#once I have my new blog going I’ll drop the link but i understand if you guys don’t want to wait around ❤️ bc idk when I’ll get around to

[unsettledspirits]

I am eventually going to delete this blog, starting over on a new multi. Once it is up and running I’ll drop the promo ❤️ for now I can be found on my other blogs.

@safestkittykatintown

@zoomingupthathill

@thesacrificialxlamb

@kingofthecornermarcel

@wavrlynatural

[vigilaent]

#𝚅𝙸𝙶𝙸𝙻𝙰𝙴𝙽𝚃  :  a  selective  low  activity  superhero  multimuse  blog  for  characters  featured  in  the  dc  universe,  heavily  based  in  rocksteady  studio’s  arkham  knight  and  gotham  knights,  influenced  by  other  media  such  as  batman:  unburied,  batman:  under  the  red  hood,  wayne  family  adventures,  hbo’s  titans,  +  some  comics  as  i  read  them.     very headcanon heavy.

an  ode  to  :  corruption,  generational  cycles  thanked  and  broken,  the  body  bled  and  divided  among  the  hands,  love as violence,  violence as religion,  religion as love,  and  being  born  again.     re - made  04/18/23.     performed by jean,  23,  they/any,  cst.

muselist.     opens.     dossiers linked below when available.

quick muselist.

dick grayson.     mixed media,  headcanon heavy.     pinterest. jason todd.     headcanon and arkham based.     pinterest. bruce wayne.     unburied and 2022 based,  arkham influenced.     pinterest. gar logan.     titans and headcanon based. koriand’r.     titans and teen titans influenced. rachel roth.     mixed media,  teen titans influenced. selina kyle.     very divergent,  original portrayal. jessie umeh.     original character,  arkham based. jim gordon.     2022 and unburied based.     testing. cassandra cain.     wfa based.     testing. komand’r.     hc based,  titans influenced.     testing. vic stone.     hc based,  doom patrol influenced.     testing.

dash rules.

000. . .     disclaimer.

just a little one !     i am very new to the dc universe and find myself often overwhelmed with the amount of comics there are to read.     i’ve got the spirit,  but i may or may not know the basics about your muse when it comes to canon dc characters.     i apologize in advance,  but it’s nothing a little plotting can’t fix,  so if i pop into your ims with stupid questions about your portrayal, this is why.     but as always,  if you’re still down to clown,  i am very much too !

001. . .     activity.

i'll be frank : i write pretty sporadically, and this goes for ic and ooc interactions. i can get overwhelmed juggling responsibilities often, and socializing is one of the first things to go.     i un  /  fortunately work 40 hour work weeks,    and only get every other weekend off,  so my schedule makes consistent activity difficult on top of my focus. if i can successfully plot something with you, i find my muse is sooo much more involved, but i'm contradictorily bad at it due to the reasons above ; it's truly hit or miss, and i understand if that becomes frustrating for any of my partners.    sometimes i’ll be able to get out a couple drafts a week,  others merely once,  or not at all. if i haven’t replied or answered something in a while,  please know it’s nothing personal, i’m just taking my time until i feel good about what i can put down.     writing is a hobby i enjoy, but if you're looking for a blog with any sort of regularity, this isn't the one for you. i have other rp blogs i try to run as well,  therefore i might be very slow on this one at times.     i can be quite the flaky rp partner,  so i apologize in advance for that and completely understand if my antics   [  or lack thereof  ]   result in an unfollow. if i go longer than two months without activity, i'll try to make a hiatus notice.

002. . .     following.  

because of the previously stated,  i’m also highly selective with who i rp with.     i want to not to bite off more than i can chew,  and for the sake of pacing myself,  my activity will be reserved for mutuals only.     if my thread count gets too high for my liking, it's not uncommon that i drop threads, but i will absolutely try and let you know if that happens.     duplicates are always welcome <3   [  let me know if you need me to tag same - muse posts and i’ll be happy to !  ] i regularly go on softblocking sprees to keep my follower count semi - low, but do feel free to re - follow if you feel like the stars merely misaligned for our first bout of mutual following and i'd be very down to give it another shot. on that note, it'll take me a week+ to follow back sometimes, as i like to read through not only rules, but dossiers and verse pages, especially for ocs, so it can take a hot minute.

003. . .     etiquette.

the basics  ;  don’t be an asshole,  any transphobia,  biphobia,  homophobia,  racism,  whitewashing,  pro - shipping,  incest,  etc,  will be blocked on sight.     no godmodding,  please cut your threads,  continue asks in new posts,  etc,  and no stealing of any personal concepts of mine.     loose inspiration is fine,  but if i see repeated similarities,  i may or may not approach you about it.     formatting - wise,  here is an example of my prose style.     i primarily use big ol’ text and static or no icons,  beta editor + xkit rewritten,  but feel free to format however you like and i’ll try to match you somewhat. since my concussion, however, i will no longer be threading with super small text or anything heavily formatted, as this can strain my eyes and make headaches worse, even with my glasses.

004. . .     shipping.  

i’m all about exploring meaningful dynamics,  whether they be platonic,  familial,  antagonistic,  pre - established,  etc,  so feel free to shoot me a message if you’d like to plot something out between our muses !     while the mun of this blog is 18+,  smut just really isn’t my thing  ;  referenced  ‘ offscreen ’  as it were is fine,  as are nfsfw headcanons and such,  maybe fade to black  /  time skips,  but for the most part,  you won’t find any roleplayed smut on this blog.     this of course is muse dependent and does not apply to any underage muses.     romance is fine to some degree,  but again,  if they are a child, such as raven in her hbo titan’s verse,  anything beyond lighthearted and innocent experiences are off limits,  no exceptions.     if i see you’ve aged up a minor character for shipping purposes,  it will result in an instant unfollow.     if at some point i flesh out adult verses for them,  these shipping rules will not change.     on that note as well,  i do prefer to rp with muns who are also 18+.     i don’t see your age somewhere in your rules or pinned,  it will affect my willingness to follow.

005. . .     memes.

memes from anyone,  anytime,  for the muse or for the mun,  are always welcome,  and often a go - to ice breaker of mine since starter calls make me nervous.     please don’t hesitate to send a good handful since i try not to cage myself into answering ones i just don’t have muse for.     i find if i force stuff,  i’m just less likely to ever actually get it done,  so don’t feel like you’re overwhelming me if you send more than just a couple for me to choose from.     please remember to specify which muse your asks are for unless it’s to one of my sideblogs.     if you want to start a thread from an ask,  i greatly encourage it since i try to write most answers as potential starters anyway ! lastly, any memes in my tag aren't expired. if i don't want them sent in anymore, i'll delete them from the tag.

006. . .     triggers.  

this blog leans horror - adjacent in many ways,  and this blog will be portraying that accordingly,  including trigger - heavy content such as  :  depression,  ptsd,  panic attacks,  violence,  murder,  kidnapping,  self harm,  smoking,  abuse  /  neglect,  animal death,  horror elements,  cannibalism,  torture,  brainwashing,  death  /  resurrection,  religious imagery,  etc,  but i will try to tag it as  ‘ trigger // ’.     on that note,  please do keep in mind  :  any abuse present on my blog will be in headcanons or backstories,  never actual threads.     if i’m writing with villain muses,  physical harm may be present,  but i refuse to roleplay any domestic  /  animal  /  harm or abuse in any form.     my personal triggers are visual eye gore,  visual self harm,  and visual vomit.     please do feel free to say something if i forget to tag a post and i’ll try to tag it for you right away !

whew. all that said, i'm jean, 23, white, and i use they/any pronouns ! thank you for taking the time to read my rules,  and rest assured if i follow you,  that means i’ve read through yours as well <3 discord is available for mutuals upon request.

007. . .     blogroll.

enslaughts.     a medium activity horror - heavy multimuse. dvrast.     a selective jesper fahey.     low activity.     follows from enslaughts. vigilaent.     a selective dc multimuse.     low activity. wayfares.     a selective western multimuse.     hiatus. greatloss.     a selective slow five hargreeves.     hiatus. clericlost.     a selective slow william byers.     hiatus. mindsflayed.     a selective slow mind flayer + vecna.     hiatus.     follows from clericlost.

[doingthedirtydishes]

Sweden: To my delight, your fika, lingonberries and balls tickled me bright.

From the time I arrived at Arlanda airport I could already tell it was going to be a great trip. I had been to Sverige once before, many years ago, to see a friend, Jonaton Tillander, graduate from high school. He lived on the West Coast, in a beautiful coastal city, Goteborg.  At the time, I was in Danmark visiting friends in Kobenhavn, and boarded the ferry across the Kattegat (Danish: “Cat’s Throat”) strait, forming a link between the Baltic Sea and North Sea. In 1995 they built the Oresund Bridge, attaching Danmark and Sweden.  It is the longest combined road and rail bridge in Europe, including a 4 kilometer tunnel, connecting two major metropolitan areas, Kobenhavn, Denmark and Malmo, Sweden.

However, this would be my first time to the spectacular East Coast city of Stockholm.  To say I was elated would be to lessen my true excitement. It was always on my bucket list and now it would become a blog entry to inform other travelers. But this time in Sweden would be very different: I would be seeing it as an injured traveler, in a wheelchair.  Like any new place one goes while injured, I wondered how they would treat me, the condition of the streets, would I be able to access all or some of the astonishing tourist attractions, could I use public transport, would I be able to enter my hotel room, toilet and shower, and so many other concerns – too long a list to index here.  Game-on!

As with any new country I arrive at in a wheelchair, I immediately assessed my transport concerns. The city was a twenty minute drive by taxi or a bit further and complicated if I attempted public transport.  As is the case with most European cities but especially Scandinavia, public transportation is reliable, efficient and safe.  Trains departed  twice an hour from the airport’s Arlanda Central Station, between terminals 4 and 5, dropping you at Stockholm’s Central Station. The train ride is 38 minutes. Coach was also an option, with Flygbussarna buses departing the airport every 10-15 minutes.  They also dropped you in city-center at Stockholm’s Central Station.  I opted for the easiest option: taxi.

The taxi pulled up to the Generator Hostel, I paid, departed, and was on my way – let the enjoyment begin. As I entered the hostel, a chain throughout Europe (now with one in Miami), I was immediately welcomed by the warm and affable staff at the counter. I knew I had picked the right hotel. A few minutes later they had me sorted out and I was off to my room. The hostel had an elevator to reach the upper floors, lucky me. As is the case with many hotels I book while traveling, there is a process of elimination to find a room that actually is best suited to my injury needs. Not the case with Generator – all was perfect. The door had an automated option, though it was in repair during my visit.

Generator Hostels are my favorite places to stay in Europe. In the past year I have stayed at Dublin, Ireland and Amsterdam, Holland. The staff is friendly and welcoming, always willing to accommodate the injured traveler – they make your stay comfortable. Otherwise from experience, while journeying throughout Europe, I can tell you it can be a nightmare in a wheelchair.  For me it is very convenient to have everything I need on a bad day within feet of my hostel door: restaurant for food, bar for drinks, meeting area(s) for friends, handicapped accessible bathroom(s) and general area for shared enjoyment. Stockholm even has a mini ping-pong table. Beat Boris and get a free breakfast. I ate free for a week.

The room had four bunks but I was the only one there at that time. I settled in, unpacked, took a shower and then stole a short nap to recharge my batteries. I had flown to Sweden direct from Iceland, a three hour flight, and so was not very knackered. Usually my first day in a new city I take some time to relax and understand the lay of the land – I’ll look at maps, do some research and plan accordingly.  Since it was a hostel with a large shared space for eating and fun, I headed downstairs to the communal lobby/bar/restaurant area. As with most my life, not ten minutes had passed and I was already meeting other world travelers – making new friends.  Molly from Canada was the first.  Let the good times roll!

Map of the city understood, obligatory first drink with new friends finished, planning aside, it was time to dig in to the local eats. The hostel also had a club attached to it which served as a business meeting venue during the day, replete with a full chef’s menu and all the accoutrements.  Word in the hostel halls was the food was extremely tasty, and also well priced.  I would not be a true tourist if I did not make my first order Kottbullar (Swedish meatballs), served with lingonberries, mashed potatoes and pickled cucumber slices.  The tiny pork and beef meatballs were served in a nutmeg and cardamom flavored gravy, which suited the mashed potatoes just fine. They were mouthwatering. I was in love.

Dreams of meatballs and berries aside, the next morning I awoke to a phone call from a friend from United Kingdom, Lawrence, who had just arrived at the airport, was on a bus and would soon arrive at the hostel. He had flown into Vasteras, an alternate and cheaper airport for flights from Europe, located 100km from Stockholm – so though his flight, return London for 60 quid (pounds), was cheaper – he ended up paying for the inconvenience and time. Being an injured traveler I opt for convenience over cost savings anytime practical and pragmatic; though could be my age too. Sure enough, twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. It was beer time – Brits would have it no other way on holiday.

That night we did not venture far, deciding to check out Bar Hilma, the club that was a part of the hostel. There I met Tahir from Kashmir, in Scandinavia selling the highest quality Kashmir and Pashmina scarves.  Shortly after, Nick from Texas, US joined the group, Ajay from London, England and Monica from Oslo, Norway, moments later.  Not long after, abound with a smorgasbord of personalities and stories from all over the globe alike, new life-long relationships were in the process of being formed. To date, I still speak with all the unique people from all parts of the world I met on my trip to Stockholm. The club and hostel catered to my injured needs swimmingly – Stockholm was delivering on her promise: fun for all.

Before departing each others’ company that night, some had agreed to spend the next day together sightseeing the local neighborhood. Being that it would be my first day out-and-about in the city in a wheelchair, it was most welcome to have some of my new friends along with me for the ride.  The next morning I had the most appetizing breakfast with Lawrence – scrambled eggs and soft bacon with fresh warm baked bread and newly harvested fruits. I then relaxed and did some reading and journal writing before meeting the others to explore the city. The hostel is centrally located downtown; everything you would want to visit is only a short distance away.  All attractions are a close walk, taxi or bus ride.

Over the next few days I spent time with different friends going various places. Everyone had their own interests and, as long as I was able to do so in a wheelchair, and they were willing to have me along, I joined. One sunny afternoon with Nick, Ajay and Lawrence we visited Skansen Island, world’s oldest open-air museum, where there is a small zoo, traditional Scandinavian sod roof homes, windmills, restaurants and historic enactments. After lunch, at a historic hotel, we had drinks at a WWII torpedo factory. The Raksmorgas (prawn sandwich) was delicious. A day spent with Joel, a nurse from France I met at the hostel, in his car to see more of the city and gardens otherwise inaccessible, was splendid.

What one immediately takes notice of, once past the small lip at the entrance of the hostel, is just how friendly the sidewalks of Stockholm are for the injured – blind included. The sidewalks are smooth, with cement ramp entrances and exits wherever a curb could be seen. The streets and walks were orderly, well lit and properly marked, reminiscent of a walk through any IKEA store – buses, trains and their stations, the same. There was ample parking for handicapped persons, almost always located right at the front entrance. Museums throughout the city had reserved parking spots very close to the entrance. Public buildings all had ramps as well.  I was overly impressed by the convenience provided for injured.

Stockholm is known as the ‘Venice of the North,’ also commonly referred to as the capital of Scandinavia. It is a city of old buildings and unique design, surrounded by water, dating from 1250s to 1600s – as the city was sparred being leveled by bombs in WWII, with the exception of a few ‘accidental’ Soviet bombs – though some say it was the German or Finnish Air Force intending to provoke the Soviets. The modern city is a lovely mix of old and new, apparent everywhere you looked. There is a lovely waterfront promenade where one can enjoy its famous multi-colored buildings and remarkable architecture, while having a drink or lunch with friends – or simply just taking in the breathtaking vista.

Their museum and art installations are world class. My favorite was Fotografiska centre, filled with contemporary photography, conveniently discovered in the Sodermalm district, with gorgeous views of the Stockholm harbor. Vasa Maritime Museum, located on Djurgarden Island, with its almost fully intact, 64-gun warship, that sank on her maiden voyage in 1628, never making it out of the harbor, was stunning.  A city of fine art – a ‘street art’ tour in Ragsved neighborhood, as well their subway stations, is one-of-a-kind – with over 160 street artists’ graffiti showcased – a must see.  Stadsbiblioteket, Stockholm Public Library, designed by Gunnar Asplund, is one of the city’s most distinctive structures.

Stockholm, hub of Scandinavia, alive and electric, is also filled with great shopping, endless culture and exciting entertainment and nightlife. The food, not just their fika, the almighty Swedish coffee break, with over 1000 restaurants, located in close-by districts of Norrmalm and Vasastaden, was affordable and most delectable. Ferries are also available to sail you to other exotic locations like Helsinki, Finland or St. Petersburg, Russia. As I mentioned in my book, Unbreakable Mind, life is best lived when Doing The Dirty Dishes, getting out-and-about, traveling the world, experiencing life, living – getting your hands dirty.  Stockholm should be on everyone’s bucket list – your fika dishes await – Nu gar vi!

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 17 | April 18th – April 24th

Welcome to week 17 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 18»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt.1 » Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader & Platonic Avengers x Reader — Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

His Favorite Day » Chris Evans x Reader — Chris’s favorite day of the year is your birthday.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

*No Hidden Messages by @jobean12-blog » TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Sam sends you a picture of Bucky and the endgame is priceless. | Honestly I love me some dominant Bucky, and if Sam had sent me that picture I would have dropped my phone and been like yep that my babe. I was thinking something more dirty but I’ll keep that thought to myself. 😉

Sucker Punch by @buckyblues » Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader — Bucky thought he knew what was his, until he accidentally let it roam free. | Someone come dump a cold bucket of water on me please?

