail will loosen your lips enough for you to tell me what’s going on.”

He was just about to take another sip until you said that. His dark eyes studied your expression, so genuinely curious about the man before you. Osamu’s head dipped toward his lap as he let out a small shudder, barely noticeable but he wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d caught it anyway.

“Today’s the anniversary…” he managed, staring at the counter as he pictured her face. “Eleven years now, she’s been gone… My wife.”

“I see.” you said thoughtfully. “I’m sorry to hear that, Kashiwagi-san.”

“Don’t be… It’s… Well, it’s been over a decade now. It’s time I move on.”

“They say that time heals all wounds but I can see the pain that you’re in. A decade or not, you can’t tell your hurt when to go away. Even if it takes you another decade, you will conquer this. There’s nothing wrong with taking all the time that you need. You loved her, didn’t you?”

He wanted to joke that he wasn’t sure if he even had a decade left but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he nodded, smiling softly at the thought of his beloved. “More than anything.”

“Then, don’t force your heart to part with her when it’s not ready. No one is rushing you. So, don’t rush yourself.” you gripped his balled hand and smiled. “If it helps, you can talk to me about her. I don’t mind lending you an ear. I’d rather you do that than keep it all bottled up. After all, what are friends for?”

He wasn’t sure what brought it on but a single tear rolled down his cheek. He felt it but he was too stunned by you to react. The timing wasn’t exactly ideal but at that moment, he recognized you. Truly recognized you. And goodness did he find you beautiful. 

He swiped at the tear dangling from his chin and chuckled lightly, “I suppose you're right.”

Your nose scrunched at him and his heart flipped, causing him to blink away from you. It was such a cute expression and his cheeks burned when he realized that he felt that way. Guilt consumed him once more. And just after he’d opened up about his wife, what had gotten into him?

“So,” you said, smacking the counter playfully. “Have you got a name for me?”

He lifted the glass to his lips as they curled softly at the rim, “How about ‘The Usual’?”

“The Usual?”

“I’m going to need you to start making these for me from now on. I don’t think I’ll have anything else. After all, you did make this with me in mind, right?”

“I like it!” Clasping your hands together excitedly as you bounced on your toes. “Sounds casual enough.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he watched you clean the counter behind you. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he didn’t realize what he’d done until after he’d already opened his mouth to invite you for a round of drinks at Survive someday. With a smile, one that told him you hadn’t been expecting the sudden invitation, you agreed. 

It wasn’t necessarily a promise but he did look forward to the day that you walked through that door. 

Night after night. 

He told himself that if you showed up, he would invite you out for dinner just to explore his curiosity in you, nothing more. A single dinner couldn’t hurt, right?

The night you entered the bar, he nearly lost his breath. Perhaps even had a heart attack. He’d never seen you in casual clothes before but he was stunned. This was the true you and you overwhelmed him without realizing. He served you that night with his mission in mind but he could never bring himself to say the words he needed to say. When you left that night, eyes glossy from the alcohol, he felt an ache in his chest, disappointed in himself for missing his chance. 

A couple weeks had passed without him going to Twilight, he couldn’t bring himself to face you. That was until you opened the door to Survive once more, in all your radiance. Fate was giving him a second chance. With his nerves steeled, he told himself that tonight would be the night. 

No excuses. 

That was until one of his regulars, young– closer to your age, perhaps, handsome and charismatic approached you with the intentions of wooing you enough to convince you to hit a love hotel with him. Osamu watched him do this every Friday night and he was almost always successful. He just hoped and prayed to whoever was listening, that tonight would be the night the young man failed. When he heard you reject him, he hoped no one noticed his sign of relief after having eavesdropped on your conversation with bated breath. 

When you asked to close your tab, he covered it for you and exited the back of the bar to walk you to the door. This wasn’t something he’d usually do when a guest was leaving but he was on a mission and he didn’t want to be standing behind the bar if you found it in yourself to reject him as well. This was a very real possibility that he was painfully aware of but he didn’t let the fear dissuade him. 

You looked over your shoulder at him, obviously curious as to why he’d followed you outside.

“Thank you for covering my tab again tonight, Kashiwagi-san but you don’t have to do that every time I visit.”

“It’s no issue. I want to make sure you’re well taken care of. After all, it means alot to me that you chose Survive to spend your evening…”

There was a lengthy silence as he stared at you before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. 

“I… I’m sorry if this is too forward but, I want to get to know you more.” he said, his body felt like it was on fire and he hoped he hadn’t begun to sweat. “I was hoping that you would allow me to treat you to dinner sometime?”

Your eyes widened for a moment and he couldn’t read your expression. So he braced himself for rejection. That was until you smiled brightly at him and nodded. 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Kashiwagi-san?”

“I… suppose I am?” he nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“And here I thought I was gonna have to ask you myself.” you chuckled lightly, rummaging through your bag for a pen and something to write on. “I’d be more than happy to go out to dinner with you. Here’s my number.”

“I’ll– I’ll give you a call soon and we can make plans then.”

With a light grip on his forearm you smiled, “Don’t keep me waiting long. I’ll die from the anticipation.”

And he didn’t. He’d given you a call the next day to set up something for your next day off– a dinner date at the best sushi place in town. He would spare no expense that night. He made sure you had more than enough to eat and drink. He took care of your taxi. He even brought you a small gift of appreciation, nothing elaborate, just a gift box of candies he’d heard you mention once or twice before. 

Despite how nervous he’d been that night, the date went off without a hitch. He had learned so much about you and he was already dying to learn more. He’d even found himself telling you about himself, namely how long it’d been since he’d last attempted to take someone out on a proper date. Hence his nervousness. 6 years. He’d only attempted to date someone once since his wife’s passing and he realized back then that he wasn’t ready to move on yet. Everything the other woman did, reminded him of his wife which was likely why he was drawn to her in the first place.

It’d been a lonely 11 years. He’d gone from being reminded of how much he was loved every single day, even when he didn’t deserve it to suddenly forgetting what being in love felt like. 

He did feel guilt when he first took you out, wondering if it had been too soon still- if he was even ready but when he noticed the emptiness he felt when you were away from him, he couldn’t help but call for you again and again. Between regular dates or visiting each other’s bars, there was hardly enough time in between for him to miss you. He couldn’t stand the feeling. He was always wanting to hear your voice, smell your scent, be near your warmth but even so, after months at this, your relationship didn’t progress past a meager kiss at the beginning and end of each meeting.

He liked you more than words could explain and he knew that the feeling was mutual but he couldn’t bring himself to make any moves on you beyond that. The kiss was more than enough for him for a while. However, he could tell that you were past desiring more than that. It was clear from your heavy eyes and lingering touches. 

He held your hand when he walked you home and he embraced you tightly when you reached the door but each time your tongue attempted to slip past his lips, he’d break away from you with a soothing rub of your shoulders and bid you goodnight before you could attempt to invite him inside. He wasn’t sure what you thought of this. He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic but he was certain that you would say something soon enough. Everything had been going so smoothly between you two but this was the one part that he was dreading.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to go further with you. The heavens knew that he did. These past weeks have been especially painful as he’d found himself thinking of you in ways he hadn’t thought of another woman in years. It brought him shame when the nights came to an end and he sat on the rim of the tub stroking his half hard cock to the thought of placing you in various positions and the sounds and faces you’d make. He’d bury those thoughts after he came so that he could face you once again. 

The desire to make love to you wasn’t the issue. It was truly alive and well but on the nights when he’d attempt to convince himself to accept when that invitation back to your place for some ‘tea’ was extended, memories came rushing back that made the longing in his loins dissolve with a quickness. And everytime, he’d go home leaving you wanting. 

You weren’t the first woman Kashiwagi had been in the position to have sex with since his wife’s passing. Nor were you the first since he’d attempted to date 6 years ago. Getting there wasn’t necessarily the issue, making it happen was and that was where he’d been stumped multiple times. 

He could still remember the first time it happened. It’d been a few years since his first and last attempt to date and he had no interest in trying again but he’d been encouraged by Kanda, a friend and fellow widower, to visit a parlor that he recommended. He’d been given a huge pep talk beforehand about how it didn’t mean anything. It was just an outlet for all his pent up frustration, a haven for release but once he’d gotten into the room, he was met with more frustration than he’d initially entered with. 

The woman, beautiful and superficially talented, put her everything into trying to get a rise out of him- a literal rise and nothing. It horrified him like nothing has ever horrified him before. He apologized as he hastily threw his clothes back on and was out of the door with more than 30 minutes left in his session. 

He went home that night and stared himself down, furious that his dick had betrayed him like that. Eventually, he relaxed and told himself that it was only because he’d pressured himself too much. 

Everything was fine. 

It’d only happened once. 

Everything would be fine.

But that night haunted him and he couldn’t just leave it there. So, he told himself that he’d give it a bit of time but he’d try it again- someplace different. 

And it happened again.

It dinged his confidence in a way that nothing else ever had. He couldn’t wrap his mind around having this sort of problem. Back then, all he had to do was see his wife remove her bra from under her shirt and he was up and raring to go. Sure, he’d been an older man, but did that sort of dysfunction begin so soon? He hoped that he still had time left. 

One night, he’d been walking through town when he was accosted by a barker, advertising a parlor that acts as a hostess club on the surface. He’d heard all about it before in his bar. These sorts of things weren’t his scene but his ego was shattered and he was desperate to prove himself. So, he went. He spent more money than he should have and he was invited for an ‘after hours date’ which was just code for a hookup with the sweet girl he’d been wasting his yen on all night. 

She was younger, perhaps in her early 30s and she was perky, enthusiastic… She reminded him of his wife when they were younger. Just… boobier. That realization helped him get hard but it’d been so long since he’d been inside someone that he’d lasted all of two minutes and that was being generous. The woman was nice enough to offer to spend more time with him but once the clarity washed over him, the amount of money for less than 3 minutes of sex, he was so embarrassed with himself that all he wanted was to get far, far away from the place and never, ever look back. 

The third time was not the charm; twice he couldn’t get it up and once he finished much too soon. He was convinced that anything beyond that would be cursed to end in heartache and disappointment too. His ego couldn’t take it anymore. So, he didn’t even try no matter how much he thought about it.

Some time later, he’d been over at Kanda’s for a night of drinking as they often did. He couldn’t quite remember how it’d happened, likely due to his whiskey intake but he’d confided in him about his problem and Kanda– ever the solutionist, left the low table for a few minutes, only to return with a solemn expression on his usually goofy face.

“Show me yer hand there, Kash.” he said, his words almost slurring.

Kashiwagi blinked slowly, so inebriated that his audio processing was slightly delayed. Narrowing his eyes at the man, he carefully extended his palm. Kanda’s eye contact was intense, almost uncomfortable to keep but Kashiwagi could tell that he was trying to communicate a lot to him without a word. He was just too drunk to decipher it.

