#introduction to angular

[customsoftwarephilippines]

Easy "Hello World" Introduction to Angular Framework

Creating a “Hello World” application in Angular is a great way to get started with this popular JavaScript framework. Here’s a step-by-step tutorial to help you build your first Angular app: Prerequisites:Before you begin, make sure you have Node.js and npm (Node Package Manager) installed on your system. You can download and install them from the official website: https://nodejs.org/ Step 1:…

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 3)

Summary: the batfam have a meeting, Constantine got a little too lost in the sauce when crafting Danny's sob story, and we find out what Dracula's been up to all these years. Oh and the DC version of Vlad is fully dead? More at 9

Relationships: the batfam

on god I spent too much time thinking about danny's vampsona. he's got two outfits so far. no I didn't make a concept board. no I didn't make a picrew. I don't know what you're talking about

(sorry if this is all horribly ooc I struggled a bit with making this intelligible)

Red Hood doesn't usually leave Crime Alley. That's a known fact. But Batman doesn't usually call a meeting that includes Red Hood. The old man learned years ago not to involve him unless it's important with a capitol I.

Pulling into the Batcave, Jason slows to a stop on his motorcycle. He follows the voices of his family to the Batcomputer. Everyone is in full gear, but not everyone is fully present.

Dickhead was ransacking the medical room for...blood bags? Barbie and Replacement carved out a corner to the right of the main computer. They'd set up a foldable table for their personal laptops, sitting side by side as they quietly schemed together. Damian was working hard on some sort of artwork with a similar table to the left. He stuck his tongue out in concentration. Adorable.

Bruce was pulling up a very old case file in the central system. It looked to be a string of serial disappearances.

Jason wasn't the last to arrive for once. The elevator to the manor dings behind him. Alfred and the rest of the brood step out into the cave, carrying weapons and gadgets by the armful. Old looking Batarangs, glorified flashlights, cases upon cases of the anti-toxin epipens filled with unfamiliar blue formula. And wooden stakes.

Like a good grandson he steps up to help lighten Alfred's load, but he only gets two steps in before the old butler gives him a very disapproving eyebrow raise. Jason retreats with his hands up. He turns back to Bruce.

"This better be a bloodsucker apocalypse or you won't see me til Christmas."

Bruce pulls up a detailed list of the weapons and their uses on screen. Everyone stops what their doing and takes a picture with their phones. Garlic Batarangs, flashlights with artificial sunlight, a cure for vampirism. Wooden stakes need no introduction or explanation, except for why his dad - who is very against killing to put it fucking gently - would be giving them a vamp equivalent of a gun.

"Potentially," Bruce says. "We need to draw up new contingencies. But we also need to debrief so we have all the facts to do so."

Surprisingly, both Duke AND Tim groan. Jason understands Duke. The teen does not have the patience - ahem, attention - to learn all the contingencies at once. Which Bruce recently subjected him to from what he's gleaned from the sibling group chat.

But Tim? Making and learning ridiculous lists is the guy's bread and butter, the freak. So why -

"C'mon Bruce. What we know so far about the guy makes it seem he might be genuine. We do not have to plan a murder yet. Murder is messy - and wrong, definitely wrong." Tim tacks the last part on way too quickly for anyone here to believe that's what he actually feels. Hah. Another one straying off the path of the No Kill Rule. He can't wait to hear the details when one of their siblings interrogates him about it later.

Bruce exhales through his nose. He puts the previous topic away in favor of pulling up a picture of a middle-aged man with glacial blue eyes. His face is long and angular, and he wears old style European clothes that screams 'I'm an old rich vampire, come stake me'. Jason snorts - something about his face is so punchable.

"Dr. Alucard seemed genuine at first, too." He pulls up a picture of the same man, but this time with sunken in cheek bones. His salt and pepper hair is fully bleached, and his eyes glow unnervingly. It's a candid of him mid-fight in the Batcave, a furious snarl on his lips, baring some wicked fangs at a young Batman. "Or should I say, Dracula." He's answered with a round of gasps.

Jason's starting to see how every single one of them ended up as (melo)dramatic little shits.

He puts the pictures away. "Around the time when I was first starting out, the Penguin accidentally freed him from where he was sealed in Gotham's cemetery." Bruce begins. Jason wonders with a tight chest just what was wrong with that place. Why do the dead keep coming back to life there?

If he had a nickel...

Bruce pulls up the headlines of the 'Lost Ones' case. Jason opens his mouth to comment, but Dick beats him to it. "They seriously thought it was Batman? C'mon! How incompetent is the GCPD?"

Jason scoffs. "Says the fucking cop."

"Ex-cop, thank you. And I worked in Bludhaven before I figured out they were just as corrupted and rooting that out from the inside was a terrible plan."

"Anyone coulda told you that," Duke snarks. Jason backs him up. "Your problem is you always want to give people the benefit of the doubt when you shouldn't."

"Boys." Bruce interrupts. They all stop at the tone he uses. Alfred clears his throat, and answers Dick's rhetorical question from earlier. "That was unfortunately a common occurrence when Master B was a young bat. It would do you all well to be mindful of keeping your reputations positive amidst suspicion."

Jason doesn't laugh out of respect for Alfred - he was so not talking about him. He needs to do the opposite of spit rainbows out his ass to be effective.

"Oh my God is that why Bruce keeps gatekeeping everyone he meets? He's hazing them like a vigilante initiation ritual?" Steph whispers to Cass. He hears her softly laugh in response as she nods.

"I agree with Grayson. The GCPD are fools to think that if Father were a serial killer or trafficker that they'd ever even know. He is better than that." The demon brat brags.

Bruce huffs fondly. "It's a good thing I'm not." He gestures to the weapons. "We fought. He'd started turning people left and right, making them mind controlled vampire pawns. The Joker got turned-"

Jason's vision floods green. "And you didn't fucking stake him? Even more fucking dangerous -"

"-and I managed to capture him at a blood bank before he could do more than destruction of private property." Bruce raises his voice over him. Jason clenches and unclenches his fists. He itches to shoot something, to break something, to get relief to this God forsaken green-flavored, rage-filled pressure starting to boil over in his chest at the reminder of his murderer.

Blessedly everyone shuts the fuck up as he tries to not blow his top. Bruce should've staked him. He had the perfect excuse all lined up, and the opportunity, and goddamit Barbara wouldn't be in a wheelchair and Duke's parents would be fine and Jason wouldn't have come back evil -

Bruce isn't and wasn't evil, he reminds himself. Not like Jason is. And it's not helpful to blame him for his nature right now when they need to fucking debrief. Woulda-coulda-shoulda's are for chumps.

When he blinks back the green, shoved it down to where it's there but managed, his family haven't moved an inch from where they had been. It's a small but meaningful relief to see that they hadn't taken defensive positions like they would've in the past. They just untensed as Jason's arms stopped trembling from supernatural rage.

No one calls attention to his near-episode further, and he's grateful. "I took him back to the cave. With his blood samples I managed to create a cure for the thralls. They all went back to their everyday lives without any memories of what happened. Joker is no exception."

Which is code for, 'I found a reason to bypass normal ethics and experiment on the Joker for the greater good and yes I still remember which cell he was in. It was the highlight of that week.' It makes him feel marginally better and worse in equal measure. Where the fuck was that energy when he kicked the bucket? (Superman, was where. They already had this conversation)

"At that time Wayne Enterprises had been taking it's first steps into solar energy. When Dracula invaded the cave, we were able to survive due to the stored sunlight that the proto-type gathered."

"Wait. No, wait. Hold on. The urn on the fireplace? Please tell me that's a grandma we don't talk about." Duke pleads. "Please. It's not Kentucky Fried Vampire. Please."

When Bruce doesn't say anything for way too long, Steph nearly chokes on trying to hold back her laughter. Alfred clears his throat. "Batman was rather hurt after the altercation. And Dr. Alucard was rather rude in how he barged in - uninvited! I found it suitable that if he insisted on destroying the decorations, that he should contribute."

Steph full out cannot stop once it begins. Everyone else stares dumbfounded either at Bruce or Alfred. Dick looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. Duke is regretting his life decisions, probably the ones about joining this family. Damian is not comprehending the issue with any of this, expecting a follow up anytime soon. Cass shakes her head, but Jason hears a quiet "grandma dracula is disappointed".

He doesn't know how to feel other than dear Lord please he cannot laugh. No matter how absurd this is. He sounds ridiculous in his helmet.

"...leaving the ashes unattended would spell disaster in the wrong hands," Bruce clarifies once the giggles fall away, "Dracula kidnapped Vicky Vale to use her soul in resurrecting his wife from her ashes. Letting Alfred hide it in plain sight didn't sound like a bad enough idea to try to stop him."

"Precisely, Master Bruce." The butler approves.

"Damn. That's just cold." Dick remarks. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free arm. "I would ask what the hell he deserved that for but he's literally an ancient evil vampire, so." His older brother jostles the blood bags he's cradling. "Hopefully this guy's an unrelated friendly."

Duke whines in the back of his throat. Jason squeezes his shoulder in sympathy.

"Tonight?" Cass redirects.

"Tonight I came across the unknown on our usual route. I had Robin stay back when I spotted him a distance away. He'd been running across rooftops, watching the people below. I followed for half a block before he walked down the side of a building and into an alley right on the border of Park Row."

"Crime Alley." Jason corrects.

"Crime Alley," Bruce amends. "Once there, he paused for a moment, searching the crowds for something. He took out a clear canister filled with a dark red liquid. It had the same viscosity as blood."

"Where's he getting the blood from? There hasn't been anymore blood bank robberies, attempted or otherwise. And no one's turned up with weird wounds, dead or alive." Steph pipes up. Babs lifts her hand up as she adds her two cents. "Unlessss, mystery teeth here is using the same tactic Drac did. If he's just arriving then we shouldn't be noticing anything just yet."

Bruce holds up a gloved finger in a 'I wasn't done' gesture. "When I approached, the unknown claimed that the canister was a synthesizer when asked. I couldn't detect any lie in his body language or voice. He then introduced himself as 'Dante Nightingale', but asked to be called Danny, which either means he's a modern vampire or an old one who is familiar with the times. I then confronted him about stalking humans from an alleyway. He revealed intel that will be worrying if confirmed."

Jason hums. "Sounds like this guy might not be the supernatural flavor of creep, at least," he mutters under his breath.

Tim raises his hand next. "From what B told me earlier, Danny said that there was some weird ghostly-doppelganger-vampire activity that our suspect hasn't seen before. The behavior, not the creatures." Tim pushes up his blue light glasses as he takes a breath. "Anyways. The info on Shades checks out. The JLD records told me all about them. Show of hands if anyone's seen Appalachia Tik Tok?"

Oh Jason doesn't like where this is going. Alfred (surprisingly), Cass, Dick, Babs, Steph, and Duke all put their hands up too.

Tim goes on. "The mimics? Shades are like that, but with a life force sucking aspect. They're basically ghosts who never were alive and didn't form right, so they eat human emotions until they become fully sentient ghosts called Specters. In a really creepy 'I'm going to replace you' way. So. Bad stuff."

Jason shivers when Bruce nods. "Nightingale claims that they're walking the streets in unusual numbers. That he had just arrived and in Gotham and that he was exploring tonight when he noticed something off."

"Ohhhhkay! Just what we needed, yeah? Invisible monsters in Gotham!" Dick says. "Quick, scratch that off the bingo."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Do we have a description? Power set, background check? I need everything I can to narrow down which type of vamp in the database." He's tapping away at his laptop again, not looking up as he types.

Bruce motions for Damian to come closer. The demon brat hands off the artwork he'd been quietly working on as they talked. Bruce observes it, before nodding at where Damian stands at attention like a good little soldier. Damian preens.

Jason blinks away the green.

Their dad scans the sheet with a device, and the image pops up on the main computer. The man in the portrait has pale skin - obviously. Fangs - no duh. Although notably shaped differently from Drac's. Claws a good few inches long and white in color. Jason spies an interesting ring. It's crown shaped and encased in fake(?) ice. Freckles on his rounder face, framed by wispy-looking stark white hair. Skeleton earrings, black turtleneck, a white blouse with a ridiculously low vee neck tucked into green pants. A delicate chain in the shape of a spiderweb wraps around his covered throat in a pleasing contrast.

The man's eyes are a hauntingly familiar shade of green. He sees it often.

The pupils glow a lighter hue of lazarus, shaped like four-pointed stars. Jason would say the guy looks more like a fae took a dip in the Pits than bloodsucker. But what does he know? Guy didn't deny the blood drinking accusations for fuck's sake.

Babs jumps in again. "We had B give Robin a description because apparently his presence is a hell of an EMP. Video feed and coms went down as soon as Batman joined him in the alley. So a few feet away." She clicks a few things on her own screen, and then starts reading down some sort of list she typed up for herself.

"Dante Nightingale, aged nineteen. A farm boy from Illinois. Parents Robert and Jane Nightingale. No other relatives. Totally normal until he was struck by lightning at thirteen and his metagene activated, giving him minor power over ice and sensitivity to heat." She taps something on her computer and a young Danny Nightingale jumps next to Damian's portrait. The black haired boy has a big goofy grin on his even rounder face, splattered with freckles. In this picture, it's obvious that although he's trying to look happy for picture day, the kid had serious bags under his eyes, and a look in those clear blues that just screamed that Danny had seen some awful things. "Then at fourteen, the whole family got into a car crash. Robert and Jane died on scene, while Dante lasted three days in the hospital before going missing entirely."

Babs pushes up her glasses and takes a deep steadying breath. "The nurses on duty reported a change in hair and eye color, as well as strange dental elongation in the canines. Paired with uncontrollable ice stronger than recorded earlier, this led them to believe that Danny's metagene strained under the new trauma and started causing physical mutations alongside the modifications to his original ability. But I think we all know what was actually happening to him."

"...What else do we know about the kid?" Dick asks. Anyone who didn't know him would say that Dick was relaxed, but Jason and anyone else who knew him could clearly see that Danny's story hit a little too close to home. Dead parents in an 'accident' where the kid was there to see. Yeah.

Heh. This looks like a classic meta trafficking case, the more he follows that thought. Not the casual kind most parents have to fear - pick a kid off the street just 'cause they were there, someone will pay for 'em no matter if they're pretty or not.

No. This was targeted. Planned out weeks, months, years in advance. Someone wanted this kid for something specific - enough to murder his parents for and make it look like an accident. Likely, it was to have an ice meta under mind control, considering what Bruce said about Dracula and his thralls. If he's right, Jason might have to go all Buffy Summers and deal with them.

Jason reaches out to catch Duke by the shoulder again and this time he doesn't let go. His newest brother looks at him, big brown eyes wide and fearful. It could've been him, easy. They both think it. They both know it. Fuck, Danny was just a few years younger than he is now.

Jason squeezes. He whispers low to him. "I'd shoot them in the balls for you. Won't let 'em take you. End bloodlines if I have to, to get you back." Duke gulps, and nods. The teen squeezes his eyes shut and Jason pretends he doesn't see him quickly wipe his eyes.

