#wine cellar experts

[spookyblackconservative]

Phoenix Expansive a sizable, elegant wine cellar

[mary1in]

Wine Cellar Medium Los Angeles

An illustration of a medium-sized, modern wine cellar with a light wood floor and display racks

[payetafamille]

Expansive Phoenix

Inspiration for a huge contemporary wine cellar remodel

[aspoonfulofwitchcraft]

Phoenix Expansive a sizable, elegant wine cellar

[zaynsource]

Large in Salt Lake City Example of a large tuscan slate floor wine cellar design with storage racks

[lompocwinefactory]

Grape Wine Making Tips in Lompoc: Crafting the Perfect Vintage

Savor the Art of Winemaking in Lompoc

Indulging in the art of winemaking is an experience that combines nature's bounty with human creativity. In Lompoc, this artistry reaches new heights as the region's unique terroir lends its distinct characteristics to the wines produced here. Whether you're a novice or an enthusiast, this comprehensive guide will walk you through every step of the grape wine making process in Lompoc, providing expert insights and practical advice.

Grape Wine Making Tips in Lompoc: Unveiling the Secrets

Beginners Guide to Lompoc Wine Making

Embarking on your winemaking journey in Lompoc is an exciting endeavor. Begin with a solid understanding of the process. From selecting the right grape varietals to understanding the significance of terroir, every decision shapes the final product. To kick-start your journey, acquaint yourself with the basic steps involved in winemaking, ensuring you're well-prepared for a successful venture.

Grape Cultivation Techniques in Lompoc

The foundation of exceptional wine lies in the quality of grapes. Lompoc's favorable climate and soil conditions offer an ideal environment for grape cultivation. Employ techniques like trellising and proper spacing to maximize vine health and grape yield. Harness the synergy between sun, soil, and water to nurture grapes that embody the essence of the region.

Lompoc Vineyard Care Tips

Maintaining a vineyard demands attention to detail. Regular pruning, pest management, and disease prevention are essential to ensure the health of your grapevines. Collaborate with local experts to adopt sustainable practices that enhance vineyard biodiversity and promote a thriving ecosystem.

Best Grapes for Wine in Lompoc

Choosing the right grape varietals is pivotal to producing exceptional wine. Lompoc's unique terroir favors varietals like Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. These grapes flourish in the region's cool climate, resulting in wines with nuanced flavors and aromas. Partner with local nurseries to source top-quality grapevines that align with your winemaking goals.

Organic Winemaking in Lompoc

Embrace the principles of organic winemaking to create wines that are not only delicious but also sustainable. Avoid synthetic pesticides and chemicals, opting for natural solutions that maintain the integrity of your grapes and the environment. Organic practices enhance the authenticity of your wine, reflecting the purity of Lompoc's soil and climate.

Lompoc Wine Fermentation Tips

Fermentation is the heart of winemaking, where grape juice transforms into wine. Temperature control, yeast selection, and maceration techniques influence the final flavor profile. Master the art of fermentation by monitoring the process closely and adjusting variables to achieve the desired taste and texture.

Grape Harvesting Guide in Lompoc

Harvesting grapes at the optimal time is crucial for balancing acidity and sugar content. Lompoc's cool climate results in a longer growing season, allowing grapes to ripen gradually. Engage your senses to determine the right moment for harvesting, and enjoy the rewards of your patience in the form of exceptional wines.

Winery Equipment Recommendations for Lompoc Winemaking

Equipping your winery with the right tools is essential for a seamless winemaking process. From crushers and destemmers to fermentation vessels and barrels, invest in high-quality equipment that aligns with your production scale. Collaborate with local suppliers for personalized recommendations that suit your unique needs.

Lompoc Wine Production Process: From Grapes to Bottles

Navigating the wine production process requires precision and care. Crushing, pressing, fermentation, aging, and bottling are the key stages that transform grapes into fine wines. Each step demands attention to detail, and the harmonious orchestration of these stages results in wines that encapsulate Lompoc's character.

