#transactions per second

[palmytomo]

[townsenta]

me writing “hot to go” on all the hot drinks vs my coworker writing “short n’ sweet” on all the short cups

[cilleatandserve]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ

Thomas Shelby x Arranged wife (reader)

Masterlist

Warnings: Arranged marriage, enemies to lovers (sorta), jealousy & fighting, sickness & poverty themes, Lustful p in v, spit as lube, fingering & oral sex (f receiving), kissing, praise

A/N: Tell me if part 2 is needed !! Not proofread and made at 2am sorry for mistakes & late post— exam week.

She always had high hopes for her marriage. Seeing it as an escape from the dull cycle she called life.

Hopes that were soon destroyed on a random Sunday, right after church. When everything she dreamed of started to unravel. ���Love is a luxury we can't all afford, my dear. This is about security, about family. Mr. Shelby will provide that." Your dad reassures

The wedding was arranged, an event that felt more like a business transaction than a celebration of love.

“Papa! You can’t do this. It’s me.” She cried, tears streaming down quickly as she tries to catch her father’s eye.

But her efforts quickly fell flat at the sight of your mother hunched over a bowl on her bed, regurgitating the small breakfast you made her, a stark reminder of the chaos that surrounded them.

Thomas didn’t fight it— not because he didn’t care, but because from the moment he laid eyes on her, he wanted her. It was like a permanent craving, one that gnawed at him relentlessly, refusing to fade even after he had her.

He had first seen her at the shops, a fleeting moment that felt ethereal. The second time, he saw her for sale at the very same shop, practically. Her waves of hair were tousled by the wind, her wrist caught in her father’s grip as he dragged her along.

She, on the other hand, hated every part of it. The long, loveless ceremony dragged on, each passing moment a reminder of the heavy rock on her dainty fingers. Him. Especially him. The way he sweet-talked his way through all of her family ties, charming everyone around her. How his blue eyes seemed to find her in every crowd, piercing through her defenses. How his brown hair looked splayed over a pillow, haunting her thoughts at night.

Their wedding became the first and last place they had a conversation in the following months, and even that was short-lived, considering how half of Birmingham was there, watching and waiting. She spoke to him only when necessary, her words cold and sharp, as if he were nothing but a stranger—a harsh truth that echoed through the halls of their new life together. Yet, almost every woman in Birmingham would commit absurd crimes to be in her spot for just a day.

He answered gently. Always tried to bridge the gap between them. Always failed. She held grudges for his past transgressions, unable to see the protection she and her family gained through the act of marriage. Blinded by her own resentment and disappointment.

One night, she slipped through the door without saying a word. Like a ghost escaping the confines of a haunting, leaving behind a silence that screamed of unspoken words and shattered dreams. No goodbye, and all her worries on her bedside table in the shape of a ring. Meaningless and empty. Not the type she’d dream for, each shine of the rock reflecting a memory of shared love.

She went to the bar. Petty enough to drink at the one he owned.

Let hands touch her waist. Let strangers make her laugh. Pretended she was free. Like before.

When she came back, he was waiting. Sitting in the dark drinking per usual like a ghost she couldn’t shake off. His power seeping through every situation she finds herself in.

His face a dark shade of orange from the cigarette in his left hand, clearly left unattended from its abundance of burnt tobacco.

He didn’t ask where she’d been. Just, “Where’s your ring eh?”. She didn’t flinch, just calmly answered while taking off her heels and jewelry. Excessive.

“Didn’t want to wear it”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to lie”

He stood up, putting his glass, containing the clumped cigarette, down as gently as he could. “You don’t have to lie.” He said. “Just wear it. Let them know you’re not theirs.”

“I’m not yours either” She spits back. Finally making eye contact with him. For the first time in what felt like months.

Silence creeps up to the surface.

Then, softly, he says, “You are, even if you hate me for it.”

“Look y/n-“ he says before she storm up to their shared bedroom.

She wakes early to see him sprawled out, his face serene and calm. Not drowned by the stress of business or such. Before she knows it, she’s combing his hair out of his face.

“Meow.” Snaps her out of her daydreams, making her abruptly turn to see her cat. Her father let her take him. Thankfully. She pets the hair on his head and gets out of bed. Picking him up and standing infront of the drawn curtains, letting the sun warm part of her face. She had never seen a view from this high before.

A view others had been born with, she would have to get used to quickly.

After the strange encounter she had just recently, she decided to cut herself off. Barricading her relationship from proceeding. Her peace was maintained. Until she had to go to a dinner. She wasn’t specifically trained in the field of small talk. Giving how she grew up only knowing few friends and family.

She put on a dress Thomas had gotten her early in the relationship. With rouge and perfume, she stood with a glass of wine. Her arms intertwined with Thomas’ as she glides through, introducing herself to more than 30 people in the span of 8 minutes. And counting.

She’s pulled away by a stressed Ada Shelby. Rescuing her from the deep end before being drowned in relationship advice. She murmurs in response and she watches Thomas down more whiskeys than usual while talking to someone. Equipping that look he has when he’s concentrated.

They arrive home after a silent drive. Beginning their cycle of silence yet again once the door opens. Although it’s broken once he speaks up. “The hospital your mother’s in has been threatened. One of many.” His words make her tense up immediately, although he reassures as soon as he notices. “I’ve got my men surround-“ he says before being cut off, his hands still in gesture. “That’s not enough.” She mutters, her head in her hands as she almost lets her worries consume her.

“Just listen.” She says, beginning to take another step before him. Thomas is sat down on the couch here in our living room, having his eyes all focused on her. She, who stands infront of him, holds each of her hands on top of her hips, trying to form the rant in her head into words

“Please listen.”

His jaw tightens, his lips parting slightly as he tries too play off his smirk, his posture starting to straightening with need. “Thomas.” She starts. Her eyes studying his every move, how his eye brows raise and how his lips slightly form a smile.

A tension forms in the air, making it harder for her to keep up with her current attitude.

He leans backwards, his hips being pushed upwards slightly and his legs spreading as he lights a cigarette after rubbing it against his lips, his eyes staying on her.

She swallows. Hard. Slowly.

Throughout this whole breathtaking act he just performed, has the soft desperate gaze of his never left her.

“Are you done?” His voice low, almost teasing.

And she’s gone silent. Completely silent.

He leans forwards again, and now she feels his palms land on the back of her thighs. While his fingertips trace her skin, he lays her forehead against her stomach.

“I hear you.” He murmurs. “And I’m working on it.”

His arms snake around my thighs. I tilt his head up upward, just to meet his eyes again.

“Trust me baby.” he whispers before ducking his head down and planting kisses onto the soft hands he holds.

She combs his hair from above before he stands up. Staring at her like no one had ever before. He pushes in softly, taking control and planting soft kisses onto her lips before pulling away. Ignoring her urge to continue. “Can we undress?” She asks, breathless and needy. Asking just incase he didn’t get the hint.

“I want to do this when we’re both sober.” He says, smirking against her cheek as he pecks her again.

She woke with an extra pep in her step today. Considering the night before’s events. That was her first kiss in a long time. So it’s fair.

She notices the absence of the figure usually beside her in bed. She then wanders to the kitchen, greeting him as he sits at the table reading newspaper. Although nothings different. Nothing but her feelings. Did he forget? Was he that drunk? Was he embarrassed?

“Any updates on the hospital?” She says holding a cup of tea and sitting beside him. The scent of chamomile soothing her from the failure of small talk. He mumbles a response that doesn’t pass your mind. So he remembers last night. “Do you not want to talk about last night?” She surprises him with her bluntness, a recurring theme throughout her language.

“Err. I didn’t think it was a topic to be spoken over breakfast.” He says as he folds the newspaper and puts it down.

She gets up, about to leave frustratedly. But he does too, approaching her briskly and holding her chin, quickly yet gently. He looks her up and down before kissing her hungrily, guiding her up the stairs and to the bedroom she just previously woke up in.

Too desperate and lust driven to unclothe each other, he unzips his pants. He slowly folds her dress upwards and moves her panties to the side, rubbing it slowly and spreading it with two fingers. He spits in his hand and rubs it over his cock before sliding it inside. His tip first, then his whole length. She shudders at the feeling. “Fuck. Good girl. You’re doing so good” He mutters, just loud enough for her to hear. After a few seconds, he lifts her leg up to his hip and starts thrusting his hips, eliciting soft sweet moans out of her mouth. “So tight.” He recalls before he drags his hand to her clit and starts rubbing as he grabs her mouth with his lips.

Their hands intertwine as she start to reach your high, orgasming under his fingers. He burrows his head into the crook of her neck as it spasms upwards and downwards. He follows not long after, pulling out and letting his seed pour over her now dirty slip. He caresses her cheek and bends down to kiss her neck, whispering in between. “Alright. I’ve had my fun. It’s your turn.”

He smirks against her collarbone before getting on his knees, holding onto her hips and using them to bring her closer. He looks up at her one last time before drawing his attention to her unclothed heat. He grabs her knees and throws them over his shoulder, giving her no time to adjust before diving in like a starving man. His tongue lapped at her folds, his finger finding his way to rub while his tongue shoved into her hole, waving around. “Tommy.” She shook her ankles violently, hitting his back as she grabbed his hair, going from soft caresses to harsh grabs.

“You taste so fuck’n good.” He says as he catches his breath before diving back in. It takes one last lick before her back arches and she shivers, whispering his name like a prayer.

He gets up, watching the final moments of her unraveling before him. “All mine. Don’t forget that eh?” He says, maintaining an eye contact that no longer made her uncomfortable.