"...Recently, he got legally un-declared dead, and opened a bank account. Looks like one very dead Vlad Masters left his fortune to him sometime earlier. Man owned a goddamn castle. They found a secret lab in his basement with strange equipment when they went looking for evidence. And. Oh. Oh that's not good."

"What is it?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer already.

"Police found a mystery green liquid they couldn't identify but put the composition on file. I just ran it through our systems. 70% match to lazarus water. What's more, there were blood packs close by that were heavily contaminated with the same substance." She looks like she was ready to throw up at the dots they were all connecting.

He might as well. "Alright. Meta kid's trafficked at fourteen and turned into a vampire. Spends the next five years caught by mad scientist vampires who poked and prodded at him like a rat. Then, he murders the assholes, runs off with their money, and moves to Gotham. Fuck's sake." Jason sums up.

Bruce makes a 'I'm not disagreeing with you but I have an opinion' grunt. "That's one possibility. The most likely one from what we know right now."

"But?" Someone prompts.

"But. He mentioned a term called 'Fraid'. He said that someone told him that myself and 'my Fraid' were good people. Nightingale claimed it was a cultural term for found family," Bruce explained. The man's mouth twitches into a frown. "If he was being held hostage all that time, would they have bothered to teach him that? And if they did, experimentation wouldn't be all they had wanted from him. No one would bother to teach someone disposable."

Tim stopped typing for a second, eyes widening and then blanking quick as a whip. Swallowed. Went back in with a vigor.

"So. Either. He got away from his kidnappers, and there's some found family out there somewhere. Or he never got away from them, but he was not expendable. His kidnappers may have forced him into their family." Steph reasoned out.

"Man. This is fucked up." Duke mutters. "You're telling me, kid." Jason whispers back.

Damian bristles. "Father. We have to interrogate him. Nightingale may have connections to the League of Assassins, or a similar organization run by vampires. The lazarus water is damning. We must make sure." The demon brat demands. Which. Fair. More unknown lazarus pits are just asking for evil to pull up with some friends.

Bruce makes an 'I agree with you but I'm thinking' grunt. But before he can respond, Tim cuts in. "So Fraid is definitely what he says it means. But according to the records, only the dead or undead use it. Obviously I did a little digging. Vampires don't count as either of those, even though some sleep in coffins and stuff. No, most vampires count as something called 'death touched'. Meaning they're still alive, albeit really in tune with the other side." Tim shifts, chugging a quick bit of cold coffee. "Only one match came up when I searched for undead vampire. The thing is, it exists, but the file is on the JLD's red tape section."

Which is code for 'don't fucking touch this dimwits if you value your life, call us for fucks sake'. Pleasant.

"Yes Father. If Drake is not once again wildly incorrect and foolish, Nightingale is undead. And it's obvious how." Damian presses.

"I will make the call. Red Robin, keep looking. I'll type up the rest of the abilities and send them to you all. Everyone working with me officially, no one goes on patrol alone. We work in pairs until further notice. Everyone bring with them the anti-vampire precautions we have until we have better options." Batman commands to the group. He zeroes in on Jason, and Jason gears up to rip Bruce a new one for treating him like he's still one his birds.

But that's not what happens. "And Red Hood. Just...be careful."

Instead of acknowledging the icky ooey gooey feelings, Jason snorts derisively. "I'll tell my guys and girls to keep a lookout. If anyone goes missing I'd bet ya a thousand it'll be one of mine. Everyone knows no one's gonna call the cops." He turns around and stuffs his pockets with the gadgets, and Dick threw him a blood bag. "Later assholes."

Jason revs his bike. Tonight, he'll make his rounds, doing what said he would. And hey. Probably hit up that rage room in Bristol he goes to in civvies. Crime's been real quiet recently, and he knows it's likely purposeful.

That pisses him off that they think they can hide from him forever in his own territory.

Tonight's been bad, too. He'd rather go beat up some stupid garbage than risk a pit rage on some numb nut that at most only needs a couple slices to catch his drift. Heh. He's gonna see if they'd let him tape a pic of Dracula to a TV so he can cave his face in post-mortem.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life Lessons || CL16

Summary: After an embarrassing secret is shared Charles accepts some help to learn a few things about female pleasure.

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fem rec oral, sex ed

WC: 2.9k

Charles - The Lazy Lover - Leclerc. That was what the wag gossip pages all shared in their stories and Charles’ cheeks grew red with embarrassment as he read the latest caption. The supposed ‘inside source’ had recounted the disappointment his past girlfriends had found in Charles’ bedroom activities. They cited him as ‘vanilla’ and ‘a missionary man’, but none of those hurt more than the sentence that described his oral capabilities as ‘nonexistent’.

He didn’t think he was bad in bed, and he wouldn’t have called himself selfish, but he couldn’t help asking some of his exes for the truth. Each of them denied sharing the information to the gossip pages, but they all replied with the same consensus.

Charles chased his own pleasure and they didn’t feel comfortable telling him what they needed to reach their own high too. He felt guilty, wondering how many of the relationships would have ended differently or not ended at all if he had paid more attention - to their sex life as well as the rest. He certainly hadn’t been the most attentive in any aspect of his last relationship with Alexandra.

“Don’t laugh,” Pierre started the conversation seriously, something that immediately caused concern for Charles. “I know someone who knows someone that can help you. She’s a private tutor, of sorts.”

“Do you know how fucked I would be if news broke I went to a hooker?”

“She’s not a hooker,” Pierre assured him as he wrote an address down on a napkin and slid it across the table. “It's already taken care of, 8pm tomorrow.”

Charles looked at the address and sighed. “This is in Paris.”

“Of course, City of Love, my friend.” Pierre finished his coffee and rose from the table, pushing a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Charles mumbled, still uncertain about the whole idea of having a stranger teach him how to be a better lover. “I guess.”

Later that afternoon, Charles received an email with a rather detailed questionnaire about his experiences in the bedroom as well as a small dining and drinks menu to select from. He figured he couldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was and took his time to honestly answer the questions.

—

Charles debated turning around at least three times as he climbed the stairs in a modern apartment building. He had caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from the stairwell window and paused as the lights danced along the metal, wondering if he was in the right place. He was still in half a mind that Pierre had sent him to a brothel, but this didn’t fit the stereotype he had in his head of a Parisian whorehouse. He definitely imagined more Moulin Rouge lighting and seedy alleys.

He reached the 3rd floor and found only one door on the landing, his finger barely able to aim for the doorbell with its shaking. He didn’t know what to expect when the handle started to turn, but it certainly wasn’t a bright welcoming smile and the delicious smell of fresh baking.

“Hi, you must be Charles,” you greeted your newest client. “Come in, please.”

You could tell he was nervous as he hesitantly stepped inside and his eyes scanned your home, taking in the artwork on the walls and the candlelit table with two place settings. You tried to ease his mind with a quick introduction about who you were while you poured him a glass of wine.

“Help yourself,” you said as you took a seat and waved a hand to the fresh bread and cheeses he had selected from the menu. He took a breath and sat down opposite you, the candlelight catching the sharp jawline and angular features of his handsome face. “So, Charles, what is your goal? What do you want to get out of this?”

“I, uh, to be able to please a woman?”

“You don’t sound sure,” you teased as you watched him spread an olive tapenade over the fresh toasted bread.

“No, no, I am,” he said a little more forcefully before sighing. “I didn’t realise I was…bad…in bed, until recently.”

“Well, rest assured, we will change that. But first, tell me a bit more about yourself, there’s only so much I can learn from the questionnaire.”

—

Charles began to relax the more he shared. He knew he was protected by the NDA you had sent with the rest of the paperwork and the anonymity that came with baring his ugly truths to a stranger helped to ease the discomfort of what he was doing. He still wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing but your encouraging smile kept his words flowing, like he was finally doing something right.

He hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed until the grandfather clock in the entrance chimed the hour and he saw he had eaten his fill of the meal he chose.

His overnight bag still waited on the hall table, the list of what to bring had been ticked off and double checked. His calendar had been cleared for the weekend and his phone turned off. Everything he needed to remember could be jotted down in the small journal that sat beside his used cutlery.

“So, um, what happens next?” he asked as his eyes darted to the bedroom door.

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, Charles. Come,” you rose from the table and grabbed his bag, taking it to your bedroom as he trailed behind. His feet rushed before slowing down as he caught his own eagerness and frowned to himself. It was common. There was a blurred line between of uncertainty on whether they were here to get laid or here to learn.

You placed his bag beside the large desk that covered one wall of your room and pointed to the computer chair where he took a seat. “Every woman is different and there isn’t a universal button to make us come. But, by understanding the physiological functions and anatomy, I will teach you the tools to find the right spots to make her fall apart.”

“A-anatomy?” he stammered.

You took a step back and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor and bare your nakedness. His eyes widened and he swallowed deeply as he drank in your body. A soft breath fell from his parted lips when you climbed onto the desk and spread your legs either side of him. “I could show you a textbook, but I find this much more effective.”

His throat bobbed as he tried to keep eye contact and the act brought a little laugh from your chest, forcing him to look at your breasts bouncing with it. “You can look, in fact that is exactly what this first lesson is about. Look, Charles.”

His eyes closed but when they opened he was staring at your core, his chest inflating with his deep breath. “Do I just start?” he asked hesitantly, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Just look for now,” you said with a smile as you reached down your body. “Everyone has erogenous zones, places that feel good when stimulated, and these can be found all over your body, men and women. Thumbs, wrists, behind the knees, inner thighs, neck. Simply kissing and sucking these spots can feel just as good as foreplay.”

“Really?” he eyes widened in surprise and his eyes scanned all the places you had mentioned.

“Really, and I want you to find mine.” You bared your throat and relaxed back on your elbows. “You’ll watch for the physical reactions to confirm it. Deep breathing, moans, eyes closing, jaw slack, forehead pinched - they are some of the outward signs of pleasure.”

“Are you okay with this?” he asked as he found your bent knee the closest point to his lips and his tentative touch warmed your skin.

“I am, and I am pleased that you asked for consent.”

He smiled proudly at the praise before he lifted your leg and kissed the back of your knee, his eyes watching your face as he dragged his tongue along the tendon and crease. Your head fell back and he grinned. “There.”

“One,” you confirmed with a nod before he moved up to your thigh, trying the same thing with a kiss and a lap of his tongue. A giggle bubbled up and you squirmed away. “That’s just ticklish.”

“So not that one?” he double checked, and you shook your head. “Okay…”

The man was thorough and he made sure to find which ones were good for you and which ones weren’t. He paid attention to the signs and more than once he paused to jot down a note in the journal you had provided.

“You’re a good student,” you praised.

“I have a good teacher.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Would you like to explore lesson two tonight or rest? We have all weekend.”

His eyes gave away his answer before his lips did and you climbed off the desk. “Let’s start with the basics then. The first thing you want to do is make yourself comfortable. Craning your neck from where you lie between her legs isn’t comfortable and won’t encourage you to stay there if things take a little longer,” you explained as you moved into the bed and tossed him a pillow. “So, pop one of these under the small of her back.”

He looked at the pillow and shuffled forward. “Now?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, lifting your hips up so he could lay it in place. “Two things happen here, one, it lifts her hips higher for better access which your neck will be thankful for, and two, it tilts her pelvis down and makes it much easier to work her g spot.”

“I thought that was a myth.”

“Why don’t you find out?” you dared. “Did you clip your nails before you came?”

He looked at the short nails and wiggled his fingers with a nod. He had followed every instruction in the email.

“Good, the last thing you want is to accidentally cut a partner with a sharp nail. Now the technique most people find effective is palm up, one or two fingers, gently work your way inside - it’s all about timing, take it slow and build to begin. Once your fingers are inside, curl your fingers up and you’ll feel the tissue is softer, almost spongy. Massaging pressure over that stimulated the g-spot, and if you are good at multitasking you can then add pressure from the outside too. Just place a hand low on her abdomen, slightly above the pelvic bone - don’t press too hard though as it will push on her bladder. First though, you’d probably want to start with warming her up with some cunilingus, eating pussy.”

Charles hopped off the bed and grabbed the journal, quickly jotting down the instructions with quiet eagerness.

“You can practice if you feel comfortable,” you invited when he put the pen and page down.

“Uh, yeah, please,” he stammered as he knelt on the bed and shuffled closer.

You reached into the bedside drawer and grabbed a bottle of lube. “I don’t need this,” you said and he smirked as he saw the other outward sign you had explained - arousal - it already lubricated your slit with the thought of what Charles was going to do to you. “But you should always keep a bottle at home. All women are different, some are drier than others no matter how aroused they get. Or, it’s handy for other areas of play like anal, or even a sensual massage.”

You put the bottle back and settled among the pillows. “Use me, explore, feel the different textures and I’ll guide you if you need it. Remember to look and listen to the signs of pleasure.”

Charles nodded and settled between your legs, getting up close and personal with your pussy. His indecision held him frozen as he wondered where to begin so you offered some guidance. “Finding the clit is a good starting point and then exploring around it to find the sensitive spots. Lick, suck, kiss, try it all.”

Encouraged, he laid a tentative kiss on your slit, his eyes rolled up to watch for your reactions. Seeing nothing, he took aim and tried again, his lip brushing over your clit and a soft sigh reached his ears. More confident, his tongue flicked out and caught your clit making you jolt.

“Was that good or bad?” he asked with a frown.

“Both, that spot is very sensitive - think of the slit at the tip of your cock. When it’s primed and ready that feels amazing but straight off the bat it is a little shocking to the system. You’re in the right area though, so keep exploring.”

This time he circled his tongue around and your moan was louder. You could practically feel his smile on your skin.

“That feels good,” you hummed as warmth spread through your body and he reached up on his own initiative, massaging your breasts. “Oh, you’re a natural now.”

Inspired, he explored further, his tongue lashing along your slit, dipping into your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a gasp so he delved deeper, fucking you with his tongue as a familiar tightening grew in your core.

“Now would be the perfect time to try to find the g-spot,” you murmured as you fought the urge to succumb to the pleasure, but the lesson wasn’t over.

His rhythm faltered with a fresh wave of nervousness and he pulled back with shiny swollen lips to drag his fingertips through the mess he had made. The slick digits started gently, dipping inside your cunt a little deeper each time until it met the resistance of his palm.

“Feel around for the different textures and then curl your fingers a little.”

He did as instructed and his lips parted in surprise as he felt the spot. “Oh, wow, I’ve never noticed that…”

Your laugh made your pussy clench and he chuckled as your walls tightened around his fingers. “I like that feeling,” he commented with a flirty smirk.

“I thought you would,” you said with a wink. “I also do lessons on male stimulation if you’re ever interested.”

“Like…gay?” he asked quietly, a frown starting to form on his brows yet it wasn’t a look of distaste.