DIY Winemaking Steps in Lompoc

For enthusiasts seeking a hands-on approach, DIY winemaking is a rewarding pursuit. Gather essential tools, select quality grapes, and embark on a journey of experimentation. While challenges may arise, the satisfaction of producing your own wine that reflects Lompoc's essence is unparalleled.

Lompoc Wine Tasting Tips: Savoring the Experience

Wine tasting is an art that deepens your appreciation for the fruits of your labor. Engage your senses as you assess color, aroma, taste, and finish. Host tastings with friends and fellow enthusiasts to share your creations and gather insights that further refine your winemaking prowess.

Sustainable Winemaking in Lompoc: Nurturing Nature

Embracing sustainable practices is a commitment to the environment and the art of winemaking. Employ cover cropping, water conservation, and renewable energy to minimize your ecological footprint. By aligning with Lompoc's natural rhythms, you contribute to the preservation of its unique terroir for future generations.

Lompoc Wine Cellar Storage: Aging to Perfection

Aging wine is an integral part of the winemaking journey. Create an ideal cellar environment with stable temperature and humidity levels. Allow your wines to mature gracefully, transforming into complex and nuanced beverages that embody the essence of Lompoc.

Pruning Grapevines in Lompoc: Shaping Growth

Pruning is a vital practice that shapes grapevine growth and influences fruit production. Execute pruning techniques tailored to Lompoc's climate to optimize grape quality and yield. By striking the right balance between growth and fruitfulness, you empower your vines to flourish.

Lompoc Terroir Influence on Wine: A Taste of Place

Lompoc's terroir—its soil, climate, and topography—imparts distinctive characteristics to its wines. The interplay between terroir and grape varietals results in wines that showcase a unique sense of place. Explore this dynamic relationship as you craft wines that bear the unmistakable imprint of Lompoc.

Wine Bottle Corking Techniques in Lompoc

Corking wine bottles is a crucial step that preserves and protects your creations. Master the art of corking to ensure a secure seal that prevents oxygen from compromising the wine's quality. Invest in high-quality corks and tools to guarantee the longevity of your bottles.

Lompoc Wine Blending Methods: Artistry in Harmony

Blending different grape varietals or wine lots offers endless possibilities for creativity. Experiment with various blends to achieve the perfect balance of flavors, aromas, and textures. Elevate your winemaking expertise by crafting blends that resonate with Lompoc's unique terroir.

Aging Wine in Lompoc: Embracing Time

Aging wine requires patience, but the rewards are well worth it. Lompoc's cool climate contributes to the slow evolution of wines, allowing them to develop complexity and depth. As you await the transformation, revel in the anticipation of experiencing your wines at their peak.

Lompoc Wine Filtration Tips: Clarity and Brilliance

Filtration is a crucial step before bottling, ensuring your wine is clear and free from unwanted particles. Choose the appropriate filtration method based on your wine's characteristics and your desired outcome. Strive for wines that radiate brilliance and purity, mirroring Lompoc's natural splendor.

Troubleshooting Wine Issues in Lompoc

Winemaking presents challenges that demand problem-solving skills. From fermentation hiccups to unexpected flavors, understanding and addressing these issues is key to producing exceptional wines. Collaborate with fellow winemakers, and consult experts to navigate and resolve challenges effectively.

Lompoc Wine Label Design Ideas: Crafting Identity

Your wine label is more than just a branding element—it's a visual representation of your wine's personality. Choose designs that resonate with Lompoc's ambiance and your wine's character. Capture the essence of your winemaking journey in a label that tells a compelling story.

Wine Bottling Process in Lompoc: Sealing Memories

Bottling is the culmination of your winemaking efforts. Ensure a smooth and efficient bottling process by following best practices and using sanitized equipment. Seal your memories in bottles that encapsulate Lompoc's spirit, ready to be shared and enjoyed.

Lompoc Wine Preservation Methods: Longevity Unveiled

Preserving opened wine bottles is an art that extends the enjoyment of your creations. Utilize techniques like vacuum sealing, inert gas, or even repurposing wine for cooking to prevent oxidation. By safeguarding the integrity of your wines, you ensure they continue to delight palates.

FAQs

How can I ensure the quality of grapes for winemaking in Lompoc?