Someone Like You by @startrekkingaroundasgard » Bucky Barnes x Hydra Agent!Reader — Taken from their SHIELD prison cell, the reader finds themself alone with The Winter Soldier negotiating for their life. | I really enjoyed reading this, the sass of the reader and how Bucky handles them. It’s just so perfect. Nicola says there is more to come for this pair and I’m so very much looking forward to it.

(Mini) Series:

Happy & So Happy by @mrwinterr » Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader — You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. | The smut in this is hot and by the end you are hoping the reader gets a happy ending not a tragic one.

*A Tender Heart 💜 Pt. 3 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics and explicit sexual content, 18+] | I feel the love that is radiating from this story and I really love it and the little bit of smut we get in chapter 3 is perfect!

the (after) party by @buckycuddlebuddy sequel loft music » fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader — “why don’t we have this thing they call goodbye sex? one last time.” he leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear. “i’ll make it good for you.” | In some strange way it was therapeutic to read this but at the same time I felt bad for the reader in the first part. Second part you are rooting for her but still feeling bad. I will say the smut in this is perfect.

Just Like Dad Pt. 3 🦾 Pt. 1 🦾 Pt. 2 by @ladyfallonavenger » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky finally confronts Steve and moves forward with his life. | Very sweet ending and I loved it.

Sweet Dreams 🥞 Pt. 4 🥞 Pt. 5 🥞 Pt. 6 🥞 Pt. 7 by @jedimastermelkor » Bucky Barnes x Reader & ? x Avenger — Your daily routine involves waking up in the morning, going to work and sulking at night. But then you meet the man you’ve fantasized about for your entire life, Bucky Barnes. At the same time, you’ve caught someone else’s eye and his first step in winning you over is to cook you breakfast. But will you be welcoming of that person’s affections? | I like how she named the puppy Pancake and the first thing the mysterious avenger gave her was pancakes. I don’t want to give too much away but things are getting really good and you find out who the mysterious avenger is in chapter 6!

Steve Rogers

One-Shots:

*Caught by @giorno-plays-piano » Bluebeard!Steve Rogers x Reader — If he kept you warm, saying words of love to you every day while he looked you in the face, you’d marry him even if in a year he hanged you just like all his wives in the dungeon of his castle. | It’s dark but in a soft way and it’s so good. I highly recommend you go and read it.

Drabble Request by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader — We find out how Steve and Reader met before they ever got in a relationship. Takes place before Tell Me What You Want. | I loved this so much, I was laughing and pictured this whole piece so vividly in my brain. Also I just want a part where Bucky teases Steve about that night in front of reader making her giggle, maybe at the wedding?

(Mini) Series:

*Yuánfèn 📖 Pt. 4 by @writerwrites » Steve Rogers x Reader — When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart? | I always look forward to the updates on this story. It brings me so much comfort and the relationship that is blossoming between the reader and Steve is beautiful and organic. I highly recommend this.

Misc.

Headcanons:

*Just Like Her Old Man by @rebelwrites » Chibs Telford x Reader — I asked for: Parents get called into school for a meeting due to their daughter fighting, and trying not to be proud. Taking them out for a treat after the meeting. | It turned out so great. If you knew me at my Sons Anarchy Days, you know I loved Chibs the most. This feed my love for him even more. Thank you Heather!!

One-Shot:

*A Simple Solution by @sweetlyscared » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Fem!Reader x Ari Levinson — You and Andy had a purely sexual relationship for several months, and you’d started to grow attached to him. Unfortunately, life has a way of complicating things, and a chance encounter at a bookstore had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. | We all owe a huge thank you to Sweet Lee, for writing and posting this. She wrote our dreams out so perfectly, and if you haven’t thought of this now you can. It’s just so hot and good, I for one am very thankful.

(Mini) Series:

*Give In 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 23 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 24 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 25 by @overr-written » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | I love this series so much and the lengths that the chapters are. I really am going to be sad when this is over. I don’t ever want it to end. 😭

Seal Team

One-Shots:

Imma Take Care Of Your Body by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Reader is the only female member on Bravo who also has a no strings attached relationship with Rebel. | Let me just say this is hot, like really hot. Give me a glass of water and let me cool down. Thank you Heather for blessing us with this.

Tier One Babysitters by @bravo-four-seal-team » Seal Team; Ray Perry x Naima Perry — Ray and Naima ask the team to watch 6 month old Jameelah. | I promise you will be laughing.

You Are Perfect by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Clay tells you everything he loves about you. | As a big boned girl this meant a lot and has me wishing for a Clay Spenser to call my own.

[ethanesimp]

PROMISES // T.R.

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x Best friend Fem! Reader

Summary: Thomas lulls your daughter to sleep after he wakes up to the sound of her crying

Word Count: 1.2k 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex and asshole ex-boyfriends

 Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove​  @superchrystaldrug​ @victoriadeangeliswifey​   @ethaneskin​  @dont-let-me-drown-in-you​  @bidet-and-legolas​

A/N: To make up for all the angst I give you this fluffy piece :)  If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) 

Thomas and the band had been working on their most recent album closer to home. Somehow, Thomas had persuaded his friends into renting another home studio that time around. While he loved and enjoyed traveling around the world while on tour and recording new music, he didn't have the heart to leave his best friend alone after only a few months of giving birth. 

He had agreed on helping you raise the baby the moment you two realized how much of an asshole your ex-boyfriend was. You had shown up at his home one afternoon to tell him about your pregnancy and a huge part of you thought he'd be thrilled, you really did. All you got from him was a disgusted look and the accusation that you had probably cheated on him with Thomas and that's how you had gotten pregnant because he was sure you had always used protection when having sex. Which clearly wasn't true. 

After you told him everything, he was fuming. That day Thomas promised you and your baby to help with anything you needed because even though he wasn't the baby's father, you were still family and Thomas would do anything for his family.

You had been roommates of his and Ethan’s for years before you got pregnant and part of you had been afraid they would throw you out so they wouldn’t have to deal with a screaming and crying baby. Every fear of that was thrown out the window the moment they met your daughter for the first time though. She had them both wrapped around her tiny fingers within a few hours of being in the world.

He’d even insisted on you moving into the home studio with the band. You’d turned his offer down at first, not wanting to bother your four friends, but they didn’t listen and they took the chance to move her cradle and some of the furniture into their rented home while you were out with your daughter.

As much as Thomas loved his sleep and would probably kill whoever thought of waking him up, he didn’t complain when your daughter’s cries echoed through the house that very night. He sat up on the bed and stared at the time on his phone. It was only 1 AM, which meant you had just fallen asleep about an hour back because you had been working on a report your boss had asked for. 

He cursed under his breath. You had barely been sleeping lately. It hadn’t seemed to process into your boss’s mind that now you had a baby to take care of because he was bombarding you with a week’s worth of work in one day. While you did get the chance to work from home until further notice, Thomas was still mad that your boss had no shame in overworking you. 

Thomas didn’t hesitate to get out of bed and go to the nursery. He was hoping he’d be able to put her back to sleep or hush her cries before you heard her. You were a heavy sleeper, which was why he was hoping you wouldn’t wake up right away. 

A smile made its way to his face as he saw the little girl lying in her cradle. You had put her to bed with a warm pair of socks and more blankets than she probably needed. One sock wasn’t on her foot anymore and one of the blankets had been pushed aside.

Thomas lifted the small baby. Even though he knew babies cried and that’s what they did most of the time, it still hurt him to hear her cry. He wanted nothing more than to remove any type of pain from her life so he’d never see her cry. He cradled her in his arms as he let his weight shift from one foot to the other, “Shh princess, it’s fine, I’m here.”

He walked around the room as he softly swayed her from side to side because her cries wouldn’t stop. Thomas had already checked and she didn’t need her nappy changed and he spent around six minutes walking around the room until the idea occurred to him that she might be hungry. 

Thomas ran out of the room, careful when walking down the stairs so he wouldn’t fall or drop her. He was silently begging that you had left her a bottle on the fridge or something because he had no idea how to prepare formula and he wasn’t about to wake you up to ask. 

The young man cheered internally when he saw the bottle the moment he opened the fridge. He had seen you heat up her bottles enough times to know he wasn’t meant to put it in the microwave. Thomas heated up water on the kettle and poured it into a bowl. He left the bottle soaking in the hot water for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure if that was what he was meant to do, but it seemed to work nonetheless.

Once he made sure the temperature was alright, he sneaked back into the baby’s room and sat on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. She was still crying at the top of her little lungs, so he hoped that it’d be enough to get her back to sleep.

He rocked them both back and forth as she slowly drank the milk in the bottle. Her crying had stopped completely, which he was extremely thankful for. Thomas looked down at her in adoration. Even if she was only a few months old, he had already noticed small ways in which she was just like her mommy and it warmed his heart. He still resented her father so much it made his blood boil whenever someone mentioned his name. Both the little girl and her mom were like two angels sent from heaven to brighten up his existence.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead and whispered, “I promise I’ll always take care of you and your mommy, I  love you,” He knew she probably didn’t understand a word he was saying, but he had made his promise and he planned to keep it.

Once she had finished her bottle, it only took Thomas a few minutes of cradling her and singing lullabies for her to fall asleep. He set her back down and draped the blanket over her small body. Thomas decided he’d stay in the room for a few more minutes in case she woke up again, so he sat down on a couch that was right next to her cot with his guitar on his lap as he played the strings softly. 

— 

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was get up and check on your daughter. You had slept peacefully for the first time in months without a single interruption, which you found oddly suspicious.

A smile brighter than the sun appeared on your face at the sight in front of you. Thomas had fallen asleep right next to Valerie’s crib, with his guitar halfway on his lap and halfway on the floor. You also saw the empty milk bottle by the dresser and silently thanked whoever was listening for bringing someone as amazing as Thomas into your life.

[isthisthingeven0n]

understanding that time : j.w

during your period, jeff decides to provide some comfort eventhough he’s partially clueless as to what is happening (900 words)

requested: yes by the sweetest anon, just some lovely fluff for a sunday  warnings: none that i’m aware of

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Curling up in another blanket, you could barely move as another wave of cramps hits you with full force.

“Y/n?” You hum in response as Jeff shifts beside you, sitting upright as he notices your body tense up. “What’s wrong?” He asks quietly as you swallow the lump in your throat, tugging on the blanket covering you tightly.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” You attempt to brush it off, but as the words leave your lips your ovaries go into overdrive and a groan escapes you.

Now kneeling, Jeff sighs. “Well, it’s clearly something.” He states, catching you rolling your eyes as you shuffle to lie down. “Who do I need to hurt?”

Laughing lightly, you stretch your arm out and cup his cheek with your hand. “No one, I promise.” You mumble and reach for another cushion, hugging it against your stomach.

“Wait,” Jeff pauses for a moment before reaching over and grabs his phone. “oh baby, is it that time already?”

“Yeah,” You respond as you roll up into yourself, hugging the blanket closer. “it’s day one so mother nature is giving me hell.” A dry laugh follows, but Jeff furrows his brows, hating to see you in pain like this.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, his voice filled with concern as you bury your face into the pillow. “Erm, chocolates? A massage? Me to go away?” He suggests anything that comes to mind, yet you remain silent. “Are you alive in there?”

“I am,” Your voice is muffled by the cushion as your hair covers the cotton cover. “but it feels like I’m dying inside.” You add, and Jeff just nods along, still having no real idea what it is that happens to you every month.

“I know I don’t have a mensical cycle every month, Y/n, but if you need anything at all, just ask.” Jeff explains, and slowly you lift your head up, weakly smiling.

“It’s called a menstrual cycle, babe.” You chuckle, causing Jeff to scoff.

“I knew that.” He remarks. “Do you want me to go grab that hot water bottle that’s shaped like a polar bear?”

Nodding in response, Jeff peels himself from your side and rushes into the kitchen as Nerf follows behind him.

Whilst Jeff remains occupied, you lie back down on your back, but within seconds you rise to your feet and rush to the bathroom.

“-there’s only milk chocolate is that okay?” Jeff walks back into the bedroom, seeing you absent from the pile of sheets you were previously cocooned in.

As he steps closer, he can see a few spots of blood, and the sound of the toilet flushing.

Shyly, you emerge from the bathroom with your leggings in hand. “I’m sorry,” You sniff, dropping the leggings as you bury your face into your hands. “I’m a mess, I, I’ll just change and go home.” You explain, moving to bypass Jeff, but he holds his arm out, bringing you into his embrace instead.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jeff mutters as he runs his hand over your hair whilst you cry into his chest. “we can clean it up, it’s no big deal.” He ensures as your cries ease ever so slightly. “And I’ve got some pants you can wear, they’ll be a bit big on you though.” He adds, feeling you snigger lightly.

“Are you sure?” You quietly ask, lifting your head up to see him smiling down at you.

“Of course, come on.” Jeff lowers his arm and takes his hand in yours, guiding you to perch on the edge of the bed whilst he rummages for some suitably sized pants. “Aha!” Revealing the pair, Jeff hands them to you and kisses your forehead. “You go get changed, I’ll sort this out.”

Disappearing into the bathroom once more, Jeff quickly removes the bloodied sheets and changes them with ease. By the time you’ve finished freshening up, the new bedding awaits you as Jeff hovers in front of it.

“I’ll go grab some snacks and tablets for you, yeah?” Jeff squeezes your shoulder before running into the kitchen, leaving you with a fresh face and easing cramps.

Unable to keep still, you follow behind Jeff to witness him frantically grabbing all sorts from his mostly bare cupboards. “Jeff?” You call out, crossing your arms over your chest as he pauses. “Can I just have a hot water bottle please?”

“I, sure,” Jeff stumbles over his words as he lowers his chocolate protein powder. Within a matter of minutes, Jeff secures the screw on the water bottle, now filled with hot water and passes it across to you. “come on, babe.”

Walking back into his room, Jeff keeps his arm around you until you both sit back down on his bed with you instantly humming in content. "This is nice." You mumble whilst Jeff grabs a glass of water for you.

“Now, wanna watch something, or just cuddle?” Jeff asks, but as he glances back at you, a smile crosses his lips at the sight.

You're now lying down, eyes growing heavy with ease as you snuggle closer into Jeff, barely able to form a response.

Chuckling to himself, Jeff lifts his arm up to tug you against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from the polar bear in your arms as your breathing slows down.

“Cuddle it is.” He whispers, closing his eyes knowing you're okay - for now at least.

[blakelywintersfield]

Minors

Okay so, I originally wrote this in response to this post (my friend's reblog is linked instead of the original because OP either deleted it from their blog I guess?), but I feel like this constitutes as its own post.

I know this may sound like an overbearing parent "don't trust strangers on the internet" talk, but like. I don't think a lot of you understand just how quickly a situation can escalate; it's scary. I mean that not in a condescending "you think you're untouchable you stupid little child, you don't really know what the world is like" way either, but as in, I don't think internet safety is being taught realistically, so those things you're told to watch out for are far-fetched or already seem suspect.

Predators don't work the way TV shows joke that they do -- most predators aren't going to try and message you at random posing as a teenage girl and attempt to strike up a friendship. A lot interact in community spaces like tumblr, where some level of anonymity is allowed, and it's not odd for there to be people of both minor and adult ages. They interact with a variety of people -- not just targets. They will have full-fledged social circles. Their blogs and social interactions will look like literally any other person's on here.

Then, of the different blogs they follow, they end up interacting a lot with a certain user. Maybe the kind of humor clicks, or similar opinions, or interests. Nothing out of the ordinary; that's how people make friends. Maybe then they start by sending an ask, or a message, or whatever, and that continues for a bit until you two are kind of acclimated to one another, and then, as far as everyone is concerned, it's just a new friend! Neat! That's how you make friends on the internet. They most likely did this with their other friends on tumblr. Nothing weird. In this hypothetical, the minor party has their full name and city public.

But then this person you make friends with -- the way you would any other person on this website -- turns out to be 10+ years your senior. Which like. Honestly, you don't have to cut them out of your life and block them immediately, but you inform them you're 10 years younger than them. A responsible adult would respond to that knowledge with anything from the range of "oh holy shit you're baby uhh I feel a little weird interacting with you so personally" to "oh goodness you are a youngling I will now enter caregiver/parent-like mode". And there will be an established tone from there of "we may still interact but there is going to always be a set emotional distance". It'll have a different dynamic/feeling to the friendships you have with people your age. And it should. Both parties can still care about each other! But this isn't someone you would like. Hang out one on one with. You wouldn't hang out with your mom's friend one on one, or at your teacher's home alone. That'd be weird, right? That should be the same kind of vibe you get with any adult "friendship" you make online (I put friendship in quotes because I feel like... there's a better term for it, or should be one that establishes that adult/minor relationship, but if there is I can't for the life of me remember it).

But maybe that person doesn't go down that path. Maybe it comes off that way at first, but there's a subtle level of emotional manipulation that is subtle enough that you're not certain you can accuse them of being manipulative. "Oh wow, you're so much younger than me... do you still want to talk to me / be friends / etc.? I can leave you alone now if you want." Warning sign #1: they are pressuring you to make the decision; they are placing responsibility on you. And it might feel a little mean to just drop communication all of a sudden because of age -- you got along fine before. Why should that change anything? That's a rational thought process, but it's also the one that benefits them too.