[batilenima]

Clark feeds from Bruce only once per day.

One careful bite, restrained and reverent. Bruce barely flinches, he stays still, steady, the way he always does, offering without surrendering. When it's over, Clark pulls away too fast, guilt in his eyes, blood on his lips. He doesn't speak, just vanishes into the night air like smoke.

Bruce bandages the wound without flinching. It's a transaction, he tells himself. A calculated risk, not something personal.

But Clark changes after that.

He's more protective, watches Bruce longer when he thinks he won't notice, shows up to patrols uninvited, silent in the shadows until Bruce growls at him to stop following him.

And when Bruce gets grazed by a bullet (barely causing an injury) Clark's on him in seconds, fangs hidden but eyes wild. "You're bleeding".

"It's nothing" Bruce mutters, brushing him off "I've had worse from a butter knife".

Clark doesn't move. His voice is low. "You can't keep letting other people take blood of you like this, It's mine now".

Bruce looks at him with a sparkle of anger in his eyes "You think I'm your property?".

"No" Clark says, stepping closer. "I think I'm starving".

The words hang heavy. Not just hunger, but yearning, need, obsession, ancient and primal, worn under that golden boy smile.

Bruce's breath hitches just once. He doesn't retreat.

"All I do is feed you once a day., that doesn't mean anything"

Clark leans in, voice rough. "It does to me."

And Bruce, despite every rule he's ever lived by, doesn't push him away.

(I think that with this you all would've noticed that I love Vampires aus and also I love adding obsession to these type of stories 😸)

[blueiscoool]

1,900-Year-Old Papyrus Records Roman Tax Fraud Trial

The Greek document details a court case in ancient Palestine involving tax fraud and provides insight into trial preparations in the Roman Empire

Back in 2014, a researcher from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem rediscovered an ancient papyrus while organizing a storeroom in the Israel Antiquities Authority’s Dead Sea Scrolls Unit. Once found in the Judean Desert, the document’s script had previously been classified as Nabataean—an ancient Aramaic language—but papyrus expert Hannah Cotton knew better.

“When I saw it marked ‘Nabataean,’ I exclaimed, ‘It’s Greek to me!’” the researcher says in a statement by the university.

Cotton and a team of experts spent the next decade deciphering the 133-line text, and their findings were recently published in the journal Tyche. Turns out, the document is the longest Greek papyrus ever found in the Judean Desert, and its newly translated content is particularly unique: a Roman lawyer’s detailed notes about the trial of two men accused of tax fraud.

“This is the best-documented Roman court case from Judaea, apart from the trial of Jesus,” says study coauthor Avner Ecker, a historian at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, in the statement.

Per the study, the papyrus was likely written on the “eve of the Bar Kokhba Revolt,” a second-century Jewish uprising against Roman rule. The Roman Empire had colonized Judea—the southern part of ancient Palestine—some 200 years earlier. By 132 C.E., various Roman incursions upon Jewish life, including bans on religious practices, had taken their toll: The dwindling population of Jews in Palestine revolted. The rebellion, led by a man named Bar Kokhba, was crushed by the Romans in 135 C.E., and Jews were subsequently banned from Jerusalem.

The newly translated papyrus was written after Roman Emperor Hadrian’s visit to Judea around 130 C.E. and before the Bar Kokhba Revolt, per the study. It details Rome’s case against two individuals—Gadalias and Saulos—accused of forging documentation about selling and freeing slaves to bypass paying Roman taxes.

“Forgery and tax fraud carried severe penalties under Roman law, including hard labor or even capital punishment,” says study coauthor Anna Dolganov, a papyrus expert at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, in the statement.

The papyrus was written in “vibrant and direct” language by a strategizing prosecutor, advising another lawyer about pieces of evidence and anticipating objections, per the statement. The document also contains a “rapidly drafted transcript of the judicial hearing itself.”

As Dolganov says in the statement, “This papyrus is extraordinary because it provides direct insight into trial preparations in this part of the Roman Empire.”

Significant portions of the document are missing, making conclusions about the trial’s participants difficult to draw. Still, the researchers write that the prosecutors were likely “functionaries of the Roman fiscal administration” and suggest the defendants were Jews. The papyrus also makes mention of “an informer who denounced the defendants to Roman authorities.”

As Live Science’s Kristina Killgrove writes, the papyrus sheds light on the long-debated question of whether or not ancient Jewish people owned slaves. The document mentions that Saulos’ family owns multiple slaves, but whether those enslaved people were Jewish is unclear.

The trial’s location and the case’s outcome also remain mysterious. Per the study, proceedings may have been interrupted by the Bar Kokhba Revolt. Somehow, this papyrus ended up among a collection of documents stored in caves in the Judean Desert—the Dead Sea Scrolls, which were rediscovered in the mid-20th century.

As study coauthor Fritz Mitthof, a historian at the University of Vienna, says in the statement, the papyrus showcases the Romans’ governmental reach: They regulated private transactions even in remote regions of their empire.

By Sonja Anderson.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: 😘

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s another tap on the window. You shake your head, ignoring it. Go away, go away, go away. Another comes, this one louder and you turn, ready to shout at him to leave you alone. Why is he there? Why is he bothering you? 

You spin and stop short. A little boy smiles from just over the little ledge and his dad stands behind him, his hand hovering at the window. You blink and move forward to slide open the glass. As you do, you peer around, searching for the bearded man in his button-up. He’s gone. You think. You hope. 

“Sorry, I was cleaning,” your voice tremors before it evens out, “how can I help you?” 

“What do you want, kiddo?” The man puts his hands on his son’s shoulders, “rocky road?” 

“I want choccy!” The kid demands. 

“Double chocolate or chocolate chip or chocolate brownie?” You prompt, smiling as your eyes continue to rove around, waiting for any glimpse of that man. 

“Double,” his dad answers for him, “I’ll have a scoop of praline and cream.” 

“Sounds great? Bowl or cone?” 

“Sugar cones are fine,” the man replies as he takes out his wallet. 

You go through the transaction on habit alone. The man seems slightly agitated by your twitchiness but still drops a tip in the jar. You thank him and lean out the window to see along the side of the booth. Is he gone? Really gone? 

You can’t shake his shadow. You just can’t believe he would show up like that, then act so casually. Like you’re old friends. You chatted for one year and you didn’t even know who he really was. That’s not a friendship, that’s just strange. 

You don’t close the window. You’re already nervous about having it closed for so long. Your manager takes complaints very seriously and you can’t exactly afford to drop one job when you’re considering a second. 

You check the time. Right. A couple hours. You can make it through. If you see him again, maybe you’ll call the cops. Won’t that be funny to explain? Maybe he could use the humiliation of fessing up to his betrayal. 

You don’t feel better about the back-up plan but at least you have one. Sort of. It all depends on if they even believe you. 

The after-dinner crowd begins to burgeon and you find yourself forgetting the unwanted customer for a whole line of new ones. You scoop and scrape and dish out the flavours with a faulty smile. When you’re through the rush, the tip jar is close to full. At least you had a fruitful night. 

You hope that the locals scared Andy away. Or your reaction. You don’t think he came all that way expecting that. Surely, he wouldn’t bother if he thought you were just going to turn him away. Yet why would he expect anything else? 

You really don’t understand. 

As your shift comes to an end, you’re anxious to lock up. Leaving is another matter. You can’t help but look over your shoulder as you twist the key from outside. You turn your back to the wall and wearily wade through the dark. You won’t be caught off guard again. 

You take a different route than usual. You don’t know why but it seems like a clever idea. You keep in the sheen of the street lights. You keep your phone in your hand just in case. You remember all those precautionary safety presentations they had on campus about walking home alone. 

You let out a sigh as you reach your street. Your grandmother’s house sits nestled behind the overgrown walnut tree. You feel safer in sight of it.  

You slow as you sense something off. There’s a car you don’t recognise. An SUV that doesn’t fit in the neighbourhood. He wouldn’t be there. Then you think of the flowers. He knows where you live. 

Your name makes you yipe as a shadow emerges from the silver vehicle. Your feet tangle and you stumble. Keep going or go back. Either way won’t be an escape. You stop and face him wide-eyed. 

“Please, leave me alone,” you beg. 

“Honey, please, I’m not here to do anything but apologise,” Andy strides across the street and you can’t help but shy away. “Won’t you just hear me out?” 

“No, I told you--” 

“And I sat and listened. Don’t you think you owe me the same courtesy?” He insists. 

“But-- I already told you, Andy, what you did--” 

“I know what I did,” he breathes, “I think about it constantly. Every second of every minute of every day. I think of you and I can’t get you out of my head because I know it was wrong. I can’t stand that I hurt you so bad. You don’t deserve that. After everything you’ve gone through--” 

“I only told you those things because I thought you were someone else,” you hiss, “I can’t... I can’t forget the lies. I can’t move on, alright? And honestly, I don’t think we have much in common. We’re in different places.” 

“That didn’t matter before. We got along--” 

“Because you--- you were pretending to be a teenager,” you bluster, “how old are you? Can’t you see how insane this all is?” 

He winces and his jaw ticks. In the glint of the streetlight, his eyes sockets are dark pools and his broad shoulders seem even wider, his figure even taller. You lean back on your heel and sway, looking towards you grandmother’s house. 

“It’s not... I never meant to hurt you.” 

“You did,” you shrug, “Andy, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We were just gaming, shooting the shit, that’s whatever. The best thing you can do is get help. Talk to someone.” 

“I want to talk to you,” he says. 