The key lies in meticulous vineyard care. Regular pruning, proper pest management, and nurturing a biodiverse ecosystem contribute to healthy grapevines and exceptional grape quality.

What are some sustainable winemaking practices I can adopt in Lompoc?

Consider cover cropping, minimal intervention, and renewable energy sources. These practices align with Lompoc's commitment to preserving its natural resources.

What grapes thrive best in Lompoc's terroir?

Lompoc's cool climate is ideal for varietals like Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. Their interaction with the terroir yields wines of exceptional flavor and character.

How do I troubleshoot unexpected flavors in my wine?

Unexpected flavors can result from fermentation issues or contamination. Collaborate with experienced winemakers and experts to identify the root cause and remedy the situation.

How can I create a unique wine label that reflects Lompoc's essence?

Choose a design that embodies Lompoc's charm and your wine's character. Incorporate elements that tell a story, capturing the region's beauty in visual form.

[whiskeyskin]

Praise You

Premise: Thaniel and Oliver are reunited and Halsin's feeling a bit aimless, a head massage is just what Silvanus ordered. Not that kind.. well, maybe that kind too 😏🍆💦

• Halsin x gn!tav • M rating • Religious themes •

Cleric Gn!tav, religious experience but it's sexy?, Silvanus take the wheel, m!masturbation, hair braiding, massages, taking care of Halsin, kissing, confessions, revelations, deliciously wet Halsin, horny, connection, divine threesome if you squint?

5.4k words

Gods bless @naariel for these beautiful shots of this delicious man 😚👌✨ Get The Full Picture

(Just imagine Tav is the bedroll 😏)

_____________________________

•°•°•

It was a particularly jovial time in camp this evening, despite the grim surroundings, however they seemed a little less bleak now that Thaniel and Oliver were together again.

From inside the protection of the Moondome, they sat together with many bottles of wine, as so generously provided by the Last Light's cellar.

They still had Ketheric Thorm to deal with but that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, they drank.

Halsin had been carrying the weight of the Shadowcurse for over a century, now he'd finally been able to lessen it's hold and rescue his childhood friend from a terrible fate. There was almost a glow about him as he sat nursing his only glass.

He looked a little lost at times, almost in mild shock. As though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Tav smiled warmly, they wondered what was in store for Halsin Silverbough.

They'd been brushing out Shadowheart's hair for 45 minutes to redo her hair ready for tomorrow's foray into Shar's Gauntlet, down to find the Nightsong.

Finally, the brush glided through her long raven locks with ease.

"There, that's half the battle won already. Ketheric will be a walk in the park after dealing with your tenday's long hair." Tav jested, brushing her hair up into a ponytail.

"Oh, shut up you," she threw with failed derision, "I would have done it myself, but you offered." She shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, yes. Forlornly calling out that you wanted to gussy yourself for Shar, only.. alas! You can't remember how to do your hair. The pinnacle of passive aggressive whinging." Astarion threw across the fire, nursing his own goblet.

"Well, you're the expert." Shadowheart countered, illiciting a jeering reaction from the group.

"Ooh, she's got you there Fangs!" Karlach nudged his shoulder with her elbow, a little too forcefully. Astarion rubbed yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

"What do you mean? When I'm unhappy, I come right out and say it. I don't waste time beating around the bush."

"Correct, but your continued and incessant complaints regarding self-cleanliness in this wilderness are tiresome." Lae'zel sneered.

"Not to play devil's advocate, Lae'zel but I have to agree with Astarion on this one. Trying to maintain any kind of a bathing routine whilst braving these perilous lands is a task most impossible to undertake." Gale retorted, holding his hands up in gesture.

"Well, now that Thaniel and Oliver are restored, these lands will flourish once more when nature takes it's course. Oakfather willing." Halsin did his customary gesture.

"I don't really mind, and you've been a very good model sitting here without whining." Tav stated, tying off her hair and pulling it tight but comfortable, "it reminds me of my childhood, we'd spend hours brushing and braiding each other's hair. It was practice for when we'd be braiding those in ceremony."

"Ah yes, the braids of your people are intricate indeed." Wyll nodded, "I've met a few with the most complicated of braidwork, it's very impressive."