So hypothetically, you say "no it's okay, we can still talk. we were talking just fine before we found out each other's ages so why should that change?" And then maybe the conversation continues normally from there. But then they continue interacting with you as your peers would. You guys talk about stuff that's been stressing you or your problems, just like you would with your peers. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Warning sign #2: That form of emotional connection isn't normal with an adult/minor relationship. I have minors that follow me. They have talked to me about their problems, and I've offered advice and wisdom; I don't condemn that because, well. As adults, we should help guide the younger if asked. But when it comes to my troubles, I limit how much I discuss with them. I don't bring them up myself (it's often brought up by the other party because I'll post about it on here, like a vent post or whatever). And while I don't brush them off with a short "don't worry about it", I make it clear -- I appreciate that you care enough to make sure I'm okay (because their sympathy / care is just as valuable as an adult's), but even if I'm not okay, the burdens and problems surrounding my troubles will be dealt with by me. I don't ask them for advice. I don't goad them for sympathetic words. And it's not that I believe they couldn't give good advice, or their sympathy means less, but an adult should not be relying on a minor for those levels of emotional labor. That established emotional connection where both parties exchange advice and comfort is how predators manipulate their victims because it's subtle and seemingly harmless, and difficult to paint them as a bad person when you have that level of emotional trust.

And once that emotional connection is established, that's when things can escalate, and get scary, quickly.

One day while talking they will probably bring it up -- the way one of your peers would. Something along the lines of "hey can I tell you something?" or "there's something I want to tell you but I'm afraid you won't want to talk to me anymore if I do" etc. etc.; with that peer/peer dynamic, that'll make you anxious, sure. You'd probably get anxious if they were your own age and said that too. So then, it comes out in some form that "I like you, but like... as more than a friend" or "I think you're really cute; I have for a bit now actually" or something similar. Obviously then it's uncomfortable.

But then you realize -- this is an adult. This is someone who has access to transportation. This is someone that doesn't have to report to someone (i.e. a minor can't just say "I'm going out of town for a week bye!" like your parents would, or SHOULD, be like "uh okay where are you going, who are you going to be with, why, etc. etc. etc."). And they know your full name and a general idea of where you live. You could just block them then and there and remove that information from your blog. But what if they already saved it? What if they already used one of those websites where you can look up a person's address by name for $5? What if they already know where you live, and they had planned on asking to meet up? They might know where you live. And you can't confirm or deny that they know. You can't say for sure if you removed that information before they saved it and used it for that purpose. Suddenly, there's the very real possibility that a pedophile that admitted to being attracted to you knows where you live.

Then what do you do? You should tell your parents or a trusted authority figure. But you're also a teenager and there's the likelihood that your parents might brush it off, or get angry with you, and you might get your internet taken away, etc., which is stressful because that takes away a major social area. To build upon the anxiety with that, there's the risk of unknowing if this person does know where you live, and if they do, if they are just unstable enough to do something drastic, like, y'know. Kidnap you. Because they know where you live. And they may know your school schedule too. And if your parents or trusted authority figure doesn't know about this situation, you may end up a missing child never found at worst, or found with far more trauma (5 years of life being kidnapped as opposed to a few months) that could've been avoided had someone known the situation.

But to 100% ensure your safety, it would have to be reported to the police. Because your parents can't do anything about the fact that a pedophile on the internet might know where you live. They can't confirm or deny that they know, and if they did, there's not much they can do other than keep an eye out for someone that looks out of the ordinary. But if they're most likely not home at the same time you are all the time. So, having the police involved ensures your safety -- if you open a case. You can report it to the police, and they'll ask: do you want to press charges (because it could be considered a form of child endangerment). If you say no, then that guarantees if you are kidnapped, that person would be the first they'd look to as a suspect. But to avoid that kidnapping risk at all, you'd have to say yes. And you're a kid that's now having to get involved in court just to avoid any risk to your safety because a pedophile may or may not have your address and may or may not be someone that would abduct their target, and so even if they didn't have your address and wouldn't kidnap you, you are now in a legal situation, which is. extremely. stressful. As someone's who's dealt with the court system a lot it's stressful no matter what.

And sure, you could omit the last step. But then you'll have that looming anxiety for as long as you're a minor that there is a possibility this person may show up at your house at some point. And that anxiety is fucking torture. I know it firsthand, I know all of this up to the legal portion firsthand, because this is exactly how I got tangled up with a pedophile in high school. That anxiety can make you paranoid. It impacts your sleep, which impacts your emotional tolerance and your concentration. It looms and there's nothing you can do to get rid of it other than convince yourself "they probably don't have my address; they probably won't find me". And that logic becomes sounder as time passes. But it requires time to pass, and in the meantime, you sit in constant suffering suspense.

It's just not fucking worth it, okay? You might think "this would never happen to me" but like. I was the fat emo weirdo in high school, literally considered attractive by no one and told so by peers and I still had it happen to me. So don't think "I'm not appealing enough" or whatever. Put self-esteem issues aside here, because to them, you're underage and at a power dynamic disadvantage not just physically, but most likely emotionally too. They care that you're a certain (under)age and can be manipulated into sexual acts. They will target you no matter how ugly you think you are or how unattractive your peers have convinced you.

So please. As an adult, that went through this situation (and could've had it turn out a lot worse tbh) -- do not disclose your real name (especially last names), location more specific than country, phone number, or school publicly online or to anyone you cannot 100% trust. I practice half of these in adulthood just to err on the side of caution since a full name and phone number alone could be used to find my address, and there are some preeeeetty unstable people out there. As a minor, absolutely no one needs any information unless you plan on meeting them in person, which should only be done after you've gotten to know them extremely well and both parties' parents know and are involved. It doesn't need to be on your public profile, and it shouldn't be on your public profile. I want your social media experience to be as enjoyable as possible, I don't want you feeling like you have to constantly keep an eye out for predators. But to keep yourself as safe as possible, don't purposefully make that information public. It's simple, but it’ll help you avoid so much potential stress.

Please stay safe.

[aminiatureworld]

Frustration II

Characters: Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,820

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: Okay I did not predict the first part of this becoming the most successful fic on this blog to date. The people have spoken! So I come to you with more characters, hopefully this will make up for leaving Zhongli in the dust yesterday – that and the fact that his scenario turned out to be the longest to write out of all of them. I also have a few other characters for this prompt in mind, we’ll see. Also wow I don’t know how to title sequels.

Once more my deepest thanks to the 115 people who liked, the 8 people who reblogged, and the one person who commented on the first part. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see that people are interested in what I write. It makes me so stupidly happy, so thank you so very much.

Albedo

“I understand that Forsaken Ruins are supposed to hide secrets and all, but honestly how many boxes can one put in the same area before someone tells you it’s time to stop.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, eyes focused intently upon the graduated cylinder and glass pipette in his hands. You watched as he counted the drops under his breath, nodding slightly as the clear water in the cylinder shifted to a rather unimpressive muddied brown. Regardless of the color evidently the alchemist was satisfied, for he stoppered the cylinder and returned the remaining liquid of the pipette into its original container, arranging everything on the shelves, and leaving the rest in the small sink.

“Silver nitrate.” He explained, wiping his hands on a cloth, before going towards where you were sitting cross legged on a stool near the countertop that worked as his desk. “Now tell me about why you’ve been digging up boxes near the Forsaken Ruins.”

“It’s for a commission. You know Bao’er?”

“That suspicious woman from Liyue I keep telling you is probably a bandit?”

“That one.” You nodded curtly, glancing down at your hands. “And bandit or not she keeps commissioning me, I can’t very well not accept. Anyways, she’s been looking for some sort of treasure, but no matter what I give her it’s never what she’s looking for. Do you know how irritating it is to have a passive aggressive customer angry at you about something they did? I mean really.” You huffed in frustration.

“Have you considered the fact that she might just be using you to dig up all the treasure in that area.” There was slight amusement in Albedo’s voice, and your head shot up in response.

“Well forgive me for doing my job.” You shook your head, not truly believing there was any bite behind the alchemist’s words. He was right after all, and you weren’t altogether upset to know that someone else shared your suspicions of this person who kept commissioning you with no end in sight.

“Forgive me love.” Albedo walked over and gave your slightly hunched figure a hug. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head into his shoulder. The position you two in wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but there was nowhere proper for you both to sit, and besides Albedo’s embrace was so warm and secure you didn’t mind craning your neck a bit.

“You’ll get there eventually.” Albedo’s voice was steady, confident, as if he’d somehow calculated the fact that eventually this mad goose chase would end, had seen it in one of his many experiments.

“How would you know?” You whispered, still feel a bit contrary, though your frustration had long ebbed away.

“I just do. You can master anything with time you know. That’s the secret of science, the secret of alchemy. In the end it cannot be done without endurance, and I know that your endurance is one to withstand any storm.”

“Only when you’re cheering me on.” You replied, hugging Albedo a bit tighter.

“Oh that’s not true.” Albedo responded in kind, running circles along your back. “You’d do just fine without me. But I’ll be here for you regardless. So don’t forget that every question can be answered and every quest completed. It just takes a little time. We’re all humans in the end, regardless of vision or power. Just humans, and to be human is to sometimes need a little time.”

You nodded, lifting your head to glance into his face, usually passive and clear as ice, now filled with warmth and fondness, smile filled with fondness and love.

“Besides.” Albedo loosened his arms around you, instead reaching to help you off from the stool, laughing slightly as you stumbled, feet having fallen asleep. “I don’t see Bao’er doing any of the digging. How about you remind her of that next time she has an ill word.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” You replied, before leaving the lab, hand pressed firmly into Albedo’s and heart much lighter than before.

 Kaeya

“My darling!” Kaeya leapt down the steps outside the Headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, feet barely seeming to touch the ground, before sweeping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.” He declared, ignoring the fact that it’d only been about 8 hours, instead peppering your face with small kisses, before registering the look of frustration clearly being worn by you.

“What’s wrong?” He drew back a bit, though not much, curiosity and worry in his eyes, hands gripping yours. You smiled, shaking your head; Kaeya always seemed to be ready to worry about your happiness, not that you didn’t find that completely charming.

“It’s nothing really important.” You were looking to assure him, but instead Kaeya’s frowned deepend.

“Nonsense. Anything that’s clearly making you so unhappy is of utmost importance. I’d like to know what it is, if you don’t mind. I’d like to help.”

“You’re helpful you being here.” You smiled, giving him a belated peck on the cheek. “But if you must know I’ve got a commission that needs to be done in an hour, and I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it. You know how there’s a large vein of Crystal in Stormterror’s Lair? Well Wagner asked me to go mine some for him, easy stuff normally. Apparently though the mouth of the vein is situated right in the path of a ruin guard, and I’ve had a terrible time trying to do battle with the thing while being bogged down by mining equipment.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I mean really this shouldn’t be that hard. Why am I struggling so much? Wagner isn’t asking that much, he’s a good person. I’m just… inept.” You finished, by then your nails had begun digging into your palms. Kaeya noticed this and brought your hands up to kiss them, smiling as you reddened slightly and shook your head, a smile nevertheless tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Well I won’t tell you that Wagner is being utterly too demanding and that you have a right to a safe work environment,” you snorted at that, as if an adventurer’s work environment was ever safe, “but I will tell you that, since the best, most handsome, most daring Knight of Favonius has fallen hopelessly in love with you, he is willing to do the mining while you use that ruin guard to blow off some steam. Does that sound like a good deal?”

“I can’t believe you’re sitting out a chance to fight and instead are becoming a miner.” You smirked, placing a kiss on Kaeya’s jaw. “But really how could I ever turn down such an offer from such a gallant knight.”

“You’d run back to Wagner and give his ears a rightful scorching I’d hope.” Kaeya replied, linking his arm in yours.

“Hmm… unlikely.” You replied, leaning into the knight. “But thank you Kaeya. Truly, thank you. I know it’s not your job to fix commissions. It means a great deal to me that you’re willing to do this.”

“Of course I’m willing.” Kaeya smiled softly. “You’ve saved me from failing my job too, in more ways than you think. And even if that weren’t true, which it is, I love you so very dearly, and this is a small way to show it.”

You nearly ran into a lamppost, your face pressed into Kaeya’s shoulder, face warm and heart full of love.

 Zhongli

You really didn’t want to tell Zhongli.

That was the thought running through your mind as you hurried up the steps to the funeral parlor. You really didn’t want to tell him.

It’d been little more than a month since he’d given up his position as god of the city, little more than a month since the citizens of Liyue had begun the arduous task of ruling their own city in earnest. And little more than a month since you and the Geo god had begun your courtship. You relationship was still new, and though you’d thankfully mostly lost the sense of smallness that had initially come with falling in love with someone so powerful and so unending as a deity, though you now longer thought the love between you was something that could shatter at any moment, you still were a bit reticent to throw all your insecurities and mundane frustrations at Zhongli’s feet.

The smell of incense hit you the moment you entered, a bit overwhelming at first, but soon comforting and familiar. You exchanged a few words with Hu Tao, before walking over to Zhongli’s office, pace speeding up despite yourself. You might not have wanted to tell Zhongli about your day, but you desperately wanted to see him, as you always did when all was said and done. There was something about his presence, comforting and sturdy, and always filled with kindness and understanding.

Understanding. Zhongli would understand, of course he would. But you still didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see his face cloud over with worry as you knew it would. He cared so very deeply, even if he didn’t always express it he truly did. Hidden under layers of politesse, tradition, and decorum there was simply someone who cared so very deeply. And thus someone who was often and easily hurt.

“Hello darling.” You said, entering the office quietly. Zhongli had been reading a scroll, but he quickly set it down, a smile erupting across his face as he stood up and met you halfway, enveloping you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocated. “I’ve missed you.” You said, voice muffled by his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, so very much.” He replied softly, one hand running itself through your hair absentmindedly, the other wrapped around your waist. “The days are terribly slow without you. I never noticed before how an afternoon can stretch so long.”

“Well I’m here now.” You replied, leaning back and bit to cup the archon’s face in your hands. Zhongli placed one of his hands on yours, leaning into your palm, smiling contentedly.

“I’m glad of it.” He said those words often enough, but every time it made your heart speed a bit. You felt so full of happiness you could almost forget the irritation of the earlier hours.

Almost.

“How were your commissions today?” It was early evening by now, and golden light was starting to slant through the windows. Zhongli was cleaning up a bit as you watched, smiling slightly. That smile slipped however once the question was asked, not that you didn’t know it was coming, as you two often asked each other about your days, each being a bit fascinated with the other’s job in some respect.

“It was alright. Fairly ordinary.” You tried keeping your answers brief and your tone light, though you could already hear the sharpness in your voice. Irritation was difficult to hide however, and you could already see skepticism in Zhongli’s gaze as he turned to face you.

“Oh. What were the commissions, if I may ask, the regular spots?”

“Mostly. I had one where I had to deliver a message to the Inn too, and one where, well, it was less of a commission and more of… well honestly I’m not sure what to call it.” You finished, tone by now filled with a mix of irritation an cynical amusement. Zhongli stopped altogether at that and sat at his chair, facing the spot you’d taken on the desk.

“May I ask what happened.” He said once more, tone slightly worried. Shit. Wasn’t this exactly the reason you hadn’t wanted to tell him?

“Well, you see I’m not the only guild member of course. And it’s almost the end of the month. What with everything that’s happened they needed someone to ask after some of the unfinished commissions, the ones that had a time limit. I finished my work early so I went.”

“And?”

“And, well. Well some of these adventurers were honestly hopeless!” You burst out, having shed your worries in your frustration. “I mean I know they mean well, I know they’re trying. Or at least I hope they are, you can’t really tell at some points. Like this one guy, I asked about why he hadn’t done any of the food deliveries he said he would and he made some odd excuse that a coworker was supposed to take care of it while he looked for a text that someone else wanted. Okay, fine. I go to the coworker, and she says that it was a one time thing as far as she was concerned and that she didn’t go to pick up the food after. I go to the restaurants themselves and turns out half the orders never go tthere and the other half have been put on a tab that need to be paid but no one thought to pay it so I do so. That doesn’t even begin with whoever did a hack job at the Wangshu Inn, apparently the boards have caved in again. And I was going to do that, but then I got pulled into some monster hunting so that won’t be done this month and honestly, it’s all just so… so frustrating!” You felt like you were spiraling at that point, all the frustration and shame coming back to you, the feeling of having to smile at someone who you’d much rather scream at.

Your thoughts cleared as Zhongli reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. Bringing his hand up to your face he wiped away a few tears of frustration that you’d shed. Shaking your head you took his hand in yours. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you about these things. I don’t want you to think Liyue is falling apart. I mean this was a thing even before you stepped down, and I know that I’m complaining too much and it’ll be fine it’s just, it’s just a lot.”

“I know.” Zhongli smiled softly. “You shouldn’t feel like hiding these things for my sake. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather truly know how you’re feeling. Just like you don’t want to place a burden on me, so do I not want to place a burden by you by making it seem as if you have to carry your cares alone.”

“But, with everything so recent… I just. I worry you’ll regret it.”

Zhongli smiled, and leaned in, kissing your forehead. He smelled of incense and glaze lilies, and you found the knot in your stomach uncoiling despite itself. Smiling you linked your fingers through his, focusing on that as Zhongli kept a hand on your cheek, grounding you.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But just as I trust you’d tell me if Liyue were truly about to burn to the ground, so do I trust that it won’t happen. You’ve taught me that you know.”

“Me? Not the Liyue Qixing or the traveler? I think they’ve done a lot more than my running around will ever do.” You smiled a self-deprecating smile, but Zhongli simply shook his head.

“You have taught me that. How you keep going, how you support those you don’t even know for the sake of your guild and your commission, even if you have a grievance. And, more than that, you’ve shown it to me, simply by letting me have a place in your heart.” He lowered his gaze, face clouding over in the way you knew it did when he was considering the past. You gave his hand a squeeze and he looked up, smiling softly.