“Here…” he muttered and from his fist a soft clacking fell into the other man’s palm.

When he removed his hand, Kashiwagi’s eyes widened cartoonishly. He felt as if they were going to pop out of his head. His eyes darted from his palm to Kanda from Kanda then back to his palm.

“The hell is this?” he growled, his upper lip in a snarl.

Except, Osamu knew precisely what he’d been holding in his hand. He was sure that not one man his age couldn’t identify that cool, blue, diamond-shaped pill from anywhere.

“Call it a little pick-me-up.” Kanda started, “It’ll help ya out.”

He dropped the pills, Kanda must have given him at least six or seven, and they scattered across the table. The other man looked at him but didn’t say a word. He was sure that he’d known he was embarrassed. They’d known each other like the backs of their hands by now.

“I don’t need any– I’m not taking something like that.” Kashiwagi said, his tone harsh as he looked off to the side of the room. “I don’t want it.”

“Kash, listen to me… Ain’t nothing wrong with gettin’ a little help every now and then,” he said, picking up the scattered pills. “It’s been a big help for me… Hell, I– I’ve been takin’ these since before I lost Yuzuru.”

Kashiwagi’s ears perked up at the mention of the other man’s late wife. And finally, he looked back at his friend.

“This has been a problem for me for… a while. Ya ain’t alone in this. And that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Ain’t nothing wrong with ya if ya take it. Y’ain’t less a’ man…” he said, suddenly sounding far away despite sitting in the same spot. “If you get embarrassed over this, well, that’s your pride doin’ the talkin’... It happens to the best of us sometimes and when it does…”

Kanda neatly placed the pills that he gathered as close to Kashiwagi’s side of the table as he could reach.

“You prove it wrong.”

On the walk home that night, he remembered feeling them rattling around in his pocket. Again, the whiskey he’d had prevented him from even remembering when he’d put them there– if he’d been the one to put them there at all. He thought about them the whole stumble to the corner, the entire taxi ride home and a majority of his shower before he decided that maybe Kanda was right.

He would give them a try.

He made sure to do it on a night when he was sober with no other obligations, just in case something went wrong. He’d heard horror stories before. So, he was extra special careful and treated it almost like a ritual.

He placed the diamond on his tongue and downed as much water as he could to ensure he’d flushed it down. He rummaged through an old box where he’d hid his old dirty movies from his wife and he popped it into the DVD player. His flesh began to feel hot, so he stripped himself bare and stretched out onto his futon. The opening scene in the movie was a particularly steamy one with an actress that Osamu had always been fond of. When he saw her undress, he felt himself twitch alive. His heart pounded against his chest and his mouth went dry. 

It was happening. 

He usually cringed to himself at the corny lines the actors spouted out toward each other to build the sexual tension but even that was enough to make his cock jump with excitement. He lifted himself slightly upright to admire himself, standing at full attention, precum leaking onto his slightly hairy stomach. A soft smile found its way upon his lips as if he’d just run across an old friend and was thrilled to catch up. 

Osamu gathered as much saliva as he could in his mouth before spitting onto his cockhead, eyes batting at the warmth. He wrapped his own rough hand around his shaft to spread it from base to tip, easing the glide of his palm. He thumbed the prominent vein on the side of his thick cock, sensitive to the touch and he let out a soft moan, gripping the sheets beneath him with his freehand. 

His mouth fell open as sighs of relief slipped out of him. His brown eyes bore into the screen ahead of him once more. He watched the man’s pixelated cock slam into her matching pixelated pussy. His stare was intense as he tried to imagine what the star looked like beyond the pixelation- all he could make out was that she was hairy, one of his favorite qualities about her and imagined that it was his cock that she’d been whining over instead. 

“Please! Do it harder!” she cried, reaching down to stimulate herself in time with the actor’s thrusts and he did try in earnest to match them himself.

He tossed his head back and groaned. His cock was rock hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he stood so solidly and the thought made him chuckle for the briefest of moments until he’d cut himself off to let out a sound of pleasure- a deep, guttural moan. The sound of his fist pounding against himself filled the room until it was all he could hear. As if he’d forgotten about the porn he’d been watching. He shut his eyes and reminisced of the best sex he’s ever had… So long ago.

God, he missed her. 

He silenced that thought. This moment was for science. He was conducting an experiment. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted with negative thoughts. He’d spent enough days forcing himself through sad masturbation sessions; his erection coming and going, his heart and mind half in it. He hadn’t made himself feel this good in years. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like, how great it could be. Even so, he sucked his pink lip, glossy with spit, into his mouth at the thought of how he’d gladly trade this moment for the touch of a woman instead.

“Ah,” he sighed, gripping the base of his cock tight as he threw himself back onto the futon. “Fuck… Fuck.”

He tuned back into the pretty moaning on the TV. It was such a long scene and he was nearing the end of it. He’d been masturbating for at least twenty minutes and he really felt like he could keep going but he wanted to cum with the woman moaning on the screen. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to make a woman cum. It was always an honor. He wanted to simulate that experience at this moment.

He wrapped his strong fingers around himself even tighter, quickening his stroke to bring himself closer. 

“I’m gonna cuuuum!” the woman whined.

He lifted himself just enough to see the screen and muttered in the smallest of voices, his ears hot with embarrassment but he pushed through it. “Let’s cum together, sweetheart.”

This was his favorite part of the scene and his dick remembered this. The woman moaned and flailed dramatically for the camera while Osamu’s toes curled as he gripped his tightening balls. 

“Ah, ah, AgH!” he groaned, over the video. Ropes of hot, white seed shot out onto his abdomen, as he panted and twitched through his orgasm. He continued to stroke himself until he could no longer. 

Finally, his hand fell from his throbbing cock, still half hard even after all that. It took him a while to catch his breath and as he did, he extended his hand, admiring the amount of cum he’d spilled onto himself and its reach. His hand, his stomach and chest. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. 

“Fucking Kanda…” he sighed.

He’d have to thank him later, in his own little way.

Part 2 coming soon...

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite. Reblogs always appreciated.

[absolutebl]

I kinda fell out of the BL game the last several months thanks to irl things, but I think I'm finally feeling like wading fully back in. I started with Love Syndrome III(only because @heretherebedork piqued my interest) and just finished Moonlight Chicken. What should I watch next? My limits are romanticized sexual assault, cheating, miscommunication as a main plot point, and no HEA. I could also do without a straight side couple, but I'd tolerate it if the main plot and couple are really good. Bonus points if there's a D/s dynamic, but that's not 100% necessary.

Thanks ❤️

Best of 2023 So Far?

Of course darling!

Hum last several months? Let's see...

Our Dating Sim (Viki) - if you haven't watched this it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. I can't tell you how much I loved this show (or have already rewatched it). It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. Full review.

The New Employee (Viki) - just so good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also... Rainbow Rice Cakes and found fam and a lesbian bestie and all the goodness. My review is on MDL.

The Eighth Sense (Viki) - speaking of queer, this one is a bit rough (sticky and gritty), more in the Moonlight Chicken area. But very high quality, fabulous chemistry, and a remarkably complex offering for a KBL - think Blueming-esk but even better.

Unintentional Love Story (iQIYI) - @heretherebedork and I LOVED this one, but it is kinda hard to get hold of. I found the seme a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (who plays the uke) is a fucking GIFT. He has THE MOST expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict tension and pressure is complex and excellent plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). Review on MDL.

My School President (YouTube) - I adored this one! My favorite GMMTV offering in dog's age, and my new favorite pair GeminiFourth. It could have gotten a 10/10 from me but for too much singing. This is the side pair from Moonlight Chicken anchoring a high school BL full of the most teenage pining ever and it's GREAT.

All the Liquors (Viki, Gaga) - another KBL hitting hard and solid. This one is KBL-weird in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut (which I've gotten used to, but is kinda a "type" now). It will wig you out if you have any baggage around alcohol. The logic behind the phobias are typically Asian romance qua? BUT it's still quite cute.

Never Let Me Go (YT) - of GMMTV handing out new series to established pairs this has been the most successful IMHO. PondPhuwin were about 10000x better in this than FUTS (and that's FUTS's fault, not theirs). It's typically Thai in that its a bit bloated and has a confusing plot, but at least it HAD a plot and the central relationship is solid and loyal. Their Our Skyy 2 follow up is also good. And very much adds to the cannon in a fun way rather than feeling superfluous - making this show ultimately 14 eps rather than the usual 12.

Bed Friend (YT, iQIYI, Gaga) - speaking of a bit bloated, this one derailed somewhat in plot for me (even at 10 eps) but NetJames really are glorious, and absolutely the hottest and the prettiest of 2023. Full of triggers for childhood abuse and sexual assault (backstory), but the main pair is very communication-heavy and based on a fuck buddy premise which has negotiation and everything, unique & fun to see. This is my high heat rec for the year so far, because the heat is PART OF THE PLOT and that's a gift we don't usually get. Review on MDL.

Between Us (iQIYI) - I'm still processing this one. I didn't have as high expectations as most but it was still a little disappointing. BounPrem are lovely of course, but somehow it just wasn't quite what I wanted. I did a watch along for this one so you can see me struggle. However, objectively, held up against other BLs? It's actually pretty darn good.

I hope some of these you haven't seen. None have romanticized sexual assault, cheating, or miscommunication as a main plot point (hum... maybe Between Us? Honestly I can't remember the plot points, it was all over the place), and all have HEA (this is me after all(.

[mrsvalbaker]

{{{{Emily Halliwell

Emily Serena Halliwell

Mother, Monica Halliwell (nee Chandler) is an American pure-blood witch from Ipswich, Massachusetts. She was born in a matriarchal witch family, the Chandlers are Salem descendants, her mother Hazel Chandler is a pure-blood heiress, an aurologist and owns a luxury crystal business for non-maj and magical community, and a travelling socialite. She is very independent and never desired marriage but children, and chose her lover, a curse-breaker pure-blood, Spellman Goldstein, cousins to Tina and Queenie Goldstein. He is adventurous man who travels all over and loves women and liquor, he's good natured but never desired to be a husband or father, but he's in love with the spirited and independent, Hazel Chandler and agreed to giving her three children. Together they had Monica, Lorelei, and Amanda. He gives them money and gifts and sometimes shows up, but lisn't much of a father, just how Hazel likes it.

Monica was a Thunderbird at Ilvermorny and top of her class, she excelled at every subject.

After graduation she went to no-maj second education, getting a bachelor's in Anthropology at Harvard University, then went to Oxford University to get a bachelor's in Arts and Humanities, she lived with her Great Aunt Zelda who was always busy so she had the townhouse to herself. She took ballet classes as well as acting, she loved the muggle world and had to know everything about everything. Her Humanities professor, the handsome and popular, Dr. Darren Halliwell was intrigued by the mysterious American beauty, he's a viscount of Cotswolds as well, and tried to ignore how he felt about his favorite student, but eventually late nights happened and they couldn't resist each other.