"Well, I was never good enough to braid those. It's more about the smaller victories that I specialise in. Smaller and more personal to the individual." They explained, twisting her hair to make it more manageable to thread through her hair adornment.

"Smaller victories?" Lae'zel narrowed her eyes with a curious tilt.

Shadowheart handed Tav her silver adornment, "Yes, they can be anything really. Anything that the person overcame; hardships, trials, successes, even failures."

"Your people celebrate failure? Bah. Mediocrity must be cleansed-"

"-Cleansed, yes we know what the Gith think about all of that. Despite this apparently fatal flaw, my people are great warriors, Lae'zel." Tav interceded, threading Shadowheart's hair through the chains to secure the hair piece.

"I know this. You have shown yourself distinguished in battle many times." Lae'zel insisted, frowning in the way she did.

"And yet, I'm not your 'typical' warrior. I'm valued because of the strengths I do have, not shunned for the ones I don't. My people embrace failure without shame, or repulsion because it takes more from a person to admit their mistakes, than to admit their success."

A hush fell over the group as Tav's words sank in. A few uncomfortable shuffles echoed around the group.

"I feel like there was more I could do to help the Tiefling refugees. I should have done more." Wyll said, breaking the silence.

"That's not a failure, that's a regret. Regrets are useless, Wyll. They keep us from seeing the good. You taught those children enough to survive that attack. You told Umi it's about giving him enough time to escape and they did. So, I'd count that as a success." Tav replied, smiling. Wyll took a stuttered inhale, surprised by their perspective.

"I failed to stop the Shadowcurse, it shouldn't have come to this." Halsin admitted, a pained expression on his face.

"You failed to kill Ketheric Thorm but so did many others that day. But you, my friend," Tav leaned to rest a firm hand on his muscular shoulder, "are the only reason it's ended now."

"If it had not been for you-"

"-Then you would have found a way. Your failure, is now your triumph, Halsin. This pain that has clouded you for a century, is finally done." Tav jolted him hard to emphasise their point, then scanned his hair, "I need to give you a new braid."

His head jerked to look up, hazel green eyes wide, "I did not think-"

"You need two; one for your failing, one for your victory. We are defined by both and must wear them proudly. If you'll permit me?" Tav paused, seeking consent.

They allowed the revelation to seep inward. The tenants of their people were often the cause of deep realisations regarding the self. Even when those people were as wise as Halsin.

"You would honour me." His warm, kind eyes brimmed with the threat of tears but he stoically swallowed them down.

~~~

The evening passed in reflective revelry, the gang admitted many deep seated secrets that had shamed them. It bonded them further, in a way that was Tadpole-free. By the end, Tav would need to braid all of their friends.

Lae'zel touched the fresh re-plaiting Tav had done for her, adding another to symbolise her small achievement of befriending Istiki. She seemed pleased.

Halsin had peeled away from the fire a short while ago but hadn't returned. Tav hoped that they hadn't caused him hurt by what they had said.

After such a long time of carrying this burden, taking a step back and looking at the situation in it's entirety after being so intrinsically entwined with it.. blinded within it.. would take time.

But they'd meant every word. He was an incredible man. And they hoped he saw that in himself.

Eventually, everyone resigned to their bedrolls. A goodnight hug from Karlach, Wyll, Gale and surprisingly Shadowheart, a pat on the shoulder from Astarion, and the usual nod from Lae'zel, imparted with more warmth than before.

"You can feed on me again tonight, let me just go check on where Halsin's got to." Tav gently patted Astarion's arm.

"I appreciate that. Unless I want to eat cow, there's nothing around here."

"Cow can be delicious but not in the way you experience taste, I'll bet."

"Ugh, no. Livestock taste - ugh - well, you can imagine." He curled his lip in disgust.

Tav laughed, "If they taste as bad as they smell, I think I can."

~~~

After very little searching, Tav found Halsin by the lakeside, just inside Isobel's protection. There seemed to be a large, silver basin in front of him.

He was naked from the waist up, revealing his impossibly muscled physique. Tav gasped. They'd obviously seen his barely contained body in his Druidic armour, but laid bare in front of them like this, their mouth had suddenly run dry, yet salivated hungrily simultaneously.