You were intimately aware that he still had two fingers curled in your cunt but it was good that he felt comfortable enough to hold a conversation at the same time. “It’s about learning the male anatomy, like what we did here. Whether that knowledge is used for self pleasure or with a partner, male or female, that is up to them.”

He contemplated the idea for a moment before he remembered what he was doing and began to work his wrist, curling his fingers in sync so they dragged over that delicious spot. He watched your sordid reaction with fascination before he grew bolder, his tongue finding your puffy clit.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you moaned loudly as your pussy tightened in anticipation. He had read your body perfectly and flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit but this time you were primed and ready. Your orgasm began with a tingle through your hair, leading to a fine tremor that danced down your spine, it raced down your legs and curled your toes. “Oh, Charles!”

He moaned against your clit as his wrist snapped forwards and back, the wet sounds of your body filling the room as his fingers fucked you through the explosion. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around the digits and stars spotted your vision. Your head fell back into the pillows with a cry and liquid gushed over his fingers with the release.

Disoriented and overstimulated, you reached between your legs and placed your hand over his. “Please, too much,” you whispered with a hoarse voice and rough aftershocks snapping at your thighs. “That was so fucking good, Charles. I, I just need a minute.”

You threw an arm over your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you waited for your heart rate to calm again. A small laugh bounced from your chest as you came down from the high and you finally had the strength to prop yourself back up on your elbows.

“That was perfect, Charles, you are a very quick learner.”

He was busy staring at his hand, your release coating his palm and running down his wrist. “So that’s what an orgasm feels like?” His brows pinched as he realised he had never felt that before.

“It’s what this one felt like. They can be different based on what areas are stimulated, the intensity, intimacy, lots of factors.” You could see he was still disappointed in himself for his previous ignorance and you sat up slowly, crossing your legs as you faced him. “Just because a woman doesn’t orgasm it doesn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the experience. Does a blow job feel good before you cum?”

He shrugged, still a little unconvinced. “Yeah.”

“See, forgive yourself and move on, now you know what to do for next time.” You carefully climbed off the bed on unsteady legs and offered your hand. “Last lesson of the night, aftercare.”

He stood up and froze, looking down at his pants. “Sorry, I kind of, uh, um…”

“Why are you sorry?” you laughed, drawing his attention away from the damp patch on his trousers. “You are meant to enjoy pleasuring your partner. Never apologise for that, Charles.”

[swampjawn]

Dungeon Meshi Episode 10 featured some great animation and background art

But the most impressive cut to me came right at the end of the episode, fittingly, with the introduction of the red dragon.

Episode director and storyboard artist Tomoyuki Munehiro holds off on showing it for a few seconds, revealing only small parts through cautious glimpses through windows and alleyways and by showing it from a human perspective, gives context to the scale of this thing before finally unveiling it in all its glory.

Where the dragon in episode 1 was more angular and stylized, it now seems to match Ryoko Kui's original design more closely.

But while there is more line detail now, light and shadow are still doing a lot of work to define the shapes of this thing, like the details at the edges of the shadows that hint at the texture of the dragon's scales.

And while there's a time and place for fast action and snappy timing,

Slow movement can be just as impressive, important, and even more difficult to animate. This cut, animated on 2's, shows a mastery of form in the way these shapes rotate slowly while remaining completely consistent.

If you're interested in this type of analysis, I broke down the whole episode in this video here!

[offkilterkeys]

You draw tavros ugly and you need to stop. Or be better. Because your fucking bad at it.

Oh I’ve actually been working on that!!!!

Okay so basically like half a year ago I realized I didn’t like my art style and decided to do some Homestuck art studies as a means of getting better at like anatomy and stuff, and that’s where the Tavros on the left appeared from.

After I’d gotten the hang of it I started to reintegrate some of my old stylistic choices, as seen by the Tavros on the right. But honestly I felt meh about both of them cause neither of them line up with my previous portrayals/personal view of the character.

(Old art, circa about a year or so ago^ Shows I used to draw Tavros with less of a lanky body and more fat.)

So I finally decided to buckle down and get the character right and this was the result!

Now I’ll be the first to admit that it’s probably not perfect, but I’ve finally gotten to a point where I like how I draw Tavros again!!!!

The og Homestuck style has like, a lot of variation, and hero mode is honestly wayyyy more vast of a “style” than people give it credit for. Personally, I like to refer to each Homestuck style more by act/place it appears in comic rather than just blanked “hero mode” or “sprite mode,” because I like to integrate THOSE specific influences into my art.

With Tavros specifically I’d like to say the rounder shapes call back to the mixed sprite/hero mode that we see in Tavros’ introduction, as opposed to perhaps Sollux’s introduction panels, where his limbs are rigid and angular, and definitely more “hero mode,” which causes one to view the character as lankier/skinnier.

Either way, I’m still working hard at getting good at striking poses and not falling into “same body type syndrome,” as is often far too easy to fall into. In the past I found it difficult to draw skinny/lanky characters because I wasn’t super used to it, and as of recently I’ve been doing them wayyyy more but I still have an easier time drawing thicker/fatter limbs and stuff. If you’ve got any criticisms or the like, I’m happy to hear them!!!! Always looking to get better eventually :p

[study-diaries]

Introduction To HTML

[Note: You need a text editor to do this. You can use Notepad or Text Edit. But it's so much better to download VS Code / Visual Studio Code. Save it with an extension of .html]

HTML stands for Hyper Text Markup Language

It is used to create webpages/websites.

It has a bunch of tags within angular brackets <....>

There are opening and closing tags for every element.

Opening tags look like this <......>

Closing tags look like this

The HTML code is within HTML tags. ( // code)

Here's the basic HTML code:

<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <head> <title> My First Webpage </title> </head> <body> <h1> Hello World </h1> <p> Sometimes even I have no idea <br> what in the world I am doing </p> </body> </html>

Line By Line Explanation :

<!DOCTYPE html> : Tells the browser it's an HTML document.

<html> </html> : All code resides inside these brackets.

<head> </head> : The tags within these don't appear on the webpage. It provides the information about the webpage.

<title> </title> : The title of webpage (It's not seen on the webpage. It will be seen on the address bar)

<body> </body> : Everything that appears on the webpage lies within these tags.

<h1> </h1> : It's basically a heading tag. It's the biggest heading.

Heading Tags are from <h1> to <h6>. H1 are the biggest. H6 are the smallest.

<p> </p> : This is the paragraph tag and everything that you want to write goes between this.

<br> : This is used for line breaks. There is no closing tag for this.

-------

Now, we'll cover some <Meta> tags.

Meta tags = Notes to the browser and search engines.

They don’t appear on the page.

They reside within the head tag

<head> <meta charset="UTF-8"> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <meta name="description" content="Website Description"> <meta name="Author" content="Your Name"> <meta name="keywords" content="Websites Keywords"> </head>

Line By Line Explanation:

<meta charset="UTF-8"> : Makes sure all letters, symbols, and emojis show correctly.

<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> : Makes your site look good on phones and tablets.

<meta name="description" content="Website Description"> : Describes your page to Google and helps people find it.

<meta name="author" content="Your Name"> : Says who created the page.

<meta name="keywords" content="Website's Keywords"> : Adds a few words to help search engines understand your topic.

_____

This is my first post in this topic. I'll be focusing on the practical side more than the actual theory, really. You will just have some short bullet points for most of these posts. The first 10 posts would be fully HTML. I'll continue with CSS later. And by 20th post, we'll build the first website. So, I hope it will be helpful :)

If I keep a coding post spree for like 2 weeks, would anyone be interested? o-o

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray

1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray

1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray

Let's celebrate the year 1963, when the Corvette Sting Ray first hit the streets and redefined American sports cars!

The 1963 Corvette, also known as the C2, introduced a completely new design that still turns heads today. With its sleek, aerodynamic shape and powerful performance, it quickly became an icon.

Here are some highlights of this classic masterpiece:

Design: The 1963 Corvette featured the now-iconic split rear window, a design element unique to this model year. Its sharp, angular lines and hidden headlamps gave it a futuristic look.

Performance: Equipped with a range of powerful engines, including the 327 V8, the '63 Corvette delivered thrilling performance. The introduction of independent rear suspension significantly improved handling.

Some say this model year is not just the best-looking Corvette ever made, but the best CAR. What do you think?

[fishcat480]

Go Timberwolves!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Plus size! cheerleader!reader

Description: You're a cheerleader and Elijah is in the stands. Your friend Jessica notices him first.

Warnings: none

____________________________________________________________

“Who is that?”

Jessica was looking over at the stands and toward a group of guys, all sitting next to each other. They looked hilariously out of place, all seemingly dressed for different events. The one with reddish hair and kiss-me lips was wearing a velvet jacket over a v-neck, three necklaces dangling over his heart. You’d seen him hanging around before, and recognized him as Rebekah’s brother Klaus. How many times had he been watching Caroline from the sidelines during a game or desperately offering to walk her to her car? Doubtful that Jessica didn’t know who that was, or that he was clearly obsessed with everyone’s favorite blonde.

Then there was the youngest of the three. He was dressed pretty normally for a high school football game in a t-shirt and jeans. He spoke animatedly to Klaus, who looked about as thrilled to listen as he would have been to get struck by lightning. His name was escaping your memory, but it was another K name, you were sure of it. Kyle! No…Kal?

All thoughts of K names were stripped from your thoughts the second your eyes landed on Jessica’s mystery man. 

His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. His features were angular, practically Grecian. He was wearing a suit, which was ridiculous because who wore a suit in Mystic Falls unless they were a realtor or attending a Lockwood party? Somehow, though, he pulled it off so perfectly that there was no question that he should be wearing it. 

Never had you been so struck by a stranger. His eyes scanned over the crowd, and across the field, before landing squarely on you.

You blushed and turned away, heart thundering in your chest.

Elena and Bonnie had followed Jessica’s gaze too, and gave each other knowing looks. You were friendly with Elena but not close. You and Bonnie had been good friends since middle school, though, so you felt no shame sidling up to her and joining her conversation.

“Info on Jessica’s mystery man?” you asked, spreading your legs as you sat next to Bonnie, beginning to stretch. She laughed and gave you a stern look. “He’s Klaus’ older brother. No mystery.”

You bent forward, stretching out your back and Bonnie followed suit. “Off limits?” you ask, trying to seem curious but not invested. 

“Yes.” she said quickly. Elena smacked Bonnie’s thigh. 

“Elijah is not off limits.” she said. “He’s actually the only one out of the three of them I’d say is pretty on…limits…”

Elijah....you tried the name out in your head. Yes, you decided, that was a good name.

You all giggled. “I mean, Klaus is just too in love with Caroline.” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near him.” 

You sat up and bent your neck to the side, eyeing the rest of the cheerleaders. “Hey, where is Caroline?”

“Tyler drama.” Bonnie said conspiratorially. She sat upright, finished with her stretching. “He’s leaving again.”

“Shit.” you said, finishing up yourself. “I don’t really know what she sees in him anyway. He’s always been kind of an asshole. And Klaus seems to really like her.”

“Well Klaus needs to earn her.” Elena said hastily, turning away slightly. You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but if Bonnie’s similarly agitated face was any indication, there was something going on that you weren’t in on. It wasn’t really any of your business anyway, you conceded, so you didn’t harp on it. Boy drama was so not your thing.

There was a fanfare suddenly, as the marching band began playing the introduction music for the Timberwolves. Rebekah stood and called you and the other cheerleaders into formation. 

Once the players began coming out, you’d go right into the classic Timberwolves fighting cheer. 

Just as the first player was making his entrance, a blonde head appeared next to you, startling you. It was as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

“Caroline!” you said, throwing a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She smiled nervously. “Did I?”

You just laughed and joined the rest of the girls in the Timberwolves fighting chant, shaking your pom-poms and kicking your legs up. 

The game didn’t start out super well for the Timberwolves, so you didn’t have a ton to do for awhile. You spoke to Caroline briefly about Tyler, but she didn’t want to say much, and she seemed genuinely upset about something. You weren’t close enough with her to give her emotional support, so you instead distracted her with a quick game of fuck, marry, kill between the three handsome Mikaelson boys. 

“Kill Kol, Marry Klaus, Fuck Elijah.” Caroline said confidently. Kol! That was his name.

She was speaking a bit loudly, like she wanted someone to hear her. Probably Jessica. 

You glanced up at the stands and noticed Klaus and Kol with their heads bent together. Elijah looked completely nonplussed. 

“What about you?” she asked. 

You glanced up at the brothers again. Elijah was looking in your direction now, almost as if he was listening to your conversation. He was probably just looking at the cheerleaders. He definitely wasn’t admiring you - you were the only girl on the squad who wore a uniform above a size large. 

Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about the idea of the three of them. Kol wasn’t really your type, so he was an easy kill. Klaus was gorgeous, to be sure, but something about Elijah was still singing through your veins after laying eyes on him that first time. 

“Kill Kol, fuck Klaus, marry Elijah.”

Caroline gave you a wicked smile. “Elijah, huh?”

You shrugged. “He’s incredibly good looking.”

“Poor Kol.” Caroline said, her lip pouting. 

“Rejection builds character.”

You glanced up again, and Elijah looked as if he might be laughing - Klaus too. Kol had his arms crossed against his chest. Weird….

Rebekah shrieked all of a sudden, breaking you out of your thoughts, as the Timberwolves finally scored, and the squad got on their feet to cheer. 

The game ended with a Timberwolves win which you were thankful for - every win meant half price burgers at the grill. You and a few other girls planned to go there after, and you grabbed your stuff from the locker room, hoping to get to your car and beat them there - you were not going to be the fat girl in a mini skirt sliding into a booth full of people. 

Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were all leaving together, huddled in conversation. 

“Half price burgers, ladies?” you asked, walking backwards in front of them. “A Timberwolves win is a win for all of us.” you joked, quoting your incredibly cringy gym coach.

The girls laughed, but shook their heads. 

“Homework.”

“Boy drama.”

“Tired.”

They’d all spoken at the same time, and you gave them all an incredulous look. “Ladies, I’m heartbroken. Next time if you’re going to break my heart, do it one at a time.”

You gave them a winning smile, and they returned it easily, thankful you hadn’t been upset.

“Next time I’m making you guys go!” you called, still walking backwards as you exited the hallway out of the locker room. You backed into the double doors leading to the parking lot and called a goodbye to them, turning around.

And slamming right into someone.

“Oh!” you cried, toppling towards the asphalt. The ground never came, though, because a pair of hands was holding you steady, and lifted you slowly upwards until you were staring Elijah Mikaelson in the face.

“My apologies.”he said, in a voice that hit that your ears and sent shivers straight to the apex of your thighs. Your jaw dropped, suddenly faced with his nearness. 

“Not at all!” you cried. “I wasn’t looking.” 

Not too far away stood Kol and Klaus. The former was watching you and Elijah, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Klaus, of course, had become distracted the moment Caroline had appeared. He was stalking towards her, and to your surprise, Caroline looked like she might be walking towards him too. Normally she brushed him off completely. 