They were serious for years and moved in together after dating for two years, after two years she told him she's a witch and he still loved her, when she was 34 and he was 44 they married despite his family being against it, and she became the Viscountess of Cotswolds.

She became a potioneer, alchemist, and Magical physician. They lived together at his manor in Cotswolds, she opened up a new age shop called The Bell, Booke, and Candle, for muggles, and for the wizarding community, in Diagon Alley, she opened up a sort of an apothecary called The White Cauldron.

They eventually had their daughter Emily.

At their home, Monica has a black goat called Lucifer, her own familiar a black cat named Grimalkin, her screech owl Lilith, a jackalope called Hy-Brasil, Darren has his white bavarian shepherd named Mayerling they all love and protects the home.

Emily has a black and red fox, named Salem, a vampire bat called Pyewacket, and a two white bunnies named, Lancelot and Tristan.

Emily is very good with creatures magical and non magical, same for plants.

She also has a knack for potions and divination is strong with her, she's a very traditional witch.

Emily can speak to animals

She's also good at wandcraft she made her own out of a jackalope horn given to her by her grandfather Spellman Goldstein, from a pet jackalope of his that passed, she used the nail of a werewolf for the core given to her by her Aunt Mandy who had a female werewolf love that gave it to her, and it's twelve inches, carved pagan symbols and vines into the wood and sprinkled crushed dust from Amethyst in it. The wand is best at healing, divination, curses, and jinxes.

She's a Hufflepuff but was almost a ravenclaw

She celebrates the pagan holidays

She worships the goddesses

Emily brings muggle things to school like her phone and airpods and hides them behind her hair

It drives Theo crazy when he calls her name and she can't hear him and he blames the muggles for it

Despite her blood status and house, Emily's friends are mainly in Slytherin.

In third year, Lavender Brown was teasing Pansy for being a lesbian, and Emily told Lavender off, and she snapped and gave her a burning jinx which she got detention for and house points deductions, but she didn't regret it and showed no remorse. She told Pansy that her aunt is a lesbian and told her she has her back, Pansy and her became best friends instantly.

The Slytherin boys shockingly took to Emily quickly learning she defended her quickly, despite everything. They liked that Emily didn't judge them.

Theodore was practically in love with Emily since first year, he doesn't have a good reason just that she intrigues him and she's beautiful, and the more he watched her the more he loved her, and when Cedric Diggory tried to cheat on Cho with Emily in fourth year, he sent him off the Astronomy Tower...he almost died....almost.

Emily always had a crush on Theodore Nott, who wouldn't? He's hot as fuck, she heard he's half Italian and fluent, and when she became apart of the snake pit she found out it was true, he's also brooding and has a hard time to open up like some romantic character from the books she reads. He's like Heathcliff.

He doesn't ever take to anyone new, but he took to her as soon as Pansy introduced her, they found that they could talk about anything together, he listened to her random ramblings about selkies, or new "movies" and "tv shows", she shared her music with him and because he doesn't speak much and she speaks a lot, it was just perfect.

When he started calling her Italian terms of endearment, she was a definite goner and no man could compare, she wanted Theodore Dante Nott more than anyone in the word.

[pininghermit]

A Villainous Attempt

Genre: romance+ suggestive themes

Pairing: Alucard x GN Vampire Reader

Summary: A splash of water wakes Alucard up. He jolts up from the daze blinking at the surroundings around him. Until his head is whipped to look at you.

AN: Warnings mate, this one is dark. Corruption and manipulation at its best. Reader exceling at girlboss, gatekeep, and gaslight (except its gender neutral). Also am I evil for liking this? Dividers by @moodboard-d, thanks ;)

"Pathetic, isn't it?" You circle the pitiable dhampir, nudging him over with the tip of your boot, only to discover a puddle of vomit beneath his face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," you recoil at the filth that now soils your boot. "What good is all that power if you can't even meet my gaze?" You use his tattered shirt to clean your boot, a grimace contorting your features.

The entire venture seems like an enormous waste of time. "Alucard," you call out his name, hoping to shake him from his stupor.

"Son of Dracula!" You repeat, but the dhampir beneath your feet merely mumbles in response. It's clear he's deeply entrenched in his self-destructive spiral, nestled among empty liquor bottles.

A sudden splash of water startles Alucard awake. He jerks up, disoriented, his gaze darting around until it lands on you.

"Listen here, Son of Dracula, I don't have the luxury of waiting for your languishing," you declare with a withering glare, your tone dripping with disdain. You grasp his face firmly, hoping to convey your impatience. "Lying around here like a lost cause—do you truly believe some grand love will come to rescue you?"

As the echoes of your words hang in the air, Alucard, still groggy from his hangover, struggles to comprehend your message. You turn away from him, muttering to yourself with a mixture of disgust and resentment.

"How long will you linger in this desolation?" you ask, leaning back against the wall with folded arms. Alucard, still trapped in a haze, frowns as your words pierce through his fogged thoughts.

"How long will you grieve for those wretched humans? Let them trample all over you?" Your question elicits a deeper frown from the dhampir, hinting at a flicker of recognition within his befuddled mind.

"Look around you; you've reduced this once magnificent castle to ruins," you remark, your voice dripping with disdain as you survey the decaying grandeur. Dust clings to every corner, and your accusatory finger points at Alucard's disheveled appearance. "You've obliterated the legacy of our noble race for what? For this?" The contempt in your voice is unmistakable.

Years of restrained rage now surge within you, and a singular goal forms in your mind - to hurt him, as he has hurt you. "They abandoned you, these so-called friends. They bound you. They even took your mother's life," you sneer, your words stinging with a biting truth. "And yet, you continue to wallow in your pitiful state. Do you have no self-esteem left?"

Alucard's response is feeble, a faint whisper amidst the echoes of your tirade. "Why do you care?" he questions, the words barely audible.

Your scoff is dismissive. "Care? You mistake this for care?" You bend down to meet his gaze, your eyes piercing. "Don't for a second think that this is about care."

"I wouldn't dare," he replies sarcastically, a hint of his former self still present.

You choose not to engage with his quip. Instead, you disclose the reason behind your presence here. "I came here to repay a debt," you declare. Memories of Count Dracula's rescue flood your thoughts, a debt that has weighed on you for years. "Your father, Count Dracula, once saved my life, transforming me into a vampire, gifting me powers akin to a pureblood." You recall the pivotal moment when he plucked you from the brink of death and granted you the means to exact your revenge. "And now, it's my turn to return the favor. I may be late, but this is my only chance to settle my life debt."

Alucard, though still unsteady on his feet, attempts to distance himself. "Leave. I don't need saving from you," he hisses, taking a few shaky steps away from you.

However, your grip tightens on his arm, and you drag him back to the wall. "You no longer get to decide," you assert firmly. "You've wrought enough havoc to last an eternity." It's a grim resolve that propels you forward, and you realize that this is the only way to fulfill your debt.

You press him against the wall, delighting in the sight of his panic-stricken eyes. "Does this frighten you now? A mere touch leaves you gasping like a fool," you taunt. His body shivers as memories of the past torment him.

Alucard cannot stop the flashbacks of the past that haunt him. Yet, you entrap him relentlessly. He shivers as he feels them, it feels as if he is still bound. "You feel it, Alucard?" Your voice takes on a seductive tone as you caress his cheek mockingly. "The fear, the helplessness? Does it all come rushing back now?" Your words continue to whisper into his ear.

"Would you choose to remain as you are? Defenseless, useless, a pawn at the mercy of even a mere human?" Your fingers entwine in his hair, your nails grazing his scalp.

"I can release you from this," you purr, your venom-laden fangs grazing his skin, his heart pounding against your lips. "I can restore your power, make you whole again. An unbound vampire, free from the shackles of mortality." Your words are laced with a dangerous allure. "Is that what you desire, to inherit the power to fulfill your father's ambitions? To become a true successor to his dream?" You blend half-truths into your narrative.

Alucard's gaze loses focus, and his tears moisten your attire. "No," he whispers, his voice breaking. "My father never wished f-"

"What do you truly know?" you interject, your voice cutting. "You never allowed him the opportunity to share his truths with you." Gently, you wipe his tears away. "Alucard, your father would not have desired to see you beg for mercy like this. He yearned for you to rise as a ruler, to be the one bestowing mercy rather than begging for it." Your words, though sweet in tone, contain a lethal poison that escapes his notice.

"Listen to me, and permit me to transform you into a full-fledged vampire. Shed your vestiges of humanity, and reclaim your thirst for vengeance. Aid me in restoring your father's dream and his glory. Will you do that, for the memory of your father?" Alucard nods, and you smile, pressing the question again. "Will you do that?" Your hands move to comfort his trembling shoulders, attempting to soothe the turmoil you've initiated.

"I will… I will agree to everything you say," he concedes, his head bowing in submission. "Please, grant me the power." He weeps into your shoulder, and though you would normally recoil from such contact, today you endure it.

"Prepare yourself, Alucard, my dear," you murmur, nuzzling at his neck as you search for the taste of his blood, aware of the heritage that courses through his veins. You taste the remnants of his humanity before sinking your teeth into his flesh, flooding him with the venom that will strip away the remnants of his mortality.

Alucard's trembling hands clutch at your arms, his tears mixing with your attire. "Soon, Alucard, you shall possess the strength to conquer the world," you whisper seductively before returning to his neck, ensnaring him further into your lies.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt - Spilled Pearls - if LQR was a woman (don't need to take this one if this topic makes you uncomfortable)

“I just want you to know that I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Lan Qiren said, wringing her hands.

Wen Ruohan glanced at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Oh?”

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “I had no idea that my father and brother would take advantage of my indiscretion by forcing you to marry me. If I’d have realized, I would never have accepted your offer of wine…I mean, nothing even happened!”

“Such a treasure,” Wen Ruohan murmured, apropos of nothing. “Little Lan, you know that most people would look at what happened in rather a different light, right?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “In what sense?”

“In the sense that I used my power and position to force you to come sit with me and accept my toast, took advantage of your weakness for liquor to make my way into your bedroom, and in so doing put you into a situation where there was no honorable choice but for you to marry me.”

“But you didn’t do anything other than put me to bed,” Lan Qiren pointed out, bemused. “Anyway, you’re the one taking the loss here, aren’t you? We’re engaged now.”

“Why do you think that’s a loss for me? You’re the daughter of a Great Sect.”