His hair looked longer, almost freer, as he took the basin over his head with ease and poured it over his hair.

Again, Tav gasped and a pooling of lust hit low in their belly watching this mountain of an Elf drench himself in water.

Halsin placed the basin back on the rock and pinched the water out of his eyes. He shook with an exhale, squeezing out the excess water from his hair and caught Tav's gaze.

Immediately feeling foolish, Tav jerked themselves out of their stupor and waved nonchalantly, making their way down to him. Halsin returned with a half wave as he wiped his face down with his hand.

"I didn't see you there, didn't realise anyone else was awake." He smiled brightly, towering half naked and beautiful.

Tav returned the smile, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You were concerned for me?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course, I understand that what I said might have been quite a lot to digest before one sleeps. I wanted to see that you were well, and rested."

Halsin's brows pulsed together but his expression remained warm, "It has been quite some time since someone checked to make sure I was rested but I promise you, I'm perfectly fine."

"I didn't mean to offend, or speak out of turn. The Shadowcurse has superceded everything else in your life and having that finally lifted from your burdens-"

Halsin held up a large paw to silence them, "Hush now, you did not speak out of turn. In fact, you spoke more truth than I've heard in a long time. A redeeming quality of yours.." he trailed off, with an intense stare.

"I'm glad to not offend, because I don't regret what I said. What you've achieved today will change the course of this land forever, for good this time."

"I must admit, it is a strange feeling to see hope sprout anew in these lands, after so much darkness." He mused, looking to the spot he'd brought Thaniel through from the Shadowfell.

Tav thought on the fierce battle for the portal, the desperate need to keep Halsin safe. The sheer relief that flooded them when they saw him return with Thaniel unconscious in his strong arms.

They stole a glance at him while he looked out towards the water. He truly was beautiful.

The strong line of his scarred jaw, the definition of his muscles, the uncharacteristic growth of chest hair dark against his sun-kissed skin. The lingering droplets of water chasing each other down the contours of his torso and into the damp waistband of his camp clothes.

Tav swallowed. Halsin was obviously a stunningly attractive man, but the energy and presence that exuded from his very soul was intoxicating; His strength, his compassion, his bravery and his boundless capacity for goodness and hope-

He'd taken out his braids.

Tav blinked twice, then glanced down to the empty silver basin and now what they saw to be soaps, glass bottles and tubs.

"What are you doing down here, Halsin?" They asked, plainly.

He blinked, returning his gaze to them, "Well, I had hoped to commemorate this occasion, as you suggested. That you would honour me with a new braid. However, my cleanliness has not been the top priority these last days and my hair is seldom touched by anyone but me. It required some attending to." He chose his words delicately. It made Tav laugh.

"Would you like some help?"

"I think I have imposed enough on your good will for one day. Although, I must admit, I do not know anything about hair care." He admitted with a chuckle.

"Well, I see you come fully stocked." They motioned to the jars, picking them up to read the labels.

"I spoke to Isobel about blessing some water so that I may bathe, one of the Harpers kindly gave me some of their own poltices and potions to use."

Tav opened a container to gauge the consistency, Halsin also reaching for a bottle. They took a sniff of the thick, white poltice and found it to be coconut.

"Ah, this is to soften and strengthen hair. Plus it smells divine." They offered Halsin to smell the balm, to which he let out a hum of agreement.

"This is an oil. To help with hair?" He said shrugging his shoulders and unstoppering it, the scent of lavender and rosemary strong on the air.

Tav nodded in agreement, "That's for the scalp as well as the hair. A scalp massage is unlike anything else for relaxation."

"Is that so?" Halsin asked with a playful lilt.

"It is so. Would you like a scalp massage? I am very proficient in them." Tav boasted, taking the oil bottle Halsin offered.

"Another of your many talents." He admired in a low register. Another intense gaze burned them in place.

"Well, in order for me to braid you, your hair must be in a good condition. If you'll allow me?" They gestured for him to sit.

"Now? Here?" He asked.

"Where else could be better than at the site of your achievement?" Tav posited, gesturing to the jutting rock.