“I used to think that humans were delicate, no matter what. That they were destined for the tragedy of death and that made them unable to be depended on, that they’d just break and break and that I’d spend my existence watching it until I couldn’t stand it anymore. But you showed me that ultimately humans are resilient, more resilient than any adepti or magical being, who cannot stand to face time or pain or hard work. You’ve taught me that, and if you’ll let me I’d like to share that with you, your burdens, your frustrations, your anxieties. I’d like to be there to support you, if I cannot fix it then I’d at least like to be there for you. So please, don’t hide your struggles from me, so I may remind you that they’re simply proof of your power.”

You didn’t really know what to say, smiling in a mix of relief, sadness, and adoration. Leaning in to kiss Zhongli you felt the word recede and grow around you. You didn’t know how he did it, how he took all your cares and worries and flaws and morphed them into something beautiful.

But that was what made Zhongli special, and you adored him for it.

[insomniamamma]

Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

            "Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness.  The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value.           "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again."           "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through.           "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

           "What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

           "Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball."             "Mmm-hmm."             "She's not used to real weather," says Cee.             "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you.             "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia."             "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child.            The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first  thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other.  It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent.           "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent.           "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails.           "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands.           "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you.           "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach."  Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly.            "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion."            "Like the boom when ships lift," you say.            "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep.            "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek.             "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

            The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons.            "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart."           "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue.           "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra.           "You really believe that?" Asks Cee.           "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt.           "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you.           "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights  are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up.          "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

        "Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower.          "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun.           "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard.            "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids."            "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee.            "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp.             "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go.             "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

[writeforfandoms]

Far Across the Land 1

Welp. A thing I didn’t need: a new WIP. But y’all get this because I’ve been having fun writing this. So! Here we go. Also let me know if you want me to link the song inspo here, you can also find it on both Ezra’s and Frankie’s playlists down at the bottom of my masterlist.

Find my masterlist

This will be Ezra x f!reader x Frankie after a few chapters. 

No real Frankie yet in this chapter, sorry lovelies. But it’ll happen soon.

Taglist (let me know if you want on or off this ride y’all!): @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @astroboots @loversandantiheroes @shoopidly @adriiibell​ @evyiione​ 

Warnings: Swearing, idiots in love. 

Life with a prospector was rarely dull, as you’d learned the last few years traveling and working with Ezra. He was an interesting character, your prospector. Charming and witty, with a dangerous edge and a protective streak a mile wide. He was certainly entertaining, which was good when you were stuck on a slingback between places or between jobs.

Like now.

You still had a few days left on this slingback before you’d be back at Puggart Bench, and from there… well. You hadn’t planned that far ahead. Which honestly wasn’t that unusual. Ezra planned, sure, but he also quite often flew by the seat of his pants. That had certainly been a change from how you’d lived before, and it had taken a bit of adjustment time.

“What is that beautiful brain ruminatin’ on now, starlight?” Ezra asked from behind you, his arms looping loosely around your shoulders as he dropped his chin on top of your head.

“Nothing important.” You smiled to yourself. “Any thoughts what we’ll do once we’re back on the Pug?”

“We’ve got enough set by to last us a little while,” Ezra spoke slowly, deliberately. “But you know me, starlight. I’d never turn down a lucrative opportunity.”

You snorted, because that was putting it mildly. “Guess we’ll see what job opportunities pop up once we get to the Pug, then,” you answered contentedly.

“I’ll be sure to keep you sufficiently occupied,” Ezra offered, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Of course you will,” you agreed sweetly. “You know better than to let me go bored for too long.”

Ezra huffed out a quiet laugh at the reminder, his arms tightening around you. “I learned that lesson well, my starlight,” he agreed, shifting his head to press a kiss to your temple. “Fear not.”

You chuckled at that and leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth of him. One thing you’d never get used to – the pods were always cold in space, no matter how new or fancy they were. (Not that the one you and Ez were using was new or fancy. It was an old rustbucket, and you were dumping it at your earliest chance.) So the fact that Ezra ran warm and was more than willing to warm you up as well? Absolutely divine.

You didn’t get to enjoy it for long, though. The comm beeped with an incoming transmission.

“You expecting someone?” you asked, half-rhetorical as you leaned over to flip the switch.

“No,” Ezra murmured, releasing you and moving to the side instead. The transmission was crackly but understandable.

“Ezra, my friend! I think I found a job for you,” the transmission started. Apparently it was a message, rather than a live feed, which made sense. Live transmissions this far out would cost a pretty penny. Messages were cheaper. “Contact me when you’re back on the Pug, but this is a good one. I’ll give you the details later.”

“Someone you know?” you asked dryly, leaning back in your seat.

“Not well,” Ezra told you, frowning down at the console. “He is someone who has pointed me at jobs before, and he is usually trustworthy.”

“Usually?” you asked, amused.

“Well, I hesitate to call many people completely trustworthy, starlight,” Ezra told you, shooting you a grin. “I’ll contact him to see what exactly this job entails once we’re docked.”

“Good plan,” you agreed, stretching your arms over your head. You noticed Ezra’s gaze trailing down to the sliver of skin exposed by the stretch, and you grinned. “Well, we’ve still got some time before we reach the Pug. Whatever shall we do?”

“Oh, I have confidence you can think of a diversion or two,” Ezra teased right back with a salacious grin. “I may even come up with an idea or two of my own.”

“Oh I just bet you will.” You grinned back at him, stretching your legs out as much as you could in front of you and arching your back, just a little.

Three days later, the pod was docked, you and Ezra were packed up, and you were stepping out into fresh(ish) air for the first time in… longer than you cared to think about, actually.

“I’ll get accommodations, you get food?” you suggested, looking at Ezra.

“That’s as good a plan as any,” Ezra agreed, hefting his pack a little higher on his shoulder.

“I’ll send you the address,” you told him, settling your own pack on your shoulders. “See you soon.” You grabbed him for a quick kiss, smiling when he tried to lean after you. With a cheeky wink, you turned and headed off towards the apartment building you’d used last time you two were on the Pug. They often had temporary rooms available by the cycle, stand, or longer.

A quick conversation and exchange of credits later, you’d acquired a room for the two of you. It didn’t take long to get up to the room and dump your pack on the floor before you pulled out your data pad to send the address and room number to Ez.

The room was pretty basic – sleeping space, refresher, smooshed together kitchen and living area. Nothing extravagant, but neither of you needed extravagant, not here. Maybe if you ever retired. Now that was a thought. Although if you did, you’d probably go crazy. So would Ez, actually. Hm. Nevermind.

A knock on the door stopped your musings, and you opened the door for Ezra, grabbing the bag of food so he could set his things down.

“You went to the place with the fried dough things?” you asked, suddenly about ten times more excited than you had been a minute ago.

“They are your favorite, starlight,” Ezra pointed out with an indulgent grin.

“You are the best,” you told him fervently, diving into the bag to grab one of the fried dough things while they were still warm. You outright moaned at the first bite. “Kevva, that’s good.”

“Are you inclined to share?” Ezra asked, teasing, already fairly certain of the answer.

You eyed him for a few moments. “You can have one,” you decided magnanimously, adding an imperious sniff for good measure.

Ezra chuckled and started on his own food, content to let you eat your fill first. He knew better than to get between you and your fried dough. Fast way to lose a hand.

“When are you planning to contact your friend?” you asked as you were licking your fingers clean.

“I’ll try him tomorrow,” Ezra decided after a moment. “No sense in calling him now, not with as late as it is.”

You smirked knowingly at him. “You mean you have other things you’d like to do,” you teased.

“Well, since you mention it…”

“You’re right.” You paused for dramatic effect. “I need a shower.” Outright grinning at his long-suffering sigh, you grabbed your bag to dig through it for clean clothes. “We’ll need to get laundry done tomorrow, too,” you added. “I’m getting down to the last of my clean things.”

Ezra hummed an agreeing note, and you shut yourself in the ‘fresher to shower. Hot water with good water pressure felt absolutely heavenly after months of either chilly water, poor pressure, or both. One of the downfalls of prospecting – the places you went were often totally lacking in niceties.

You and Ezra swapped after that, and you did a quick inventory of your things. Dirty laundry got shoved into a secondary bag to deal with tomorrow, everything else returned securely to your main pack. You took the time to catch up on some news and check your own data pad for any messages. Not that you were expecting any.

One message from Santi, just a check-in. You responded eagerly. Maybe you’d get a chance to see him sometime soon. It had been a while since you’d checked in with the guys, at least two standard years since you’d seen all four of them at the same time. So you were eager to hear back from Santi, in case he could wrangle everyone together at some point.

“You usually save that look for when I’ve done something particularly pleasing,” Ezra drawled, walking over to drop next to you on the bed.

“Heard from one of my old friends,” you told him honestly. “I haven’t heard from any of them in a while, so it’s nice to know at least one of them is still around and kicking.”

Ezra chuckled at that, pressed a kiss to your temple, and began his own nightly ritual. He pulled out his latest book he was working on, settling himself against the headrest of the bed, and started reading. Knowing him, he could read all night and forget to sleep. Fortunately, you had no issues taking his book away if he tried to read for too long.

You’d done it before and you’d probably do it again.

You finally gave up on catching up on anything further when you had trouble keeping your eyes open, killing the lights and setting your data pad off to the side. Ezra hummed and immediately curled around you, cuddling into you. This part was definitely nice – it was a bit harder to do this on the pod, even though you’d arranged the pod to maximize sleeping space. But still. A real bed was much nicer. You could definitely get used to this for your little break.

Breakfast in the morning was some caf Ezra had thought to grab (which you both inhaled greedily – real caf was a blessing as the powdered stuff was shit but it was usually all you had on jobs). While you were savoring your second cup, Ezra settled across the table from you to call his friend.

“Lor,” Ezra greeted with a grin. “It has been a long time, friend.”

“Since the last time you were stuck here,” Lor agreed with a laugh. “Listen, I think I’ve got a job for you. You still got that pretty partner?”

Ezra’s eyes flashed but his smile didn’t waver. “I do indeed.”

“Good, you’ll need her. And a pilot. This is a nice job, cushy, but long. Way out in the middle of nowhere. So you’ll need the pilot.”

“Now what could be so valuable but so remote?” Ezra asked, leaning back in his chair. His gaze flicked to yours, and you gave him a little shrug. Wouldn’t hurt to keep listening.

“You heard of the white gems?” Lor asked.

That caught both of your attention. The white gems, Lazglen gems as they were also known, were known for their purity and brilliance. They were also notably rare and expensive.

“Lor, my friend,” Ezra started slowly, starting to look excited. “Don’t tell me you’ve found a deposit.”

“Untouched,” Lor promised. “Nobody else knows about it, either. You’d get first crack at it. And I’m the only one who knows where it is.”

Ezra grinned at you, bright and excited. This was a rare opportunity, and you could feel his excitement bubbling around you, contagious and effervescent. You bit your lip to hide your own grin. “That is indeed a rare opportunity, friend,” he said, managing to sound mostly normal, only the faintest quiver betraying him. “Surely such an opportunity comes with a price?”

“You know me well,” Lor agreed with a laugh. “I get thirty percent of whatever you make, since I found the spot.”

Ezra considered for a few moments, looking at you. You shrugged again. Thirty percent wasn’t bad, for a finder’s fee.

“Twenty-five,” Ezra bargained. “Since we’ll have to bring another crew member on.”

Lor chuckled. “Pay the pilot less,” he offered, sounding amused. “Thirty or I move on, Ezra.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ezra acquiesced. “Thirty it is.”

“Excellent! I’ll meet up with you tomorrow to go over everything I know, how does that sound?”

“I’m certainly agreeable.”

“Good, good. Bring your partner, will you? It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Ezra told him, carefully not promising anything. You pressed your lips together, trying hard not to grin. Ez could be a little, just a little, possessive.

“Lazglen gems,” you breathed once you were sure the transmission was cut. “Shit, Ez, I’ve never even seen those in person.”

“If this haul is as good as he says, it could be retirement for the two of us,” Ezra agreed, grinning and giddy as he stood. A quick tug pulled you to your feet as well, and his hands settled on your hips as he pulled you into swaying with him.

“You? Retire?” you joked, grinning.

“Well, perhaps retire is not the correct word,” Ezra admitted. “Retire from prospectin’, however, is an idea I find takes more of a shine with every passing year, my starlight.”

You laughed, tossing your head back to grin up at the ceiling. “We need to do this,” you told him, both arms winding around his neck. “I don’t care if it’s a long job.”

“Agreed.” Ezra spun you both just to hear you squeal in shock and then devolve into helpless giggling. “Tomorrow, we’ll meet with Lor and get the full details about this job. Until then…” He pulled you flush up against him, eyes bright when you met his gaze.

“Until then, we can celebrate our new opportunity,” you purred. “With more fried dough.”

It was Ezra’s turn to throw his head back and laugh.

The diner you were meeting Lor at was nothing special. A decent hole in the wall place you’d never been to before. Ezra ushered you into the booth first, ordering caf for both of you. Not that you minded – that’s all you planned to have at this little meeting. Just in case for some reason you had to leave in a hurry.

Lor, when he arrived, was a short man with dark, greasy hair and pale skin. He greeted Ezra as an old friend, and gave you a too-friendly smile. You nodded to him and leaned back in your seat, letting Ezra take control of the conversation.

Honestly, at that point you kind of zoned out, only half-listening and even then only paying attention to buzz words. Ezra would give you the salient details later, you knew. You could afford to be a little lax and not fully pay attention to the two of them, especially since the first half hour was entirely them chatting. Lor seemed to want to recall some previous job that had gone awry somehow. Again, you weren’t really paying attention.

Finally, though, the two of them got down to business. The size of the haul: huge. Lor claimed he didn’t know exactly how big the site was, which you believed. The risks: not bad. This planet actually had a breathable atmosphere, although you’d be up above civilization. Thus the need for the pilot. The only way to the dig site was by air transit. The length of the job: stands, if not longer. Lor guessed closer to half a standard year. That didn’t surprise you overmuch.

And then the part that you knew Ezra would weigh carefully against everything else. The potential payout. As Lor put it, “Enough to keep you both entertained for the rest of your lives.”

So, a long job, with potential astronomical reward, and relatively low risk. Relatively low. Jobs like these were never totally without risk. Fortunately these gems were harvested in a manner somewhat similar to aurelac, although instead of a single gem per pull, typically there would be several smaller gems.

“It is an unprecedented opportunity,” Ezra agreed, leaning back in the booth. One of his hands rested lightly on your thigh. “And we three are the only ones who know about this?”

“Of course,” Lor agreed, spreading his hands. “I’ve never steered you wrong before.”

“Indeed you have not,” Ezra agreed, his hand lightly squeezing you. “And I thank you for that. We’ve agreed upon your finder’s fee, and the rest of the details will be mine to arrange. The only thing left, I believe, is the map.”

Lor pulled a paper out of his back pocket but didn’t hand it over immediately. “You’ll keep me in the loop on this?” he pressed. “I want regular updates.”

“Of course.” Ezra gave him an earnest look. Which you knew was only a little misleading. Ezra would check in with Lor – but only as little as possible. The both of you worked best with little to no supervision, after all. That way you got results.

Lor handed over the map, and you crowded closer to Ezra to look at it. “I do have my own copy, too, just in case,” Lor told you both.

You didn’t care. You stopped paying attention. You didn’t recognize the area on the map, not that you were terribly surprised – you hadn’t visited this planet before. And even if you had, you would’ve gone to the city, which was a goodly flight away from your harvesting area. You let out a low whistle at the rough outline of the dig site. It was large.

“This all in the mountains?” you asked, shamelessly reaching over Ezra’s arm to trace the outline of the dig site.

“Mostly,” Lor agreed, gaze fixed on you now. “There’s a few flat spots in there, but not a lot. This area is all mountains, and largely unexplored. You’ll want to make sure you’ve got plenty of supplies with you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of all the incidentals,” Ezra told him, handing you the map and lifting his arm to curl around your shoulders instead.

Lor smiled, and there was something greedy in his eyes that made you wary. By the tension in his arm, you could tell Ezra saw it, too. “Well then! Sounds like we’re in business, folks. Take your time getting set up and let me know when you’re leaving the Pug.” He stood, nodded to you both, and left.

“Share your thoughts, starlight?” Ezra asked quietly. His hand migrated to the back of your neck, absently rubbing tension out of your muscles.

“It’s almost too good,” you murmured. “But I still don’t think we should turn it down. We need to take this job, to see if he’s right if nothing else. But we need someone we can trust with us. I don’t know that I trust Lor when he says we’re the only ones that know about this.”

Ezra hummed quietly. “I would like to tell you with confidence that he is not so foolish, but I do hate lying to you.”

You laughed quietly and finished off your caf. “Come on, out. I want to get planning this job.”

It took the two of you a day and a half to get everything planned. Well, planned enough, anyway. You had all the major bases covered. You’d even talked Ezra into dumping your old pod for a slightly newer one (that would have fewer issues and better insulation). You’d be taking a lot of supplies with you, unwilling to tip off the city that you’d be staying out in the middle of nowhere for long periods of time. Ezra had obtained the necessary chemicals, as well as emergency supplies, just in case. You’d both been in one too many close calls to not have a just in case kit ready.

Finally, there was only one major thing left.

“I do believe we need only a pilot, starlight,” Ezra murmured, curling around you.

“I know a guy,” you offered after a moment. “Best pilot I know. Good guy, too.”

“Do you trust this pilot of yours?” Ezra inquired.

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation.

“Then I’ll settle for no less.” Ezra pressed a kiss to your temple. “Contact your pilot, starlight, and I shall secure the rest of our arrangements.”