“Well, yes, but…” Lan Qiren trailed off, not quite feeling comfortable enough to highlight her many failings, all of which were excellent reasons for no one to want to marry her – her brother had pointed out any number of them when he’d argued with his father in favor of marrying her off now rather than waiting to try for a better match later. “I mean, well, it’s still embarrassing for you, isn’t it? I might be the daughter of a Great Sect, but you’re a Sect Leader in your own right, yet you’re being forced to the altar like some disobedient teenager.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Wen Ruohan said. “On the contrary, I’m quite pleased to marry you.”

He reached over and picked up the set of cups Lan Qiren had prepared for their engagement party, running his thumb over the designs Lan Qiren had painted and smiling. He seemed to like it much more than the fancy gift Lan Qiren’s brother had picked out for her to give.

“Quite pleased,” he murmured thoughtfully. “No – let us say, very pleased. You’re too young to marry now, of course, but you must write to me often, and visit oftener still; I want for you to become accustomed to the Nightless City before you come of age and our marriage is concluded.”

That seemed quite reasonable to Lan Qiren. She’d need a chaperone, of course, but that was only reasonable – and maybe Lao Nie would come by as well, since she knew he was close to Wen Ruohan. Possibly too close, by most people’s estimation, but in all honesty Lan Qiren wasn’t expecting to monopolize Wen Ruohan anyway. Putting aside his former wife, now deceased, it was entirely possible that he’d expect to have concubines and mistresses and other lovers…

“I have a gift for you as well,” he said, and she blinked at him: it wasn’t really necessary, since he’d already sent all the appropriate gifts to her sect. “A personal one, just like your cups to me. You see, I had been walking in the marketplace earlier, and it occurred to me that my fiancée would look lovely in pearls…”

[chadwick211]

7 Best Whiskey Gifts for This Holiday Season

Giving gifts can be difficult at times, especially when it comes to finding the right present. One of the things we would like to receive as a gift is a bottle of whiskey. That's why we look for best whiskey gifts for them during the holidays.

In some cases, it may seem like a cop-out gift to buy booze online at the last minute. It won't disappoint whiskey lovers, however. In addition, whiskey makes a great liquor gift for colleagues or those who have never tried the spirit before. A fine whiskey gift is an excellent way to break the ice and start a conversation with anyone. The reason is that every fine whiskey has a unique story to tell.

Sendgifts offers fastest liquor delivery service and offers a wide range of whiskies and fine spirits. Our online liquor store is the ideal place to send a gift for any occasion.

If you're struggling to find the perfect whiskey gift for someone on your list, consider one of these best whiskey gifts.

 Best Whiskey Gifts

At sendgifts.com, you'll find the best selection of whiskey at great prices. There are many whiskey gifts available for you to choose from. The world's best and finest brands are all at your fingertips!

 Blanton’s Single Barrel Bourbon

Bourbon is in high demand these days, so getting your hands on this coveted whiskey from Buffalo Trace Distillery might be a challenge. This acclaimed bourbon has a sweet, citrusy, oaky profile with a backend note of clove, and those who appreciate whiskey will fall in love if they find a bottle. If the receiver is unfamiliar with the spirit, you could explain how Blanton's is the first single barrel bourbon, and eight collectible racehorse stoppers spell out the name.

Tasting Notes: A deep, satisfying nose of nutmeg and spices. Powerful dry vanilla notes in harmony with hints of honey amid strong caramel and corn. A medium finish composed of returning corn and nutmeg flavors.

 Macallan 15-Year Double Cask Single Malt Scotch Whisky

The world-renowned quality and premium price-point of Macallan Scotch makes it well known to even the most uneducated whiskey drinker. With notes of vanilla, butterscotch, citrus, and a distinctive Macallan spice, Macallan Double Cask whiskies are aged in two types of hand-crafted oak casks seasoned with dry Oloroso sherry.

Tasting Notes: On the nose is creamy, with caramel and butter notes. It is spicier than the 12-year-old, with some cinnamon and clove notes. It also has fruity notes of apple pie, pears in syrup and raisins, with a caramel rum-like souvenir. There are also some dark chocolate notes.

Yamazaki 12-Year Single Malt Whiskey

For decades now, the Japanese have been perfecting their own whiskey brews, as you might already know. Japanese-distilled whiskey pioneer Yamazaki has grown into a global beverage giant that owns former American whiskey brands Jim Beam and Makers Mark. Yamazaki is a top-notch Japanese whiskey, not because of the price, but rather because of its quality. Anyone who appreciates whiskey will enjoy this buttery yet bright and fruity whiskey.

Tasting Notes: Full-bodied and smooth. Sweet with vanilla, citrus notes with an undercurrent of spice just underneath all the candied notes balancing dusty cigarette ash and cedarwood dryness.

 Glendalough Double Barrel Irish Whiskey

Glendalough Double Barrel Irish Whiskey is a single grain Irish whiskey, initially matured in American bourbon barrels before enjoying a finishing period of six months in Spanish Oloroso Sherry casks. This comes bottled at 42% ABV, brought down to this strength by Wicklow mountain water.

Tasting Notes: A creamy, malty nose begins with rich vanilla, white chocolate and buttery fudge. Notes of cooking apples, white grapes, marzipan icing and toasted oak form in the backdrop.

 Sagamore Spirit Straight Rye Whiskey

In contrast to bourbon, rye whiskey must contain at least 51% rye grain, which typically lends the whiskey a sharp, spicy, alcohol-forward flavor profile. Baltimore's Sagamore Spirit distillery is doing some inventive things in the world of rye whiskey. It is a blend of a high rye and low rye mash bill, each aged 4-6 years. This blend of low and high rye delivers a complex flavor profile with notes of spicy cinnamon, sweet honey, and nuts. You can enjoy this unique spirit neat or mixed into a Manhattan.

Tasting Notes: Vanilla, rye, spices and sweet notes of caramel prolonged with sensational tones of apricot, tobacco leaves and orange zest.

 Lagavulin 16 Year Scotch

The Lagavulin is an ideal gift for a mezcal lover who wants to convert to whiskey. It is one of the smokiest Scotches you'll find, with an exceptionally smooth finish. The predominant note of this whisky is smoke, but there are also notes of tea and sweet tobacco. Lagavulin's distillation and maturation are longer than any of its Classic Malts.

Tasting Notes: A rich, dried fruit sweetness of the sherry character with clouds of smoke and strong, barley-malt flavors. At the back of the mouth is an explosion of salty and peppery smoke.

 Wild Turkey Longbranch

Wild Turkey Longbranch is a great option if you want an excellent whiskey in the mid-range price range, but do not want to buy a bottle of Jack that has been played out. Aged for 8 years in new, charred American oak, it is refined with Texas mesquite and oak charcoals. The bourbon is exceptionally smooth and oaky, making it perfect for drinking neat or on the rocks. Bottled at 86 proof.

Tasting Notes: Caramel and spices on the palate with subtle smokiness and a hint of oak and char. It's warm and smooth from start to finish.

[gisenne-flameheart]

Introduction and Summary of Brainstorm

Name: Gisenne Flameheart

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Sex and gender: Female

Age: 32 y.o.

Alignment: Order of the Twin Adder

Classe/job: Reaper

NPC ship: Rubicante

GENERAL

Born into a proud family of Duskwight seeking out a life of peace and seclusion in the depths of Eorzea's caves and caverns, Gisenne used to dwell in the Black Shroud. Her mother is a well-taught archer, a renowned hunter, while her father is excellent at cooking, from whom she somewhat inherited her own skills - a subtle, positive influence. Her parents are both esteemed in the clan, a branch that split from the main Wildwood during the founding of Gridania, living a unique, tranquil and unsociable cave life. Gisenne has a twin sister, a more cheerful personality than her, while she is rather composed.

The calm years passed by, the two sisters, young and determined, decided to explore a new world outside of the native forest, bid farewell to their parents and left their hometown. They loved their clan, but they embarked on the path of their own choice with full of thirst for adventures. They arrived in Gridania, the city-states built by Wildwood and Hyur. They had long heard that the Wildwood and the Duskwight called each other traitors. They struggled to understand why and how two different races, Elezen and Hyur, could co-exist in such harmony, but they recognized that it was not necessarily a bad thing to come into contact with them, at least to take the first step forward.

The twin sisters spoke with a unique accent. Sometimes they had difficulty catching on urban slang and jokes so they did give an impression of indifference - which was not very true, due to that thin language barrier. Their skin tone was quite rare in Gridania also, and they easily attracted attention of passersby on the road, but most of the pedestrians were just appreciating their distinctive characteristics and did not appear to be very xenophobic.

Slowly, the twins worked harder to adapt to the new environment, and everything seemed not as bad as they predicted. Both joined the Order of the Twin Adder. The elder sister hit off with the Serpent Squadron Sergeant and actively participated in the Grand Company assignments. Gisenne herself just kept her Serpent Captain rank, occasionally contributing seals, sometimes worrying about what to do with those Squadron members who appeared not very gifted. In fact, she never had any absolute sense of belonging to any party or organization. She prefers to read, explore, travel and immerse herself in strange knowledge that few people master, so her footprints have reached most places in Eorzea. She became knowledgeable, her vision increasingly broad, and her culinary skills more and more exquisite. As for her jobs, she first chose to be an archer like her mother, her keen eyesight aiding her in her course. Later, she successfully took on casting and healing jobs.

Gisenne is quiet and does not speak much. She loves her journey as a Warrior of Light. For her, everyone is a hero of their own life, just in different ways. She sometimes refuses to leave her name to the people she saved. And when she is off-duty, she rests and travels to enjoy some hard-earned leisure time. She is a very decent lady, polite, elegant, beautiful, and will not trespass your boundaries.

AS A REAPER

Speaking of the fate between Gisenne and Reaper, it has to be traced back to before she was called to the First. One ordinary day, by chance, after winning a lottery at the Gold Saucer, she came across Jijilyo and then met Drusilla, who asked her to visit the Lemures headquarters where she was persuaded to make a pact with a voidsent from the Thirteenth - she picked up her scythe and since then, she never put it down. With Drusilla, they formed a very familial bond and it became a habit when she got tired of the adventures, she loved to go back to her cool mentor in Ul'dah to drink a glass of strong liquor to warm her body, and then recount anecdotes of her long journey.

When she first became a Reaper, Gisenne was very confident to be soon qualified for this new job, just like other jobs she had mastered in the past. However, for some reasons, it seemed very painful for her to control the voidsent and properly employ its stygian power - much harder than she imagined. When she lifted the scythe and grabbed the job stone - a multi-aspect soul crystal whose surface had been carved by the myriad deeds of reapers from ages past - in her palm, she sensed an unspeakably powerful force oppressing and merging with her soul. Drusilla once taught that the Avatar was the manifestation of her pact with the voidsent on the other side, the embodiment of the close bond of their souls bearing the same wavelength. If she wanted to better control the voidsent, she needed to practice the Garlean techniques passed down by antecessor reapers, that was, training using different vessels, especially when the voidsent was strong.