Halsin turned down his lips and nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that."

They both settled on the rocks, Halsin sat lower down in front of Tav's crossed legs. Tav rolled his camp shirt to place against the rock to afford Halsin more comfort, to which he rewarded them with another warm smile.

Once they were both in position, Tav pushed their sleeves up, "Tilt your head back for me." Halsin dutifully acquiesced, and they poured a good helping of the rosemary and lavender oil, assuring that it didn't drip.

"That smells wonderful." Halsin said through a smile.

"That it does," Tav agreed, flexing their fingers against Halsin's scalp in small circles, "It should feel even better." They returned with a smirk.

"Ooh, that it does." He mimicked, after a few moments of groans.

Tav proceeded with the scalp massage, fingers practised and strong, offering healing and relaxation.

They saw the tension in his shoulders ripple away and he sank lower into the feeling, "You can rest your head against my legs if you'd like." They offered. A normal suggestion in these circumstances but this time it felt far more loaded.

They'd given hundreds of these kinds of treatments but this time felt different, important.. charged.

Wordlessly, Halsin sank back into them. The back of his neck resting on their crossed calves, as they continued their practice. His handsome face was contented.. at peace, as he gently lay on them.

Tav watched the small changes in his expression as their fingers worked their magic. His brows would flex, his closed eyelids would stretch as though his eyes were rolling back in his head.

Tav employed the subtle use of their nails to awaken the scalp for regeneration, raking them across his head. Halsin's jaw tensed and he let out a low rumble that sounded not quite human but it made their stomach tumble over uncomfortably.

"Apologies," Halsin's voice came out slightly breathlessly, "This is feeling quite good, and my grip over the animal within can be tenuous at times. I hope it doesn't frighten you." He opened his eyes to look up at them, his incomparable green hazel eyes shadowed with lashes and uncertainty.

"You could never frighten me, Halsin. You make me feel safe, protected. Never afraid." Tav spoke in a hushed tone and moved their thumbs to massage the worry lines that appeared there, "You are immense and powerful and you deserve to feel good."

"Mm, you make me feel good. Very good." Halsin licked his bottom lip and took a shaky breath.

Tav paused to add more oil to their hands, rubbing them together and gliding their full width to smooth his hair down. Then tossing his hair from side to side to work their way to the underside to massage the back of his neck.

Halsin groaned at the force of their fingers, "Tav, that feels quite extraordinary. You have a real talent for this." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm not even started yet, Bear man." They teased, "You'll be practically unconscious by the time I'm finished with you." The tinge of unintentional sexual energy peppered their words, as they pushed the muscles of his neck under their hands.

"Bear man?" He shot out a laugh, "We shall both be exhausted after this, I'll wager."

"I've been doing this for many years, I could do this for hours." They braced into their strength and worked the heel of their palms hard, down into the extremely tight musculature of his shoulders.

Halsin let out a shuddering yelp, then a rumble paired with a gasp, "That.. was unfair."

"You're wound tighter than a Patrirar's arse, Halsin. You need to relax."

He sat up a little, pushing against the force.

"Oh, and how would you suggest I do that, when you're burying your fingers into my shoulders? Gods." He strained through gritted teeth.

"Besides a massage? A bath, masturbation, meditation, booze? There are lots of fun ways to unwind." Tav smirked, thumbs working over his wound muscles.

"All sound suggestions, apart from masturbation. That would be a tad inappropriate, don't you agree?" His tone was light and dark at the same time, it curled a devious smile to Tav's lips.

Their eyes flitted down to Halsin's crotch subconsciousally, only to almost choke at the sight of the thick snake straining against the fabric.

The aroma of arousal suffused around them, now turned to a thick smog, covering them unabashedly.

It gripped Tav low in their belly and held them by the throat, their own desire throbbing between their legs.

They folded themselves over him and leaned to whisper in his ear, their firm hands gliding down the strong plains of his chest.

They had never been good at being coy.

"Halsin. I would love you to touch yourself while I massage you. I would love to hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure and satisfaction, as we celebrate this together. To see you, to hear you. To bless this with an act of self love." Their lips caught on the hard edges of his Elvish ears, and he shuddered beneath them, his muscles bunching under their palms.