“A professional,” you insist, “I’m nineteen. I can’t help you.” 

“But you did,” he snips. 

“Not how you need to be helped, okay? I’m asking you to stop. Go. It’s over. It never really was. I was friends with Jacob, not Andy. You chose that.” 

He hangs his head and heaves. You stand in silence. Slowly, you sidestep and flinch as he mirrors you. He reaches for you and you back away from him. He retracts and pushes his fingers through his hair. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just...” he croaks, “honey,” that word, again, “if I get help, will you talk to me? If I go, get some pills or something, will you just give me a chance?” 

You huff and shake your head, “Andy, there’s lots of people online you can game with. People your own age. Maybe you should try the discord--” 

“No, not them. You.” 

“Andy,” you plead, “I’m... no. No. You can’t do this. You can’t just show up and make me listen. You can’t send me flowers and come to my work and force me to be your friend. Alright? That’s not... healthy.” 

“I wanna be better. For you. That’s what I’m telling you,” he steps closer until you’re against the prickly hedges. “I wanna do everything for you. I can make your life so much better. Honey, don’t you want that? Don’t you want someone who wants you? For once?” 

You’re quiet, stunned by the insinuation, of the truth in it. 

“That’s cruel,” you whisper. 

“I don’t mean—not like that. I only, I’m trying to show you what I can give you--” 

“I don’t want anything from you,” you sniffle, “or anything to do with you. Can’t you get that through your head?” 

He staggers back as if he’s been struck. He shakes his head and stammers, “what-- why? Why not?” 

You blink, long and hard. How many times do you need to repeat yourself? You roll your eyes and turn on your heel. You brace yourself for him to follow but he doesn’t. 

His shadow looms just along the edge of your peripheral and as you turn into your grandma’s yard, you glance back. He watches you but stays where he is. He just stands there. You shiver and raise your phone, lighting up the screen, hoping he gets the idea. You could call the police. 

He takes a step back then pivots sharply. He crosses the street back to the SUV and the door slams behind him. You jump in your shoes and quickly scramble up the walkway to your grandma’s front door. You’re hoping that’s the last time you have to tell him to go away. Next time, you might just have to be mean about it. 

🎮

You try to sleep. It comes in shallow spurts that leave you more and more tired. You don’t have a shift, thank god, but you’re also not so grateful to be left without distraction. You give in to futility as the sun peers in between your curtains and you groan at the dull weight in your temples. 

You creep out quietly to make a coffee. Just instant powder so the machine doesn’t wake your grandma. You go back to your room and sit in a groggy daze, waking yourself with the warmth of each sip. You sigh out and hang your head. 

There was enough to figure out a week ago. Now, you don’t know how many problems you truly have. You’re not so certain last night got the point across, especially after the first two times didn’t work. Third time’s the charm, right? Besides, how much effort are you really worth? 

You can’t just sit still. Your eyes keep itching to look at your Switch, a now cursed item in your collection. You finish the coffee and change out of your pajamas into a pair of sweats and faded tee. You’ll catch up on some chores, keep yourself busy and grandma happy. Besides, you’re not brave enough to venture outside just yet. 

You grab your head phone and pop them over your ears and search through your phone for your cleaning playlist. You’ll start with the living room. Give it a sweep and a mop, wait until grandma’s up to do the vacuuming. Dishes next and the kitchen. Scour the fridge for the forgot produce in the back and take out the trash. You have more than enough to do. 

You wipe off the end tables then the coffee table, sorting the clutter and clearing the trash. You dust the television and the shelves of knickknacks and the ornamental fireplace against the wall. No matter what you do, there’s always a slightly dingy smell to the place. 

When the living room is decent, you move into the kitchen. You turn up your music and drown out the house around you. Dishes, floors, cupboards, cobwebs... You feel the effort in your muscles as you stretch out the kinks from your pitiful sleep. 

You’re entirely obliviously to the existence of others until your grandmother appears with a scowl, pinching your arm as she glowers in her house robe. You glance at the time. You’ve been at it for a few hours. You pull your headphones off your ears and pause your music with a tap of the button on the cord. 

“Oh, morning, do you want some coffee?” You offer. 

She’s unimpressed by your efforts as she crosses her arms. It is kind of early for her to be up. Her nostrils flare as she sniffs. 

“You better make a full pot for your visitor,” she sneers. 

You blink at her and scoff, not understanding her, “visitor?” 

Her eyes are narrowed and her lip curls, “the one who’s been pounding on my door while you’ve been listening to your racket.” She jabs an ear of your headphones, “damn woke me up.” 

“I don’t... who?” 

“Says you knew his son. The dead one,” she shakes her head, “sad, I suppose.” 

You stare at her. You hear movement in the front room, just on the other side of that wall. You glance through the archway and see a shadow shift. She’s not lying. How else would she know? 

“What did he tell you?” You breathe. 

“More than you, eh,” she snaps, “what are you doing gaping at me like a fish, I need a damn coffee. Too early for this nonsense. A dead kid, some stranger in my front room... what trouble are you getting into?” 

“N-nothing, grandma, I don’t... get him out of here. I don’t know him--” 

“He knows you. Knows your name. Says you and his boy were at school together. ‘Splains the flowers, I guess. Condolences, not that you cared, did ya?” She shakes her head, “you always were off in your own little world. Well, I’m not doin’ your dirty work for ya. You ain’t gonna be your mother if I can help it so you want him gone, you tell him you didn’t give a damn about that dead one.” 

You frown. You don’t understand why she’s so callous. She’s never shown any concern about anything but her books. It’s not your fault your parents didn’t want you. Or that she doesn’t either. You only ever begged for her attention, for a sliver of her approval. 

You blow out between your lips. You won’t argue. There’s no use in it. Besides, it’s a small house, you know he heard all that, that he knows you’re on your own. Maybe that’s why he came all this way. Because he knows you have nothing. 

[wisteriagoesvroom]

a couple of people have asked for a carlos POV of in theory and actually. thinking about it. it's pretty funny. imagine being carlos, carlos who gets everything in his life he's ever wanted carlos, carlos who feels he has nothing further to prove to anyone carlos (this is a lie btw), carlos who gets saddled with OSCAR, who barely tolerates him, as an executive assistant.

oscar who shows few emotions. doesn't give a f about seniority. thinks carlos is incredibly arrogant (he's not wrong here but, like recognises like.) oscar who knows carlos can't even do his own expenses without having an emotional support espresso or spending half an hour whining to oscar even though he did it himself years before oscar even joined, etc etc.

and carlos has to. endure it. while oscar blatantly ignores his charm offensive and his attempts at being jovial and his bad bilingual puns and carlos, because everyone usually loves carlos, and he-- he just. he cannot for the life of him figure out why he's also so compelled by this australian dude. doesn't know what to do with himself. just keeps interactions to a transactional minimum and puts up a front like he is soooo curt and uncaring about everything but. the warmth seeps through anyway, a vine that's destined to grow despite his attempts not to let it.

so what, if carlos lies awake in bed with racing thoughts too late at night thinking of revenues and EBITDA and platinum tiers and air miles. so what, if this sometimes bleeds into thoughts regarding his work-life balance or lack thereof, and therefore, oscar's stupid little hair swoop, his frown. his insane excel sheet formulas that even carlos, MBA graduate, takes a second to understand. oscar and his indifference and his scary efficiency and the way he talks a bit too fast when he's tipsy and his ice cold hands.

(at the christmas party with yuki. carlos pretends not to listen but hears every word. why would oscar tell yuki all that, and not him, when he’s tried to ask about oscar's interests before? anyway.)

and then. the christmas gifts happen and carlos thinks he's crossed a line. was the terrarium too far, he wonders. normally people love it when carlos is thoughtful like that. his exes even said so. but no! oscar takes the terrarium, the one carlos made a specific detour for on an airline that he couldn't even get miles on!

and oscar just. stares, and stares at the terrarium. then he gives carlos this...look. and it gets embarrassingly intimate and carlos "really does have to go take his call" even though the client did say it is fine to switch to email because, christmas. yeah. and then he's thinking about it the whole way back to madrid too.

then oscar QUITS on CHRISTMAS DAY (rude) for no explainable reason and carlos is like oh my god is it really ME. how can anybody not like ME ? reddit, AITA???

so carlos mulls on it. carlos wants to atone. just maybe. set things straight. let oscar know that. actually. all feelings aside, he was really an excellent EA and carlos wishes him the best with everything. he maybe sends a text to thank him with those very words. but christmas eve comes and goes, and so does christmas day, and there's no reply at all from oscar. what the hell, carlos thinks. no i can't have him leave and there's so much in my email that i – i didn't even say. he just. needs to let oscar know that he appreciated it.

(he doesn't know what "it" is per se. just that. he feels strongly. so he needs to do something about that.)

soooooo then carlos, who values for family more than anything in the world, spends christmas day just only half paying attention to things going on and thinking jesus, what did i do. and his sisters are like, hermano, please just. get it together and sort this out if you care so much. we'll be fine with mamá and papá and piñón okay there's roast ham for days. and his ma is like: "if you are visiting someone at least pack some dessert. where are your manners". and carlos is like "what". and his mum is like: "did i not teach you anything at all. are you or are you not a sainz". so carlos just takes his tiramisu and his sister's teasing and. he goes. might even try to pull a favour from a client to use a private jet and get there in time.

he flies back to the city in a fit of possible stupidity to try and clarify... his feelings for oscar his professional record and integrity.

and then. oscar is. actually HAPPY he is there.