You focused your attention back on Elijah. 

“Excellent job tonight.” he said, his eyes locked on yours. You felt flushed from the unbroken eye contact, but didn’t dare break it. 

“Thanks. It makes our job a bit easier when the team actually manages to score.”

He laughed, full and bright, and it made your heart soar to hear it. 

“I’m Y/N.” you said, introducing yourself. 

“Elijah. Mikaelson.”

“Nice to meet you Elijah.” 

You offered your hand and he took it firmly in yours, but rather than shake it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Ok, you were officially a puddle on the ground and people were going to have to step in you to get to their cars.

“Hi!” came a bubbly voice, and you glanced over seeing Jessica. Of course she was going to try and stake her claim. 

“I’m Jessica.” she said, sidling up next to you. “I saw you in the stands earlier. You’re a Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

Elijah nodded politely. “My reputation precedes me.”

Jessica smiled her flirty smile and pushed her chest out. “Rebekah and I are good friends. I make a point to know my friends’ families. It’s only good manners.”

You rolled your eyes involuntarily from behind Jessica, who had stepped into your space. When had she ever spent time with Rebekah outside of practice? She was clearly making her claim known, and you huffed, backing off. 

A guy like Elijah wouldn’t be interested in you, anyway. It would have been nice to at least been given a chance, though, before perfect little Jessica had to come in and do her thing. 

You sighed to yourself. That wasn’t nice. Jessica was your friend. It just sucked, sometimes, being the only bigger girl in a group of girls. Things were different for you. 

“Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” you said, and Jessica quickly told you not to wait up for her at the Grill. You smiled encouragingly at her, even though you would have rather eaten nails. Jessica did technically see Elijah first, though, so regardless, the rule of dibs was firmly in place. Elijah’s eyes met yours and he looked…disappointed? It was probably nothing. 

As you turned to go to your car, Matt Donovan brushed past you, walking fast. “Sorry, Y/N!” he called, power walking to his truck. You shook your head, laughing. You’d never seen Matt move that fast for anything, not even out on the field.

The other girls had made their way out now, and you caught up with them briefly to let them know you'd be going home instead of out. You weren't really in the mood for celebration any more. They gave you tight hugs and told you to call them in the morning, and you gave them all the finger just to get a laugh out of them.

Bonnie was leaning against her car when you made your way to yours. 

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, giving you a curious look.

“Why’d I do what?” you said, tossing your duffle into the backseat. 

“You just let Jessica take over. You were talking to Elijah first.”

“Yeah, but Jessica saw him first. Besides, I bumped into him. It’s not like we talked about anything profound.”

Bonnie sighed. “You wanted to talk to him though.”

You crossed your arms. “Yeah, so?”

“So!” she cried, placing her hands on your shoulders. “So you’re the funniest girl on the planet, and you're beautiful and talented and you deserve to be happy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true! You’re amazing.”

“I know, I just wanted you to say more.”

Bonnie shoved at you playfully. “See? Your wit is unmatched.”

“And you’re kind.” you said seriously. “And a really, really good friend.”

Bonnie looked down, her mouth quirked to the side. “Thank you.”

A laugh echoed from across the parking lot, and you stared at Caroline and Klaus standing by Caroline’s car. They were standing close together and laughing, and Klaus’ finger was twirled around a strand of Caroline’s hair.

You hit Bonnie in the shoulder and pointed. 

“Ummmmmm?” You gave her an incredulous look.

“I know!” Bonnie said, coming to lean against your car. “She said she broke up with Tyler. She said she’s done with wishy-washy.”

You smiled happily as the two continued flirting. “I’ve been dying for them to get together.”

“No, literally!” She threw her hands up in the air. “The tension was incredibly cuttable.”

You snorted. “Like, thick enough I think I’d need a chainsaw.”

Bonnie hid her giggle behind her hand. You watched Klaus and Caroline as Bonnie began asking you if you were still going to the grill.  You wished you had a guy to flirt with against your car.

“I’m kind of hungry all of a -”

Bonnie’s voice trailed off, and you tore your eyes away from the happy couple to stare at your friend. 

“Bon?”

Her eyes were trained behind you, a small smile on her lips. You followed her eyes, and there was Elijah. His nearness startled you, and you jumped a foot in the air.

“My apologies.” he said, amusement in his eyes. 

“We have got to stop meeting like that.” you responded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bonnie called, already on the other side of her car and hopping in the front seat. You gave her an incredulous look. 

“Traitor!” you called, as she began to pull out. She looked completely self righteous as she pulled out of the parking lot, Britney blasting on her speakers.

“Well..” you breathed, turning back to Elijah. “Twice in one night? To what do I owe my great fortune?”

He shrugged. “I have a thing for cheerleaders.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. But I saw you from the stands and wanted to get to know you better. So here I am.”

You couldn’t help the huge smile overtaking your face. Elijah Mikaelson wanted to get to know you? 

“What about Jessica?”

He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl. Not really my type.”

“And I am?”

He huffed. “Am I not making myself clear? Shall I fetch a plane and spell it out in the sky for you?”

I shook my head, faux serious. “It’s nighttime Elijah. I’d never be able to see that.”

He snorted - actually snorted. It was the most adorable thing you might have ever heard. 

“You’re a minx, and you know it. Now agree to go to dinner with me.”

“Half price burgers at the grill?”

He smiled wryly. “No, that won’t do. I’m a full price kind of guy. I need candles, roses, the whole chair pulling out thing. Carlo’s. Friday night. Eight o’ clock.”

Carlo’s was like, ridiculously nice. And expensive. “But that’s-”

“It’s what?” he challenged. “Because if you’re suggesting I can’t afford it…”

You shook your head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you can. But I can’t!”

Faster than you could even fathom, Elijah was backing you up into the side of your car, his hands locked on either side of you, face inches away from your own. His eyes were dark and bore into you, making your palms begin to sweat.

“I’m not in the habit of taking women out on dates and having them pay.” His breath fanned across your face. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you shivered. His presence was intoxicating. 

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked, and damn if that question didn’t excite you. You nodded, your breath hitching, and he leaned even closer to you for a moment before pushing himself away.

“Good!” he declared, and once he backed off, he took a moment to rake his gaze across your body. Your uniform did little for the imagination, and you were kind of thankful.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He called sweetly, shifting from domineering to polite so quick you had whiplash. You watched him go, a dopey smile on your face.

“Wait!” you called. “Do you want my phone number?”

He paused, then reached into his pocket for his phone. He typed for a moment, then locked the screen and placed it back in his pocket.

Your phone dinged.

Tell Bonnie I said thank you.

You smirked. Of course Bonnie had given him your number. You'd have to remember to get her a thank you gift.

As you started your car and got ready to go, movement from the car behind you caught your attention in your mirror. You struggled to see clearly what it was, but when you did, you were shocked.

There, in the pickup truck Rebekah Mikaelson had gifted him, was Matt Donovan making out with her brother Kol. 

You laughed all the way home, imagining the look on Rebekah’s face when she finds out.

[spoonfulofmilo]

Contestant Number 5 Introduction

updates will be tues, wed and thursday my time at 7pm aest!

love y'all

the bachelor masterlist is here

part 1 is here

---

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

He heard a car engine slowing down, and nearly gawked at how expensive the car sounded. It was that subtle, powerful hum, not flashy, but serious money. It sounded like one of his cars from home, and the only reason he could afford them was because it was part of his contract.

He technically couldn’t afford cars like that himself. But this guy? He had to be next-level rich to own one outright.

Okay, whoever’s next… they’re either filthy rich or trying way too hard. Please let him be hot.

The first thing Y/N noticed as this guy rounded the corner were his cheekbones. Sharp cheekbones caught the dim light, casting angular shadows that made his face look sculpted with intent. Not that that was a bad thing.

Y/N’s gaze trailed from those cheekbones down to broad shoulders that filled out his shirt with a natural kind of ease. His skin was tanned, but not like he’d been sunbathing, more like he worked outdoors, traveled, lived. His hair was tousled, and it worked. Like he hadn’t tried that hard, but everything still landed perfectly in place.

Maybe perfection was just accidental, Y/N thought, watching how a few strands fell over his brow.

He was wearing a light blue button-down, sleeves casually rolled to the forearms. Cream trousers, clean lines, dark brown shoes, polished but lived-in. The shirt clung to his chest and arms, not in a way that screamed attention, just... honest muscle. Built. Earned.

“Hey,” the man said, stepping into the soft lighting. His voice was low, smooth, and slightly husky, with that unmistakable Australian lilt. “I’m Mark.”

“I like your outfit,” Y/N said, trying not to stare.

Mark gave a modest smile. “Ah, cheers. I usually try to blend in with my clients. Helps keep them safe when I don’t stand out too much. But, I won’t lie, I know I clean up alright.”

“Your clients?” Y/N tilted his head.

“Used to be military. Now I work as a bodyguard. High-profile stuff, usually.” He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “You keep your head down, know the terrain, stay alert. And if people assume you’re just another rich guy? All the better.”

“Okay, but… is this really you? Or am I getting one of your cover identities right now?”

Mark chuckled, not offended. “This is me. I’m not working right now, so… figured I could be myself for once. Hopefully it doesn’t come back to bite me if you ever do hire me.”

“Oh? Why would it?”

He grew a bit more serious, voice soft. “If they know who you care about, they know where your weakness is. That’s how they get to you. So I’ve always kept things close to the chest. Blending in means you’re not exposing anyone you love.”

Y/N blinked. That wasn’t just tactical. That was real.

“Tell me more about you,” Y/N said, tone gentler.

“I’m thirty-seven. From Australia. Been working private security the past few years. Honestly? I came here because… I’m finally at a place where I want more. Something real. I want to build a life, not just protect other people’s.”

He looked down at his shoes for a beat, then up again, a little unsure, a rare crack in the calm exterior.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe I’m getting older. Maybe I’m just… tired of waiting.”

Y/N’s voice was soft. “What would you do for a first date with me?”

Mark’s eyes twinkled slightly at the question. “Honestly? Teach you a bit of self-defense.” He smiled when Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself. But because… if I’m with someone like you, I want to know you’re safe. Whether I’m there or not.”

Y/N laughed, genuinely. “That’s… weirdly charming. Never had someone pitch that as a date before.”

Mark smiled modestly. “Well, I’m not much for suits and candlelit clichés. I like things that are grounded. Real. And I promise, we’d make it fun.”

“If you could travel anywhere in the world?” Y/N asked, curious now.

“Monaco,” Mark answered without hesitation. “Spent time there with clients, but never really got to see it. Just moved through it. I’d like to go back. Properly. Take it in. It’s peaceful, coastal… reminds me of home, in a way. And I wouldn’t mind doing that with someone like you beside me.”

As he stepped back to leave, Y/N caught himself staring again, the way Mark moved was effortless, but strong. Like someone used to carrying more than just weight.

And then Mark turned around. Holding a knife.

Y/N flinched, eyes widening as production leapt into motion around him. But Mark raised a calm hand, unbothered.

“Hey, easy. Sorry.” His voice stayed even, eyes steady on Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“What?”

He offered the handle. “I’d love to be your bodyguard someday. I really would. But I can’t always be there. And you shouldn’t trust everyone you meet, even here. This isn’t a threat. It’s a reminder. Just in case.”

Y/N took the knife carefully. It was small. Practical. Compact.

Mark smiled faintly. “Hopefully you’ll never need it. But I’ll sleep better knowing you have it.”

When Mark turned around with that knife, Y/N’s breath caught. Maybe not the best first impression.

Or maybe... exactly the best.

(cut to y/n’s interview)

"Yeah, that was... definitely not what I was expecting. But honestly? It was kind of cool. Like, yeah, I was a little freaked out at first, but he was just being himself, right? It's not every day someone gives you a knife as a first gift. It was intense, but in a weird way, I appreciated it. Shows he’s serious, I guess? Not to mention, the guy’s got... well, he’s got presence. Like, you can tell he’s used to being in control of situations. That’s something you can’t fake. I wasn’t expecting to be so... drawn to him. I mean, the whole bodyguard thing? I can’t deny that part of me was like, 'Okay, that's cool.' He definitely has that strong, protective energy. But there's something more to him. He’s not just a muscle guy. He’s thoughtful, he explained the knife thing, and honestly, that showed me that he’s not just about appearances. He’s about protecting the people he cares about. I think that’s pretty... appealing. I think he’s definitely someone who could surprise me. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m ready to jump into something serious. But with Mark? I don’t know, I feel like he’s been through a lot and knows what he wants. And I respect that. It's not just about looks or charm. He's here for something real, and that's what I’m looking for. It’s early, though. I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but I could see myself being interested in someone like Mark. I guess I just need to see more. But that knife moment? Yeah, I’ll definitely be thinking about that one for a while."

(cut to Mark’s interview)

"Yeah, that was... different. I wasn’t expecting to hand him a knife. But I wanted to make sure he felt safe, you know? It’s what I do. I'm a protector. It's hard to turn that off, even in a setting like this. I know it probably came across a bit intense, but it’s just my instinct to make sure he’s prepared. Plus, I thought it would show him I’m not all talk. If I'm gonna be his bodyguard, I want him to know I'm serious, but also that I’m not afraid to have a little fun with it. And he laughed. He seemed to get it, even though I could tell it was... a bit much at first. I think that’s what makes him interesting. He’s not just all about the surface stuff. He saw beyond the bodyguard act, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I don't want to be seen as just the 'tough guy.' There’s a lot more to me than that. He’s smart, he can read people, and that’s what I like. But yeah, I’m also not here to just impress him with muscle. I want to show him I’m serious. At 37, I’m thinking about the future. The last thing I want is to waste anyone’s time. I’m ready to build something real, to find someone who isn’t intimidated by my job or the kind of life I live. Someone who’s got depth, someone like Y/N. I think he could be someone who appreciates that, and that's what I’m hoping for."

---

taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life, @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @badblondebisexualboy, @ghostking4m, @fate-posts, @evelyn-4034, @jupiter-je-taime, @redcrescentmoons, @youraveragebritishamerican, @v3lnys, @thatonesblog, @bangbangdevotee, @annegrey, @pear-1206, @alchemxx, @koalapastries, @saucy-apples, @milessunflowers, @dramaticpiratellamas, @bunnisgreen, @jamesiesposts, @tammyfortis, @sleutherclaw, @blazecosplay

[zablife]

I Don't Care What They Say

Tommy x female reader

Your feet ached in the tight shoes you’d borrowed from your cousin and your head throbbed with an impending headache, but you continued dancing, eyes darting to the corner of the ballroom where your aunt stood watching you with hawklike precision. As the disinterested young man who held you in his arms turned you on the dance floor, he spared you the sneer of her disapproval. 