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Hello ☺️, I’ve heard from your lovely lady companion Emily that you’re a very seasoned DM! I was wondering if you had any advice for beginners to DMing when it comes to things like improvising and making sure your first session has an impact on the players as their introduction to the world. Any advice at all would be a lifesaver! Thank you ☺️✌🏻

holy shit, a question about DMing. you have freed me, stranger. I can stop blogging about Troy (2004). 

First of all, I’m really excited to hear that you’re going to be DMing for the first time! DMing is understandably intimidating, but it’s also incredibly creatively fulfilling, and it’s something you’ll still be learning how to do better after 25 years. 

Okay, so let’s talk about session 1.

Your first session has a lot of lifting to do. You want to make an emotional impact, you want your players to learn about the world, you want to convey tone and genre, and you want your PCs to have a chance to band together and form quick connections.

I really can’t say enough good things about session 1 being about An Escape, because an escape scenario immediately poses a whole bunch of really valuable questions.

What is a crime in this world?

Who are your natural adversaries?

Why should you trust & rely upon your new party members?

What is violence like in this game? This says a lot about your game’s tone.

What will the next few sessions be about?

Literally, in 3 of the last 4 campaigns I’ve run, session one was An Escape. I’ll walk you through the set-ups for 2 of them (the third is a one-on-one campaign, so maybe not as useful to you).

In Vampire: the Masquerade, the party (all vampires) woke up staked to the ground in the basement of an abandoned school, captives of the fanatical inquisitorial group, the Society of Leopold. None of them had met each other before, all of them were confused, angry, scared, and low on blood.

What is a crime in this world?

Just being a vampire is a crime. You can be brutally attacked, captured, and murdered for being what you are. Your only recourse is to fight for your life.

Who are your natural adversaries?

Vampire hunters. They are not as strong or as fast as you, but they have dirty tricks up their sleeves and fanatical conviction on their side, and they do not see you as human.

Why should you trust & rely upon your new party members?

Without them, you will not escape your predicament. You know you can trust them because you have a common enemy. Each of them will have a chance to solve a problem with a unique skill that you do not possess, driving home that you can solve dangerous problems together that you could not overcome on your own. 

What is violence like in this game? This says a lot about your game’s tone.

Fast, flashy, bloody, and dark. Descriptions of injuries are savage; heads get torn off, chests get ripped open, shadows pinwheel wildly as the sole hanging light in the ceiling gets knocked around amidst the violence. But there’s a slick cool to all of it. You are in real danger, but you are also capable of dealing out grievous and acrobatic harm.

What will the next few sessions be about?

Upon your escape, the Prince of the city charged you all with seeking out the leaders of the hunters. Best not to disappoint him.

In my Call of Cthulhu campaign, the characters were all prisoners on a bus to the gulag, in Russia in 1938.

What is a crime in this world?

Literally anything, if you have displeased the wrong people. One of you received a letter you shouldn’t have seen. Another one wrote seditious poetry. Another was rude to a secret police officer during an investigation. Another literally has no idea why he’s here. There is a cold, kafkaesque indifference to the notion of fairness in this world. You have been disenfranchised and shipped off to do hard labor for almost nothing at all. Do not bother to look for reason in the machinations of the state.

Who are your natural adversaries?

The NKVD. They are all-powerful, all-seeing, and brutal. They could kill every last one of you right here in the snow, and so long as they filed the correct paperwork afterwards, there will be no follow up investigation. They have the key to the vehicles, they have warm clothes, they have all of the guns, they have the radio that is your only way of contacting the outside world. You don’t even have coats that will keep out the freezing wind. If you want what you need to escape this place, you will have to take it from them.

Why should you trust & rely upon your new party members?

You will be shot, if you try to escape alone. The tundra is vast and the NKVD are always watching. Your only hope is to cause confusion and hope that your numbers count for more than your jailers’ guns. And once you’re out, into Siberia? conditions are so hostile you have no choice but to band together for survival.

What is violence like in this game? This says a lot about your game’s tone.

Almost instantly fatal. You are shown fellow prisoners (NPCs) get headshot by the NKVD captain and drop to the ground, dead. Another NPC has a broken leg, and cannot participate in combat at all. If you get hurt, that’s it. There are no health potions or magic spells that will mitigate the effects of bullets and the biting wind.

What will the next few sessions be about?

As you escaped, you saw strange apparitions across the snow, which caused the radio to malfunction. You are fleeing in your stolen truck from the NKVD, but where are you going? Where can you go, except towards the mystery?

Escapes are great, too, because as a DM, your list of things you need to prepare is pretty concrete. You need:

- Mooks

- A boss for the mooks

- a map of the immediate area, so your players know what avenues of potential escape they have

- a couple of NPC fellow prisoners for them to talk to & for you to kill along the way (alternately, this can be a great way to link the party up with future quest-givers straight from the jump).

- A list of possible resources to aid in their escape that they might be able to get their hands on (a fire axe? a radio? a car?)

- A couple of ideas for spanners to throw in the works (if things are too easy/going too quickly, maybe this NPC fellow prisoner turns on them, hoping to curry favor with the NKVD; maybe one of the hunters has a flamethrower to force the vampires to double back; maybe it starts to snow with white-out conditions, maybe something is being filmed right outside and the vampires can’t bust through the steel doors without potentially breaking the Masquerade).

Another great thing about escapes is that they’re geographically isolated. So you don’t need to have The Entire Starting Zone figured out from session 1: you just need to know about this one truck stop in Siberia, or this abandoned school in Queens. When they gain access to the wider world, the session ends, and you should have an idea of where they want to go next.

And if any of their captors survive, you may have an act 1 villain on your hands. Don’t get too attached to the idea that any of them WILL survive; but if they do, and the party bears them a grudge, find them a place in the story, flesh them out as an adversary. Your Big Bad means nothing to them yet, but Captain Volkov, the NKVD captain who pursued them across the ice like a relentless automaton, scares them.

Another thing I like about escapes is that they feel very natural. There is no quest giver; they have an obvious goal they can all agree on, and the obstacles to achieving it are built into the situation. It’s a solid framework for an adventure that you can pack a lot of worldbuilding detail into along the way.

Good luck!

[anarcho-smarmyism]

How would prison abolition deal with murderers, serial killers, paedophiles, torturers,kkk members,neo-Nazis and terrorists? Some people are a legit danger and cannot be allowed to roam society.

So I didn’t answer this at the time, because the anon who sent it is almost definitely the racist troll sending me shit I’m not going to publish (so like uhhh bear that in mind lmao), but I’ve blocked them now and it’s been a few days, so hopefully they’ve fucked off by now. Plus, I’ve been thinking about this question a LOT since before I received it. It’s a question that I think most people have about the concept of prison abolition and reparative justice, and not everyone with these concerns is asking in bad faith. Besides which, with the recent attempted coup and the way it looks like people who participated are actually going to face legal consequences for it (which alone was somewhat surprising to me tbh), I’ve been seeing a lot of leftists discoursing over whether it’s morally okay and intellectually consistent to be happy about cops beating up, killing, and arresting KKK members and Neo-Nazis, so it is now actually topical! Under the cut due to long response~

So the first thing I want to point out, is that literally every single one of the groups of “legit dangers who cannot be allowed to roam society”, are already out there right now. In our current “justice” system, it’s common knowledge that monsters often get off on a technicality, or because they just have the money to throw lawyer after lawyer at the charges, or because they outright bribe someone, or countless other ways to get around the law. You can look on my own literal tumblr blog and watch me argue with grown ass adults who will bold faced admit to consuming child porn with half-assed excuses, and you’ll find more open pedophiles on sites like twitter, reddit, or 4chan, or porn sites where “teen” is usually one of the most popular categories. Besides which, have you ever looked at the average sentences for convicted rapists, wife beaters, or pedophiles, as compared with the sentences for getting caught selling drugs? In middle school I had to walk a mile or two to get to school through a neighborhood we’d been warned had a convicted pedophile in it, who had just been released after less than 15 years. In that same city, I heard a story about a woman shooting and killing her rapist, and prosecutors were discussing giving her the death penalty for it (she was bragging and laughing about it on video, it was definitely premeditated, but still). Have you ever looked at the statistics of how many rapists and abusers aren’t reported, or if they are reported aren’t prosecuted, or if they are are prosecuted with a slap on the wrist (remember Brock Turner????) Also I notice how you didn’t even mention domestic abusers or rapists in your list of people who need to be locked up lolololol shows where your priorities vis a vis “public safety are I’m sorry, but the system just does not work the way you think it does, the we are taught it does.

People who make this argument always act like the systems we have now are efficient and nigh on flawless when it comes to “not letting dangerous people roam society”, but it isn’t and it can’t be and it never will be. That very fact ought to be enough to shake your faith in the idea that society will become a nonstop Purge of indiscriminate violence if everyone who’s committed a sufficiently despicable act of violence isn’t locked up for the rest of their lives -but you might say, “okay, but those are flukes, the system still works because most of the people who are “a danger to society” are usually locked up.” I’m not completely sold that that’s even true (have you ever heard of the opportunities cops had to bring in serial killers and murderers, who just didn’t care enough to try? Jeffrey Dahmer is a good example of this), but I’ll assume it is to move on to my next point.

Even if we assumed that the system as we have it, worked flawlessly as designed, that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of the categories mentioned here are people that are actively running the very systems that this rhetoric is defending. It’s well-documented that American white supremacists of various stripes have infiltrated law enforcement and the military for the express purpose of not just “roaming free”, but getting to exert the power of the State over people of color. Cops and soldiers kill people all the time, and not only are they not penalized, they’re celebrated for it. Agents of the State fucking torture people all the time, and I don’t just mean Guantanamo Bay or war crimes by soldiers; cops have been caught on camera spraying protesters with pepper spray and beating them once they’ve already been handcuffed or while they’re chained to trees or whatever -not because they think they “need” to, because they want to, and they know they’ll get away with it. Cops also systematically torture people in prison with solitary confinement. Heads of state drop bombs on civilians for “politically motivated reasons”, they do all kinds of shit that would be called “terrorism” if anybody but a State did it; and people might disapprove, but they don’t (generally) claim that the politicians and generals who made that call are “a danger to society” that need to get life in prison. If you genuinely believe that whether these acts of violence are “legal” or not changes whether they’re okay, or that a person who engages in illegal violence is “dangerous” but people who engage in legal violence aren’t... I’m honestly not even going to try to refute that here lol, prison abolition is level 5 shit and you’re at level -1, study how authoritarianism in general works before trying to understand prison abolition (not trying to be a dick here, it’s what i would tell my younger self when I believed the same thing). 

It simply does not hold up to rational scrutiny to believe that society will collapse into an orgy of violence and mayhem if we abolish prison (or that we’ll have to resort to medieval punishments instead??? lol funny take i remember from some racist troll or other over the years), when those dangers are already present (and in some cases widely celebrated as “heroes” and given the power to indiscriminately brutalize “acceptable targets” with the State’s monopoly on violence) under the current system.

The next thing people need to understand is that contrary to popular belief and despite how counterintuitive it sounds, even the brutality of our current prison system is not an effective deterrent to crime (linked a Guardian article that looks like it has some good info on this, but I recommend a book called Unfair: The New Science of Criminal Injustice by Adam Benforado for more information). Let me say that again: the threat of prison has been empirically shown to be INEFFECTIVE as a deterrent to crime. Do you really think that a serial killer or someone who wants to blow up a building full of people is going to be more likely to follow the law for fear of prison, than regular people doing regular people crimes like selling drugs or getting into drunk fights that go too far? 

I don’t think anyone is actually willing to argue that prison “rehabilitates” anyone, or does anything besides make regular criminals into angrier, more antisocial, more desperate criminals with more criminal connections and less options for any kind of a legitimate living, so I’m just going to point out that having such a large prison population arguably creates more people who have shitty lives of poverty and are surrounded by people who are in and out of prison. It’s not like that “makes” anybody into a serial killer, but I feel like you’d have to willfully ignorant to act like it’s not a factor in increasing violent crime in affected community.

So, I’ve so far argued that prison is an ineffective solution to the problems it claims to exist in order to solve, and that in many cases, it actually makes the problems that lead to these sorts of dangerous people (”regular” murderers and the radicalization of Neo-Nazis and KKK members in particular, I think) becoming dangerous, or at least more dangerous, in the first place. What I haven’t done, is talk about what I believe is the real core of the issue when it comes to prison abolition: nobody wants to fucking peacefully rehabilitate these people. I am arguing for a system that would handle these people basically as gently as possible, with the goal of releasing them back into society eventually, and I still believe these things mostly intellectually, not emotionally. I don’t want the men who sexually assaulted me and/or my loved ones to get off scot free (they did, of course, but that’s beside the point), much less serial killers or Nazis, and I’m not about to get on my high horse about wanting revenge on people who’ve committed these kinds of atrocities. The reason I’m a prison abolitionist in spite of these feelings is that I do not believe the desire for revenge, for punishment for punishment’s own sake, is an impulse we should indulge when creating social and political infrastructures that have ultimate power over millions of lives. In the words of someone talking about abolishing the death penalty, the question isn’t “do they deserve to die”, the question is “do we deserve to kill”; and here, the question is not “does anyone deserve to be imprisoned in this system”, the question is “do we deserve to brutalize people in this way for virtually zero practical benefits to our society”. What any person “deserves” is a subjective moral and philosophical question, one that no conceivable human justice system could ever actually answer. We as a society need to build alternatives to prison (and police!) that can actually address these problems, actually prevent the conditions that create and enable monsters, and actually rehabilitate (to whatever extent that is possible) criminals -even the ones we, personally, despise. Any long-term incarceration that may end up being 100% required should be designed to reduce the suffering of the person in it, no matter how despicable of a person they are. Trying to solve “the problem of evil” instead of trying to create a more functional and just society is a fool’s errand that can only lead to more evil existing, in the end.

At the end of the day, the “irredeemable” people you listed off as justifications for the continuing existence of prison, are only a tiny fraction of the people in prison, even the ones with life sentences. A full understanding of the horror and oppression the prison industrial complex enacts on the people in it and their communities (and how the system is designed to make a profit off of human suffering and death) is something you’ll have to read some actual books about in order to acquire. However, I don’t think it’s controversial to say that any horror we as a society deem “acceptable” to do to the worst of the worst, will also be done to regular criminals, as well as to innocent people who are wrongly imprisoned. Any brutality you design with a serial killer in mind WILL eventually be a punishment for a petty thief or drug dealer or sex worker, or a person who didn’t commit the crime they were incarcerated for. Is it really worth it? Is it really, really worth all the misery and oppression prison causes, to satiate our sense of justice? I don’t believe that it is. I believe that we have a responsibility both to the incarcerated and to their communities to base our policies and institutions on actually solving these societal problems however we can, and leaving our “eye for an eye” mentality in the dark ages where it belongs.

If you are interested in prison abolition as a concept, I can recommend some good books on it. You also need to understand that concept of “reparative justice”, which I’ve alluded to here but not really explained because OH MY GOD THIS POST IS TOO LONG ALREADY. Short explanation of it is that it aims to repair the harm done by the crime and rehabilitate the criminal through through therapy and trying to get them to actually understand what they’ve done and empathize with who they’ve hurt, while also providing therapy and resources to the victim of the crime (when it’s something violent and the reparation can’t just be “give them their money back plus extra for damages” or something). The point is not to satiate anybody’s sense of justice or revenge, but to proactively try to solve the problem the crime has caused and prevent the offender from doing it again. It would need to work in conjunction with the abolition of police (and replacement with better infrastructure for the few things cops do that we actually need done) and various other social programs and measures to prevent the circumstances that lead to crime. This sounds like a long shot because it is, but just because it hasn’t been done on a wide scale before doesn’t mean it can’t be, and just because it will be difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

[captainkirbypunch]

My love has left tumblr once again.

As many of you may know, the account under the name MDZADR, has left tumblr. They felt unsafe in their fandom, and as such have deleted their tumblr and AO3 account due to the bad memories linked to them.

As a part of their departure, they have asked me to post something in their name, as follows.

If you want more details about how I came to this realization, continue to read. If not, here is your summary:

TL;DR: For the safety and health of this fandom, I wanted to spread the word that Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and MelodyoftheVoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don’t “ship zadr correctly.” She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is. 

Full story below.

I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Nobody did anything to me today, but this just wasn’t worth it.

My AO3 and tumblr are both gone. I didn’t say goodbye because I didn’t want to look like an attention seeker.

Here’s the thing. I wasn’t going to name drop, but you guys need to know the truth. I’m instructing my boyfriend (hi y’all) to turn asks off for his own safety after this because this is going to be a nightmare, but... allow me to tell you the full story. I’ll try to break up the text so it’s less difficult to read, but this is important. I’m sorry to air discourse so publicly, but please... I need you to listen to me.

I’ll start from the beginning, without being vague anymore about who “she” is. I request that you please read the whole thing and not skip parts of it. The whole story matters.

I finally returned to the fandom about two months or so ago. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t do well in my thoughts while left alone too long, so I posted saying I would stop messaging people I knew because I didn’t want to bother them. There were only two people I was talking to at the time, but one of them is famous so I didn’t want to message her directly saying that. Doing so would have put her in a position of feeling obligated to say “you’re not bothering me” rather than just simply being able to sigh with relief from no longer being contacted. 

But the first person to contact me was the famous person, and she asked if I was okay, and told me she liked talking to me.

God, I actually cried.

But, that’s just her. Melodyofthevoid is the type of person to talk to people in the fandom, totally unaware of her demigod status. She comments on stories, interacts on posts, messages first... a pillar of kindness, so it seemed.

But let the story continue.

Over time, we were talking more often. 

Mostly sending memes (cause everyone I knew, myself included, aren’t exactly great at holding conversations. No shade. Memes are a love language). I was still in the hero worship stage of our relationship, so my view of her was that that was perfect.