Gisenne was certainly a talented and intelligent apprentice, but after a quite long time, she still felt powerless to grasp this job. Her body appeared unable to adapt to the erosion of darkness, but surprisingly, that voidsent seemed to know to pull away in time when she was about to collapse so as not to cause more damage to her aether and body. She learnt that if the contracted voidsent was a relatively powerful one, she would absolutely need to undergo more intensive practices to get used to it, and it was the case. She finally made it. She successfully partnered with her otherworldly contractor, and once again embarked on her adventures. This time, she was called to the First, the nearly dead world trapped in the Flood of Light.

Gisenne and the voidsent have already been able to fight very skillfully. They shared the same heartbeat and soul vibration, impeccable, safe and trustworthy. They rarely talked to each other. It was not that they haven't spoken, but very few. She has always been a taciturn person, and her contractor did not seem to talk much either. However, on many occasions, especially at critical moments in battles, the void partner always reminded her to be careful to avoid getting hurt, and it even, healed her wounds - much to her surprise. Every time she thanked the contractor, its response was the same: “You do not need to thank me. Our pact demands that I help you, and that you feed me further for it. I will honor my commitments, as always.” That strange voice sounded far away, but echoed clearly in her mind - deep, warm and resonant, like a summer breeze, and unmistakably male.

Although Gisenne was used to witness injuries, tragedies, death and displacement, and learnt to hide the most painful emotions in her heart without affecting others, her journey was smooth enough thanks to the help of her wise companions, and this, until she defeated Innocence - her body completely collapsed.

She was eroded by the blazing light, burning away her flesh and blood. She couldn't stand still and knelt on the ground, her scythe and her job stone falling to her feet. Using the last remaining force, she picked up the black crystal and squeezed it in her hand, tighter and tighter, as if grabbing the last straw, not knowing what exactly she was expecting from this gesture. In an instant, she felt the existence of that powerful dark force - her pact, her pact with that voidsent who had been with her for so long but had never met her face to face.

A voice sounded in her mind, the same voice, deep and warm: I am here.

She finally couldn't help crying from the agony, her, a tenacious woman, uncontrollably shedding tears of the glittering color of Light. She gasped, feeling her body mutate, disintegrate and crumble little by little. She sobbed and struggled to tell him about the tragic situation of the First, the adventures along the way, and now that something was wrong with her body - she was afraid of dying undignified, of turning into a mindless Sineater.

“You have suffered too much. Allow me to take care of this.”

She had no idea how he would help her, only feeling the soul crystal in her hand turning hot, with faintly glowing red and purple traces extending from the center to its periphery. Warm flames, red and black, bright and comfortable, so beautiful like the sunlight, intertwined and merged with the scorching white light in her body. Her blurred vision gradually recovered. She was still weak, but at least able to stand up.

She again thanked him, knowing that he was balancing her aether.

What he did could not completely restore her to normal. Later she used the excess of the light to defeat Hades. She knew that without him, she might have already turned into a Sineater. This incident strengthened the trust and the bond between her and the voidsent although she could only recognize him by the red purple traces flashed on the job stone, his voice, and the particular warmth that she has been able to associate with safety and comfort.

WITH RUBICANTE

She finally met his true self on the grandiose Khadga mountain where the decisive battle took place, his towering figure floating in the mid-air above the vibrantly colorful Thavnair. Wearing a wide brim hat and a long skirt, she raised her head and looked up at him, a thousand words only turned into a helpless, regretful whisper - they had even lost the right to exchange greetings. Cross-purposes and different standpoints, and they all understood those were the innate risks of the pact.

Gisenne recognized him by the voice she knew only too well. The one who destroyed the vault was her voidsent. She knew that in the end it was inevitable that their fates would end up differently - one shall stand, one shall fall. She reached under her robe, grabbing that job stone like she had done before every time when she needed him, the red purple traces on it brighter than ever.

“Do not worry, the pact is still valid, even if you have to turn your scythe on me with your anger and ambivalence, I will grant you the power you need. You did not betray me, nor did you betray the contract.”

They were both calm, too calm, a calmness that should not have existed.

After the battle, Gisenne asked Zero to preserve his existence before he completely dissipated. She knew that this might prevent him from dying normally, so she also asked his opinion, and finally he agreed on the grounds of keeping his sun burning - his sun, right before his eyes. She later took his crystal down the mountain to the alchemist Nidhana and made him a body, the same body as his voidsent one.

Gisenne is not a very emotional person, and neither is Rubicante, so facing their partner for the first time under such intense circumstances, their conversations still remained as rational as possible. After all, mortals and voidsents are more likely to end up on different paths.

When Gisenne asked Zero to crystallize Rubicante, she told him, sincere and honest, that she could very well form another pact if he left her, but she valued his help and his person more than anything else, and if he was determined to die in the Source, she would not force him against his strong will.

Then she left him the choice, she believed that he would make a smart decision himself. And he started to laugh in a self-mocking way.

In the end, he compromised. The idea of abandoning his sun was truly agonizing to him. He would not want to become that kind of miserable man, leaving her alone before her goals achieved and dreams fulfilled, before he could properly protect his flame and keep her burning like the world's brightest hero.

The reason why Rubicante came to the Source to "suicide" was that he could not die in the void, he could only go through endless resurrection and starvation again and again, he did not want to become a beast and continue living this eternal vicious cycle. But now he is in the Source, a lively world full of aether, and a faithful pact aiming to provide him with the food he needs. Moreover, the existence of the pact can prevent too much disturbance in the Source. For death, if he eventually dies, he will die normally in the Source. Aether, pact, normal death, all these, invalidate his suicidal motivation if we think this way.

So, after Rubicante gets his body, these two can happily live, fight and barbecue together! Gisenne will have him as long as she wants.

Rubicante is really suitable to be a contractor voidsent within Reaper's lore. I always have a soft spot for noble demons <3

Also, from the description of the Flamecloaked Archfiend Totem, he must be very popular and admired in the Thirteenth, but, his soul only resonates with the bravest hero, his sun <3

PS:

SPECIAL THANKS to @the-littlest-kojin for brainstorming together some great, logical and justifiable ideas, and to @cygnus-exul for the wonderful screens.

[quakerjoe]

10 Laws of Thanksgiving Dinner

by Sam Sifton

1. Let me speak plainly: you are going to need a lot of butter. Thanksgiving is not a day for diets, or for worrying about your cholesterol. It is a day on which we celebrate the delicious. And there is precious little on a Thanksgiving menu that is not made more delicious by butter. (Note: It should be unsalted butter. There is something magical about a piece of toast with salted butter. But for Thanksgiving, you want the unsalted variety, so that it is you, and not the butter maker, who is in control of the saltiness of your cooking. Figure at least two pounds for the day.)

2. Thanksgiving is a holiday that anchors itself in tradition. Which means: You should make turkey. Turkey is why you are here.

3. I’ll risk starting a brushfire by saying with great confidence that the two most important factors in any credible Thanksgiving feast are the cranberry sauce and the gravy. Debate that all you like. But they tie every element on the plate together, acting as frame and foundation alike. Cranberry sauce only enhances what is already excellent, and good gravy can cure almost any Thanksgiving ill.

4. You can make mashed potatoes lumpy with a fork or a masher device, or smooth with a food mill or stand mixer. And of course you can make them without peeling the potatoes, if your scrub the skins well. This makes for an attractive, rustic-looking dish. Indeed, the only trouble that should ever present itself when the subject comes to mashed potatoes and Thanksgiving is should someone demand that garlic or basil be added to the mix. Your response to this heresy should be brief and unequivocal: No. There is no place in the holiday for a mixture of garlic and potatoes, much less basil and potatoes. The flavors clash with the turkey and other sides. No.

5. Start serving drinks the minutes your guests arrive, no matter the hour. Thanksgiving is not a time to judge.

6. When hosting, do not be afraid to delegate.

7. Dessert need not be extravagant. It absolutely should not be experimental or overly cute. It must not involve individual tartlets or parfaits, nor marshmallows in any form. Save the chocolate for nights of depression and anxiety. Instead, focus on the proper execution of the American classics: apple pie, for instance, with a mound of whipped cream, or pumpkin pie with same. These represent Thanksgiving’s highest achievement. They are an explanation of American exceptionalism, in pastry form.

8. There is no “right” wine for Thanksgiving, no must-have grape or vintage, cocktail or spirit. Nor is there a “wrong” one, though I’d stay away from the low-end fortified stuff unless you are in a boxcar, hurtling west. What you want is a variety of grapes and vintages. Encourage guests to bring wines that interest them, wines that they would like others to try. Additionally, lay in some specialty items: beer for your uncle who only drinks Bud; nonalcoholic sparkling cider for the children; and plenty of Diet Cokes and ashtrays for those who no longer drink.

9. If you find yourself as a guest at someone else’s Thanksgiving, there is no finer gift to bring than a pie and a bottle of brown liquor.

10. As everyone takes a seat and prepares to eat, there is the delicate moment where you or someone at the table should ask for everyone’s attention, and offer thanks to one and all for being present, and for helping out. This is extraordinarily important. It is the point of the entire exercise. William Jennings Bryan wrote, “On Thanksgiving Day, we acknowledge our dependence.” I think that’s just about right.

[the-restricted-section]

Bracing for Impact

Gen. 2,697 words. During the holidays, Professor Sharp and Professor Fig discover a gift left by the player character (Dylan Fairchild).

First Hogwarts Legacy fic! Hope you enjoy~

Christmas at Hogwarts was always an extravagant affair, usually involving more merriment than sense. Three times this week Sharp had been forced to quell illicit brewing in his class, with twice as many attempts popping up during lab times. A stolen fwoop feather was one thing, but attempting the complex Amortentia underneath their cloaks? Plans to slip a bit into a crush's drink, with dreams of an early holiday gift dancing in their heads? Honestly, when he wasn't keeping his students' limbs intact he was bemoaning their lack of decorum, to say nothing of overall sense. Sharp couldn't remember the last time a student had truly impressed him.

No... wait. That wasn't quite right anymore, was it? Their newest fifth year may have only been with them a few months, but already they'd made quite the name for themselves. Sharp had entered the faculty room back in September with the intent of subtly bragging to the others that he'd finally found a potions prodigy - or at least someone with enough diligence and critical thinking skills to make use of his instruction. He'd been more than a little surprised to find the others already singing their praises: competitions won in Charms, duels in Defense, the delicate handling of plants in Herbology, and excellent flying skills to boot, if their little joy-ride around the castle was any indication.

Well, at least he wasn't the only instructor the cheeky brat was inclined to disobey.

Then, of course, there was the matter of their mysterious arrival and the rumors surrounding the journey. Dragons, ruins, even a death...

Only one other person was aware of the truth. Luckily for Sharp, he appeared determined to hound his every step tonight.