You didn’t need to look at your aunt’s pinched face to know how you were failing her. It was the end of your season and she had warned you it was time to find a husband. You had other ideas than accepting a proposal from someone you loathed just to live well. However, she constantly chided your independent nature as being stubborn and incorrigible. “Just like your mother," she often bemoaned, "far too bohemian and unladylike." You knew the burden you had become in her eyes and feared what would become of you when her patience grew thin. 

As you pondered your fate, you were soon frozen by the icy stare of a stranger. Though you were unsettled by his attention at first, you found yourself strangely drawn to him the longer he watched you. You’d noticed him observing the festivities earlier, but never venturing onto the dance floor. However, it didn't surprise you as mothers were not subtle about pulling their daughters into their sides and scurrying away from him.

As the waltz ended you couldn’t hide your curiosity, wondering who this mysterious man could be. It thrilled you to see him smile at you upon your arrival, a kindness you hadn’t expected. However, you couldn’t think of a thing to say, too caught up in the moment to remember your manners. Luckily the gentleman before you took the lead, offering you a glass of champagne and a tour of the gardens.

The moment you exited onto the terrace, alone with the nameless man, your courage evaporated and your footsteps stalled. Noticing your hesitation, he offered his hand along with an introduction. “I"m Thomas Shelby,” he said confidently, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest when you unconsciously shrunk from him. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve heard rumors…about all the bad things you do,” you admitted, fumbling with your gloves. “My aunt says you’re a very dangerous man,” you whispered in hushed awe.

Looking thoroughly unbothered, he fished his cigarette case from his pocket. Carefully selecting a cigarette, he asked, “And what do you think?”

You considered him for a moment as he rubbed it against his bottom lip before lighting it, mesmerized by his every movement. “I don’t know you at all,” you demurred.

“I’d like to get to know you,” he admitted intently holding your gaze as he added, “That’s why you should know what they say is true.”

“Oh,” you exclaimed breathlessly, surprised he would admit to being a gangster so freely.

Tommy couldn’t miss the way your eyes darted back toward the door and the safety of the warm ballroom. “Does that frighten you?” he asked, turning his head to blow smoke out into the chilly evening air. He calmly awaited your reply, watching as the tendrils of smoke curled and drifted toward the heavens.

Feeling yourself pulled by the invisible thread of his magnetism, you moved toward him slowly until you were face to face. In that moment, you found yourself more wonderstruck than afraid. Here was someone who stood on the outskirts of polite society unconcerned by the opinions of others.

“No, I don’t care what they say,” you ventured, wondering how he might respond to your bold reply.

As the clouds parted and the moonlight struck Tommy’s angular jawline, you could clearly see a faint smile appearing, an amused twinkle in his eye glinting back at you approvingly. Flicking his cigarette away, Tommy cupped your cheek in his large palm and your breath hitched. “And what would your aunt do if she heard you?,” he teased with raised eyebrow.

“She wouldn’t like it very much. She thinks I’ve brought enough scandal to the family being unmarried at my age," you explained.

He nodded thoughtfully before dipping his head to brush his lips against yours. When you melted into him, he pulled you deeper into his embrace, devouring you in a passionate kiss. A moan escaped your throat when he finally pulled away, looking at you mischievously with lust blown pupils.

“Scandalous enough for your dear aunt?” he asked in a low voice that made your stomach flip.

“She’ll probably disown me,” you murmured, biting your lower lip.

“Then you’re free to be mine,” he hummed, gently rubbing a thumb across your cheek.

“I like that idea,” you said with a giggle. You laced a hand behind his neck for another kiss as the clouds closed back over the pale moon.

-------------

TAG LIST:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@look-at-the-soul

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@dandelionprints

@l1-l4

@thomashelbyswife

[punkrockscully]

"Kiss Me Underneath the Moon's Side Boob"

"I play the [wolf howling sound]"

You will say it’s not like that but, oh, boy, how many door-frames have you watched him from? You can dodge questions like lazy punches all you want but the nebulous aura of you-and-him has gotten so sharp it cuts—purple-flowered fields giving way to hot hot heat in grown-up bodies, Beatles-like baby-faces turned angular, eyes gone darkish and lusty and searingly hooked.

When he chases you, those thoughts— whispering bedsprings, a shimmying, and then rejoice in trembling and gravitational alignment, two worshipful dogs rolling around in a good smell. Still—and you cannot stress this enough— it’s not like that.

2. "I play the midnight moon"

And the ease in which you say it doesn’t surprise you but maybe it should—nothing surprises you but everything surprises you, with him, his flailing limbs, water-glow softness even as he’s karate chopping and doing ninja kicks. Slumped on his knees blitzed out of his mind, then crawling toward you in an animal prowl, your face wide-open and obvious— freak him out on purpose so he won’t notice the achingly soft light in your eyes.

3. "Midnight has got the hots for me"

You weave through everything he does—Mr. Midnight with the slutty curve of your waist on display. Curl yourself around him like a perfect spiral, conjoined, entangled, he will never be rid of you— eyes persistently dark, bearing down from across a stage or inches away huddled in his body. Puppy-lack of space between you, not borrowed but owned, touches that belong to you— he’s a giver, and you can be awfully persuasive but it’s not like he needs to be convinced to press his face conspicuously close to yours.

4. "Looking up at the moon wonderin' ... who's he kissin'"

You spent so long kissing anything to get the itch for him out of your mouth, tongue-first introductions but now you keep your lips to yourself unless they’re centimeters away from his. Your mouths were made for each other, molded from the same primordial clay to fit together quick and perfect— again, again, again—he always chickens out when you push too far, but how can you not push when he’s backed up against you swinging his little tambourine?

The moon winks her eye down on you leading each other away from a crowd, jubilant in your wanderings, drawn-out breaths in each other’s necks—he’s indefinable but you always have the words: life’s little lovescapes tripping from too-fast mouths, he shines under cold moonlight where you could touch him and have your fingertips come away glistening with unseeable stars.

5. "Pull me in close on a crisp eve, baby"

Moon-monster, deliberate gaze, glint of a shine in his eyes that took absolutely forever but not when you look directly at the source— headlong dive into a blissful hazy muttering hips-down on the greenroom couch while he plays a song with your own whining. You always get what you want even when you push him away, laughing at the lengths you go to kiss him.

another one :)

for @uhbasicallyjustmilex who prompted me with that lollapalooza interview (I think it was lolla idk) anyway kat was braver than the US marines for those questions, I honestly hope she's living her best life

[saturnianoracle]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆THE 9TH HOUSE⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Welcome to my blog...aka the 9th house! I've named it this as my chart ruler, mercury, is in my 9th house which represents many important themes in my life . I am very saturnian, however; saturn is conjunct my ascendant, and my chart ruler's ruler is also saturn (mutual reception b/w my merc and saturn and they also trine lol)- hence my username ♥ ✭∞∞∞∞✷∞∞∞∞✭ So essentially, I've decided to finally make a place to info dump all the word vomit I hoard in my head; ramblings, vents, and most importantly - astrology stuff (my latest hyperfixation, especially since pluto entered my 9th house lol). So yeah, mostly a place to catalogue all that stuff for myself, but it would be nice to get to know other people in the tumblr community too.

ׂ╰┈➤ ✣ABOUT ME

◦ I started properly getting into astrology in 2023, after superficialy dabbling in it since 2021. What previously closed my mind off to ever taking astrology seriously was the garbage pop culture astrology permeating the internet, and its modern day linke and use as solely a psychological tool/personality descriptor (more of this will be disucssed in the first post). ◦ As I've been learning, I wanted to create a place to consolidate my thoughts, hence this blog. The information derives from an amalgam of different sources, and I will try to cite where necessary/possible. I consider myself a forever student, however, and it is still very much early days in my astrological knowledge. ◦ P.S. I use the tropical zodiac, whole signs, traditional rulerships, and practise by using a blend of traditional and modern techniques and ideas. All my information is taken from various sources e.g. books, reddit, tumblr, tiktok, discord, websites, youtube etc.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙

Just for fun, I have a:

ׂ╰┈➤ ♓️☉, ♍️☽, ♊️ rising, ♒️☿, ♓️♀︎, ♈️♂︎

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ASTROLOGY MASTERLIST⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Introduction to astrology:

✦ How to learn real astrology - astrology as an observable science; what it is and is not.

✦ Tropical vs Sidereal astrology - why I use tropical

✦ Whole signs vs Placidus house system - why I use whole signs

✦ Traditional vs Modern rulerships - why I use traditional

✦ Why using the ABC house system limits your learning (and is inaccurate)

The foundations of chart interpretation:

✦ Primary qualities, Elements, and Tempraments ✦ The planets and the 12 zodiac signs

✦ The houses (angular,succedent, cadent)

✦ The houses (1 - 12)

✦ How to interpret empty houses

✦ Modalities

✦ The nodes

✦ Aspects (major and minor)

✦ Essential dignities

Delineation:

✦ How to read and interpret chart transits

Astro ramblings:

✦ Pop astrology pains me + resources to explore hellenistic astrology

[skulls-and-wishbones]

The Song twins!

rewritten description in the undercut

“Introductions first,” the Shade said, tossing back his hood. 

He was as delicately featured as all elves, his face thin and angular. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken before. His hair was short, curling around his ears and over his eyes. The ends glinted silver against the rest of the shiny black. 

He turned to the Hydrokinetic girl and she rocked back and forth on her toes for a moment before pulling off her cloak. Her face was rounder, with a sharp chin and sloping. Her hair was incredibly long, falling past her waist and shimmering with the same silver tips. They looked shockingly similar, the same thin lips and bronzy skin. Their matching eyes stood out more than anything, both hoodies and lined by dark lashes, they were some of the darkest colours that Sophie has seen in the Lost Cities, almost obsidian in shade, they reminded Sophie of the sea at night.  “You’re siblings” she realised.

“twins,” said the Shade. “Is that going to be a problem?”

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Please Be Rude

short and indulgent introduction to my rook and lucanis' dynamic. written pre-release so forgive ooc or contradictions

PG-13 - implied self-harm, mage killer tension, chronic pain, jealousy, rivalry, ANGST

-

"Slow down..." The detective raised her hands, narrowed eyes fixed on his dagger. "We're here to help, Crow."

She could be taken care of, too, if need be. The mage in front of him was his first priority. Blade pressed to her throat.

The air was coiled with magic. It crackled around her, rolling off her in a twitching miasma. Topaz yellow eyes set in dark sclera, animal and locked on him. Her arms did not raise, no panicked shuffle backward. Only the slightest twist of her head, a slow fluid movement.

Something was deeply wrong with her, the type he was trained to put down. And yet, his blade held. Staring up at her, transfixed. There was something terribly hypnotic about her, beauty arrested between fear and awe.

She held his gaze, her pupils tight pinpoints. Breath even against metal. Just the slightest extension of her neck in invitation was enough to break the spell.

He stepped back, swiftly stowing his dagger. Shoulders tight and breath strained.

What just happened?

Spite was over the moon with this development. Nearly bouncing in malicious excitement.

'Let me talk to her. I want to talk to that one!'

Lucanis shook his head, resting his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Eyes still narrowed on this dangerous stranger.

Spite growled in frustration, edging toward her regardless.

Haunting eyes slid to the demon's proximity as her pupils widened out into saucers. Not quite focused on his face but slowly scanning the place where he stood.

Even Spite froze. How strange the mockery of his form looked next to her. Only then did Lucanis really take her in and felt an involuntary jolt of his heart.

Long legs and wide hips that led into the dip of a waist. Full spiraled hair that fell to the small of her back, a fascinating rose gold. A regal face with pouted lips, an aquiline nose, and high cheekbones. Eyes slanted and mysterious as a hawk, the amber of them nearly glowed in the low light.

Angular pointed ears gouged with holes. A fractal scar struck at her temple and scattered through her cheek and jaw. A winding rope of a burn scar circled her swan neck.

Empathy struck him at her state. Elves didn't lead easy lives.

"You have someone with you." Her voice finally rose. Calm as a summer lake, and lilted as a loons lone call with a Navarran accent.

Her eyes settled on him again in curiosity.

Nevarra. He eyed the medical utility of her mage armor.

It suddenly all made sense. A Mortalisi.

His grip loosened on his blade.

"It's complicated." He offered.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" He held her in suspicion again. Though, curiosity overrode that more than he would care to admit.

"Caterina sent me."

Caterina?

He sized her up again.

The stillness she stood with was uncanny. A statue only broken by the slightest flexing in her long fingers. He was trained to know intentions just in the way a person stood. He was getting nothing from her.

It was plausible.

"You're not a Crow."

"And you're not human." She stated, a neutral blunt.

A smile nearly cracked his face. It didn't slip him that she hadn't offered her name yet.

"We need a mage-killer." The lilting of her voice was so melodic it bordered on a lullaby.

"I can still work." He assured.

She nodded and turned, done with their conversation. Apparently, the matter was settled.

A fondness rose in his chest, and he quickly stamped it down. He took up the stride of her walk.

"They have my blood, and a contract unfulfilled on my end."

Her step didn't falter.

"We'll settle it."

That fondness reared again.

"Excellent."

-

It had been three nights now at the Lighthouse, and he hadn't seen her.

It settled an anxiety in his gut that wouldn't stop gnawing. Everyone else was accounted for, but his new companion was a shadow he only saw maddening hints of.

She would make an excellent Crow, but she wasn't one. So, the behavior set alarm bells off in his system. Was she avoiding the others?

Quieter, in the back of his mind.

Was she avoiding him?

He shook his head. There was validity to that thought, but her reasons ultimately didn't matter. She was an invisible outlier that must be accounted for.

So that night, in the late of the witching hours, he set out to find her.

Spite jovially trotted at his side, reveling in the absurdity of his hunt.

'Looking for our terrifying beauty, are we?'

Lucanis ignored him, and the hackle raised at his possessive word choice. Ducking his head around doorways, step silent in the dark.

His stride took him up the winding staircase that led to a library. A further circular wing extended to his left.

Once the whole wing was searched, and he was preparing to rise to the next floor, a scent lifted in the air.

He paused, breathing it in. The unmistakable smell of petrichor. Impossible in this setting. There was no rain in the Fade.

His fingers probed along the wall. A seam hidden in wood. Searching further, he found a latch. A small door popped open.

'Oooh, secrets, secrets!' Spite cackled.

The door opened to a dark wooden staircase, risen up high beyond his vision. Rickety and heavy with newly disturbed dust.

He took the stairs, climbing higher and higher into an attic crawlspace. Eyes cresting over the edge of the warped wooden floor.

It was very dark, but the scent was heavy here. More defined. A bouquet of rain, ozone, a hint of sea salt, and something more. Lavender?

The calm of the heady aroma nearly unfocused him, but he finally found his target.

A long form was curled in a corner. The low spectral light from a crescent window fell in slants across her.

She was turned into the wall, laying on her side. Her bicep was the only pillow for her head, no blanket over or bedroll under.

He studied her in confusion, then familiarity. He could recognize the feign of sleep in her even deep breathing. Still facing the wall, but with eyes he knew were open. Waiting for him to make a move. Both held in charged silence.