"You would?" He muttered, swallowing thickly.

"To see your beauty laid bare to me in such an intimate and scared act, yes I would.." They hummed into the shell of his ear.

He stretched his head back, pulling his lips back and baring fangs for a split second.

"Show that you're free of this regret, that it holds you no longer. Own this. Take this moment as yours. Praise the Gods with your surrender and pleasure."

Halsin huffed out an unsteady breath and began unfastening his trousers until his large, thick erection jutted free, sprouting from dark hair.

Tav eyed his cock hungrily with trepidation and intrigue, the image of Halsin buried deep inside them flashing before their eyes. The ghost of the stretch around him clenched their sex, filling their mouth saliva.

"Is this truly what you want?" Halsin asked, his large hand waiting in a fist on his toned thigh.

"If you mean to ask; is this an appropriate scenario for two friends to participate in, then no, it's probably not."

His fist squeezed tightly in frustration, as he sighed.

"I thought not." He said bitterly through tight lips.

"However, I was never one to follow rules." They moaned through a grin, as they flicked the tip of their tongue across his earlobe, nipping lightly with their teeth.

The air from Halsin's lungs whooshed out, as he slammed his to grip the back of their head, the other placed on their's across his heart. He fisted their hair, as he writhed against their suckling of his sensitive ears.

He pulled on their thickest braid, desire tugged them deeper with every follicle. Tav's eyes rolled back as they moaned, open-mouthed. Halsin trembled out a repressed groan, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes.

"Silvanus forgive me." He whined, sliding his hand from their hair, finally allowing himself the freedom to touch his twitching, weeping cock.

"No, 'Silvanus bless me'," Tav corrected, as they slid their oiled hand from under his grasp and held his forearm across his chest. They looked up, passed the moon barrier, to the sky, "Silvanus, bare witness to your faithful servant. Bless this act of devotion."

"Yes.. yes." He uttered, head sliding to their shoulder, cradled into their embrace. His huffed, hot breath jagged against their jaw.

Tav looked down to watch him pump his cock mercilessly, the beading precum that had leaked coating the blows. They swallowed his gasps and moans as he pushed against them.

Suddenly, the cold night of the shadows were ushered away, replaced by the sensation of sunlight and the smell of the trees and fresh earth. Tav could taste the juice of the fruits bore and the brilliance of light shining.

Tav smiled joyfully, bathed in the light of Halsin's God.

The All-Father was here with them.

"Do you feel-" He barely managed through gasps. They nodded against the sweat of his skin.

"Silvanus sees you, Halsin," they breathed, an irreverent smile across their face.

They heard words that had no source booming through their mind, they knew the meaning and listened.

"He has felt your faith and love. Your devotion and dedication to him and to the task of freeing these lands. He has found you deserving of his blessings. He granted you passage to retrieve Thaniel because he knew that you are worthy."

The divine words came out without thought, as tears slid down their cheeks.

"Thank you, Oakfather.. but.. none of this.. would have been possible.. without Tav." He keened, grip on his throbbing cock intensifying, "Bless them, Silvanus. Bless them."

The swell of the divine enhanced tenfold. Tav wept at the radiance coursing through them. The heat, the force.. it was indescribable. Incomparable.

"We would have been lost without you. All would have been lost without you." A low whimper rang from the back of his throat, as they kissed his markings.

The voice thundered inside their head once more, words of affirmation and benevolent boon. Tav gasped, their vision blinded by light, their lips rounded into a serene smile.

"You are the catalyst, Halsin. You are the might that wrenches away the rot, you are the sunlight and water to feed the earth.. Yours is the seed that brings new life."

Their other hand came down to grasp at his forearm, feeling the furious movement of Halsin's joy. Halsin yelped, gulping moans as he pumped his massive cock in abandon, thumping his strong hips to meet every stroke.

"I'm-I'm.." He choked, his jaw clenching, rhythm erratic.

"Yes, Halsin. Spread your fertile seed upon this land.." The feeling of the divine power crescendoing in their head.

"Silvanus.. Silvanus.." He struggled, "Bless me.."