(carlos knows he's happy, not because oscar's face changes. but because oscar puts his actual plant shears down in order to talk to him. which in oscar-world is a very big deal really. before, oscar always used to look like he wanted to stab carlos with a pen when carlos spoke to him. and if carlos were truly honest with himself, and hindsight being 50/50, well– he'd say that actually, the times oscar looked like he wanted to stab him were actually some of the moments he felt most alive.)

and the rest is... well.

you know how it ends.

[alaa-pales]

HELP ALAA AND HER FAMILY LEAVE GAZA BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE 💔

Since the war on Gaza started, I lost almost everything

On 14th October last year, after only one week since the war started, I lost 27 members of my family ( mom’s family) in one second. One rocket was enough to end the life of my 3 uncles, 2 aunts and all their sons, daughter, stepdaughters and grandchildren. None of them were left alive.

My loss didn’t end here, because to us Gazans, death knocks our door every single day, every new day under war is a possibility of a new loss

In the 17th of December 2023, I lost another two cousins from my dad’s family with their husbands and all children who are still under the rubble till now, this shock after two months of losing my mom family was a big slap into my face, it was a harsh reminder that death didn’t stop, and that none of us is an exception in this genocide, not a woman nor a child, every one of us is a target to the death machines above our heads.

So here is How money will be spent:

* paying around 7000 US Dollars to every member of my 23-member family to cross Rafah border and get safely to Egypt

* Around 6000$ covering GoFundMe transaction fees (2.9% + 0.30$ per transaction)

* The rest of the money will be for housing, food & etc. for a period of time in Egypt

Asking for your help is the only way I have to rescue my family’s life and future, your help may become our hope when hope is far away from us under these conditions, every dollar you can help with may save a life, bring hope to a tired heart and save a future of a youth one.

Please keep sharing and reposting. Verified by OOB line 395

[fuck-customers]

I do this shit every day. I know what I am doing and I have a specific reason for doing things the way I do. Shut the fuck up, listen to my instructions and follow them, and we will be done with this transaction before you even know it.

The registers at my store suck ass. Despite the fact that they're "new" (we got new registers + a new system 3 years ago) they're worse than the old ones in nearly every way, specifically how slow they are.

If I scan an item, it will take around 5-10 seconds for it to appear on the screen. It WILL eventually appear, just slowly. So to get around this and save time, I scan each item immediately after each other and keep count of how many items there are in my head. I stall for time for the items to load by bagging the items and usually by the time I'm done bagging, everything has loaded. It's annoying, but this is the only thing that works. I can and have reset the register hundreds of times and it hardly makes a difference.

Every. Fucking. Day. I either have some moron think that their whole total for all 35 items they have is $2 because only one of their items has loaded at the moment. Or I have some bitch who insists on handing me each individual item one by one and then complaining about how long it is taking. It is YOUR FAULT! I have a system for making this go very quickly! I explained this to you! I told you to just set all your fucking stupid ass shit on the counter and let me do my thing and you will be out of my face so fucking quick! YOU are the cause of your own problems! I actually have legitimate reasons for giving the instructions that I give. I'm not asking you to do this to be difficult or out of personal preference. This makes it easier on both of us. I'm the one that works here. I know what I'm doing. Not you.

I hate new registers slower than the old ones. They did that to be in 1996 I liked the old ones I could go as fast as I wanted and the damn thing kept up. I didn't care they were from 1978 they were easy to repair and they were FAST. They got new ones with bigger display wider receipts that had more info on them,,, but that damn small ass scan buffer. It cut my IPM in half. I used to zip through cat food in seconds. After it would hit the limit of the buffer and start loudly BEEPING!! I would have to stop count how many were on the receipt and pull 10 to 15 cans out of the bag and keep going. I went from 65-70 per minute to 34. It sucked. Of course that was back when I actually gave a damn. Now I only hit the buffer during hurricane rushes.

-Rodney

[adore-laur]

Dadrry idea: since Harry left his position of head chef and there’s a second baby now, maybe they’re struggling a tiny bit with money. Not too much but things are a little stressful and they have to cancel a holiday maybe? Or one of the girls just doesn’t get a toy she wants or something? And they have to explain it to the child just while Harry picks up a few more shifts

——

Harry handled the finances and was highly aware of each transaction made in the family. With two kids, you both had to be quite frugal, especially since Harry was working fewer hours at the restaurant and you were a stay-at-home mom. While there was never an issue of not having enough money to pay the bills and provide your children with life’s necessities, the prospect of running out still haunted your mind. It was possible that an unforeseeable emergency could snatch a hefty chunk of money away. Additionally, there were other boring adult charges like mortgages, taxes, and monthly subscriptions that all left a bigger deduction with each year that passed.

Then there was the summer trip to Italy happening in two months. The plane tickets had already been bought and gifted for Christmas, and the villa was booked in advance. It was expensive, but the other option of staying in a cramped hotel room for a week was undesirable in all regards. The space and privacy were crucial for your sanity.

Italy was not a cheap travel destination per se. There would be money spent every day on transportation, dining, tourist traps, and whatever else sucked you in with its magnificent European beauty. Indulging in extravagance would be tempting, but if you planned and budgeted ahead of time, maybe the financial repercussions of the trip wouldn't be so deplorable. Your wishful thinking was blatantly deceptive.

After putting the kids to bed, you sat at the kitchen table under the dim chandelier and waited for Harry to finish unloading the dishwasher. His silent presence was comfortable as you pondered the logistics of the upcoming trip. Well, pondered was putting it lightly—you were brooding.

"I can hear you thinking," Harry said, setting the last bowl in the cupboard to his left. He washed and dried his hands, then walked over to you with his cotton pajama pants slung low on his hips. His bare torso was at your eye level, and you fought the urge to bury your face in the warm, chiseled skin there.

"My head is going to explode," you muttered, feeling an imminent migraine pulsing near your temples.

He fell into the chair beside you, exhausted from an eventful Saturday filled with dad duties, and scooted it closer to you. "Why, baby?" he asked, his palms scrubbing down his face as he yawned.

"I'm overthinking everything."

Placing his elbow on the table, he cradled his cheek in his palm and gave you his full focus. "Break it down for me."

"There's mainly one thing." You huffed, deciding to broach the topic before it got swept under the rug. "The Italy trip. Prices are going up, and I'm worried we won't be able to afford going anymore."

Harry's expression was the epitome of flummoxed. "Wait, what? Where is this coming from?"

"You're not working full-time," you explained, "and I'm not raking in any income. I mean, will we be able to financially recover from the trip? What if—"

"Hold on, hold on," he said softly, his eyes pinching shut. "Can I interrupt, please?"

You half-heartedly waved your hand in his general direction, in desperate need of his sensible guidance. "Be my guest."

"Let's backtrack for a second. Honey, why do you think we won't be able to afford it? The biggest costs are already out of the way."

"I just told you why. Think about it, Harry." You tapped the table to emphasize each point. "A meal for four people will probably cost over a hundred dollars. That includes breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so if we multiply that by the seven days we're there, it's going to be well over a thousand dollars."

"Okay," he said. He didn't seem to have anything to add after that, so you continued.

"Then there's transportation." You groaned, staring up at the ceiling. "We still have to decide if we're renting a car. If not, we'll have to pay for a bus, or a train, or a taxi. That's going to add up very quickly."

"Mm-hmm." Harry had a dopey look on his face, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips up. Whatever. You were being realistic, and he was in a dreamland where money grew on trees.

You carried on, getting tangled in the vines of your brain's dense jungle. "And then what about all the sightseeing and activities? That's the most expensive aspect." You shrugged helplessly. "I was recently searching for free things to do in Tuscany. I guess there are a lot of buildings we can look at, but I don't know if the kids would enjoy it."

Harry nodded along. When he realized you were done with your long-winded explanation, he lifted his eyebrows and said, "It's a good thing we can spoil them with the raise I got yesterday."

"And also—what?" You stopped abruptly, catching your breath. Did he just...?

Harry stood and bent down to kiss your forehead in that sweet way of his—gentle and imploring, like he wanted to caress your brain and will it to calm down. "I got a raise yesterday," he repeated nonchalantly, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, lightly smacking his shoulder.

"I'm telling you right now. I wanted to wait until we had a moment to ourselves." He crouched in front of you, holding your knees just like he'd done when you told him you were pregnant for the second time. The memory was so vivid that it almost left you stunned with emotion. "Five percent pay raise. We're going to be just fine." His simple smile was remedial. "We are not canceling this trip."

You exhaled, releasing all of your worries into the air, the pounding in your temples dissipating. "Why didn't you stop me from rambling on?"

"Because it's healthy to speak those types of thoughts aloud instead of letting them simmer," Harry replied like the perfect husband he was.

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply, pouring all of your love and gratitude into it. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered against his mouth. He savored your words by humming and sliding his tongue across yours for a brief second. "I appreciate the hard work you put into making our little family happy. And thank you for making this vacation possible."

"Wanted to spoil my girls," Harry murmured, craning his neck to kiss you more. His wet lips pulled at yours, greedy for their pliancy.

"Are you going to pick up more hours at the restaurant?" you asked in between the sounds of lip-smacking and heavy breathing. Something about him at night, in the dimly lit kitchen, with you as his sole focus, was igniting that secret fuse only he could play with.

"Shhh..." His fingers dug into your waist as he lifted you off the chair. Your legs and arms wrapped around him, warmth flooding right under your skin like wildfire. "No more work talk. I want some alone time with my wife before a hungry baby wakes us up."

You giggled and bit his bottom lip in excitement before he carried you to the bedroom.