"Do you really intend to follow me all the way to the dungeons?"

Fig smiled, taking leisurely steps that somehow managed to make it look like he wasn't slowing his pace to match a limp - a talent Sharp's pride was disgustingly grateful for. He took a moment to look up at the garlands strung across stone, brimming with white and red flowers. Raising his wand, Fig added fairy lights with a murmured incantation, successfully brightening the otherwise gloomy journey. He turned to Sharp with that same smile still in place, eyes softer than they had any right to be when looking at a bitter, grizzled ex-Auror in a perpetually grumpy mood.

"Come now, Aesop. Can't I accompany my colleague on a late night stroll? Wish him the tidings of the season?" Fig's smile grew. "Perhaps weasel a nightcap out of his personal stash?"

Sharp snorted. "You know damn well I've only cheap liquor. Do you prefer dust, or spider webs as an additive?" He'd grappled with his fare share of vices over the years, no doubt about it, but drink had never been one of them. Sharp had learned early - and brutally - what could happen to an Auror perpetually inhibited by drink and he'd sworn, all the way back in his training days, that he'd never travel that path. Not even the pain of his leg had driven him to go back on that promise.

Speaking of the blasted thing... Sharp hid a grimace as they descended another flight of stairs, the fake snow that fell from the ceiling doing nothing for his precarious balance. He must have lost some of his subtly alongside his reflexes because Fig's smile dropped. He vanished the snow with another sharp wave of his wand, pocketed it, and offered Sharp his elbow.

To the man's credit, he weathered Sharp's glare like the expert he was, only dropping his arm a long moment later. He huffed.

"A drink would mellow you, my friend," Fig muttered, but there was no bite in the remark. If anything, Sharp's shoulders relaxed. Better that then pity. "I stand by what I've said. Why should I need an excuse to visit you? Especially during the holidays?"

"But...?" Sharp prompted dryly.

Fig sighed. "But I thought it prudent to take this time to discuss our rather... illustrious student. While the others are busy making merry, you understand."

"I see." Sharp's eyebrows rose. "You will tell me all?"

"No. But I will tell you enough to help. Hopefully."

He didn't like it. Old instincts urged Sharp to draw his wand and level it at Fig's throat, demanding information in the name of a civilian's safety. But the sad reality was that he likely would have lost such a threat - yes, even to a professor of theory - and, far more importantly, this was no Dark Wizard playing games with an innocent's life. If Fig thought the information too dangerous to offer up, even to him...

Sharp swallowed the bile that wanted to rise up his throat. Perhaps he'd need a drink for this conversation after all.

"Whatever you can offer," he grunted, knowing it was the best he was going to get. Fig's inclined head spoke of his gratitude.

The final stretch to his classroom - and the quarters beyond - were particularly uncomfortable, despite the warm glow of the torches and the companionable silence beside him. Sharp had been cataloguing his student's... oddities for weeks now, from their tendency to arrive in class sporting a number of worrisome injuries, to their uncommon proficiency in Wiggenweld. The potential combinations of the two -  a series of wounds so deep and frequent that the potion couldn't fully heal them, or else a life filled with such danger that they simply forgot to rid themselves of the occasional burn or bruise - was what had kept Sharp up late into the night lately.

He knew both experiences too well. No fifteen-year-old should be grappling with such things, no matter how talented.

He'd just set his mind to pressing Fig after all when they opened the final door and found an unexpected obstacle blocking their way. Sharp's wand jumped into his hand, still eagerly loyal. Fig merely blinked from behind his shoulder.

"Another decoration?" he asked.

Sharp shook his head. There, placed neatly in front of his classroom door, was a box. Wrapped in silver with a green bow, 'present' was likely the more accurate term, though someone leaving him a gift was a laughable theory. Even his colleagues knew better, Fig included, and a dozen possibilities had run through his mind by the time Sharp had finished his first detection spell, from a prank of Peeves' to far darker possibilities. The diagnostic came back clean though. As did the second, and the third. He'd worked his way through a number of lesser known charms taught only to The Unspeakables (he'd had his connections back in his youth, carefully nurtured and then exploited) before he finally noticed Fig leaning against the dungeon wall, looking annoyingly amused.

"I don't know which impresses me more," he said. "Your spell repertoire, or your paranoia."

Sharp shot him a glare. "It's not paranoia if it's warranted."

"And is this? Warranted? A gift at Christmas time - how mysterious!"

"You would be wary too if the last gift you'd received was when top hats were still in style."

Fig's smile fell. "I know I can be a bit scatterbrained at times, but do remind me to fix that. Well, if you're so sure you're not the recipient, why not prove it by looking at the card?"

...fair enough.

With a sigh Sharp levitated the package and brought it into the classroom. It was with a wave of self-recrimination that he realized he should have done that from the start: the wards up around the student's tables, woven to contain all manner of foolhardy mistakes, would have stopped all by the darkest of magics - certainly any schoolyard pranks. With a shake of his head and a promise to train come morning, Sharp cleared a space and separated the card, unfurling a surprising amount of writing.

His eyes narrowed. He knew those quill strokes.

"Ah," Fig murmured, that blasted smile coloring his voice. Sharp ignored him, instead turning his attention to the slightly sloppy handwriting - evidence of a teen still learning their way around a quill.

Dear Professor,

Happy Holidays! I don't know what you celebrate, if anything, so please accept any and all tidings of the season.

By now you've no doubt noticed the gift I left (...Of course you have. Not sure why I wrote that) and I just want to begin by saying that I am offering this with the upmost respect and intended goodwill. I assure you, this is not a prank, or an insult, but if after opening the package you decide to light it up with a particularly vicious 'Confringo,' I'll understand. Just know that I only ever wanted to help. Truly.

See, coming to Hogwarts after growing up in the muggle world has given me the opportunity to compare the two and I've come to the conclusion that wizards tend to over-complicate things. (Please don't ever tell Sebastian I said that. I'll never hear the end of it!) What muggles lack in magic they make up for in innovation and I honestly believe that if we spent a little less time feeling smug about our supposed superiority, we'd notice how much their world has to offer.

For now, I decided to bring a piece of that world here. With some modifications, of course. We can't be too simple.

I hope it helps, Sir.

With love and season's greetings,

Dylan Fairchild

"Would someone please explain to me," Sharp murmured, "why this child seems to be under the impression that I will flay them for their attempts at a gift? Have I truly acquired that heinous a reputation?"

Fig chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Frankly, my friend, I would pay more attention to the trust they've placed in you. Or do you think them so careless as to mistakenly mention their knowledge of a restricted curse?"

Sharp's gaze honed in on that "Confringo." Yes, he'd noticed that too. "You did not teach it to them?"

"Certainly not. Nor have I encouraged a merging of their muggle and magical lives, though in retrospect perhaps I should have."

At Sharp's nod Fig had taken the top off the box. Inside lay a... contraption of sorts. At first, Sharp didn't know what to make of the thing. It appeared to be a mess of buckles and strips of leather, forming two vertical lines with a connection on each side, bendable through a hinge. Worn and clearly second-hand, it was nevertheless well cared for. On the side of each buckle was a small, metal medallion with WF embossed in the center.

Fairchild. A former possession of a family member, perhaps?

Though interesting in its oddities, what truly drew Sharp's attention were the enchantments. The piece thrummed subtly with magic and at Fig's urging he cast a quick modification of 'Revelio,' similar to what a mediwitch would use to catalogue past diagnoses. Above the box in a golden script of his own handwriting appeared a list of charms, each more impressive than the last: durability, lightness, cushioning, self-cleaning. There was spellwork to gently nudge away a person's notice, another that - oddly - appeared to have traces of 'Levioso' in it. Sharp let out a soft, frustrated breath when he came across the strings of 'Protego.' It wouldn't block a curse as an actual shield would, but this thing would withstand more damage than the average garment. Perfect for an ex-Auror still stumbling into trouble.

"There's no way the child did all this on their own," Sharp muttered, eyes scanning the list. "What is the blasted thing even for? I--"

He stopped, settling on the final enchantment, woven in last for prominence: a modified 'Eliminata.' Unbidden, the definition from old textbooks reasserted itself.

Eliminata. Charm. Colloquially known as The Numbing Spell. Capable of eliminating mild to moderate discomfort for short periods of time. Though it provides momentary relief for the sufferer, it is not a substitute for healing. Seek out a licensed mediwitch after using.

Sharp's leg gave an answering throb.

"They didn't do this on their own," he repeated, knowledge of the gift's purpose settling over him. It was easier, really, to lean into the horror of that. His student discussing his private, degrading affairs with another professor. Or worse, some outsider just as likely to run to the gossip rags. Sharp could feel the angry flush worming its way up his cheeks as he pictured it; the itch of his wand hand, very nearly succumbing to temptation and blasting a cathartic hole in the wall--

A hand on his arm stemmed the tide before it could overflow.

"Think carefully now," Fig said, fast and low. "Remember the worry in their letter? The trust? The intent? I'd wager Hecate had a hand in this - I'd know that spell signature anywhere - and you are aware that she guards others' privacy even more diligently than her own. Besides, does Fairchild strike you as the type to go about this thoughtlessly?"

Sharp swallowed. Shortcuts only ever lead to shortcomings. They were one of the few who had truly taken his advice to heart.

No sooner had he remembered that then the letter burst into flames. He flinched, already on high alert, but all the parchment did was curl in on itself, no doubt timed to self-destruct once it had been read. Sharp watched the fire take with it all evidence of who had left the gift - and what it was for.

A gift. He'd very nearly forgotten that part.

"I'm not fit for mentoring," he sighed, lowering his wand. Sharp rubbed at his eyes a moment, the action more punishing than soothing.

Fig gave his arm a final pat, pulling away. "The only thing you're unfit for is gauging your own flaws. I assure you, a cautious nature and desire for privacy are not it."

"Oh? What then?"

"Trying my patience, for one. Are you trying this thing on or not?"

After some lighthearted teasing about that privacy, Sharp retreated to his quarters to shed jacket and trousers, now faced with the daunting task of getting it on. In the end though, that complex spellwork came to his rescue. It moved like one of Gladrags mannequins, twisting and then gently tightening until one band was secured around his thigh, the other around his calf. The hinge still allowed his knee to bend, but there was a... resistance now.

Sharp tested the new feeling. It was odd, but not unpleasant. In fact - he realized with mild shock - he was able to put more weight on his leg than usual, despite it being the end of a long, tiring day. The combination of support, featherlight charms, and the mild, soothing tingle of Eliminata accomplished what all his rare research had failed at.

He wouldn't be running after Dark Wizards anytime soon, but Sharp was undeniably standing easier than he'd been a moment before. Did it matter then that the picture remained as ugly? The cavern in his leg now dressed in an absurd muggle contraption. Sharp sneered briefly at his reflection, usually something to avoid.