Now, let me bridge a connection with a new story idea I got around December 28th or so, and my thinking she was perfect.

I had recently finished watching Madoka and questioned “If I had magical powers, what would they be?” It then turned into its own story idea, basing creators’ powers around the strengths and weaknesses in creations. I actually realized “oh fuck. My stuff is incoherent. My friends’ works aren’t too different...”

Thus spawned the name “Incoherent” for the project.

What does that have to do with this? Well, here’s the thing that really fucked everything up quickly. 

This was not on purpose, because originally the project (which I had told nobody of yet at the time) was all about improving your works, making platonic friends, dressing our personas in cute outfits, and writing fun magic.

While listening to music and thinking of the story one day, my brain accidentally shipped my persona with hers, and I couldn’t unsee it. And I’m lousy at keeping my own secrets (other’s are different) so she found out on probably day one or two about my weird crush because of an ask meme of all things. 

She didn’t try to put me off any, which was another problem for future things to come, and so I decided that since Incoherent was finally making me feel alive again and feeling the euphoric feelings of love wouldn’t hurt anything (I figured they’d mellow out on their own eventually because that’s how infatuation works) since they helped fuel my inspiration, and then we would just continue from friends to better friends one day and this part of our lives would be over.

Besides, the forbidden is attractive somehow, and makes stories more entertaining. She’s aro/ace, so I had no chance anyway. Someone safe to crush on, in her own way.

This isn’t a story of a love betrayal however. There was no such thing. But it’s important to the story because Incoherent is where my mistakes were made, and hers brought to light.

By this time, I had a handful of people I was talking to, and I created a discord server for the project. Only my boyfriend (hi!) and I were in it at the time. I was not-so-subtly asking my friends what they’d look like if they were a magical person, what their names would be... I thought I would have had to lure Melody in to make her want to join us, but I managed to get her in very easily. Everyone was happy and excited! It was a no obligation, no time limit thing for us to enjoy, a little sandbox to play around in. 

Sure there were plans to make it bigger and I was working on art to the best of my ability, but it was gonna be a fun thing mostly. No pressure on anyone.

And how things started becoming a problem was that the rest of us posted publicly about the project and interacted with each other’s posts relating to the story, but she had started to interact publicly less and less with our things, and everyone noticed it.

It wasn’t because we were greedy and wanted the popular girl to reblog our things. It’s because we had a feeling she was ashamed of being seen publicly with us. The reason we were worried before then and started making that connection was because I mentioned I was going to ask another user if they were interested in joining Incoherent. Melody was the only one that seemed uncomfortable, and I messaged her asking about it. We agreed I wouldn’t invite that person but I knew things were off about it.

That person is like me. How long until Melody didn’t want to talk to me anymore? A few days ago, the other shoe finally dropped. A member of our little group and I were talking and (let’s call them Friend for simplicity. They asked to not be name dropped here) Friend was worried they had made Melody upset by tagging her in a meme picture they drew of her persona, and the two had agreed that Friend remove the tag. This spawned an anxiety-filled conversation where Friend and I expressed our concerns about Melody not interacting with the project, or us.

So since I wanted reassurance that that wasn’t the case, I messaged Melody with my concerns. I told her I had the feeling she was ashamed of being seen in public with us because of her friends, and she didn’t refute me. She simply told me to go get some rest. I messaged back with “I’m right.”

I deleted Discord off my phone for hours and nearly deleted my Tumblr, AO3, and the server after my boyfriend helped pass messages between us. Melody confessed that was the case because her friends expressed discomfort with my works, and she was playing both sides.

Her words, not mine.

Melody told me she would be withdrawing from the Incoherent project because it wasn’t fair to us if her heart wasn’t in it.

She didn’t stand up on my behalf when they said things about me. Her friends are the type who talk behind creators’ backs for shipping zadr “incorrectly.” Worse than antis because they actually participate in the “pro-shipping” side of the fandom. I broke that day and messaged her at 3 am.

We finally spoke at 3pm. We both missed each other. I tried to understand more. I wanted it to be more like a conversation rather than an interrogation. It was only one-sided however, and she never opened up further. And I made some mistakes and poor choices of words, and we ended up parting ways permanently right there. 

I nearly deleted everything, but much like a coma patient attached to many machines on a hospital bed, my blog was kept alive a little longer by people sending kind words in droves. I was briefly fuelled by spite, wishing to watch the world burn by making everyone on the "correct" side of the fandom upset by posting the worst, most vile content this fandom has ever seen.

I was also welcomed with open arms by a very kind server with fellow degenerates, all of them screaming and crying and partying when they managed to get me in their server. It was so heartwarming...

But as I spoke to others about my situation, I realized something. A disturbing pattern.

People telling me horror stories about how Mooping-10 was cult-like. How the people running it were antis. I was even told once that they have a secondary server where they go to have their talks and do their work, likely the place where the real bashing is held.

The server itself has rules against such behavior, but I suppose it's different when they do it.

One person (and this is the most unnerving part for me, personally) told me Melody actually set off alarm bells in their head without having even done anything yet, and the most disturbing part of the story was that one of the moderators was afraid and upset because they got Covid, and received basically no moral support at all. Only getting told "spoiler that. Sorry you got Covid".

I was horrified. That server has 100 people in it. How many of them are the same? They act like popular kids in school who picked up an unpopular main character and then bash others, and the main character joined in because they don't want to be left behind by their new "friends".

To put it short, back to my point:

TL;DR: I simply only wanted to spread the word that: Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and Melodyofthevoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don't "ship zadr correctly". She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is.

[lizaloveslevihan]

Title: An Accidental Date

Summary: When Hange is late to their night out, Levi and Moblit are forced to spend the entire evening together and are surprised to find that they have a lot more in common than what they had initially thought.

Ao3 Link: Here

Notes: My levihan secret santa gift for the amazing @fanmoose12 ! Thank you for contributing so much to the entire levihan community! So many of us find solace in your work and your blog and I am personally grateful to you for all that you do in the name of levihan <3 I hope you enjoy!

It was a hip, rooftop bar that had recently opened up in their city around a month ago, which meant that everyone wanted to get in. This was why it was fortunate that Moblit had gotten there a little earlier and managed to secure a spot in the line before it got too long.

Hange had invited him yesterday, and a couple of others as well, so that she could formally introduce her new boyfriend, Levi what’s-his-name, whom she met a few weeks ago at a coffee shop. Moblit had already seen him pop up a couple of times in the lab they worked at where he often kept to himself and talked only to Hange. He had to admit — though he made Hange rather happy, he wasn’t looking forward to spending an evening with the man. There were rumors about how he was secretly part of a notorious gang in the city, and Moblit was afraid he’d wake up one day and hear about how his best friend’s body ended all chopped up in a ditch somewhere. Hange Zoe, as brilliant as she was, didn’t really need any more recklessness in her life. 

He looked up and noticed how he was quickly nearing the entrance. His phone conveniently rang with some notifications at the same time, and he pulled it out from his pocket, surprised to see the message, or rather, messages, that were left in their group chat. 

“I’m sorry, something came up. I can’t make it!" — Nanaba

“Same :( I’ll try to see if I can still go later!” — Nifa

“Mike and I are still at work. Don’t know if we can catch up.” — Erwin

Moblit sighed. He was disappointed, but really, what else could he do about it? His friends were busy people and were prone to dip on outings such as these. As far as he knew, he was only left with Hange and Levi as company. That didn’t seem too bad. The night was still salvageable, especially if Hange was going to be there to talk endlessly. Though Moblit suddenly realized, it did imply that he’d be the third wheel. Damn it. 

As long as the booze was good, he supposed, all should be well. 

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice how he was directly in front of the bouncer until they cleared their throat rather loudly. 

“Invite?” the man in front of him asked. He was on the younger side, but towered over Moblit by a couple of inches and had his large hand outstretched. He looked both wary and unimpressed, his piercing blue eyes giving Moblit a once-over. 

“Uhhh,” Moblit stammered. He started patting down his pockets, well aware of the fact that there was nothing in them but his phone, wallet, and keys. Did they need an invite? He just assumed that all you had to do was wait in line like in Disneyland. None of his friends mentioned having to have an invite. 

“I don’t have one?” Moblit spoke nervously. He didn’t normally go out to places such as these, so he was totally out of the loop when it came to handling these sorts of things. Did he have to slap a twenty-dollar bill on his hand or something? Did he have to threaten anyone? Did he have to lie? Damn it, what was he going to do now? Before he could even make a move, he heard someone call his name. 

“Berner?”

He turned and was startled to see none other than Levi whats-his-name. He wore a leather jacket on top of a gray sweater, black skinny jeans, and a pair of boots. He was raising an eyebrow at Moblit, clearly surprised to see him too. 

Moblit cleared his throat, making sure to remain eye contact with him. “Levi.”

Now that he finally got a clearer view of the man (since the only times he saw him were stolen glances every time he dragged Hange out of the lab and such), he was surprised to see that he was much shorter than what he had initially thought. He had to lower his head to be able to meet those steel, gray eyes. However, despite the height difference, Levi what’s-his-name still radiated an intense aura of intimidation. Moblit wasn’t scared of him — dealing with Hange every day and trying to prevent her from blowing herself up was much more terrifying — but he couldn’t deny that there was just something about those eyes that made him want to stay on his good side as much as possible. Levi didn’t seem like someone you wanted as an enemy. As if Moblit had any anyway.

The shorter man narrowed his eyes up at Moblit as if making sure it was really him. After a few seconds, he sighed and turned his gaze to the bouncer. “He’s with me, Reiner. Let him in.”

Reiner’s eyes widened and he immediately stepped away, “Of course, Mr. Ackerman.”

Ah, so that’s what his last name was, Moblit thought in surprise. He never really bothered with knowing it. To him, he was always either Levi, or shorty, or Mr. Grumps, or whatever name Hange referred to him as. He figured it was safer if he’d stick with the first one. 

Moblit darted his eyes back and forth the two. He didn’t like what that little detail of “knowing the bouncer” implied. What if he really was a gangster and he had all those connections in the underground? What if he posed a threat to Hange? What if he was involving her in some illegal activity in a move to exploit her knowledge—

“Tch,” Levi spoke, rolling his eyes. He started to make his way inside without looking back, “Aren’t you coming, Berner?” he called. 

Pulled out from his thoughts, Moblit darted off and quickly followed him. They went through a small receiving area before turning and going up a plight of stairs. As he stared at Levi’s back, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Hange saw in him. He seemed cold and distant, someone who he couldn’t really see keeping up with her enthusiasm. But maybe that’s how it works. Opposites attract, after all. He did seem to care for Hange — if he didn’t then he wouldn’t be picking her up every day after work and made sure she got home safely. A small part of Moblit wanted to get along with him, maybe get to know him better for her sake. Hange dated a few men and women who weren't really the best of people, only looking to mooch off of her and all that. Some of them didn’t even treat her right, their egos unable to handle the idea of dating a smart woman like Hange. Hopefully, his thoughts about Levi being this gangster were just the stress and wariness seeping back into his brain. 

Once they reached the top, Levi opened the door and allowed him to go first. Moblit nodded as he passed him, and his eyes widened once he finally got a good view of their vicinity. 

The first thing that demanded his attention was the immaculate view of the city behind a glass wall that prevented anyone from falling to the concrete pavements down below. They were surrounded by a stretch of buildings and towers with lights that twinkled all around them. The place itself was buzzing with activity. There were so many people, all dressed to the nines, lounging around the many sofa chairs, conversing by the wide, open bar, or even loitering around the small stage at the far corner that a couple of people were setting up for some sort of stand-up act. Jazz music blared through the speakers as glasses were clinked together and Moblit couldn't help but feel like this was the missing piece he was looking for in his life. Maybe drinking alone in his apartment while watching “Friends” wasn’t the only option. 

He also couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Levi knew the bouncer and how he had access to this obviously exclusive place. If his gang theory was correct, then that would probably explain it. Hange didn’t really give him details about Levi’s personal life. 

Levi made his way to the very back and sat at a secluded sofa chair, right next to the glass wall. Moblit followed suit and sat on the empty chair right in front of him. He turned his head and leaned in to take a view of the busy streets and was surprised to see just how far up they were, considering how that plight of stairs wasn’t exactly long. 

“I’ll have the usual, Eren,” Levi suddenly spoke up, and Moblit turned back to look at a young brunette that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He wore a nervous expression along with a blue button-up and jeans and held up a pad paper and a pen. His shoulders were stiff as he quickly scribbled down Levi’s order before turning his attention to Moblit. 

Moblit hesitated for a couple of seconds, considering his options. He quickly glanced at Levi who gave him an expectant gaze before looking back at the young man, “Vodka,” he said, going with his favorite, “on the rocks, please.”

The Eren kid nodded and wrote down his order as well. But before he could leave, Levi suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him down to his level. Moblit noted the obvious discomfort and anxiety the young man was harboring as he gulped and listened to every word the midget said. 

"I did,” Eren nodded profusely, a drop of sweat making its way down his face as Levi pulled away, “She’s just talking to Mr. Kenny downstairs. I can go get her if you want—”

“No,” Levi said firmly, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair. He stared at Eren, a threatening look plastered across his face, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing any funny business, Yeager. You understand?”

“Yes sir.” Eren laughed nervously as he scratched the back of his neck. He bowed his head and all but ran off. 

Moblit couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at him. Was that how he treated waiters? It seemed like he knew the kid, but still, it didn’t excuse how rude he was to him. A person’s character could always be deciphered by the way they treated waiters and waitresses or people who just generally worked in service. And by the looks of it, Levi didn’t have a good one. Moblit didn’t like that one bit. His previous thoughts of trying to get along with him were slowly exiting out of the door. 

“Where are the others?” Levi asked, looking at Moblit boredly. 

Moblit crossed his arms. “They couldn’t make it.”

“The fuck?” Levi spat, narrowing his eyes, “What do you mean they couldn’t make it?”

“Everyone was busy. They all texted me in our group chat the moment I got to the front.” Moblit explained skeptically. The excitement he felt from coming to this new environment was slowly fading as he spent more time with Levi Ackerman. Sure, he didn’t want to be on his bad side, but the way he treated that waiter really rubbed him the wrong way. 

Levi’s face immediately turned sour. “I fucking go through all this trouble and you’re telling me—”

Before Levi could continue, his phone rang abruptly, cutting him off. He didn’t even check the caller ID before answering it and pressing it to his ear, “Where the fuck are you, shitty glasses?

Moblit’s eyes widened at the mention of Hange, and he carefully observed the way Levi listened to her. It was quiet for a bit as Hange rambled off an excuse, and Levi’s face turned even sourer. Moblit had a feeling of what her excuse was, and he mentally scolded himself for not dragging her with him when he left the lab. 

“The fuck?” Levi said annoyingly. He paused before glancing at Moblit, “Yeah, Berner is here. I can’t believe you. You dragged me into this damn mess and you and the rest of your friends aren’t showing up?” Moblit narrowed his eyes at Levi’s harsh and dictatorial tone, “You dragged me into this mess so you better show up, okay? And don’t blow yourself up for fuck’s sake.”

Moblit didn’t like the way he was talking to Hange one bit. Sure, it was pretty annoying to have someone flake out on you, but you didn’t need to be an asshole about it. Was Moblit disappointed at Hange for leaving him alone with this guy? Absolutely. He was more pissed off than anything. But he knew better than to blame her and make her feel bad about it. He may have only known Levi for a couple of minutes, at best ten, but he decided then and there that no matter how “good” this guy is — him talking to Hange like that, or to anyone for that matter, was completely unacceptable. He felt the anger bubble in his stomach at the thought of him speaking to Hange that way every day. 

Levi gave her a couple more short responses before hanging up. “Tch.” he scoffed, glancing at his phone and shaking his head. Once he pocketed it, he met Moblit’s irritated gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You don’t have to talk to her that way,” Moblit sneered, his line of defense rising, “she’s just stressed with work. You have no idea—“

“I know enough,” Levi cut off, carefully leaning forward, he spoke: “the way we talk to each other doesn’t concern you. Mind your own damn business.”

“It is my business because she’s my best friend,” Moblit huffed out, matter-of-factly. He leaned in as well, mimicking Levi’s movements, “And I won’t let some asshole like you talk to her like that, especially when it comes to her work. You have no idea how much it matters to her.” 

“Of course I fucking know how much her work is important to her,” Levi emphasized, clearly offended, those gray eyes starting to catch fire, “and what did you just call me?”

“An asshole ,” Moblit responded, all hesitation now leaving his body. Who cares if he was Hange’s boyfriend? Or if he was some sort of notorious and dangerous person? The way he talked to waiters and women was not okay and he deserved to be held accountable. “You better not talk to her like that again.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s how we normally talk to each other.” Levi growled, clenching his fists, “You have no business snooping in another person’s relationship, even if they’re your best friend.” Levi paused as if he just realized something. Moblit noticed how his fists clenched tighter by the second. He pulled back and crossed his legs, those gray eyes now holding a blazing emotion Moblit couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, it was worse than earlier. “Unless…” Levi started, scoffing, “I’m missing something here, Berner?”

Moblit raised an eyebrow at that statement. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it means.” Levi spoke, each word coated in that dark emotion again, “Your job doesn’t exactly require you to be away from her now, does it?”

Moblit looked at him curiously, “And what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Before Levi could reply, Eren appeared with their drinks. 

“Black tea for you, Mr. Levi.” Eren placed the cup in front of him on the table. “And a vodka on the rocks for you, sir,” he said, placing a glass filled with alcohol in front of Moblit. 

“Thank you, Eren,” Levi said, his eyes never leaving Moblit’s face. He glanced down at the drinks, his eyebrows scrunched together as if contemplating something. After a few seconds, he finally spoke up: “You know what? Why don’t you get vodka for me too? It’s gonna be a long night.”