Miraculously, your six-month-old gave the both of you forty minutes of uninterrupted time to roll around in the sheets.

When you went to sleep later that night, visions of Tuscany's hillside vineyards and swimming in the vast sea erased your concerns. As did the unequivocal vision of the man beside you making precious memories with his babies.

With Harry, there was no need to sweat the small stuff. His eyes were set on the most important thing—family.

——

[asleepinawell]

sorry if this seems a bit out of the blue, but ever since youve been posting about fallen london, im a bit curious about it! What is the game about and where can I get it?

oh no worries! I'm happy to ramble about it

fallen london is a free to play browser game you can find here. the basic premise is that sometime in the 1800's the entire city of london is engulfed in a swarm of bats and then falls through the earth into a cavern a mile below. this is the neath, a huge underground cavern where london sits on the shore of a vast ocean. queen victoria is still around locked in her palace being a typical shitty british monarch, who, amongst other things, decided that 1900 was cancelled and we were just going to have 1899 for a second time

things are a little...different down there. humans are far from the only ones running around. there's devils, rubbery men (think mind flayer vibes), clay men, and the shadowy cloaked figures running the bazaar (and the city) called the masters. death mostly isn't permanent and the dream world is a little too real. also, most importantly, cats can talk! and there are tons of them! and tigers too

it's got victorian, gothic horror, dark humor, lovecraftian vibes. also it's extremely queer as is everything the dev, failbetter games, makes. something I especially appreciate is that you don't have to give your character any particular gender (though you can) and some of the little avatars are very gender neutral:

since it's free to play it comes with the normal things that type of game has such as real money transactions (completely optional and unnecessary for enjoyment (though some of the bonus side stories you can buy are extremely cool)), limited number of actions you can take (max of 20 at a time and refills 1 per 10 minutes). it is definitely grindy too though there's so many things to do (cannot emphasize the insane amount of content enough) I will usually just switch things up every so often

it's single player for the most part but you can ask friends to assist you in certain actions and there are some specific items that can be sent to other players

(if you like the setting but not the free to play part you can check out mask of the rose which is a visual novel they just released set right after london fell. it's a romance but with full aro and ace options (which I actually preferred) and a murder mystery. that one is a normal just buy the whole game deal and I think it's on most platforms. there's also sunless seas and sunless skies which take place in the same world but are a very different type of game and would require their own post. all of these have great writing in them)

but back to fallen london. it works based off of 'storylets', or little short stories when you usually do a skill check to accomplish something in return for advancing the story, levelling your skills, and reward items. you unlock more and more things as you go and get access to new stories and areas. here's an example of one of the little activities and its resolution

since it's a game designed to be able to play endlessly there isn't really a way to lose or game over. you can die but dying is just a minigame of its own and sometimes even a thing to do purposefully. (the only actual way to die is the notorious story called seeking mr eaten's name which you may have seen me post about, which is a very unique story that will permanently erase your character at the end. why you'd ever want to do that would also be its own post. it's pretty hard to stumble on accidentally I think and extremely well-marked as a thing with severe consequences that you probably shouldn't do. or should you...)

anyway I'd definitely recommend giving fallen london a try if you're interested in the premise and aesthetic

[northern-passage]

I'm sorry I'm new to this app and I don't know how to make my name appear, I'm Hashem the person you posted about my old and new campaigns to. I wanted to tell you that my new campaign was banned I think it's because a lot of people reported it, so I was also afraid that they would ban both campaigns so I will continue with the main campaign

https://gofund.me/93568fb0

i'm really sorry to hear that, Hashem. it's been a tough few days for fundraisers here on tumblr, especially for newer people trying to share their gfms. i apologize for that in my initial post, and i appreciate you still reaching out to me. i will keep sharing your original gofundme here and make sure people know it is legitimate.

you can find Hashem on tumblr over at @hashemsafi125 - currently his own posts only link to the now discontinued second gfm, but i have shared his first one, which has been vetted by Humanity for Gaza on instagram, #425 on their linktree. you can also find Hashem's new instagram here, and you can also check out his contact Mehvish's page, who Hashem has been communicating with since April.

Hashem has nine people he is hoping to evacuate, meaning he needs a total of $54,000. this includes the evacuation as well estimated costs of medical care and other living expenses. it is $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child under 16 years old. this first campaign is nearing its goal of €30,000, which will have them about half-way there.

$25,000 to evacuate Hashem, his parents, and 3 younger siblings.

$12,500 to evacuate his sister Yara, her husband, and her baby.

$8,000 to cover costs upon arrival in Egypt, including medical care, food, and housing.

$8,500 to cover transaction, withdrawal, transfer, and conversion fees and taxes.

Hashem's campaign is connected to his uncle's account in Spain, and for that reason he is fundraising in euros.

in Hashem's words:

‏Before the war, we really lived a beautiful life. We had our dreams, our goals, our home, and a wonderful life, but everything is truly over now. 

Yara studied IT and graduated university just before the war, she is a painter and loves to draw.

Ahmed was in his last year of high school  and loves video games - he used to be introverted and youthful, but this war has forced him to become a man. 

Misk is in middle school, she loves reading, reciting, cooking, and writing - we admire her for spending her time in the war still reading as much as she can. 

Abdullah, my youngest brother, is just a child - he cannot understand the horrors we are enduring and is struggling with severe depression.

And I was passionately studying medicine, so eager to achieve my dream…

The university Hashem was studying at, the Islamic University of Gaza, has now been completely destroyed by Israel, as well as the family's home. This is some of the damage IUG has sustained.

Hashem and his family have been displaced 6 times since the invasion began, and continue to live in fear of having to run yet again.

Hashem's mother and younger brothers are now sick from the contaminated water, and Hashem is having trouble breathing due to all of the smoke and debris from Israel's constant bombing. Recently, he also sustained an injury to his leg and has been unable to receive adequate care due to malnutrition and lack of appropriate medical supplies.

The family has raised €25,685 of their current €30,000 goal. again, this is only about half of what Hashem ultimately needs. Please keep donating and sharing Hashem's campaign wherever you can.

[sassykattery]

No Rest for the Wicked, Pt. 3

Party time!

CW: MC is afab, uses she/her pronouns. MC is a demon and poly.

Themes: Romance. Adventure. Engagement.

Characters: MC. Diavolo. Lucifer. Barbatos. Beel. Belphie. Simeon. Solomon. Asmodeus. Satan. Mammon. Levi.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

Enjoy!

It was the week before the wedding ceremonies, and as much as you thought you would surely be hanging on by a very thin thread, your family was working hard to shoulder your burdens with you.

Beel, Belphie, and Simeon all worked together to make sure the catering was in order. As much as Barbatos tried to insist on cooking, you told him that for presumably at least five-hundred people per ceremony, and that number was growing, that would be a horrid task to ask of him. Plus, you implored him to understand he was family as well, and he deserved to enjoy the day as much as anyone else. It was only then he conceded to you. It wasn't to say he wouldn't, on occasion, merely "check" upon the status of said catering. By way of meaning, making his ominous presence known to the workers on the job.

Asmodeus was in charge of the attire and accessories, making sure each wedding party member had their outfits ready, steamed, ironed, pressed, and ready for wear, or their accessories were safely stored for the day of. Your four dresses were ready as well, all stored in your castle suite closet.

Satan, Mammon, and Levi were in charge of logistics, which included processional, music, event order, things of that nature. In particular, Levi made sure the technological side of things were working. Satan was in charge of the processional and delivering instructions to everyone, so they knew what to do that day. He also worked to create magical barriers and hexes to prevent any unwanted mishaps from happening. Mammon was asked to stay at your side if Diavolo and Lucifer were busy, just to put everyone at ease. The second born was also in charge of transactional queries, handling all payments on your behalf.

Solomon was asked to officiate both ceremonies, which he of course took tremendous pride in doing for you all. He studied with Barbatos for the rituals and spell casts you had arranged to do with each of your betrothed.

Barbatos lent his aide to everyone involved, but mostly stuck by your side as well, in case your duties and wedding responsibilities were getting too muddled and would relieve you of any things that were just too much for you to handle.

Though you were involved with every aspect of the weddings, having all that help was truly extraordinary. It certainly made your life just a little less stressful, and your fiancés appreciated the effect it had on them as well.

But what was a week before the wedding without some shenanigans?

You were sitting at your table in the House of Lamentation, wrapping up some more royal studies. It was somewhat late, around ten o'clock at night. It was relatively quiet in the House, which was somewhat rare, but with everyone being so involved with next week's events, it was rather normal for any number of the boys to be busier and out later.

There was a knock at your bedroom door, so you immediately closed the text and called for entry. It was Asmo.

"Darling! Are you busy?"

"Not anymore, Asmo. What's up? Something happen?" You started to jump at conclusions.

"Not at all, well, not yet. You see, we've been planning a bachelor party for Diavolo and Lucifer, and well... we need you for something," Asmo said with a sly grin.

"When?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Um, right now," he said sheepishly.

"What? Asmo! You should have given me some warning!" You groaned.

Asmo chuckled, "Well, we couldn't tell you in case they figured it out from you. We have them going to The Fall right now to "hang out" but we actually rented the place out. So, how about it? Will you come help make it special?"

"What do I need to do?" You asked. You were met with a wicked smile, and he drug you off.

"Hm, when did The Fall get a stage, Lucifer?" Diavolo asked, tilting his head at the structure. On the main dance floor, a large T-shaped stage was set up. The lights were low and club music was playing, as if it were any other night, however, no one else was in the club.