"What am I going to do with you?" He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, or Fairchild.

When Sharp finally returned - the gift now hidden beneath the pants of his suit, its outline only noticeable if you knew what you were looking for - he found that Fig had entertained himself by adding garlands to the cupboards and berries to the cauldrons. He met Sharp's halfhearted glare with a shrug and didn't even blink as he re-donned his coat, their conversation postponed.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, smile infusing his words. "Climbing more stairs at this time of night?"

Luckily, Sharp was already out the door, his own smile hidden. "I'm off to find our wayward charge. If they have the time and talent for this, clearly I haven't been challenging enough in their assignments."

A laugh followed him down the dungeon corridor. "Be kind now - it's the holidays!"

Kind? Rarely. But Sharp understood pride and he was willing to dole out a hefty portion tonight.

Giving into the smile, Sharp traversed the halls with a limp and a spring in his step, ready to walk the whole castle, if necessary, before the night was through.

Fin.

A/N: The brace is based off of Edward's in Our Flag Means Death. If you haven't watched that gem of a show pleeease go do it. Also, apologies if these two come across as OOC. They've got hard voices to nail, especially when it feels like I haven't spent much time with them yet 😬

[fatimarusalka]

I started attending NA meetings last week on Friday, May 3rd 2024.

I nearly lost my job, broke my phone, and kept driving while I was drinking.

My addiction started when my mom and dad separated, and my dad moved on to a new family where he was barely present in our broken family. I was so mad at him for that. I HATED him for that. Now I know I can't blame him for trying to find something I knew he so desperately wanted, but couldn't get a hold of because he was Fighting his own demons.

That's around the time I started looking for love and validation in boys. When I couldn't find it, I found comfort in drinking and smoking weed. It was MY ESCAPISM. The more I couldn't get it, the worse it got. The more drugs I did. It led me to lose, and miss out on, so many great opportunities.

The few times I can remember being sober were when I was really trying to focus on myself and be better and there were no boys in the picture.

As soon as I'd let one step in the picture, shit would just hit the fan again.

I need to love myself first, and be a better version of myself, and the right things will follow.

I realized that last night when the guy I was talking to walked away from me because I accepted Aguas Frescas from a customer. Cause at my part-time, we have to pay full price for them and they're really fucking good. I wasn't going to keep paying for one so I said yeah and there was nothing more to it. If "my man" wasn't going to, why not let someone else treat me? Anyway his excuse for walking away is because he can't have his girl accepting any type of gift or anything from any other guy.

He did that after we had a great run and walk, and I made us salads after working all day.

I'm working 7 days a week now. I have 2 cats to care for. I started attending NA meetings and I'm still finding the time AND energy to make us salads and spend time with him.

After he walked away and I couldn't do or say anything to make him stay, I got in my car and almost drove to the liquor store. I've only been sober 5 days. I was fucking TRIGGERED. Then my boss's voice came into my head "Helen, you think you're getting back at them by drinking, but YOU'RE NOT. You're only hurting yourself." So I drove my ass home to my beautiful kitties. I felt desperate. Then my boy came up to me, literally put his paws on my face, laid right next to me and started purring. I fell asleep.

I kept tossing and turning until I finally decided to get up. Self reflecting which brings us to now. I have better things to focus on, and new opportunities I need to excel in.

For the longest I felt like I wasn't good enough but I sure am. I don't need to look for that validation because I'm now realizing that I am.

I can't keep begging for love when it's not there. I have so much love to give. NA and my kitties keep me grounded and it was in my face this entire time. I can feel myself maturing and growing, and I love that. There are better days ahead. It's just for today, and one day at a time.

[2brothersdistillers]

Whiskey Gifts: Finding the Perfect Bottle for Every Occasion

Whiskey, with its rich history, distinct flavors, and timeless appeal, makes an ideal gift for every occasion. A thoughtfully picked bottle of whiskey may speak words, whether it's for a birthday, a wedding anniversary, a promotion, or simply a show of appreciation. However, with so many alternatives available, choosing the ideal whiskey gift can be difficult.

Know your recipient

The first step in choosing the ideal whiskey gift is to learn the recipient's preferences and inclinations. Are they an experienced whiskey enthusiast who values complexity and depth? Or are they fresh to the world of whiskey and want to try different kinds and flavors? Consider their preferred whiskey styles: smoky Islay scotches, silky bourbons, or complex Irish whiskeys. Knowing their tastes will help you choose the perfect bottle.

Consider the occasion

The occasion has a big impact on the sort of whiskey gift chosen. Premium bottles with age declarations or limited-edition releases are ideal for milestone occasions like birthdays and anniversaries. These unique bottles offer a touch of elegance and uniqueness to the occasion. For more relaxed parties or as a gesture of thanks, choose accessible and adaptable whiskeys that fit a wide range of tastes.

Explore variety

Whiskey comes in a multitude of types, each with its distinct attributes and flavor profiles. Scotch whiskey has a wide spectrum of flavors, from the smokey strength of Islay malts to the honeyed sweetness of Speyside whiskies. Bourbon whiskey, with its rich caramel aromas and silky finish, is another popular option. Explore the world of Irish whiskey, which is famed for its smoothness and complexity, as well as Japanese whisky, which is renowned for its artistry and precision.

Consider special editions

Special edition or limited-release whiskeys may make excellent presents, highlighting distinct taste characteristics and workmanship. Look for bottles commemorating major milestones or cooperation between distilleries. These bottles frequently come in wonderfully designed packaging, making them visually appealing presents that will wow.

Personalize the gift

Adding a personal touch to your whiskey gift might transform it from ordinary to amazing. Consider engraving the bottle with a personal message or the recipient's name to make the present truly unforgettable. For a more full whiskey experience, couple it with matching accessories like whiskey glasses, a decanter, or a tasting diary.

Budget considerations

Whiskey is available at several pricing points, allowing you to pick the right bottle within your budget. While premium and uncommon bottles might be more expensive, many cheap alternatives provide great quality and flavor. Set a budget for your present and look into possibilities within that range, ensuring that you locate a bottle that suits both your budgetary needs and the recipient's tastes.

Seek expert advice

If you're unclear about which whiskey to pick, don't be afraid to ask for assistance from competent people. Visit specialist liquor stores with skilled personnel who can provide recommendations depending on your needs. Attend whiskey tastings or events to try different types and learn more about the intricacies of whiskey enjoyment. Online resources, such as whiskey review websites and forums, can provide useful information and recommendations.

Plan ahead

Finding the ideal whiskey gift requires time and effort, so prepare ahead of time to give yourself enough time to study your alternatives and make your decision. Consider ordering the bottle ahead of time, especially if it is a special edition or limited-release whiskey that is likely to be in great demand. This relieves last-minute worry and guarantees that your present arrives on time for the event.

Choosing the best whiskey gift needs careful consideration of the recipient's interests, the occasion, and your budget. By looking into several possibilities, customizing the present, and getting professional guidance when necessary, you may locate a bottle of whiskey that will please and impress. Whether it's a rare single malt Scotch, a small-batch bourbon, or an exquisite Japanese whisky, a carefully chosen bottle of whiskey is a present that will be treasured and savored for years to come.

If you are looking for a distillery near me, or 2 Brothers bourbon, James Two Brothers Distillery is the best option. They offer small boutique-style production of beverage-grade spirit alcohol with simple principles; hard work and honesty. Contact them by writing to paulj@2brothersdistillers.com or call at 352-291-0585.

[dragonmuse]

A/N: for @thehobbitbadger @believesinponds, @objective-j and @internerdionality, who all requested to see Charlie’s introduction to Izzy in 'I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it'.

Charlie has an office now. There were only two, one that Jim and Lucius shared and one that had sort of been a catch all private space when someone needed it. The bookkeeper worked from home, apparently and no one else had need of it. 

Until Charlie had started pulling in jobs on his own. From Jim, he’d learned how to handle himself if things went wrong. From Lucius, how to lean in when they were going right. He was fast on his feet both literally and proverbially.  

“A born con man,” Lucius decreed. 

And now he had his own office, free to research and decide on his own targets as long as they both rubber-stamped his efforts. Most of the time, he was even doing legitimate work, selling the security end of the business so Jim could focus on the actual jobs or finding buyers for the real pieces Lucius sometimes acquired.  

The rest of the time Charlie charmed, flirted and seduced his way to tidy payouts that got him affectionate back pats from Jim and Lucius’ approval. He flourished under their attention and could fully admit that they had primed him well to do whatever it was that needed doing. 

But better than the office, was Lucius stepping inside it one afternoon with a smile, 

“How’s it going?” 

“Good, got a lead on the Sargent you were interested in.” 

“Excellent,” Lucius closed the door and leaned back on it. “You have any plans for tonight?” 

“No,” Charlie said, already mentally canceling his hookup. The guy wasn’t that interesting. “Why?” 

“Izzy decided to do a whole roast chicken and potato dinner tonight. Forgot Read was out of town. I figured, who else do I know that can be counted on destroying potential leftovers?” 

“Really?” Charlie knew he sounded too eager, but the thought was beyond tempting. He’d always longed to see Lucius’ apartment and to meet his elusive husband. Jim talked about him like a beloved uncle, and Lucius always softened around the edges over it. He had to meet the guy. 

“Yeah, really,” Lucius shrugged. “I figure I can trust you with the address.” 

Charlie did not say that he already had it. Lucius was good at hiding, but Charlie lived to fly under the radar. 

“What time do you want me to come by?” 

“Oh, just come home with me, I’ll already have the car coming around.”  

“Sounds good.” 

Suffused with giddiness, Charlie went out for lunch and stopped at the liquor store. He made a purchase. His mother hadn’t failed him, he would come with a gift like a well-behaved young man. Even if he had given up good behavior for wealth and adrenaline spikes. 

Lucius tapped on his door hours later and Charlie got to his feet with a ready grin. He hadn’t changed, didn’t want to look too excited for this invitation, but he had a feeling Lucius knew he was anyway. He always seemed to know. 

“Ready?” 

“Yep,” he scooped up his jacket, sliding it on.  

“Where are you two headed?” Jim asked. They were also leaving apparently, headed for the elevator, brushing by Lucius. 

“Told you,” Lucius shoulder-checked them gently. “Taking Charlie home.” 

“Make sure there’s leftovers,” Jim leveled a look at Lucius.

“Aw, you know I always bring you lunch.” 

“Luc.” 

“Jim. I know.” 

“Okay then.” 

Charlie had no idea how to parse that. He rarely did when the two of them got on a roll. He hoped he’d be around long enough to start to decrypt it. For now, he followed Lucius down to a waiting car and slid into the backseat. 

“Just one thing,” Lucius stretched out, crossing his legs in front of him. “We don’t talk about work much with Iz. Especially not the bar.” 