Familiarity slid to regret. Well, not regret, he needed to find her. Remorse was closer.

How he knew the act of folding yourself so small you could fit into a crevice. Only safe tucked into the cracks.

He had only just learned her name through some digging, her true name beyond the title of Rook. Rassou. A name he had repeated quietly to himself, enjoying the way it hissed and rolled over his tongue. A secret he inexplicably couldn't resist coveting.

Would she respond to it now if he whispered it?

But that was far too intimate. Too much for him and for this figure hiding in a cold attic.

He stepped forward, and she curled tighter into herself. Legs tucked into her chest, breath stilled.

He paused. Sorrow tight in his chest.

He wanted to...

What did he want?

I don't want to hurt you.

A dangerous feeling. Only the surface of a rippling well of emotion that he refused to stare into.

His jaw clenched.

He removed his overcoat as he stepped closer. Her eyes remained on the wall. Draping it over her, he retreated silently back downstairs.

-

She rubbed her cursed hands on her knees to no avail. The tingling pain cramped the muscles stiff, and no amount of coaxing would recede it.

A lifetime forced her to know this. But desperation was not a sensible thing.

"Come on, not now. Not here." She hissed, closing her eyes tight to the torrent rising behind her breast bone. Frustration was a very effective catalyst. One she couldn't afford to indulge.

Trained deep breaths filled her lungs, released through pursed lips.

One... two... three...

Focused slow. Body slow, breath slow.

As long as she was quiet.

Four... five... six...

It will pass.

As long as she was still.

Eight... nine... ten.

They would be safe with her.

She was in control.

"Okay..." She hushed as her eyes slowly opened.

Stolen sleep was not the end of her tether. It never had been. She was stronger than her body, no matter how it tormented her.

But the pain had never abided being ignored. Pain spoke, but it could not listen. Lightning flashed deep in her veins, and it would never heed to her exhausted requests to just stop. Sleep would be held above her reach until it was expelled.

The easiest release was to call a storm. Rising her arms to the heavens to strike from deep in her marrow. A tempest struck from the core of her person.

But this was the Fade. The upper atmosphere was something she wasn't confident in testing.

Option two was a royal elfroot balm. She used to soak up to her forearms in the salve until she was numbed from the elbow down. But she had run out weeks ago, scraping the corners of the tin she had stretched far past its end.

Option three...

They already gave her neck stares. And her thighs were fully wound in scars. Maybe her ankles could take the burned flesh, but it would be excruciating to chafe on her boots. There would be questions.

She sighed, rising to feet. Striding quiet up stone.

A tucked away corner of a stairwell had become her new home. Colder than the crawlspace, but she had slept in worse. She considered keeping up a rotation to avoid further discovery, but there was too much pain to consider anything right now.

There had to be herbs stockpiled somewhere in this sprawling place. The pantry was a good bet.

Except... the Crow tended to haunt the kitchen.

She had returned his overcoat immediately. Leaving it neatly folded on a chair near the cabinets. Of all of them, he should have the sense to stay away. It was hard enough to dodge Bellara's offers of comradery. The girl seemed fixated on winning her over.

Listening at the door for far too long, her hands started to seize again. With a silent huff, she edged her way in.

Searching shelves in the dark with unwilling limbs, she gave rare thanks to her ancestry. Elves had uncanny vision in low light and with eyes that reflected like a predator in the dark. Her inhuman eyes had been accused of stalking villages in the night during her travels.

Good. They should be afraid of her.

"Those are organized by spice group."

Her hand seized, knocking a jar to shatter on the floor.

Lucanis stepped forward from the wall he had been silently leaned on. She stepped back into the opposite wall. Pressing her back flat against stone.

"Easy..." He soothed, hands stretched open in assurance. Taking another step forward.

Her hands clenched shut hard at her sides, and the pain intensified so high it brought tears to her eyes. Doubled over into her forearms, a whimper of pain caught pathetically in her throat. Heart a kicking, cornered animal.

His shoes quickly filled her vision.

Thunder rolled in her chest.

Her ears popped as the air pulled.

Lucanis paused his hands above her. The change in the atmosphere palpable.

"No..." She whispered.

I don't want to hurt you.

Run.

"Shut up!" Lucanis hissed over his shoulder.

The spirit.

Her eyes raised.

It had been so long, she had nearly forgotten. There was a fourth option.

Rassou raised her shaking hand above her head, holding her palm as flat as she could manage. Breathing shallow through a building scream.

"What are you doing?... Don't -"

But a terrible warm met her palm eagerly, interlocking over her knuckles.

An exhausted smile split her face. She released.

A burst of lightning shot from her. Tension melted in the limb like sugar on a tongue, her head lolled forward.

The mirrored form of Lucanis lit for a brief moment in front of her, made manifest in electrocution, as the real Lucanis looked on.

"Again?" She smiled, raising her other hand as her body released from its tight curve. It was immediately taken by the same fervent heat.

She sent another torrent of shock, more intense this time, pulled from deep in her chest. The near constant knot between her shoulders unwound. A small moan of relief left her.

A sigh exhaled from deep in her belly. The heat nearly vibrated with demand. Again.

"Okay, last one for tonight." She planted her feet and pulled from the base of her spine. It arced out in near ecstasy, fluttering her eyes up into lids. Her lower back unfurled, and the muscles in her hips almost gave out. All the tight in her body unwound as a tapestry fast pulled by a thread.

She fell back against the wall loose and stretched, experiencing the transcendent relief only found after the quell of a great pain. Breathing in full pulls of her diaphragm.

"Thank you." Hushed from her lips.

Ducking back out of the door, she rubbed her trembling hands. Massaging her thumbs into her palms, working out the deep ache that still lingered.

-

"What are you reading?"

She looked up from her curl in a nook of the library, always hidden away in some tight corner. It was shameful how often he found himself unconsciously searching for her lately, a one-sided game of hide and seek.

Topaz eyes stayed stony on him, staring him down. Looking at him through tendrils of softly pink tinted spirals, fallen loose from the full golden bundle on the top of her head.

He had never seen someone who looked quite like her before.

There was a long moment of silence that he tried not to squirm through. Intent on showing his intrusion was friendly, leaning against a shelf as a token of vulnerability.

It had not gotten past him that she was on closer terms with his demon. In fact, it had been tormenting him. The actual gloating from Spite didn't help one bit.

'She likes me! Hah! I helped her AND touched her soft skin, and you haven't! When you walk in, she looks for me first!'

It was made worse in the truth of it. Spite would bound over to her like a gleeful imp, and she would turn and give a little smile to the aura of her invisible pet. Greeting him in a soft voice.

"Hello Kakό."

He eventually worked out a translation from a book on Nevarran language he had scrounged from a dusty shelf.

Mischief.

The first time he saw her smile was looking at Spite. Her Mischief.

He tried to stamp down the sickening coil of jealousy in his stomach. Not backing down from her maintained stare for a moment.

She finally held up the book, the cover revealed to him, then set in back on the crest of her knees. Eyes fallen back on the page.

He had barely taken in the cover, some historical tome he was unfamiliar with.

"What's it about?"

She looked up at him again, somewhat incredulous through a blank stare. Sizing him up after a moment with her eyes.

He had pursued targets since he could work. He knew how to feed into someone's benefit of the doubt. How to soothe and coaxe, to slip into the hairline cracks of a targets good graces. Here he was nearly strangled with anxiety. Desperate to reintroduce himself properly.

Hi, I really enjoy your company. You're really interesting, I'd like to be around you a lot more.

Her posture finally opened somewhat begrudgingly, uncurling to lean on folded legs. The book was still held in front of her within an elegant hand. "Cannibalism." She offered in a monotone.

That piqued his interest.

"And are you a fan...?"

She cracked the smallest smile, and his heart roared with triumph.

"I haven't partaken, if that's what you're implying. But the sociology surrounding it is a broader subject than most realize."

He blinked. That was the most he had ever heard her speak and was mildly distracted by how her accent played within the sudden eloquence of her words.

The thought of receiving a passionate lecture from her on the nuance of cannibalism thrilled him. Slowly stretching on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"What could the broader subject be on eating a corpse?" He scoffed.

The book snapped down onto her thighs. He had to clench his jaw to not smile. Success.

"That is only one very limited aspect of cannibalism." She held her fingers up, bending them down with her opposite hand as she reprimanded his feigned arrogance. "There's nutritional, ritualistic, post-mortem and living. Symbolic. Auto. What you're referring to could fit into many categories, including mortuary consumption."

His heart soothed as she went deeper and deeper into the subject. Her passion and clear education on the topic was intoxicating. Spellbinding in her winding through subjects. He took in every word as researched truth, even as she reiterated that she was not as learned as her peers. Maybe even more so because of that. Fully enraptured.

She had just started down an anecdote about a case of impulsive cannibalism brought on during a vicious attack, her posture leaned toward him, fully locked in on her impromptu student. Then Neve called out from far below them.

"Rook! Enough skulking, we've got a lead!"

His heart fell.

"Gamό gia chari..." She muttered under her breath. "Heard!"

"I've wasted your time." She hopped down from her hideaway.

"Time is never wasted in good company. I'd like to hear the end of that story." He rushed, trying to reign in his enthusiasm. Desperate to not spook her again. "It's cruel to leave such a tale unended."

She paused her stride, turning to him with arms crossed. Analyzing him again.

Neve's quick whistle broke the silence, and Rassou snapped her fingers at her in return. Shushing her with clear and precise authority.

Fully ignoring the lust that rose in his belly at that, he waited for her verdict on his character as her eyes returned.

"Would you kill me if I asked you to?"

That question paused him, but only for a moment. Certainty filled his voice.

"Absolutely."

She was quiet for a moment more, then nodded. Beckoning him forward with the curve of her long fingers.

"Come, Crow. We have work to do."

~

Next Chapter

[tauon07]

hate matthew mullenwanker? you should join the fediverse, NOW!

the fediverse is totally awesome. it's a magical system, sort of like email, meaning anyone on different websites can talk to each other, seamlessly! (usually seamlessly. sort of. kinda.)

there are a ton of awesome websites (known as instances) you can join! if you don't like one, that's fine, because the magic of the fediverse allows you to follow people on all the other ones!

some of my favourite are:

wafrn (short for "we allow female representing nipples") made by our own @gabbomanestamuyloco - it's a tumblr-like social media written in angular. it supports tags with spaces and symbols like tumblr does.

transfem.social (an instance of sharkey, hosted by transfem.org) - it's more like twitter, but so much better! it allows advanced post formatting allowing for animations and custom emojis and even more! it also has emoji reactions on it.

goblin.band - another tumblr-like fedi instance, based on firefish, so it's similar to transfem.social, but it has traditional tumblr features such as notes and reblogging. i think it also has tags with spaces but i'm not fully sure since i've never used it.

wet-dry world - an instance of mastodon, running on a modified software called chuckya. it has emoji reactions too, and it has a cleaner ui theme made by freeplay (but the old one can be turned on in settings). they also have tim sweeney from epic games, and steam from steam (not really)

(there is also the software akkoma, but i don't know any good instances of it, sorry! >w<)

now what?

first, once you've set up your profile, you should make a post using #introduction as a hashtag. just say a little about yourself and what you like. you should also mention that you come from tumblr, people are really nice to tumblr users on fedi.

also, you should understand fedi is different to tumblr. you should do stuff like put alt text on images, and use content warnings on your posts.

next, you should follow some cool people! here are a list of some i know:

follow me if you want, i'm @tauon@possum.city

@gabbomanestamuyloco is @gabboman@app.wafrn.net

@jv is @javi@goblin.band

@puppygirl-hornyposting2 is @puppygirlhornypost@transfem.social

@yassie_j@labyrinth.zone is a shitposter (and really nice person :3) with lots of interesting history

@foone is @foone@digipres.club

@beigely is @beige_alert@universeodon.com

@whenthesilly@transfem.social is my bestie and she would really appreciate more followers i think :3

there are lots of other cool people you will see quickly once you start interacting with people :3

maybe this is just me, but after i joined fedi i started noticing a lot more "mastodon" or fedi links on peoples' websites, so i found a lot of cool accounts that way. keep an eye out!

i hope you have fun with your new knowledge about the other places out there, just a few clicks away. :3

also this is my first long tumblr post sorry if it's bad >w<

[sentientcave]

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 - A Spoonful of Sugar

<Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

After a bad breakup with a mediocre ex, Rory decides to move back home-- Sort of. Rather than settle back into her mom's flat in London, she accepts her dad's invitation to move to his house out in the country. But unfortunate circumstance has John's former protege, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick moving in as well, after finalizing a divorce. It wouldn't be so bad, if he wasn't stupidly handsome and extremely annoying about it. But she can learn to live with him, can't she?

Contains: OC x Gaz, Lorelai "Rory" "Scout" Blackmoore-Price, Age gap romance (Scout is roughly 25), Annoying old men, Schemes and Plots, Mentions of John Price's many divorces, Poor decisions, Guns, Inadvisable Flirting

~6.7k - 18+ Only - MDNI

Billie was still free, and agreed to meet for coffee in about an hour, so Rory grabbed her bag, shoving her laptop in it in case she got there first (She hadn’t done the walk into town yet, and wasn’t certain how long it would take to get there), and headed out without a word.

It was a nice afternoon for a walk anyway, through the pleasant countryside that surrounded Hereford. It was one of the things she was beginning to like best about living there, that country and town basically butted up against each other. London was grey streets as far as the eye could see, and she’d never minded that, but there was something so unbelievably pleasant about a walk through fields, with birds and insects singing in the brush.

She got to the coffee shop about a half-hour ahead of time, so she ordered a coffee and a big ginger cookie, and set up in a corner where she could keep an eye on the door. She got a little writing done, before someone approached. She glanced up, frowning at an earnest, freckled face. “Can I help you?” she asked, before he could say anything.

“Um. Yeah. I just saw you and— Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you.” Whatever introduction he’d planned, she’d set him on the back foot and scrambled him. “I just— You’re, um—”

“I’m Rory. I’m waiting for a friend, but if you give me your number, I’ll consider texting you later.”

“Yeah? I’m Ro— Gary. Gary Sanderson.”

“Hm, do I detect a military callsign?” she asked. On second glance, he was definitely military. There were scars on his knuckles and up his forearms, and a silver chain around his neck. He had a trim, muscular physique, broad shoulders filling out his t-shirt, and thick legs. Cute too, freckled and and brown eyed, with a long, angular face.

He blushed. “Yeah. I’m used to— Are you military? I’ve seen you on base, haven’t I?”

“I’ve been there a few times to see my dad. I’m not— I’m a civilian. Definitely not in the service. I’m not quite nuts enough.”

He laughed. It was a pleasant sound, quiet and throaty. “Yeah, you have to be a bit crazy. I used to be gung-ho myself, but you know, you start realizing what you’re missing after a while. Everyone I know kind of… Got ahead of me.” His blush deepened, the colour sweeping up to his strawberry blond hairline. “Sorry. Yeah. Do you still want my number? Or did I just fuck this all up big time?”