Eren’s eyes visibly widened. “Uhm,” he started, looking at Levi strangely, “Are you—”

“I’d like to order a bottle,” Moblit cut off, copying Levi’s movements. “If you would be so kind. Thank you ,” he said, emphasizing the last words. 

Eren darted his eyes between the two men as silence suddenly enveloped them. Sensing the upcoming argument, he simply nodded and left as quickly as he came. 

“Look, man. I don’t want any trouble.” Moblit started, uncrossing his arms and grabbing his glass. “I just want what’s best for Hange and so you better learn how to talk to her properly to her or there will be damn consequences.”

Levi rolled his eyes, which further irritated Moblit even more. “That’s how we always talk to each other, Berner . It’s our relationship. How dare you think I would ever disrespect shitty glasses like that? You don’t know shit. Stop assuming. And what the hell? Consequences? Really now? ”

Moblit wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could do anything consequential to the likes of Levi, but he sure as hell was going to try. “Who the hell talks like that to their girlfriends?” Moblit said, changing the topic, his eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced with Levi’s reasoning. 

“I don’t have anything to prove to you. It’s our relationship,” Levi huffed, taking a sip from his cup of tea. “As much as I really want to fucking leave you alone right now, she said she’ll be here in an hour or so. So can you stop being a fucking snoop or shit while we wait?”

Levi broke off eye contact and looked at the twinkling city lights on the horizon. They fell into an uncomfortable silence once more as Moblit grabbed his glass and gulped it down in one go. Eren arrived and left a bottle of vodka which he placed in the middle of the table before eagerly disappearing again. He felt slightly guilty for going off on Levi like that, especially since he was the one who got him into the bar in the first place. But still, his rudeness was unnerving. Moblit also didn’t like how Levi implied something about his and Hange’s relationship. Sure, he had felt something for her before, but it had been ages ago. She’s grown to become something more as a friend to him — family even. Besides, Moblit already spent way too much time with her. He loved Hange, but even she could be too much for him sometimes. All he wanted was for her to be happy and treated well by anyone she goes out with because that’s what she deserves. Call him overbearing and all but he just wanted to protect his best friend. Especially since there were so many assholes out there these days. 

Assholes like Levi Ackerman. 

Before Moblit could indulge himself with another glass, his phone rang. 

He checked the caller ID and felt a sense of relief to see Hange’s name on the screen. He quickly answered and pressed the device against his ear, “Hey, Hange.”

This garnered the attention of Levi, who immediately looked at him with wide, yet narrowed eyes.

“Moblit!” she spoke exasperatedly, and he heard some shuffling noise in the background, “I know Levi is there with you, but I’m really sorry I’m going to be late! I swear, I was going to leave but then—” 

“You found where Sawney and Bean were hiding, didn’t you?” Moblit cut off. 

“Yeah! How did you know?”

He darted his eyes towards the sky before looking back down again, “You wouldn’t be staying back at the lab for any other reason.”

Hange chuckled nervously. “I saw Nana and the others cancel on us, man, I’m sorry! I swear, I’ll just be really quick and I’ll get there.”

“It’s okay,” Moblit said softly, glancing at Levi who was glaring at him. He smirked a little bit before proceeding, “Take your time. I’ll still be here when you get off from work.”

“And Levi?” Hange asked expectantly, her voice going a little soft, “He’s all right? I feel really bad for dragging him out and being late and all.”

“He’s fine . We’re fine .” Moblit lied, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Remember where their food is, and don’t forget to leave their cages locked this time.”

“Jeez,” Hange laughed, “You and shorty are really starting to sound like each other these days. Anyway, I got it! I’ll see you guys in a few. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before Moblit could say anything more and ask about what she had meant, Hange hung up. 

“Is she still coming or what?” Levi scoffed, drinking his tea and finishing the cup in one go. 

“She will,” Moblit said, pouring himself another glass, “In a few. Which is going to be around thirty minutes to two hours.”

“I’d say she’d be here in three hours,” Levi rolled his eyes, “Are you willing to wait that long?”

“I have nothing else to do.” Moblit answered immediately, taking another swing of vodka, “you can leave me alone here.”

“Not a chance,” Levi said, taking the bottle of vodka and pouring it in his now-empty teacup, “I have all night,” he said before taking a huge gulp. 

“Good for you, then,” Moblit responded. They fell back into the uncomfortable silence as they finished the bottle. 

Levi glared at him, his cheeks turning a little red, “You don’t seem drunk.”

Moblit scoffed. “I know my way around alcohol. A bottle is nothing .”

“How about three then?” Levi challenged. 

He raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. “Are you trying to prove something here?”

“Just curious as to how long the guy who dares to call me an asshole can last.”

Moblit swallowed. He did know his way around alcohol, but he didn’t like the challenging gaze Levi had on his face. “Fine,” Moblit said as Levi raised his hand and waved over Eren who quickly scurried back to their table. “You’re on.”

*******

One would think that a guy like Levi Ackerman, with his leather jacket, intimidating aura, and steely gray eyes, would have a rather high alcohol tolerance. And so Moblit wasn’t expecting to see just how tipsy he’s become after about five more glasses. His black hair was disheveled from the sweat that had accumulated, his eyes a little bloodshot, and his jacket laid discarded on the other side of the sofa. They ordered a couple of snacks from the bar, such as nachos and enchiladas, but they were mostly left untouched. He felt people drilling holes at the back of his head, but they kept their distance. He supposed it had something to do with his new drinking buddy. Moblit had to admit, he didn’t think a guy like him would go along with this thing. But it really did seem like he had something he wanted to prove. They had only been doing this for an hour and thirty minutes at most. 

But Moblit wasn’t any different. Though he was accustomed to drinking (something Levi clearly wasn’t), he couldn't deny the fact that his senses were off. He did hear his heart beating rapidly against his chest. Huh.

Before he could pour himself another glass, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He grabbed it with his aching hands and saw a message from none other than Hange herself. 

I had another discovery, Moblit! OMG. Tell Levi I’m really sorry but I gotta check this out. It’ll take me thirty more minutes. See you guys! — Hange

Moblit groaned and slammed his phone down on the table. He didn’t know if he could take this anymore. 

“Let me guess, she discovered some new bullshit again, didn’t she?” Levi said, stretching the last word. 

Moblit, as apprehensive as he still was, nodded in agreement, “I should have dragged her here when I left the lab. Now, look at what happened.”

Levi slumped against his seat and started massaging his temples, “And why didn’t you?”

“She said she was going to ‘follow soon’ after finishing up some paperwork,” Mobit rolled his eyes and finger-quoted. He reached out and took a nacho chip, finally getting some food in his system. 

“Please, she always says shit she doesn’t mean,” Levi sputtered, his face getting a little redder with each passing second. He reached out and sloppily got some food as well, “Like how she keeps telling me ‘Oh Levi, I took a bath!’” Levi imitated her voice as he waved around his piece of nacho chip and stared at Moblit with wild eyes, “But every time I smell her, she obviously doesn’t. Like how the fuck does her hair look all nice and soft and shit and still smell like actual shit?”

Moblit couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “That’s why I am so glad we have to wear masks at work sometimes. She used to go on weeks without taking a bath, like, it got so damn bad to the point a couple of people asked to be transferred to a new department.” Moblit said, finally grabbing more food. He didn’t realize just how hungry he was. “I leave little hints too! I’d say ‘Uh Hange, I think the test subjects need to be in a clean and objective environment or something.’” Moblit imitated as well. 

“You? You actually say shit like that to Hange?” Levi asked in disbelief, pointing a finger at him like a child. 

“I have a nose too! Have you ever sniffed someone who didn’t bathe for weeks?” Moblit gasped, “It was hell. It didn’t help how dense she is and didn’t take the hint—”

“Ha!” Levi suddenly exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, “Shitty glasses is so fucking dense! We’ve been seeing each other for almost two months now and it only took her… what? Two weeks ago to figure out we were… something? ” Levi scoffed as Moblit looked at him with wide eyes, “She gave me all this bullshit about being really good friends and shit.” He glared at Moblit, using his hands and arms expressively, “You don’t fucking make out with your friend at a coffee shop parking lot! Twice! ”

“Seriously? ” Moblit asked incredulously as Levi poured himself another glass and drank it, “She never mentioned this to me.”

“Probably because she wanted to preserve your friendship or something,” Levi muttered bitterly, only enough for Moblit to hear. “It’s all shitty four-eyes’ fault,” the small man droned out, leaning back against the chair. He groaned, rubbing his temple, “She kept… yapping about this night out and shit, and I just wanted to make her happy…

“She fucking means so much to me!” Levi exclaimed, slamming a hand back on the table. This garnered the attention of more people around them. Moblit suddenly started to feel a little embarrassed amongst other things. He supposed they weren’t going to get kicked out due to the nature of Levi’s influence, which still very much remained a mystery. He was also rather surprised at the things that were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t realize just how… deep Levi and Hange’s relationship were. 

“She… fucking… means,” Levi glared, slapping his hand on the table again, “so much to me!” He glared at Moblit, “You’re just a jealous and shit cause you,” Levi coughed, “like her too.”

Moblit had been drinking another glass when Levi said that, and so of course, he really had no choice but to spit it out all over the table. “What?”

Levi immediately stood up, which was a bad idea, considering he was far from being his normal self. “The fuck!” he exclaimed. He fell back into the chair ungracefully, “Yeah! You! You like her and shit… and I just… you always take care of her and I’m glad you do because she would be blown up by now…”

“‘Oh, Moblit! I discovered this thing!’” Moblit said, imitating Hange’s voice once again as he waved around his hands. Okay, perhaps he was drunker than he initially realized, “She’s always trying to blow herself up! And then she tries to test things without seeing if it was safe or not. Like who does that? Don’t you have a bloody Ph.D. or something? Like why do I have to be the responsible one? How did you even get through grad school? What the hell?”

“Exactly! It’s like I’m babysitting a fucking child.” Levi rolled his eyes, which he probably shouldn’t have done since he looked like he was going to be sick. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Top of the class at some fancy-ass university? Why the fuck do I have to make sure you eat three meals a day and make sure you take a fucking bath and wear all the proper clothes and shit? Like.... the fuck man?” He drank another glass. 

Moblit did the same as he nursed his glass, “It’s cause you care about her man,” he said, starting to feel a little emotional. What the hell was going on with him? “Cause she means a lot to you, right? And she means a lot to me too... but…”

“Okay!” Moblit suddenly exclaimed, feeling some of the tears build up behind his eyes, “She really helped me through college, man. I was in deep shit cause I didn’t have the motivation but she came in… and just helped me turn my life around? Like I don’t know how she did it, she was crazy let me tell you, I mean she still is… but she always pulled through for me. She means so fucking much to me, and sure I had fucking feelings for her ages ago, but I realized we were better off as friends. I mean, look at you, already having so much trouble. I just wanted her to be treated nice and all, especially since she dated a shit ton of assholes before you....”

Levi nodded as if he understood what it was like to have your life fucked up and saved by Hange Zoe. “So you… don’t like her and shit…?” Levi asked, his face a little guarded. 

“I fucking love her,” Moblit declared firmly, “but not that way.”

Levi looked as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he actually looked rather calm and collected despite the obvious mess he harbored. “I swear, the way we talk is all bickering and shit… I would never…”

“No man, I understand that now,” Moblit cut off, feeling bad. Even though he didn’t get that whole communication they had, he could see how much Levi cared for Hange. “I was being pissy and snooty about it.”

Levi agreed, not even denying it. He absentmindedly drummed his fingers on his thigh, as if trying to figure out how to say his next words: “She’s lucky to have you, you know? Four-eyes probably would have been rotting on the ground if it weren’t for you.”

“Well,” Moblit coughed, his head starting to feel heavy, “Thanks for making her take a bath. And you know… making her happy.”

Levi blinked. He leaned and looked at Moblit curiously, “I… do?”

“Man, she’s always extra livelier at work these past couple of days.” Moblit explained, moving to the enchiladas and stuffing a bit to his face, “You can see it in her eyes and crap. They’re all extra... sparkly.”

Levi snorted and scratched the back of his neck. Moblit could have sworn his cheeks became even redder. “Man, when I saw her at that coffee shop, I wanted to stay away as far as possible. She was so fucking loud and... obnoxious and shit. But she kept coming back and shit and I kept coming back too…”

“Love at first sight, huh?” Mobit scoffed. He really needed to stop drinking. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy who’d be into that.”

Levi narrowed his bloodshot eyes at him, “And I didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who could handle alcohol really well.” the small man spoke disbelievingly, “I thought you were some fucking nerd. But a quiet one.”

“Hey! being Hange Zoe’s assistant is something that requires weekly alcohol consumption.” Moblit droned out, “And here I thought you were some gangster or shit.” Moblit laughed nervously, hoping Levi would disprove it immediately. To his surprise, Levi didn’t. Instead, he nodded and shrugged. 

Moblit paled. So the rumors were true. Damn it, he thought. He insulted Levi and had gotten him all pissed drunk. Just as he was starting to open up to him, this happens. As he started to think about a possible escape plan (he needed to get an Uber or something since he was obviously in no place to drive himself, but his phone was dying and it was nearing midnight), Levi let out a small chortle. Moblit looked up and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Throughout the night, Levi had kept an impassive face that had switched between anger and annoyance. He never imagined Levi would grace him with a small smirk. 

“Tch, you should have seen how constipated your face was, Berner .” Levi said amusedly, leaning to grab another glass, “You looked like you were... about to shit your pants.”

“Wait, so…” Moblit started, feeling a little dumbfounded. The alcohol wasn’t doing any help clearing his mind either, “You’re not part of a gang or something illegal like that?”

“That’s fucking hilarious! The only thing I’m part of is this family business,” Levi said, waving to the place around them, much to Moblit’s confusion, “And if I were a part of a gang, like those things at like aha… the TV and you know, movies… and shit fucking shit like that, I wouldn’t be telling you .” Levi said, emphasizing more words than the others. 

“So you actually fucking own the place?!” Moblit cried out, waving his hands all around. So that explained his whole connection with the bouncer and the waiter. He was their boss . Moblit couldn’t decide if this was worse or not. 

“Scream it louder for the whole city, Berner!” Levi said as he slammed his fist on the table, “Yeah idiots!” Levi screamed as he stood up, gaining dozens of eyes on him, “I fucking own the place!”

“What are you doing?” a disbelieving voice suddenly asked. 

Moblit turned to see a young woman in all black — a black shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Her red scarf being the only pop of color on her body. She appeared out of nowhere right in front of their table, crossed her arms, and looked at Levi expectantly. She had the same steely gray eyes, raven hair, and stoicism Levi had but was much taller than the man himself. Levi squinted his eyes, peering at her curiously as if he didn’t recognize her. “Satan?”

“What the—” she shifted her eyes to the bottles and untouched nachos on the table and finally to Moblit. After a few seconds, her lips turned into a small smirk. 

“I was going to reprimand you for talking shit to Eren again, but oh wow , when he told me you were actually drinking alcohol, I almost couldn’t believe him.” the woman said in disbelief, the smirk on her face becoming more apparent. Her voice was stiff and very straight-forward, but she harbored a sense of amusement as of the moment. She pulled out her phone and directed the camera towards Levi. “This is gold.”

“Oi! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you brat!?” Levi sputtered out as he tried to grab the woman’s phone without much success. She raised her arm and suddenly Levi wasn’t the intimidating figure he once was. 

“Blackmail, obviously,” the woman rolled her eyes, “This is what you get for scaring Eren again, you boomer.” 

Levi fell back onto the sofa chair after multiple attempts and had no choice but to glare at the figure looming over them. He breathed in deeply as he massaged his temples once more. 

“What exactly did you do to my brother, and how can I make him do this again?” the woman coughed, turning her gaze towards Moblit. “This is the first time in our lives he’s ever been this drunk.”

Moblit hiccuped. Ah, he figured these two were related. The physical resemblance was almost uncanny, but not as much as their resemblance in personalities. “I just called him an asshole. Seemed to do the trick.”

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, “You’re kidding, right? No way,” she said incredulously, her phone still filming the sight in front of her, “I’ve been calling him that all our lives. What the hell?”

“Oi! Mikasa! You better fucking stop that shit,” Levi sputtered, moving to stand up, but failing. “I don’t want Hange to… Hange...look at me like this.”

“Ohhhh, so this is all about Hange then,” the woman—Mikasa scoffed as she raised an eyebrow, “He’s been obsessed with her ever since they met. So that must mean…” she looked Moblit up and down, “you’re Moblit, aren’t you?” 

Moblit nodded. His eyes were starting to close. What was exactly going on again?

“He’s been so jealous of you, it’s annoying . He keeps muttering to himself how much he hates you cause you spend all that time with Hange and crap. And he thinks he’s not loud enough for us to hear him.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, “The boomer is fucking whipped.” 

“I can still hear you, satan,” Levi sneered, waving her away as if she could disappear, “I’m not fucking deaf.”

“Uh-huh,” Mikasa said, smirking at her phone screen. “This is what you get for always crapping on me and Eren. Don’t worry, boomer,” Mikasa hummed, placing a hand on her hip, “I’m sure Hange will still like you and shit.”

As Levi mumbled curses after curses, it was then she darted her eyes toward the end of the bar. Her eyes widened as if she just had a brilliant idea. 

“You need some water or crap.” Mikasa declared. She raised her hand and waved once. Eren was once again by her side, a little calmer than before. 

“What are you doing?” he whispered-yelled, eyes wide. 