“Okay.” Charlie frowned. “Why not? I mean, he knows all about it. I get it with Oluwande, but him?” 

“He’s mostly retired and he likes to keep his nose out of it. Let me do things my way. You can tell him about your other stuff. He’s a big reader too.” 

“All right,” that was a small price to pay for admission. Charlie rarely talked about work outside of it anyway. He had plenty of practice hiding it away from Alma especially. They had dinner once a week and he was glad for all the legitimate projects he did to feed to her. 

“Did you figure out the Sargent?” 

“You’re going to love this,” Charlie grinned and launched into the pitch he’d been saving for the next day. 

“Jim is going to ask you for the specs.” 

“Already done. And I’ve got the personnel list for you to check out too.” 

“Good,” Lucius nodded slowly. “I like how much you’re anticipating us, Charlie.” 

“That’s the job, right?” 

“Part of it. But it's a part we appreciate."

They arrived at a building Charlie had walked by a few times. Glassy tower that thrust up into the sky. Lucius nodded at the doorman, even as he swiped his ID. The security here was probably excellent, but Charlie, for once, wasn’t trying to clock cameras. He was intent on watching Lucius move through his own territory. Gauging his body language without being caught out at it. 

He was ever so slightly more relaxed once they were in the elevator, doors closed behind them. The sunglasses, ever present were plucked from his head and unceremoniously shoved into a coat pocket. 

A delicate chime signaled their arrival as the doors slid open into an outstanding view. Charlie made an appreciative noise because that was clearly what this was meant to elicit. 

“It’s amazing on foggy days.” Lucius removed his shoes, setting them on a rack. Charlie mirrored him, flexing his socked feet against the cool tile. “Like living in the clouds.” 

“I bet it’s spectacular.” 

“Luc?” Someone called, in a deep whiskey-rough voice. 

“Coming, darling!” Lucius’ shoulders rounded a little, his hands came out of his pockets. “He’s in the kitchen, come on.” 

Charlie followed him through the massive show-off living room into one of those kitchens that seemed to exist only in magazines. It was probably amazing, but Charlie’s full attention had snapped to the man at the stove. 

He was shorter than Charlie would’ve imagined, but he could see the outline of strength in his limbs. As he turned to face Lucius, his face lit up, a smile that wasn’t large, but emanated joy. It wrinkled up the corners of his eyes. A fall of silver hair with traces of dark strands reached his shoulders, softening the planes of a hard face. He was aged, but stronger for it. There was nothing of Lucius’ style attached to him. He was dressed simply, jeans worn thin in all the right places and a black v-neck sweater with just a little chest hair visible. 

Goddamn. 

“Hello,” Lucius murmured and leaned down for a long kiss. Charlie had seen Lucius kiss a lot of men, even some women, and he knew the motions. This was something else. Tender. Kind. The release was slow, and Lucius left a hand on Izzy’s neck as he turned to face Charlie. “Izzy, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is my husband Izzy.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie pulled the shiny gift bag the liquor store had provided from out of his jacket. “I’ve wanted to for ages. This is for you.” 

Izzy lifted his eyebrows. “Why?” 

“Lucius always talks about you. Wanted to put a name to the face.” 

Izzy accepted the bag and pulled out the very nice bottle of vodka out of it. 

“Charlie,” Lucius laughed. “You pay too much attention sometimes.” 

“That’s what you pay more for,” he shrugged. “Is it the right kind?” 

“Yes,” Izzy read the label and then set it on the counter. “How’d you know?” 

“Let me guess,” Lucius was clearly amused, so Charlie knocked it up as a win already. “Last year...at the airport. I said I ordered the shot because I was thinking of home. I noticed you typing away after that.” 

“I don’t have your memory,” Charlie admitted. “But I’ve gotten better at texting without looking.” 

“That’s still sharp,” Izzy glanced at Lucius, “Dinner is almost ready.” 

“All right,” Lucius dropped his hand. “We’ll get out of your way. Where are we eating?” 

“Thought you might want the balcony tonight.” 

“You’re a genius,” Lucius praised and Izzy’s smile widened.  Yeah, Charlie could fucking relate. He wondered what else they had in common.

The balcony turned out to be a sweeping space on the rooftop. The sun was setting and the potted plants along with the faux antique light posts gave the space the feeling of a grotto.  There was a generous wrought iron table beneath what Charlie thought might be, 

“A fruit tree?” 

“Lemons, supposedly.” Lucius touched a leaf fondly. “Almost time to bring it inside for the year. Always a pain, but it was Jim’s housewarming present. We’ve managed to keep it alive for almost a decade now. No lemons though. Not sure it knows how.” 

“Might not be the right climate for it.” 

“Don’t tell Jim that. They’re convinced we’re just doing something wrong.” 

There must’ve been some unseen dumbwaiter setup because Izzy reached the balcony and then produced two trays of food.  The chicken smelled pungently of garlic and rosemary, the mound of potatoes was graced with a fat pat of yellow butter, and the green beans were speckled with slivered almonds. There was sparkling water with it, no trace of the vodka, but Charlie hardly cared as he started eating. 

“This is fantastic,” he said delightedly. He was careful to chew, swallow, then talk. Lucius was very firm about table manners around clients and the painful lessons had stuck. At least in front of the man himself. Jim didn’t care and sometimes they just tossed popcorn at each other to see who could catch more in their mouth. Jim usually won.  

“All in the dry rub,” Izzy speared a piece himself, examining it. “Probably a few minutes too long in the oven.” 

“Stop,” Lucius snorted. “It’s perfect, Iz. Come on.” 

“Really juicy,” Charlie agreed. “Anyway, I’m a terrible cook.” 

“Don’t you live on your own?” Izzy asked. 

So maybe Lucius talked about him. That was good, he decided. Very good. 

“Yeah, my roommate went off to medical school. Rude, right?” 

“What do you eat then?” 

“Take out,” Charlie shrugged. “And no cook stuff. Cereal. Peanut butter and jelly. I’m rarely there, it hardly matters.” 

Izzy ate a green bean very slowly. 

“Charlie is going to get my Sargent,” Lucius announced. Weren’t they not supposed to talk about work?  “What do you think of hanging it where the Manet was, darling?” 

“How big is it?”  

“Little smaller, portrait though.” 

“Yeah, could be good.” 

Okay, not work. Interior design. Charlie could roll with that. They talked about paintings for awhile and then Izzy asked, tentative like he was going out on a limb, what Charlie liked to read. Their tastes overlapped some, certainly they shared common themes and enough authors to get going. Izzy was dryly funny, and not shy about tearing up some of Charlie’s favorites as ‘ridiculous shit’ or allowing some of them as ‘decent enough’. Animated like this, Charlie could see exactly how Lucius had been drawn to him.  

He was beautiful, but Charlie didn’t turn on the charm. Didn’t flirt. Didn't even do the more subtle bits of seduction that he'd polished in the last year. Lucius knew all his moves, would clock them immediately and he didn’t need that particular drama. Instead he just dug into the conversation along with the potatoes and laughed when Izzy was funny which seemed to startle the man a little each time.

Lucius only offered a comment or two, leaning back in his chair once dinner was finished and watching them both with a small smile. 

“Coffee?” Izzy offered as Charlie finally set down his fork. 

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” 

When Izzy got up, so did Lucius, “Let me help with the dishes, darling.” 

“Thanks,” Izzy started stacking up the tray. When Charlie made a move to help, Lucius waved him away. 

“You’re our guest tonight,” he practically purred. 

Charlie knew all of Lucius’ moves too. Hair prickled up on the back of his neck. The pretty, but fairly dim lights made it hard to tell Lucius’ expression. A tiny flare of hope kindled in Charlie’s belly anyway. 

They took away the dishes and left Charlie on the rooftop. He got to his feet, too keyed up now to sit patiently for them to come back. The rooftop had a few discrete sitting areas. The little dining grotto,  a few chairs set up facing the west and an easel hidden among more potted plants with a mostly blank canvas on it. He stepped up to it, only able to make out thin pencil lines.

Sometimes Lucius will idly sketch at work and Charlie loved to watch the picture turn from loose curves into something real and immediate. Jim’s hand around an apple was a favorite, discarded after the meeting and left behind so that Charlie could scavenge it. He kept it at home, framed on a shelf, a private memento. 

Drifting to the furthest corner of the roof, he found another secluded spot. There was a covered hot tub and beside it, what could only be a bed though it was made of more weather proof material. With the amount of foliage tucked around it, it would provide no view, but of the sky. One could be very naked here and only fear exposure to low flying planes. 

“Do you like it?” Lucius stepped into the nook behind Charlie. 

“Yeah,” Charlie turned slowly to face him. “Should I not have wandered off?” 

“It’s fine, no secrets here,” Lucius held out a hand to him, “but I don’t think this is where it happens.” 

Charlie didn’t hesitate, putting his hand into Lucius’. He didn’t ask what he meant either.

“Come inside, Charlie,” Lucius drew him back into the fairy lit center of the roof. “Let me give you the tour.” 

Charlie went with him. Charlie would always go with him. 

The second floor was homier than the first. The sitting room with its comfortable couches looked far more lived in, even if it was painfully tidy. There was an office, black and chrome which put it at odds with every other room, but somehow welcoming too. Charlie didn’t go in, Lucius shutting the door as they went by it. Instead, he made a quiet promise to himself that he’d go in another time and ferret out what was appealing about the simple space. 

“And the main bedroom.” Lucius stopped outside the door. He was still holding Charlie’s hand. “You know if you go in...well. Consider it a bonus. For all your hard work.” 

“And if I don’t?” He asked though the conclusion was forgone. 

“Then you go home,” Lucius shrugged. “And we go on as we have been.” 

“Are you coming too?” 

“Oh yes,” he drew Charlie’s hand up to his lips, pressed a single kiss into his palm. “But I’ll just be watching tonight. I like to see the lay of the land before I go exploring on occasion.” 

“Why now? Why at all?” He had to ask. He braced himself for Lucius’ dismissal. 

Instead there was a single gentle nip to the meat of his thumb that shot electric want through him. 

“I’ll be away for a month for our next job. I’m taking Jim with me. Izzy...he gets in his head,” Lucius said and it wasn’t a put on or a mood or slick line. It was just the way Lucius talked to Jim. Frank and sometimes, genuinely warm. Charlie had never had it directed at him before and it was somehow even hotter than being seduced. “If we do this, he’ll know you’re safe to play with. To occupy himself. He'll probably feed you as much as fuck you. So. Will you be safe for him?” 

“Always,” he promised. 

“If you fuck up...” 

“Then I deserve what I get,” Charlie finished for him. “I won’t.” 

Lucius’ charming fake smile returned. “Then shall we?” 

The door opened and Charlie stepped into another chapter of his life.