“You’re fine. Here.” She scribbled down her number in the corner of her notebook and tore it out. “Can’t promise I’m looking for anything serious, but if you want to spend any time getting unserious, you know how to reach me.”

Gary’s grin was lopsided, but definitely charming. “Yeah? Cool. Uh. Yeah. I’ll get out of your hair. And I’ll text you!”

“You do that,” Rory said. “My friend’s here anyway.” She leaned to the side and waved to Billie, who had stepped into line. “See you around, soldier.”

Billie wiggled her eyebrows from across the room, indicating that she thought Gary was pretty cute. Rory had to agree, especially when he walked away. Military men had a lot of flaws, but they were rarely physical ones. And Rory could appreciate the work that went into the lean taper from his shoulders to his narrow hips, and she even better appreciated the thick thighs and nice ass as he disappeared through the doors.

Billie made her way over, holding some sugary, whip-cream topped confection with a straw poking out of it, a big smile on her face. “He was cute,” she said, taking the seat across from Rory. “Someone you know?”

“No, he just came up. He seemed nice. I gave him my number, anyway.” Rory broke off a peice of her cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. “You want him? I can give you his number whenever he texts me.”

Billie’s smile turned sheepish, and she glanced through the windows, brown eyes finding the soldier again. “Oh no, I don’t want to— He approached you.”

“Kind of got the impression he’s looking for more serious than he’s gonna get from me. I was just interested in a ride or two.” Rory shrugged. “If you think he’s cute, I’m one hundred percent fine giving him up. You don’t know me that well yet, Bill, but I’m kind of a, hmm, free spirit, and there are plenty of hot guys in this town. And they don’t have to be nice if I’m planning on keeping their mouths busy.”

Billie giggled, the bundle of tight curls on top of her head vibrating slightly with the movement. “Well, you can have the first ride, and just let me know if he’s worth it, alright? I’m not quite ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool.”

“Roger that.” Rory hummed. “Thought you and Gaz had been separated a while though.”

“Well, we have. But I guess I’m still hoping for a grand romantic gesture. We had a good thing going. Seven years together. It wasn’t perfect, but I don’t know. All the problems seemed to fade into the background when he was home.”

“Hm.” Rory nodded sagely. “Because of the fucking.”

“Is that what it was?” Billie asked faintly, pressing her hand to the side of her face, her expression indicating that she hadn’t thought of it that way before. “Holy shit. That’s exactly what it was.”

“I watched my dad fumble four marriages, I guarantee that Gaz pulled from his toolbox of relationship prolonging tricks.” Rory calmly ate another bite of cookie while Billie went through a minor crisis across the table, replaying sequences from her relationship with Gaz through a new lens. “If you do want him back, you’d better hold out for more than a grand romantic gesture. I’m sure he’s used those before. Like meaningful change. A commitment to couples counselling. Taking a bit of accountability.”

Billie nodded. “Honestly, I kind of thought you were going to talk him up. Being Price’s kid, I figured— I’m glad you’re not though. I think I needed to hear that. A lot of my friends don’t really get why I went through with the divorce. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure.”

“Well Gaz is pretty charming. If you don’t have to spend that much time with him I’m sure he seems just about perfect. But he’s not. He’s kind of a jerk. Self-centred.”

“Yeah. I like you, Rory. We should have started being friends ages ago. Where have you been this whole time?”

“London. Liverpool. Didn’t like my dad’s last wife, so I didn’t come around much for a while there. No one ever listens to me until it’s all over.” Rory closed her laptop and stuck it back into her bag, and picked up her pen, tapping it idly on the notebook cover. “I mean, I’m just as blind to shit when it’s about me. I was with a guy for a couple years there and I didn’t figure out he was a jerk until it was ending either.”

“Guess we all have our weak spots.”

They chatted for a long while, until Rory saw John’s truck pull into the parking lot. She winced, pulling out her phone. She’d set it on silent after Brandon had tried calling a few more times on the walk over, and had missed quite a few calls and messages from John. “Aw shit. I’d better go. I didn’t tell dad I was leaving, and he’s the worrying type.”

“How’d he—”

“Oh, he definitely has a tracker on me. I’d roast him about his invasion of privacy, but it wouldn’t change his behaviour. I just got complacent about checking.” She shrugged, packing up her things. “Let’s do this again soon. I’ve got a big deadline coming up, but I can still make some time. I’ve been told it’s a good idea to get out of the house once in a while.” Rory stood up and gave Billie a quick hug. “Thanks for making time for me.”

“Thanks for the reality check. I’ll see you around, Rory.”

Rory bought another cookie on her way out, figuring she could probably sweeten his mood with a baked good. She made her way over to her dad’s truck, smiling tightly in response to his stern glare. “Hi dad,” she said blithely. “Sorry, I turned my phone to silent because Brandon keeps calling me. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

John huffed. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Oh please, you knew where I was the whole time.” She climbed into the passenger seat and set her bag between her feet.

His jaw tightened and loosened again. “Yeah. Suppose I did.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“You didn’t tell me where you were going, or answer any of my messages.”

“I’m a grown woman. You didn’t know where I was going or what I was up to when I was in London. We went months without speaking before. Why are you suddenly so worried about my safety?”

“Because you’re under my supervision now. Your mother would never forgive me if something happened to you under my watch. And there’s always enemies popping out of the woodwork. If someone targeted you because of me…”

“Why not just tell me that?”

His knuckles tightened on the wheel. “Guess I should’ve.”

“Of course you should’ve. You’re so cagey about work stuff, dad. You have to communicate. If I need to be more careful, I need to know that. You can’t just follow me around or track me or have your dogs babysit me all day long. I’m not going to be able to stand long term exposure to them.”

“No? Don’t get along with the lads?” The disappointment in his voice was clear.

“They’re fine. We just don’t exactly have a lot in common.”

“They like you.”

Rory huffed. They might’ve liked her a little too much. “Of course they do. I’m damn delightful.”

He chuckled, some of the tension loosening from his jaw and shoulders. “Maybe you could come to the base with me more often. It would set my mind at ease if you took a job there.”

“Oh come on, dad. I’ll be fine. I’ll be more careful to keep you updated. I’ll come to the base if you get concrete intel on some big bad looking for revenge, alright?”

“Scout…”

“Dad.”

He sighed, remembering that his daughter was at least as stubborn as he was. “I’ll get you a gun.”

“Thank you.”

They pulled back into the farmhouse driveway. Soap’s blue sports car was gone, and likely so were Ghost and Soap. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked. “Could use a distraction.”

“Nah. We could play Song of Valour though. Been a while since I kicked your ass in a video game.”

“Don’t recall you ever kicking my ass, but sure, sounds like a plan.”

The sun peeked over the horizon, spilling gold over the fields, streaming through the mist that rose from the shadows and burned away in the thin, pale light. Rory pulled in steady breaths, feet striking the ground evenly, sweat trickling down her back. This was the best part of living out here, the utter serenity of the morning run. It was quiet in the city around dawn too, but there was an ever-present hum of traffic, no matter the hour, and the air always smelled slightly of petrol and rot. Out here, the air was sweet, and the world was quiet, everything shrunk down to her body, the rush of blood in her ears, the inhale and exhale, the crunch of gravel. Smooth and perfect.

It had been a few weeks since their talk— Rory had mostly busied herself double and triple checking her formatting and spelling and making last minute edits on her latest book, but she had gone to the base with John a few times as well. With both Gaz and Soap gone at once, he was stuck running drills, and he’d brought Rory in a few times to brush up on her own skills. Just in case, he’d said, but Rory suspected that the real reason was so that he didn’t personally have to throw recruits around. In all fairness, she was more than happy to do it for him. It was good to get the practice in. And range time too, brushing up on her rifle skills.

She suspected nothing would come of John’s worries. She’d kept herself alert when out in town, and she had spotted Ghost following her a few times (and probably missed several more), but nothing else out of the ordinary.

Gary had texted her a few times, before explaining that he’d be out of country for a bit. She’d sent him a few cute selfies to come home to, hoping to escalate from polite getting to know each other texts to something a bit less polite and a lot more fun.

She’d ended up texting Ghost a lot too, over the weeks. Mostly one word messages and the thumbs up emoji, along with pictures of any dogs they happened to see. She’d also sent him one of her cute selfies by accident (Gary and Ghost were too close together in her contact list), and when she’d told him to ignore it, he’d sent a very unclear No in response. She still wasn’t sure if he had been responding to the picture or the message after. She’d started sending him pictures of him when she caught him following her, which had opened up to him sending her pictures of her out in public. She had to admit, the old man was still good. There were pictures of her that she had no idea how he’d taken. And a few surprisingly nice ones that she stuck on her tinder profile to break up the selfies.

She made it back to the house just as John was stepping outside, coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. “Mornin’ Scout,” he said cheerfully. “How was your run?”

“Not bad. I’m still trying to get that six minute mile consistently. Can’t keep up the pace over the long haul, but I’ve been keeping the ten mile below an hour and a quarter, even with a quick rest at the half point, so, all in all, not bad. I’ll keep working on it.” She dropped down to the grass to stretch, taking a minute to just breathe first.

“Pretty good, Scout. Should get you on the track to run laps around my soldiers one of these days.”

“What, they can’t fight, they can’t run, they can’t shoot? Aren’t these supposed to be your elite soldiers?”

John laughed. “You can outdo the recruits, Scout. You want a tougher fight, I’ll put you up against Soap. You’ll feel a little less cocky after that.”

"Dad, if you're going to have a dog chew on me, I'd rather it be Yardstick than Soap."

"Don't be silly, Scout. Soap hardly ever bites anymore."

Rory laughed, sitting up to run through her stretches. "Hardly ever is too far away from never, in my opinion."

John laughed too. "Probably right about that. We'll get you sparring with the kids. Nitro still bites, mind. And you'll have to put Roach on his ass a few times before he fights back properly."

"Sounds fun. Been a while since I had a good mixed discipline spar."

“It’s what you get for not signin’ up.”

“Don’t think I’m that big a fan of getting shot a.”

“Could still get you a job on base. There’s civilian work. Don’t have to be a soldier.”

“I know, dad. Mum offered to get me into the London base or as some kind of parliamentary aide when I said I was leaving Liverpool. I don’t want work I didn’t earn.”

He scoffed. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It’s about the only way to get decent work these days.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as fucked up?”

“Course it is. But you’d do good work, no matter how you got the job. You always rise to the occasion, Scout.”

“Well, either way, I’ve got my own projects cooking.”

John’s sipped his coffee idly. “You ever gonna share what you’re working on?”

“Absolutely not. Are you home for dinner tonight? I’ve got one of my projects wrapping up today, so I’m ordering celebratory takeout.” Scout hopped to her feet.

“Should’ve told me ahead of time. Got a date tonight.”

“Oh, did— oh shoot, Carrie, right? From base accounting. You mentioned her. Am I not expecting you home at all then?”

John laughed. “Maybe. You gonna be alright on your own? I can have Ghost drop by.”

Rory snorted, clapping her dad on the shoulder as she moved past him into the house. “No, dad. I do not need your weird old man friends to babysit me.”

Her book had gone up at midnight the previous night— Setting it up for nighttime releases helped quell some of the anxiety she felt every time she put a new work out there— and had planned an Ask Me Anything session online from the afternoon to evening. Her plan was to run some errands during the morning, and then answer questions while she took a long, hot bath, watched a favourite movie (The Princess Bride, most likely) and ordered take-out, in that order.

The AMA went great— She was surprised at how many questions she'd gotten, and shuffled her plans slightly to accommodate. Takeout while she worked on questions, then Princess Bride while she was in the tub.

A few accounts had messaged her privately as well, including some guy who mentioned how much he liked the Scot Cameron MacGregor in her last book, saying that the character reminded him of his husband. Rory was struck by the possibility that he was Ghost, since the character in question had been just slightly based on Soap, and the straightforward, clipped sentences seemed awfully familiar.

She snapped a picture of the tub full of bubbles and candles and the laptop with her movie playing, and sent it to Ghost.

Scout: Selfcare Sunday

Ghost: Isn’t it Friday?

Scout: Probably. I’m an unemployed layabout so I don’t know.

Scout: What are you up to, old man?

Ghost: Reading. Author I like has a new book out.

Vindication.

Scout: Oh yeah? Who?

Ghost sent her a picture in response, of his ereader leaning against his knee in the bathtub, with her book cover displayed on the screen. He was very clearly too big for the tub.

Scout: Did you get in the tub just to send that or were you already in there?

Ghost: Wouldn’t you like to know

It was very easy to imagine the smirk on his face. He could be so annoying.

Ghost: You read any Avery Ackerman? Might like her. Does the self-pub thing, like you’re doing.

Scout: Yeah I’ve heard of her. Didn’t know you were a romantasy guy.

Ghost: Romantasy? Being a writer’s no excuse to make up words

Scout: Shut up, you’re just old. That’s the genre.

She heard a thump downstairs. Her blood turned to ice despite the warm bath. John’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

Scout: Shit, I think someone’s in the house. I gotta get my gun.

Ghost: I’m coming over. Don’t do anythin stupid

Well, at least the cavalry was coming. Ghost was a one man army. Rory quickly got out of the tub, trying not to splash around too much, setting her laptop on the lid of the toilet. She scrubbed herself as dry as she could and wrapped a robe around herself before quietly dashing into her room to grab the handgun from it’s spot in the desk drawer, slapping a magazine in and tucking a second one into the belt of the robe. She quickly swept the upstairs, just to secure it, and crept downstairs, listening hard. The only sound was coming from the kitchen, so she peeked around the doorway, heart hammering. One man, combat boots, fatigues, gun on his hip, gun on his vest, holding her tub of double chocolate brownie ice cream with a spoon stuck out of it. Blue hat, familiar smirk.

Just Gaz. She let out a breath and came around the corner properly. “Jesus, Gaz, you scared the shit out of me.”

He raised an eyebrow at the gun in her hand and her state of undress. “Quite the homecoming.”

“Oh shut up. You’re eating my ice cream too.” Rory took the ammo out of the gun and set both on the counter. “Give that back.”

Gaz shook his head. “No.” He dug out a spoonful and popped it in his mouth, making an exaggerated sound of enjoyment. “Don’t think I will. Might share, if you ask nicely.”

“It’s my ice cream!” Rory protested, trying to grab it out of his hands. He held it up out of her reach, his annoyingly superior smirk turning into a grin. “Don’t be an ass.”

“That’s not asking nicely, is it, Scout?” he asked, tone patronizing. “Would you like to try again?”

“No I would not!”

It was a low blow, certainly, but he was annoying, and she was still a bit amped up from the interruption and the threat of a possible intruder, so she hooked her foot behind his knee and pulled him off balance, grabbing the tub of ice cream from his hands. He snatched it back, putting a hand on her shoulder to hold her at bay.