Mikasa grabbed his arm, pulled him close, and whispered something to his ear. Eren’s eyes widened even more as he pulled back. He gave her a crazy look that said “really?”

“No,” he coughed, backing away from her, “that’s a horrible idea.”

“He’ll be fine ,” Mikasa scoffed, giving him a pointed look, “he won’t know.”

“Of course he will , someone’s gonna post it on YouTube or something.” Eren argued, “Which is probably going to be you .”

“Have you seen him? He’s a fucking boomer .” Mikasa retorted, “He doesn’t know how to work that crap. Besides, it’s payback from that stunt he pulled with you last week.”

“I told you! It’s fine if he makes me work extra shifts! I need them anyway!” He darted his eyes back to Levi who seemed to be just staring into the space in front of him now. “I really think this isn’t a good idea, Mikasa.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. I’ll take the blame and he’ll probably be too hungover to remember anything.” Mikasa told Eren firmly, “It’s gonna be great .”

Eren hesitated for a couple of seconds before sighing and leaving. Moments later, he was back with two bottles of water. 

Mikasa took one bottle and handed him her phone and instructed him to keep pointing it at Levi. She carefully approached her older brother and kneeled in front of him, “Oi! Boomer! Drink up,” she said, throwing the item on his lap, “You don’t wanna look like a mess in front of Hange now, do you?” 

Levi eyed the bottle of water curiously before looking back up to Mikasa who now had a passive expression on her face, “What the fuck is this?”

“Water, obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “You blind now? You gotta drink that crap so you can start being sober. Isn’t Hange going to be here soon or something?”

Levi looked at Moblit who simply shrugged in return, “Can I have one too, by… by any chance…?”

Mikasa glanced at Eren for a quick second before handing Moblit the other bottle of water as well. “Sure.”

Before Moblit could even open the bottle, Levi was already drinking his. The moment he drank the first sip, he gagged. 

This isn’t water, Mobit thought to himself, inspecting the bottle and sniffing it, it was more alcohol.

He didn’t even get a chance to warn or say anything to Levi as he had already finished the bottle. 

Moblit shrugged and finished the bottle as well. 

“Okay boomer, let’s get you up.” Mikasa said slyly, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder, “I think I see Hange over there at the far end of the corner.” She looked on over to Moblit as well, the smirk coming back to her face and deepening further. “Oh, this is going to be amazing.”

*******

They were going to kill her. 

Of course, her experiments with Sawney and Bean, their beautiful and lovely lab mice Hange had initially lost the day before, ran longer than expected. She couldn't help it — she felt extremely bad for losing them under her watch. She had finished around thirty minutes after her last message to Moblit, and she would have gotten to the bar much earlier if only her car’s battery hadn’t died on her. It was lucky she had charged her phone before she left the house today and was able to get an Uber. There weren’t any buses this late into the night anymore, which would have been a huge problem. 

She was rather tired from today’s activities, but the thought of hanging out with at least Levi and Moblit had been enough to keep her awake. She was sad her other friends couldn't come, but at least those two had pulled through. 

On the car ride there, other than her thoughts of hanging out with her best friend and her boyfriend, she scrambled to think of an excuse on what to say to the latter. She had wanted Levi to meet her friends for so long so that maybe Levi could not only get out of his shell, but they could also possibly schedule more hangouts as a group. Levi only really hung out and worked in his family’s bar with his uncle and his little sister. Hange didn’t want the others to know he was the owner out of fear of her friends possibly freeloading and putting him in an awkward position. Which was why she just omitted that little detail when she called for everyone to get drinks. Levi had been hesitant to go forward with the meeting but had agreed anyway, which made her feel incredibly guilty about being the one late. 

She also wondered just how well he was getting along with Moblit. Though, she was pretty confident things were going to be, or they already were, awkward between the two. Another thing to add to her guilt list. 

Hopefully, she thought as the car stopped in front of her destination, her scolding wouldn’t be too bad. From either of them. 

She paid the driver and got off and scanned the long lines in front of her. Normally, she would have waited in line like any other normal person out of respect, but she was already running late. Mumbling apologies, she headed straight to the entrance where Reiner stood. 

“Oh! Hange! You’re finally here!” the blonde exclaimed, his face lighting up at the sight of her, “The boss already went in with another guy a couple of hours ago. I heard it was pretty crazy up there.”

“Hi, Reiner!” Hange smiled warmly, “Yeah, I had been too preoccupied at the lab and almost lost track of time! I’m here now, though, so hopefully Levi won’t scold me too much.” she said sheepishly. 

Reiner instantly stepped away to let her in, “I’m sure he won’t be too angry with you. You are his number one after all.” which made Hange blush and look down on the pavement, “Have fun!”

Hange gave him another smile before hurriedly making her way inside and up the stairs. She almost tripped a couple of times but had managed not to. Throwing open the doors to the rooftop, she panted, eyes searching for the two. Knowing Levi, he would be in his usual secluded spot by the very back. However, she was surprised to see how virtually empty that side was. She then directed her gaze towards the other side to the small stage where a comedy act was usually situated at. Her eyes then widened at the sight in front of her, and she had to do a double-take to make sure what she was seeing was real and not a figment of her imagination. 

“There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light!” Moblit screamed with his eyes closed. His hair and his button-up shirt were a certified mess. He threw an arm around… Levi?

“There were things I'd never do again!” Levi, the normally quiet, stoic, and clean person screamed into the microphone he held as he wrapped a free arm around Moblit’s waist, leaning towards him. His eyes were also closed, his normally tidy and neat hair a disheveled mess covered in sweat. “But then they'd always seemed right!”

“There were nights of endless pleasure!” Moblit sang in an extremely ridiculous high note which made Hange visibly cringe. The crowd that had formed in front of them, however, thought otherwise and all started cheering him on and clapping, “It was more than any laws allow!” Moblit dipped a little backward at that last note. 

“Baby, baby!” they both screamed as they let go and proceeded to face one another. 

“If I kiss you like this, ” Levi said, placing a hand on Moblit’s neck as he opened his bloodshot eyes. Yes, he was absolutely wasted.  

“And if you whisper like that,” Moblit sang affectionately as he cupped Levi’s cheek. The crowd gave another holler at the action. 

“It was lost long ago!” they sang together, holding onto one another for dear life, “But it's all coming back to me!”

“If you want me like this,” Levi whispered almost… seductively? That’s it. Hange must be dreaming. There was no way in hell this was happening. What was worse was how both men knew each line of that Celine Dion song and had it memorized. She stood frozen in her spot, unmoving, not knowing whether she should laugh, cry, or take out her phone to record first.  

“And if you need me like that,” Moblit yelled, pulling Levi close to him once again. The shorter man wobbled and held onto him for support, “It was dead long ago!”

“But it's all coming back to me!” they screamed together before tumbling down. The crowd gasped and laughed at the sight in front of them. The instrumental music kept playing as Hange heard a wretched puking noise. The crowd all collectively groaned in disgust and dispersed, enabling Hange to get a better view of the fallen men. 

What the actual fuck.

They both had puked their guts out, and so they were both covered in chunky pools of vomit. Moblit had passed out immediately, his arm still wrapped around Levi’s. The smaller man’s eyes were lidded and bloodshot, trails of vomit still leaking down from his chin. He looked around, confused, before screaming: “Oi! Four eyes! It’s no funty!” he groaned, attempting to wipe away the vomit from his chin but instead spreading it even more, “The brat said you were here already! Show perself! I just want to be with youuuuu!”

Hange’s mouth fell open. The shock she felt was even bigger than the comedy of the situation, and she had to slap herself to make sure all of this was real. How did they even get to this point? How in the world had Levi allowed himself to get to this point? He didn’t even drink, with tea being his go-to beverage. His uncle was the alcohol guy. And Moblit, calm and normally shy Moblit, how the hell did he get to this? Hange knew he was accustomed to drinking, so he had an incredibly high alcohol tolerance. So for him to get wasted like this must have taken a hideous amount of alcohol consumption. Which meant that whatever Moblit had drunk Levi had as well. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” Mikasa appeared next to her, holding up her phone and recording the entire… situation. Hange gaped at her, still dumbfounded at the sight in front of them. Mikasa gave a deep breath, obviously trying to hold in her laughter, “They’ve been quite lonely without you.”

“What. The. Hell. Happened?” Hange asked, appalled. She was so damn close to breaking down in tears. Both good and bad. 

At the last word, Levi let out a large groan and exclaimed, “Hangeeee if you don’t come back here with your shitty ass glassesssss I’m gonna dump you and date Berner insteaddddd!” he slurred, punching the air and then passing out next to Moblit, right on the pool of vomit they created together. 

“Oh wow, the boomer is gonna replace you after just one night with another guy? What a joke.” Mikasa scoffed, fiddling with her scarf and shaking a little bit from quiet laughter. “I don’t think they’ll be waking up anytime soon.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as some of the staff started to clean up the mess, only leaving the bodies untouched before the shock finally left her body and Hange found her voice: “You gave them Spirytus Vodka mixed with rum, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you recorded the entire thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know what my email address is?”

“Yes. I’ll also send you the YouTube link later tonight.”

“You know he’s going to come after you, right?”

“But I have you as a backup.”

“Touche.”

“Can you run me through the story of how they ended up like this?” Hange asked, looping her arm with the younger Ackerman. 

“Sure,” Mikasa said, turning off her recording and leading Hange to the bar. “Pina Colada?”

“And some cheesy fries.”

Hange didn’t need to worry about those two. There’d be enough pictures and videos about them tomorrow on social media. Though, she was rather worried at the prospect of her best friend stealing her boyfriend from her. Now that would be a really difficult situation. 

[illfoandillfie]

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery:  Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon​ and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon​ about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb. 

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @rogersslave​ @scorpiogemini 

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue.   “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

[thegreenwolf]

Betting on the Ponies (originally posted at my blog at https://thegreenwolf.com/betting-on-the-ponies/)

(Above:  Breyer Classic Arabian Stallion made over into a winged unicorn with real wings from a barnyard mix rooster I raised for meat.)

If you’ve been paying attention to my social media or my shop links at all, you may have noticed that I haven’t really been posting much in the way of new hide and bone art for the past year or so. It’s not that I’ve stopped; I still make some fun things for my Patrons on Patreon every month, and I make some bone, tooth and claw jewelry on Etsy to order. But ever since events dried up, I haven’t been regularly making new batches of costume pieces or other Vulture Culture art. My usual M.O. was to make all sorts of new things for an upcoming event, and then once the weekend was done and I was home, post whatever hadn’t sold on Etsy. And since there haven’t been events…well…I’ve just found myself doing other things.

Some of that is because I’ve had to scramble to make up for the lost income; events were a pretty big chunk of my “pay”, and losing them meant having to tighten the belt. I also lost several other income streams thanks to the pandemic making it unsafe to be around groups of people, which didn’t help. So I had to rely on what was left, along with adopting a few new sources of bits and bobs of cash here and there.

And, honestly, I’ve needed a bit of a break. I’ve been making hide and bone art for over two decades now, and while I love it, any artist eventually wants to explore different media for a while. Sure, I’ve stretched my Vulture wings in new directions, going from costume pieces and ritual tools to assemblages and the Tarot of Bones. But ever since the Tarot came out, I’ve been feeling….not really burned out, but a little creatively wrung out, at least. I’ve really appreciated my Patrons and Etsy customers who have helped me keep a hand in that particular medium, while also allowing me to head off in other directions, too.

Which is to say that if you have been paying attention to the aforementioned social media and shops, you may have also noticed that I’ve been increasing the number of customized Breyer model horses and other animals I’ve made over the past couple of years. This might seem like a heck of a departure from skulls, bones, and other dead things. But in a way it’s really me getting back to long-neglected roots.

(One of my favorite customs I’ve done on one of my favorite molds, the Breyer semi-rearing mustang. )

See, I was a horse girl when I was a kid. Or, rather, I was a wannabe horse girl. I never got to lease or own a horse, and even now in my early 40s I’m still about the greenest rider you’ll find. (Seriously, I need one of those kid-proof horses that’s seen it all, done it all, and is probably more trail-smart than I am.) But I was obsessed with horses from a young age. It started with my very first My Little Pony that I got Christmas morning, 1983 (Applejack, if you must know), and then exploded further with a book on how to draw horses and my first Breyer model (Black Beauty 1991 on the Morganglanz mold) in my preteens. Horse actually took over for Gray Wolf for a few years as my primary animal spirit during my teens, so we have a very long history indeed.

And since I couldn’t have a real horse, I ended up collecting model horses, mostly Breyers with a few old Hartlands for variety. I had over 100 at the peak of my collecting, but I had to sell them all in my early twenties when I was between jobs. In hindsight it was probably for the best because having less stuff made it easier to get through the period of my life where I was moving about once a year, but I do miss that collection.

Back then I did my part to add to the artistic end of the model horse hobby, mostly with badly blended acrylic paint jobs and terrifying mohair manes and tails. But it made me happy, and that was the most important thing. Even though I only knew a couple other collectors in my little rural area, and my only real connection to the hobby was through the quarterly Just About Horses magazine Breyer put out, my collecting really made me happy in the same way that my first fur scraps and bones would catch my interest a few years later.

2020….well, it sucked. We all know that. Pandemic, political stress, financial roller coasters and more made it a really tough year for anyone who wasn’t wealthy enough to hide away and weather it all. And many of us found ourselves with more time at home, in need of distractions and solace. It ended up being a time where many people rediscovered their love of childhood hobbies. I’m one of those people. I’ve been slowly edging my way back in for the past few years, starting with repainting a few old Breyer models found at thrift stores, and then gaining momentum as I found that not only was I much better at customizing these models than I used to be, but I was having fun without the pressure to make a living off of it. (Yes, I love my hide and bone art, but when an art form is your bread and butter, it changes your relationship to it. But that’s a post for another time…)

So 2020 saw me really ramp up my customization efforts. I had to stop for a few months in summer and fall when I moved to a spifftacular new living space on the farm I’ve been working on the past few years (with, by the way, THE best studio space EVER!) but as the days shortened I found myself making more dedicated time to repainting and otherwise customizing models. I even started keeping a few of the models I’d bought to customize that were in better condition to create a small, but slowly growing original finish collection, and that really helped me feel like I was back in the (not actually a) saddle.*

That’s why a well-established artist of organic, pagan-influenced arts made from fur and leather and bone and feather suddenly started painting all these secondhand plastic ponies. It’s giving me that deep injection of childhood nostalgia balanced with adult skill and perspective, and it’s offered me a much-needed break from the exhausting schedule I’ve been living the past decade or so. Because suddenly, even with the time spent rearranging my income opportunities to make sure I could stay afloat, I found myself with a little time that hadn’t been scheduled to death, and when I thought about what I wanted to do with that time, I gravitated toward one of the few creative outlets in my life that was purely for fun.**

(Yes, this IS fan art of “The Last Unicorn”! I used a Breyer Stablemate rearing Arabian for the unicorn, and a Breyer Spanish fighting bull for the Red Bull. A LOT of fun to make this particular project.)

In a way having all my events canceled was one of the best things that happened to me, because it made me slow the fuck down. I no longer had several weekends a year where I had to spend weeks beforehand making art and otherwise preparing to be away from all my farm responsibilities for 4-7 days at a time, with all the packing and moving and setup and vending and teaching and teardown and going home and unpacking and exhaustion that goes with each event. I realized just how much each one was taking out of me, especially as I’ve gotten older. And I also recognized how much pressure I had been putting on myself to ALWAYS MAKE MORE STUFF FOR ETSY EVERY WEEK OR ELSE.

So the model horses are really sort of a symbol of the childhood joy I’ve managed to recapture, wresting time and energy back from my workaholic tendencies. I’ve even been thinking about what my professional life is going to look like once the pandemic eases up enough to allow events again, and whether I’ll put the same amount of time toward vending and and teaching at conventions and festivals as I used to. (There are a few favorites that I’m not going to miss for anything, so don’t worry about me dropping out entirely.) But for the first time in a very long time, I’m relearning to prioritize myself, and figuring out that maybe I don’t have to go hell-bent for leather every week, every year, in order to keep the bills paid and the critters fed.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay for this dead-critter-artist, pagan-nonfic-author, teacher-vendor-farmer, to indulge herself with something fun, and bet on the ponies to help her get through the tough times.

(P.S. Amid everything going on, I am back to working steadily on my next book, which I mentioned in this blog post almost a year ago. As a recap, its working title is Coyote’s Journey: Deeper Work With the Major Arcana, and it’s a deep dive into that section of the tarot using pathworkings with the animals I assigned to the major arcana of the Tarot of Bones. It’s not just a Tarot of Bones book, though; it’s a good way to get a new, nature-based angle on the majors in general, as well as hopefully gain a better understanding of yourself. My goal is to have it out later this year, self-pub of course, and at the rate I’m going it may end up being my longest book! Stay tuned, and if you want to get excerpts of the work-in-progress, become my Patron for as little as $1/month!)

*At the height of my “horse girl” phase, I had a really beat-up pony saddle I’d bought for ten bucks at a yard sale, and got a cheap saddle stand for it and put it in my room. And yes, I occasionally sat on it and pretended I was riding an actual horse. Hey, it made me happy at the time, and it was the closest I was ever going to get apart from a trail ride every few years.

**Yes, I do sell my customs. But I don’t make them on a schedule, I take commissions VERY sparingly, and I’m getting to stretch some new creative muscles, especially in the realms of sculpting and painting, so this is primarily for my enjoyment. The sales are just a side benefit.

(My ode to the forests of the Pacific Northwest, a Breyer deer repainted to resemble the Columbian black-tailed deer that frequent the farm I live on, along with hand-sculpted Amanita muscaria mushrooms, real and fake moss, and real lichens from fallen branches.)