"I'm not sure, but I think we're about to find out," Lucifer muttered, wondering why his brothers really brought them there.

Mammon finally came walking up to the two with a mischievous grin on his face.

"You both ready to party?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Where is everyone?" Diavolo asked. "I thought all of your brothers would be here."

"Ah, well, we are actually throwin' a little party for you two before you get hitched," Mammon explained, gesturing toward the stage.

Lucifer's eyes barely widened, "I don't think that's wise-"

"Relax," Satan said as he and Belphie were pulling Diavolo and Lucifer into two chairs in the front, center to the stage.

"You'll see in a minute," Belphie added, both brothers walking away.

Mammon grinned again, and then Barbatos walked up with a tray of drinks and cigars for your betrothed.

"Barbatos? Don't tell me you're in on this too?" Diavolo asked, stunned. "Is someone going to be upset about this?"

The butler merely smiled and walked away, going back behind the bar to wait, Mammon following.

"Now, if we may have your attention," everyone heard over the speakers. Asmo appeared at stage left on the floor. He was wearing a bedazzled pink suit and holding a microphone. "The show is about to begin. We ask that you two keep your hands to yourselves for the duration of the show, unless invited by the dancer," Asmo instructed, his voice layered with magic and lust, as if he were singing his words.

"Diavolo, I think we are going to be in a lot of trouble if we stay for this-" Lucifer started to say, looking around, realizing what was happening. The prince looked rather nervous as well.

"We are proud to present tonight's entertainment for Lord Diavolo and Lucifer, our special guest who needs no real introduction. Say hello to..." Asmo said, gesturing up toward the stage, "The Seductress."

The lights in the club went out, and slowly, a blue light shone upstage on the white curtain. A curvy female silhouette appeared, one hand on the hip that jutted out. Then, a halo appeared, and wings suddenly materialized with twinkling sound effects following.

"Please, for the love of hell tell me they didn't," Diavolo groaned. "We're dead."

"Let's just pay the dancer and leave," Lucifer whispered hurriedly.

A low bass thundered throughout the room, and then the curtain rose, but a blinding spell was cast in the room, so not even the best pair of demon eyes could see through its darkness without the help of light. The stage lights lining the catwalk dimly lit up, and it was only when there was a sudden flash of light, just a second long, showed who it was now swirling around the pole that appeared at the end of the stage.

It was you.

Another series of flashing lights showcased you pole dancing, with each flash showing you at a different position.

"Oh my," Diavolo whispered.

The flashing stopped, with the lights out again, but then a light slowly appeared at your midsection, expanding outward to show you in a statue pose, your ankles wrapped around the pole, and you stretched all the way up to the ceiling with your head back.

You were in a diamond encrusted bra and panty set, with diamond fringe hanging off your breasts and the front of your panties. There were two diamond garters, one on each thigh. At your feet were sky-high diamond platforms, making your legs looks miles long. A magic white halo floated above your head, while your wings were pure white instead of their midnight blue hue.

"Hello, boys," you said in a smokey voice, bringing your head forward to look at Diavolo and Lucifer. Your voice was laced with magic so everyone could hear you properly over the booming club music.

Both demons glanced at each other briefly and then their eyes landed back on you. They still looked nervous, until Diavolo finally asked, "MC? Is that you?"

"I'm The Seductress tonight, my love," you replied with a wink.

The music picked up again and you began to twirl around the pole, swinging yourself up into the Iron X.

Asmo was rather pleased with himself, watching you and your fiancés. He had only taught you the moves in literally thirty minutes, but your little secret of always wanting to try this sort of thing came out, and he knew you were golden to do well.

Both of your lovers were completely enamored by your moves, unable to tear their gazes away even for a second. Swiftly, Diavolo managed to take a couple pictures with his D.D.D., and Lucifer leaned over to whisper to Diavolo to send that to him as well.

The music started to shift, and that's when you slid from a carrousel down to the floor into a split, head thrown back as you reached up toward the ceiling. With grace, you swung your legs around to sit up on your knees, back against the pole, and your torso rolled, knees sliding out and back in as if you were riding one of your lovers. You grabbed the pole behind you, above your head, and using your core strength, drug the rest of your body upward in a vertical swing to wrap your legs up around the top of the pole into a death lay position.

"Where did she learn this?" Lucifer whispered to Diavolo. The prince shrugged but smiled, enjoying your skills. He began to take out his wallet and Lucifer put his hand over it and shook his head.

You continued tangling your limbs around the pole as the music continued, until finally landing yourself in the chopper position at the end of the song. Your view of the boys was upside down, but you could see them looking at you with hungry interest.

---

Thanks for reading <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost to other sites. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @l-d-8 @itsmeninerz @loquacious-libra @delphidreamin @biteable-pink-pixie @flemmingbamse @themythicaldisaster @bontensbabygirl @marvelous-maniac

[lydskisses]

🌟PROXY PO - Tears of Themis 未定事件簿 x Teletubbies Collab Merch🌟

ETA: Late April 2025

Payment Deadline: (First Batch) 20 Feb 2025, (Second Batch) TBC

➡️ Prices are in Singapore dollar and includes shipping from source country to me. Do note that mailing to you is additional. Paypal and Wise are accepted for international buyers

➡️ Purchase Bonus: For every 98p collected, you’ll receive one random teletubby chrome card (Max 4 per transaction). For every 168p collected, you’ll receive one random film card (max 4 per transaction). While stocks last.

✅ DM to Order:

💕 Teletubby Series

- (108p) Plush Totebag (43 x 38 x 6 cm) SGD$35.90/ea

- (48p) Plush Card Holder (14 x 24 cm) SGD$16.90/ea

- (78p) 20cm Doll Clothes (Do note that it does not come with the doll. They can be bought separately, see last pic) SGD$23.50/ea

- (15p) Can Badge 5.8 cm SGD$9/ea

- (58p) Small Card Acrylic Frame SGD$19.50/ea

- (15p) Mini Acrylic Stand (4.4 x 5.6 cm) SGD$9/ea

- (9p) Mini Badge Keychain SGD$6/ea

- (16p) Clear Bookmark 2-pc Character Set SGD$9/set

- (18p) Character Sticker Set SGD$9.50/set

💕 Dating Series

- (15p) Can Badge 5.8 cm SGD$9/ea

- (28p) Acrylic Block (6.5 x 9.5 x 1 cm) SGD$13/ea

- (10p) Collection Card (13.8 x 9.3 cm) SGD$6.50/ea

💕 Official Boys 20 cm Doll

SGD$22.90/ea

#tearsofthemis #totmerch #artemwing #lukepearce #mariusvonhagen #vynrichter #mihoyo #otome #otomemerch #未定事件簿 #左然 #陆景和 #莫弈 #夏彦

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

Barbatos Falling in Love with a Cat Hybrid MC (Obey Me!)

A/N: AAAAHHHHHH!! This was supposed to be posted for Barb's birthday, I'm so sorry, guys 🥲🥲 But I got a lil busy and distracted and didn't get this finished up when I was supposed to, my apologies!! So this is very late, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!! Also, I'll be completely honest, these headcanons are first of all, very long 💀 And second of all very self-indulgent considering my MC is a cat hybrid. This also mentions a lot of my own personal headcanons about demons in general, but they aren't necessarily super prominent. Also, I tried to keep the description of the cat features as vague as possible so that everyone could imagine their own details however they wanted, but if any of you wanna know how I personally imagine a cat hybrid MC looking, I'd be happy to share my thoughts on that!!

Side Note: So, apparently Tumblr has a 4,096 text per block limit. However, tumblr did not tell me this, and I had to experiment and figure it out completely on my own. So, there's a couple of headcanons that are separated a little weirdly cause tumblr required me to do so in order to post. It was only just now after I'd figured out the problem and started getting everything ready to post that tumblr decided to give me an error message while I was editing that specifically mentioned the text block limit. That error message never appeared previously 🤦 So yeah, might be weird break up points, so my apologies!!

Pairing(s): Barbatos x MC, Diavolo x MC (Implied/Mentioned), slight Diavolo x Barbatos if you squint

Tag(s): Mention of panic attacks, slight reference/implication of trauma, slight blood, I guess? Lemme know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3,277

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

-When MC first came to the devildom, Barbatos was…intrigued. Slightly. Even during his frequent visits to the human world for various things, he’s never really interacted with humans very much, mostly just for transactions. In fact, the human he’s interacted the most with in decades is Solomon, as offending as the man is. And Solomon is a lot of things, but a hybrid is not one of them. So, it’s been years since he’s actually taken time to really speak to any humans, let alone one that’s half animal like yourself. Usually, he still wouldn’t think much about it, but maybe it’s the way you immediately went on the defensive and took a swipe at all of them the moment you were summoned, or maybe it’s just that he was immediately charmed by you just like all the others. Either way, he found himself keeping an eye on you.

-Barbatos doesn’t exactly love cats the same way that Satan or even Solomon does, but he does prefer them over most animals, especially dogs. He finds them extremely amusing and sometimes even sweet. Which is why he takes interest in noting all of MC’s cat behaviors and mannerisms. Like how you stick your tongue out in a new environment, trying to do so discreetly so that you aren’t questioned about it. Or how your first instinct is not to use a napkin, but to groom yourself, whenever you spill something on the fur along your arms or sometimes even your legs. One of his favorite habits of yours is your cat-like vocalizations. No matter what the situation or what emotion you’re feeling, you always end up letting out various sounds that usually only a cat makes, whether you’re in the middle of speaking or not. He has to admit, whenever you let out a happy mew or chirp, he has to hide a smile.