“Now listen,” he said sternly. “I’ve had a long couple of weeks in the bloody desert, and I’m hungry. You got anything else for me to eat?” His thumb brushed over her exposed collarbone, although his eyes didn’t drift from hers.

“It’s not my job to feed you!” Rory knocked his hand to the side and feinted for the ice cream, switching direction to snatch his hat off his head instead, leaping back out of reach. “Give me the ice cream or the hat gets it.”

“Terrorist,” he grumbled. “That’s my lucky hat.”

“We can solve this with no further bloodshed,” Rory said loftily, holding her other, empty, hand out. “Give it to me, and order yourself a fucking pizza.”

He handed over the tub of ice cream with a sigh. He’d made a good dent in the little container. It was what she got for buying expensive stuff, but she’d thought that she wouldn’t have to worry too much, since John wasn’t home. She hadn’t thought Gaz would be back so soon either. “Fine. You win this round, Scout.”

She set the hat on her head, and made a dash for the door.

She got about two steps away before he grabbed her arm and pushed her down over the counter, wrestling one arm behind her back and kicking her legs apart so she couldn’t muster any real force to kick him, and grabbed her other arm for good measure, twisting it up beside the first. “Brat,” he grumbled, flicking open one of his pockets. A moment later Rory felt a zip tie bind her wrists together.

“Hey! What the hell?”

“You reneged on our deal. That means you’re going to sit here, and you’re going to watch me eat all your damn ice cream.” He righted the container, yanked her upright, turned her around and picked her up to set her on the counter.

Scout snapped her legs together the moment he stepped back, trying not to think about how little she was wearing, or the way Gaz’s rough handling nearly had her purring like a cat. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would tell him, not in a thousand years, so she hoped the angry front she held up worked. He had no reason to question it— And as far as she was aware his primary concern was getting back together with Billie. Flirting outside the bar had just been a fluke. Not that she had been flirting.

Definitely not.

She didn’t even think he was that handsome. Sure, he had pretty brown eyes fringed by long lashes, and maybe he had a bright, perfect smile that lit up his whole face, and the flecks of silver brushed through his black hair gave him a distinguished air, but he was definitely too pretty to be Rory’s type. The way his plush lips closed around the spoon didn’t effect her in the least.

“You’re an asshole,” she said. “I have things to do, you know.”

“No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t be home on a Friday night.”

“The only friends I have in this town are Ghost and your ex-wife, I’m not exactly swimming in social plans,” Rory snapped. She wanted to rub his nose in it, that she was friends with Billie, although she couldn’t really explain why. She just felt like being mean. He deserved it, after all, since he’d zip-tied her fucking hands together.

It gave him pause. “You’re friends with Billie now?”

“Yeah. She’s nice. Too good for you, in my opinion.”

“Probably. Did she ask about me?” He dug another spoonful of ice cream out, making eye contact with her while he ate.

Rory hummed, pretending to think about it, trying really hard not to let her eyes drift down when he licked the spoon. “No, not really.”

“Aw, come on, Scout. I’ll share if you tell me.”

“Something like, the sex was so good that she didn’t realize there were serious problems until you stopped having it, and that she wouldn’t get back with you for less than a strong commitment to individual and couples counselling.” Rory shrugged, wincing when the shoulder of her robe slipped down. “Which I doubt you’d do. And honestly, you should let her find someone else. You had a good run. You’re still at least outwardly tolerable, so I’m sure you’ll find someone out there.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully, ignoring the latter half of what she’d said. “I suppose that’s fair. Counselling would be a good start. Maybe I’ll talk to her next week. You should tell her I’m back in town. She’ll be expecting me to show up, so if I don’t, she’ll think that’s me respecting her space.” He held up a spoonful of ice cream. “That’s very helpful, Scout. You’ve earned this.”

“God, do you hear yourself? Why don’t you start by actually respecting her space? And not scheming about getting her back with you.”

He offered her the spoon, smirking again. If she’d had her hands free, Rory might have popped him just for being a prick. “If I’m doing the right things, does it really count as scheming? Now open up, before this starts melting.”

“I’m not going to let you feed me, you asshole, let me have my hands back!”

“No. I’ll let you go when I’m done. I have more questions.”

“This is the worst fucking interroga—” Rory squeaked as Gaz slid the spoon into her mouth, cutting her off.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked, pulling the spoon back slowly.

Rory glared at him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You are not making me want to let you go any sooner. Now, when I talk to her, what do you think will go over better? A text? I’d usually call, but she might find that more intrusive, and I want to show I’m committed to change.”

“But you’re not!” Rory protested. “You’re not committed to change, you’re trying to put your marriage back in the box it was in before, because it was convenient for you! Don’t be an asshole, Gaz, let her go.”

“She’s my wife. I’m not just going to let her go. But I could wait longer. Let her go on some lack-lustre dates with civvies that can’t even make her come.” He offered another bite of ice cream to Rory, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought it over. “Maybe I should see someone else. Get her jealous.”

Rory flinched as a glob of melting ice cream landed on her thigh, and opened her mouth to keep more from dripping all over her. The spoon clicked against her teeth as Gaz pulled it back again. “You’re so immature. You’re nearly forty, and you’re using jealousy as a tool to get your wife back?” she asked. There was a weird energy in the room, a counter to the acid way she spoke to him.

Gaz absently used his thumb to wipe the drop of ice cream off her thigh, and popped it into his mouth. “I’m considering it.”

“Listen, Gaz, I don’t think you’re a bad guy, but you really need to listen to what you’re saying right now.” Rory leaned to the side slightly to avoid the next offered scoop of ice cream. “She’s a person, and she has wants and needs that you can’t fulfill. Why do you need to draw it out? Why not think about it for more than a second before committing yourself to chasing her down? Like, what do you want? It’s probably not even the same things.” She huffed as more melting ice cream dripping down onto her shoulder. “Now will you stop that? You’re getting chocolate all over me.”

“What? Oh.” Gaz’s eyes dropped, following a drip that slowly travelled down her collarbone. He stuck the spoon back into the container and caught the drip before it reached her robe, just above her breast. Rory couldn’t help the way her breath caught, and he seemed to be having a similar moment as he licked the spot of chocolate off of his thumb and eyed the rest of the sticky sweet mess he’d made, inexplicable heat sparking in the air between them. “Let me just get that for you.”

Instead of getting a cloth like a sane person would, he leaned in and licked up the droplets, his hands settling on Rory’s waist to hold her still. He made a deep, contented sound when she gasped, the combination of warm tongue and cold confectionery turning her brain to mush. She didn’t even try to squirm away, only leaned her head to the side to give him access to her neck, where he started sucking slightly sticky kisses onto delicate skin, slotting his body between her thighs, hands sliding down to her hips to pull her closer to the edge of the counter.

“Gaz, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You— ahhh— You can’t— I’m not—” He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, scrambling what remained of her thoughts, his teeth dragging over her earlobe. She made a pathetic, whimpering sound, trying to keep her eyes open and fighting for the return of rational thinking. This was obviously a bad idea. A terrible idea.

An insanely hot idea.

“Oi,” a gruff voice behind her said. The accompanying click from a gun’s safety switch brought Rory back to cold clarity in an instant. “Step away from the bird.”

“Ghost, wait, it’s just Gaz!” Rory twisted, panic blessedly pulling her back to reality, where she knew that what had just happened was messed up. “Don’t shoot him.”

The safety clicked back on. “Gaz, get your fuckin’ ‘ands off Scout,” Ghost growled. He didn’t wait for Gaz to comply, just gripped the back of his tac vest and pulled him back a step. “Wot the ‘ell’s goin’ on ‘ere?” He was wearing the Ghost mask, not just the usual plain black surgical one he usually wore these days. He meant business.

Gaz opened his mouth to explain, but Ghost held up a hand. “Not you. Scout? Why’re you tied up and ‘alf dressed?”

“Oh. Um. So you said not to do anything stupid, and I, um. Did. Secured the top floor and looked into the kitchen and realized it was just Gaz, so I put the gun down.”

"Din't think maybe you should've put pants on first?" Ghost's eyes swept over her critically, taking in the half-open robe and the blush that spread from her chest to the tops of her ears.

“Well. It occurs to me now that might have been a good use of my time, yes.”

“And when I told you not to do anythin’ stupid, you just thought you’d ignore that, roight?”

“Ghost, I am ziptied and embarrassed, can we save the lecture for once I’ve gotten dressed?”

“No. You’re gonna remember it better this way.” Ghost turned his attention to Gaz. “And you! Wot the fuck do you think you were doin’?”

“I— I thought we were—” Gaz looked rattled, more surprised than anything else, like he couldn’t fully put together what he had been doing. His eyes found Rory’s, and stuck there.

Ghost stepped between them, practically growling. “No, I don’t want to ‘ear it. That’s Price’s little girl, you can’t be suckin’ on ‘er neck like a teenage boy just coz she’s ‘ot now.”

Gaz scoffed. “She’s a grown woman, she can do anything she likes.”

“She’s not gonna want to do it with you! You’re nowhere near good enough for ‘er.” Ghost jabbed a finger at Gaz’s chest. “Scout is off limits. For you, for Soap, for me. If you can’t ‘andle that, I’ll tell Price what I caught you doin’ and ‘ave ‘im kick your sorry arse out.”

“Woah, woah, everyone slow down,” Rory said quickly. “It’s fine. Ghost, he just got carried away, he didn’t hurt me, so you can calm down, okay big guy? I’m fine.”

Ghost turned around, the scary, cold light in his eyes fading. “Shite. Sorry, pet. Just scared me, thinkin’ you were in trouble.” He cupped her face with his huge hands and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “But if I ever catch you walkin’ into an uncertain situation ‘alf naked again, I’m gonna put you over my knee, understood?”

Rory snickered. “Kinky.”

Ghost huffed, shaking her head lightly before releasing her and reaching for his knife. “Christ, Scout, you stop that. Why’re you tied up anyhow?” He leaned around her and cut the plastic tie with a quick tug of the blade.

“Oh, we were being obnoxious. I was mad because he was eating my ice cream, he was grumpy because he just got in from god knows where and I was giving him grief about it.” Scout rubbed her wrists. She hadn’t been in the position long enough for it to really hurt. “Childish nonsense. I think we both just wanted to fight.”

“I did not want to fight.” Gaz picked up the tub of ice cream again. “I’ve had my fill for a little while.”

Ghost snorted. “Don’t give me that. You always come home itchin’ for a fight or a fuck. Or both, ‘alf the time.”

“Well. I was thinking about going to see Billie. So I guess you’re right. Was looking for both.”

“Alright, Scout, go get your cute little arse dressed. Can’t ‘ave you temptin’ this degenerate any longer.”

“Yeah yeah. All my fault, I get it.” Rory hopped down from the counter and picked up her gun before trotting back up the stairs. She cleaned up the bathroom and drained the tub, and got dressed in some comfortable sweatpants and an oversized sweater, covering as much skin as possible. She bounced back into the kitchen, sticking her tongue out at Gaz, who was scraping the last bits of ice cream out of the little carton, looking at her smugly. She ignored him and focused on Ghost. “You stickin’ around, big guy? Or heading home?”

Ghost shrugged. “Figure I’d stick around for a bit. Keep an eye on this one, make sure ‘e don’t get ‘andsy again.” He elbowed Gaz, eyes crinkling slightly.

“I don’t need supervision. It was a lapse in judgment.”

“You’ve been ‘avin’ a lot of those lately. Get your ‘ead on straight, Garrick.”

“I get it, I fucked up. No idea what’s gotten into me.” He sighed, shooting Rory a guilty glance. “Just missin’ Bill, I guess. Sorry Scout.”

“It’s fine. I would prefer if we never spoke of it again.”

Gaz nodded, relief written plain on his handsome face. “Yeah. That would be for the best.”

Rory settled in on the couch beside Ghost while Gaz trudged upstairs for a shower. He came back in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and they bickered over a movie for a little bit (Ghost won, and they watched You’ve Got Mail). Ghost got a text from Soap that he was landing, so he left, sternly telling them to behave themselves. Rory rolled her eyes when she locked the door behind him. He could be such a mother hen, always worrying about the silliest things.

Gaz was half watching the movie and half scrolling through his phone when Rory came back. She settled back into he spot she’d been curled up in before, suddenly a bit tense. They’d been fine when Ghost was there, laughing and joking like old friends, but now that he was gone, Gaz didn’t seem to have anything he wanted to say to her, although he kept looking at her when he thought she was paying more attention to the movie.

He snorted softly. “New in town, take me on a whirlwind tour of Hereford. If we still want to hang out after the ten minutes that takes, we can get coffee.”

Rory whipped her head around so fast she felt like she pulled something. “That’s my fucking tinder profile.”

“Got some cute pictures in here. You havin’ any luck?”

“Some. Most guys just want to take me on a whirlwind tour of their dicks, which is fine. Been a while since I got laid and all. But I’m not sleeping with a guy who’s first overture is a picture of his penis.”

Gaz chuckled. “Have we really not figured out that that doesn’t work?”

“I don’t think they care about it not working. It’s a test to see if the other person has boundaries or self-respect.” Rory chucked a pillow at his head. “But honestly, there’s not a lot of charm in this town.”

“That’s what boys’ll get you,” Gaz said loftily.

“Like you could do better, Mr. Big Tough Man.”

He smirked. “Do you want to find out?”

“Ew, no, you’re almost as old as my dad.”

“First of all, no I’m not. I’m not even forty.” He threw the pillow back at her, and it bounced off her scandalized face. “And secondly, I don’t think disgust was top of mind when I was kissing you earlier. Some of those sounds could even be interpreted as enjoyment.”

“Sure, if you’re a delusional old man.” Rory grabbed the pillow before he could chuck it at her again. “And I’m not sure I’d call that kissing, it was more licking, because you’re gross and insane.”

“Watch it, love. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble with that attitude.”

Rory scoffed. “Oh yeah? Are you my daddy now, Gaz? Gonna punish me for bein’ a brat?”

She tensed, realizing what she’d said could be considered provocative. Gaz tensed too, his dark eyes flashing with interest. That stupid smirk of his was becoming a permanent fixture on his too-pretty face. They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them hardly daring to breathe. The sensible thing to do would to leave him there and go to bed. And she was sensible. She was.

But he tipped his head to the side, as though he sensed that she was about to flee. “Is that what you need me to be, Rory? Your daddy?” And fuck, if that wasn’t unreasonably hot coming from him, that gorgeous dark caramel voice that was just a little too sweet, covering wolfish intention. He reached out, his fingers brushing her ankle.

Scout pulled her leg out of his range before he could grip her, and jumped to her feet. “WellthatwasagreattalkI’mgoingtobed,” she said, all the words coming out on top of each other in a nervous jumble. “Goodnight!”

She practically ran upstairs, ears turning hot when she heard Gaz laughing. Oh he was such a bastard.

Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - Banners by @/cafekitsune