-He didn’t know it at the time, but the moment his intrigue and curiosity became full-on investment is quite clear now that he thinks about it. He had gotten up at his usual time of night to start making preparations for the Young Master’s day, and as he started a quick cleaning sweep of the whole castle, he discovered something strange. There’s a small crawl space in the left wing of the castle that the Little Ds frequent and sometimes he’ll stop and say hello as he passes by, should any of them be inside it at the time. And yet, this time, he finds scratches. Surface scratches on the wall on either side of the crawl space and deeper scratches in the hardwood floor right in front of it. He couldn’t help but be concerned. This isn’t something he saw coming, nor did he sense anything amiss in his sleep. And the Little Ds are never this destructive. The only logical thing for him to do is check inside the crawl space. And so he opens it up, and is stumped by what he finds. It’s…you. Curled up into a tight ball and covered in…one of Lord Diavolo’s spare blankets. A heavier one, that the Lord prefers on colder nights.

-Where in the world did you get one of those? How did you even get into the castle? As he continues to observe, he notices that you’re asleep, though it doesn’t seem like you’re actually getting much rest. And there’s Little D No. 6 and 7 snuggled up right beside you, also asleep. He kneels down and clears his throat, touching your arm gently. And as he had hoped, you woke up. But then you were flinging the blanket in his face and trying to push yourself further back into the corner despite not having any room to do so. The Little Ds are startled and scamper away, behind the butler, while Barbatos watches as you position yourself much like an animal getting ready to pounce. But you don’t. Instead, you hiss and growl at him, the sounds echoing through the long, mostly empty hallway.

-Your lips are pulled back from your teeth, your feline canines glinting in the low light. Usually he wouldn’t care for gentleness. You’re intruding into the castle and it’s his job to get rid of you in case you are a danger to his Master. Or in the case of a human from the exchange program, he must at least send you back to the House of Lamentation immediately. But as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears something that makes him pause. Among the warning sounds to stay back, he hears…a whimper? And so, he takes a moment to sniff the air. And that’s when he realizes. This human isn’t shaking with rage. They’re shaking in fear. The smell of terror wafts from you in deep waves, and now that he’s paying more attention, your eyes are darting around, your pupils dilated as you try to watch every piece of your surroundings. He sighs and moves back, deciding that not crowding you in is best. You’ll be easier to deal with if you’re calm, he tells himself. Nothing more.

-He moves to the opposite side of the hallway, directly across from the crawl space, and sits on his knees, watching you with a slight tilt of his head. The Little Ds, however, stay nearby. And as patiently as he can, he waits. Slowly, your hisses and growls quiet, and your body relaxes slightly. The fear is still in your scent, but now there’s also curiosity and…a slight sense of embarrassment? After a few minutes have passed, you slowly slink out of the crawl space and crouch right in front of it. Then he watches you hold a hand out to the Little Ds and help them crawl onto your leg, a slight smile appearing on your face as you do so. Oh? He then calls your name, and immediately your ears flatten back against your head again, and you look at him with uncertainty. And then he questions what you’re doing in the castle and how you got in, in the first place.

-You quietly explain that some of the Little Ds led you inside. From your description, Little Ds 2, 4, and 5. Apparently, earlier that night at the House of Lamentation, Lucifer had gotten angry and yelled at a couple of his brothers. MC incidentally caught Lucifer’s attention while he was still upset and got caught in the crossfire, which greatly frightened you and caused you to run off. You found yourself outside and lost, not realizing you were right by the castle grounds until the Little Ds stumbled upon you. And for some reason, they felt the need to bring you inside. They’re the ones that also brought you the blanket, trying to help you stay warm. But then it started storming and due to what had already happened, it spiked a panic attack. That’s where the scratches came from.

-And usually, he wouldn’t care much for a sad tale from some random human. But here he is, watching you look around anxiously, tail wrapped tightly around your arm and ears flattened, scent dull like you’ve already accepted that a terrible punishment is coming your way, and he finds that he absolutely can’t stand it. This image in front of him is wrong. The scent coming from you is wrong. And for the life of him, he can’t place why. Nor does he know why he goes easy on you throughout the next day. The only thing he requires of you is that you explain to Lord Diavolo what happened and you work in the castle for a day, including cleaning up your own mess. The Young Master holds nothing against you, unsurprisingly, and from that day on, Barbatos was keeping an even closer eye on you, with one very strange question running through his mind. Just what did the human world do to you, hybrid?

-When you start to take more of an interest in Lord Diavolo, Barbatos is torn on how to feel. On one hand, whenever you and Lord Diavolo spend time together, both of you are filled with so much joy and delight. It makes his heart feel a little warmer at the sight. But on the other hand, he feels something slimy and hot crawl around his insides at the same exact sight, especially when it’s confirmed that what’s happening between the two of you is heading towards something romantic. It doesn’t take the Lord too long to notice, either. He’s the one that informs Barbatos that what he feels is jealousy, which surprises both of you. Jealousy? Why would he be feeling jealousy? And then the Young Master suggests that he join them for tea one day, take a break to enjoy new company, he says, with that damn twinkle in his eye.

-When he first sits down at the tea table set out in the gazebo overlooking the lake, the last thing he expects is for all of your attention to fall on him. You turn your entire body in your chair to face him, your ears perking up and your tail twitching in his direction, a bright, warm smile on your face. You hold your teacup in both hands, close to your chest, and start speaking to him. Complimenting him. The tea set is so pretty, you’ve never seen anything like it, and the tea itself is amazing. Does it have an herbal base or is it more similar to a black tea equivalent? The Young Lord must’ve told you about his interest in tea. And so, he answers you. Gives a slight chuckle as he thanks you and tells you all about the tea. And he’s delighted to realize that not only do you listen to everything he says, but you retain all of it as well. Ask him even more questions. And at some point in the conversation, he finds himself smiling for no reason other than the fact that he’s enjoying himself. And soon after, he feels your tail brush against his arm. As soon as you realize he’s noticed, you apologize, claiming it has a mind of its own sometimes with a sheepish giggle. And as you look away he notices that a flush has risen to your face. How curious.

-The first time that Barbatos finds a dead bird on the windowsill of a castle window, he thinks nothing of it. It’s something that happens from time to time. Until a few days later when he finds not just one, but two. One outside of his own window and one outside of Lord Diavolo’s. It’s too specific for him to see it as mere coincidence, so he stores both birds and watches out for more. And like clockwork, twice a week on the same days, one, sometimes two, birds would appear on both of their windowsills. When he asks his Lord about it, he doesn’t know either. It was purely accidental that he found out the reason. One day at RAD, he overheard Satan speaking to a few of his brothers and he went on some ramble about cats. The butler was only partially listening, but his interest was peaked when he heard mention of cats leaving gifts for people they enjoy the company of. Most cats will kill small animals, like mice or birds, and leave them on windowsills or near front doors or anything similar, sometimes even by a bed or other place the person frequents. And the thought came to him. Are the birds from you? A supposed gift for him and the Young Master? And so, the next time birds are left at the windows, one of the first things he does is ask you to the castle that same day.

-After you arrive, he presents you with the birds from that morning and asks if they’re from you. Immediately, your tail starts swishing behind you, and you look not anxious but…shy, and flustered. You ask if the birds are okay, or if there’s a different animal he and Lord Diavolo would prefer. He can’t help but laugh. Not at you, but at the absurdity of such a question. And at his own emotions in response to the confirmation that you’ve been leaving them gifts. Leaving him gifts. And when he tells you that the birds are perfect, that they can be used for many meals and other things, your tail stands straight up as you let out the sweetest of feline chirps. And for some reason, he feels a slight flush rise to his cheeks

-One night, the Young Master decides to host a dinner party with all residents of the House of Lamentation and Purgatory Hall. Both demonus and human alcohol was brought out and everyone was having a good time. The Young Lord especially was having so much fun that he invited everyone into his private common room after dinner was finished, insisting that Barbatos himself take a moment to sit and relax. He follows his Master’s orders, as he always does, and takes a moment to sit down and observe the others. And that’s when he feels a warm weight against his side as someone takes up the space beside him. Immediately, he turns in the direction, ready to tell off whoever it was, when he lays eyes on you and freezes. You’ve snuggled up beside him and placed your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with hazy eyes. You tell him unnecessarily that you’re just a little bit tipsy. And then you comment that he’s cozy as you wrap both of your arms around one of his, your tail quickly following. And then you spend a moment sniffing his shoulder. He’s unsure why until you suddenly start rubbing your cheek against the same spot. Since meeting you, he’s started doing a bit more research on cats to learn more about things they do and why they do them, how to read their behavior and such. And one of the things he read is that all cats have scent glands within their cheeks and they use those scent glands to mark their scent on people they’ve claimed as “theirs”. He instantly looks away and tries to ignore the burning of his cheeks. He lets you stay there all the way until the brothers drag you back home.

-Barbatos is not emotionally naive. He just finds the concept of romantic love and care very difficult to understand and therefore hard to detect immediately. But eventually it reaches a certain point in which the fact that he is falling in love is absolutely undeniable. Such as the case with that silly little cat hybrid. And within that realization, he’s realized that you’re the one who’s been making all the moves in his direction. Well, that just won’t do. If he is to accept your romantic pursuits, then he must return them as well. And so, he requests for a very rare day off and invites you to spend the day with him.-First, a breakfast at the castle that he personally makes for you, making sure to include a mix of your favorites and his own. The two of you eat together in his favorite area of the garden, right by the acid tulips that he was happy to tell you all about when you asked. And then, when he asks what you want to do next and you tell him that you’d like to do some of his favorite activities, in order to learn more about him, he lets out a surprised chuff. With how energetic you are, he was genuinely uncertain whether any of his preferred hobbies would actually keep you entertained.

-But to his surprise, you bird-watched beside him with eyes of wonder and hung onto his every word as he told you all about the different bird species the two of you encountered. And when it came to herb gathering, mainly for teas, it seems you not only had an interest but also a knack for it. All he had to do was describe an herb to you and you’d be able to find some of it almost quicker than he could. Almost. He supposes your feline hunter instincts help a lot with that. And speaking of your hunter instincts, when the subject of lunch is brought up and he asks what you’d like, you simply ask him, “Bird or fish?” He blinks at you and says fish slowly, unsure as to what the question means. And then you tell him to…stay. You’ll be right back. Intrigued, he does as you say, listening carefully to your near silent footfalls as you bound through the trees head in the direction of the river not too far away. He hears a series of splashes for the next few minutes before you start making your way back to him. As you appear in front of him again, you have…fish. Multiple in your arms and one being held in your mouth, all of them already dead. It’s like the butler’s fondness for you grows tenfold in that moment, as you look absolutely adorable. Your tail swishes and curls high in the air, a sign that you're happy with yourself, if the grin on your face didn’t already reveal so. He gives you a warm smile and chuckles softly as he takes the fish you’re offering him and thanks you. When you release the last fish from between your teeth, there’s a thin stream of blood coming from the corner of your mouth. It would be a completely dishonest statement if Barbatos said that he didn’t feel a strong urge to kiss you in that moment. He has to look away and take a step back when you simply lick the blood up as if it’s nothing new, in order to prevent himself from doing anything impolite.

-Seeing as you caught fresh fish, he brings you to a place he and the young master tend to camp at occasionally where he’s able to make lunch for the two of you, which you both eat happily. And for the second half of the day, he asks to learn about your own hobbies, places you’ve come to enjoy since coming to the Devildom. And over the next few hours, you take him to all kinds of places, from your favorite lounging spot to your favorite place to shop. By the time it’s time for dinner, you’ve brought him to a little cafe in town that you enjoy spending time at and the two of you stay there awhile and chat over a meal. The entire day was an absolute delight and he takes it upon himself to personally escort you back to the House of Lamentation, especially with it being night now. The walk is slow but enjoyable, and at the front gates of the house, he says goodbye to you, however, you pause. A pink comes to your cheeks as you step forward and before he’s even processed the action, your lips are on his. You kissed him. Very few have ever been so bold, and definitely not a human. He places a hand on your cheek and a hand on your waist, both touches gentle and light, as he returns your kiss, a slight smirk on his face as he pulls away again. “I thank you for allowing me such a delightful experience.” He bows to you, and you let out a ‘mew’ before turning away and hurrying up to the house. He finds himself humming an old tune with a small smile on his face the whole way home that night.

~*~

A/N: Please let me know what you think!! I very much hope you enjoyed writing these out, so I hope you enjoyed reading them as well. I'm thinking of writing more of these for the other dateables, so keep an eye out for those 👀 Also!! Unlike with Barbatos, I will actually be posting something on Mammon's birthday in a few days!! I've already gotten quite a bit of it written out and it's very spicy 😏 So keep an eye out for that as well ^-^

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: raphael (bg3) x archdevil male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: puppy eyes are a very valid/viable form of manipulation

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,277

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: long exposition for short scenario, devils, pacts, some brief description of violence, underlying manipulation, i love you's

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: in honor of killing raphael for the second time (ily gale) the inspo

☾⋆☆⋆☽

To be an archdevil of the hells, you have to have a certain charm, per say; a devil's tongue, able to make both pacts with lowly, pathetic mortals, and other devils that covet your position, plus everyone in between.

A horrid task is making a pact, really, to ask for a treasure in exchange for something so slight, especially when they could hardly see the imbalance in the transaction.

When the supplicant who wished for power because he was so tired of rolling over for nobles died, you smiled with his soul in your grasp; he had managed to make a name for himself, and now you had a hero in your hall. When the devil sworn to you broke his pact and thus turned his fire immunity into a vulnerability, you enjoyed watching his skin char when he dove into his favorite lava bath.

Perhaps it wasn't so horrid after all, actually. With the many souls that now stomped your halls, you had an infinite supply of jesters. Watching a most old soul fade away into nothingness is always fun, too.

Most archdevils agree that suffering brings them satisfaction, but that is often the most lively thing about them. Zariel, for one, is always focused with her blood war, and Mephistopheles is in love with his vaults, and each only want more souls or artifacts to feed their obsession. Neither one even thinks to branch out! They're all so boring.

Mephistopheles's darling son, though, he's different. Narcissistic as any other devil, perhaps, but to a higher, more interesting degree; and boastingly ambitious, too. Always planning. It's lovely to see him in thought, despite how scarcely he lets himself be seen in the vulnerable process of thought.

And he knows you watch him, has, since the first time you laid eyes on him, but he lets you.

As Mephistopheles's boy, certain things are expected of him, the most daunting of all being that the son will never surpass the father. Cambions can be stronger than their fathers, but for Raphael to beat the ancientness that is the Archdevil Mephistopheles? Hardly perceivable.

Perhaps��no, that is why he is so interesting to you. So ambitious, to want the hells for himself, even when you know he will never be able to surpass the power of his own father.

You love watching him try.

Raphael, however, has always goaded you into helping him. Since you believe he won't win, you know that whatever you do to aid him will bring him nothing except disappointment and you, at best a slap on the wrist from Mephistopheles, at worst death when you visit the Material Plane.

In the beginning days of his plot, your help had always been both miniscule and hard-earned: a heap of souls for a sliver of your power in a pact baring similarity to a warlock's. Though, as time went on, Raphael's keen eye caught onto what made you concede, or the more amusing mortal word, fold, and oh was it foolishly simple.

It was always apparent between the two of you that the entirety of his life, his thousands, is only a shadow to your ten thousands. Its what made him so pathetically small in your eyes. He was still young, to you.

Oh, and his human form! It was so little and so mortal.

"A living mortal in my hall in the hells? Oh, it is only you, my dearest!" The cage of brown-red bone that protected your ever-ardent veins still protruded from beneath your flesh in the form of spikes, through your bumpy, fire-scarred flesh; but you were careful in kneeling before your favored, human form of Raphael.

You were still taller than him, kneeling, and Raphael looked most exquisite looking up at you. The cambion didn't need to dress up his words with a mouth-watering glaze. He already had you in his grasp. "My love, I've come to ask something of you."

"Again?" You click your tongue, shaking your head and nearly hitting him with your thick, wild horns. "You must learn to be independent one of these days."

"Oh," When he's rid of the interjection of exasperation, his bottom lip draws over his top lip; a pout. "I know, my dearest, but you must understand!"

"What must I understand?" You leave your hands in fists over your hips, leaning back straighter to look at him with the most stern expression your monstrous face muscles can offer.

Even with your knowledge of him being, well, a devil, you are still so careful to touch him, especially so in your ascended fiend form. Raphael steps closer, between your kneeling legs, placing his hands over your fists. "I really do need your help this time. I cannot do this without you."

You huff, your fists breaking to hold his hands properly. "Tell me, my love, what do you need of me?"

"My father has a new relic in his collection. Oh, it is so precious!" He emphasizes his point with the bounce of his heels, "Extremely powerful, as I'm sure you've heard, my darling; the mortals have lost their magic recently, yes? The foolish mortal Karsus and his foolish ambitions, but his crown is very much real, and very much powerful, especially for a human."

"So I've heard, sweetheart. What are you saying?" If you had any eyebrows, they would've furrowed.

"I need it. I need it, for myself, it'll be the most splendid gift!"

Your head draws back, and for a moment, your skin burns hotter, in such a way that even he can feel its temperature raise, that it must be so potent and high a change that a flame-retardant lover can feel it. Had this been the first time Raphael has asked for something of such great power from you, he'd have thought his plan was over.

"Mephistopheles would kill me, Raphael, shove me in a portal to the Material Plane, or the Ethereal Plane, or even the Godly Plane just to see me die the most gruesome death." You do not exaggerate, he has seen it first hand more than a handful of times.

"Oh, but my love, my dearest..." Raphael doesn't follow up his most adorable pet names, like one normally would. He doesn't plead his case, doesn't beg for it. Instead, he widens his eyes, and he stares, and there's just something about the way the glare of the candelabra glints in his eye that—

Oh...

Gods, he's just adorable, isn't he? So much better than a hellhound begging for a scrap of your meal, its head on your thigh, because this is your dearest Raphael.

Devils have delicious red eyes, but Raphael's human form has this just sweet pair of brown eyes, what is it, chocolate? They're gorgeous.

And his head can barely crane up high enough to look you in the eye, even when you're kneeling for him.

You huff, look away from him, but it's already too late. For the love of Tyr, Mystra, Ilmater, and the gods you'll never praise, why must he look so exquisite? With a deep sigh, you turn back to him, forgetting his delicateness as you place your wide palm over his tempting face. "Fine. Fine, my love, I will ask."

Raphael kisses your palm, lifting it off his face, and he smiles so nicely as he continues to pepper kisses along your burning knuckles. "Thank you," He says, spewing word upon word of his gratitude, "thank you, my love, I love you so much."

"Yeah, I know." You sigh once more, but you fold, leaning your head down to encase his head between your horns. "I love you too, my dear."