Halsin convulsed and spasmed, roaring as he climaxed in hard, thick shoots of cum, spilling over the cold, grey earth beneath him. He jerked and strained, as he spurted thick and full, spattering the grass.

Tav held him close, guiding him through his orgasm, soothing him with sweet words, until his white seed wept down the sides of his softening member.

Still panting heavily, he licked his dry lips and removed his grip from his trembling cock; the remnants of his elation coating his fingers.

Tav's hand slid up his forearm in delicious abandon, bringing his hand to their mouth and greedily licking his cum off his fingers. Halsin hummed in appreciation of their enthusiasm.

Suddenly, the night was cold again, the warmth of divine embrace ended. However, heat rolled of Halsin in waves, chasing away the chill.

Several moments stretched between them, their breath still calming; both needing a moment to recompose. Tav moved their fingers to his temples and wound them in strong circles, Halsin exhaled long and slow.

Tav was reeling. Their body wrung out, their ears ringing. It had not been the first time a God had spoken to them but it was certainly the first time they acted as messenger for a God, especially for one that wasn't their own. They weren't even sure it had ever happened before, and especially not during such a sexual explicit act.

It was incredible.

"That was.." Halsin eventually began.

"..I know." Tav finished, as they carded their hands through his hair.

"What do we do now?" He asked, cock large and limp against his taut belly. An uncomfortable air of something akin to shame tinged his voice.

"We continue the celebration." Tav smiled, picking up the poultice beside them, smoothing it into Halsin's semi-dry, oiled mane of hair.

Wordlessly time spanned before them, as Tav slowly worked through his tangled hair. The coconut poultice soaked into the mess and loosened the knots, the scents of lavender, rosemary and coconut dancing together on the silent air.

Nothing stirred, apart from Halsin's soothed groans and the sounds of the brush through untangling hair.

"Did you feel it too?" He asked, uncertainly.

"Silvanus?" Tav clarified.

"Yes. I've heard his words before but that was.. different." He said, gravely. He sat taller removing himself from their touch, "I took advantage of the situation. I have been without the touch of another for some time now and I sullied this act of friendship with my own desires-"

"-Hush now," Tav murmured, gently pulling back into their chest, "You did not sully anything, nor take advantage of anyone." They kneaded their cheek into his to offer comfort.

"Silvanus was able to speak through me because I opened myself to you and by extension, to him. Put aside these fears. I wanted this too." Tav reassured him, grazing his cheek with the back of their hand. Halsin turned his head, nuzzling slightly and rested his hand on theirs, with another warm smile.

"That is good to hear. Thank you, my friend."

Tav laid their chin upon his head and pressed a small kiss there. A happy moment surrounded them both.

Conversation flowed easily between the two, now that the air had been cleared.

Tav brushed his hair through, with a modicum of difficulty, then sectioned his hair and retied the braids that had previously existed with Halsin's guidance. While he regaled the story of how the Shadowlands had come to be, Ketheric Thorm, Shar, the Harpers and Druids coming together. Fierce battles, death, terror, success, hubris and finally how he'd dedicated his life to the eradication of this curse.

Tav was just finishing the last braid, the one commorating his achievement.

"I've spent this last hundred years of my life in persuit of this goal, forsaking most everything else. Now that it's nearly done, I do not know. I-I feel.. hollowed.. aimless. Like I am without purpose. Apart from helping you with your tadpole, of course." He added with a incline of his head.

"Is that why you're helping us? To feel like you still have a mission?" Tav asked, curious.

The only reason he'd come to Moonrise with them in the first place was to get closer to the Curse. It would make sense that he would return to the Grove, now that that part was complete.

"Gods no, never think that. I'm here with you till the end, regardless of what comes next. You have aided me in ways I could never repay, there's not a chance I'll abandon you now." He said firmly.

"But you mustn't need to feel like you owe us anything, there's no-"

Halsin reached across himself to grab their arm, and with a fluidity becoming of an Elf, he slowly turned to face them.

His earthen eyes looked up at them with a fierceness and urgency that stopped their thoughts.

"My friend, I have lived a very long time. Many lifetimes of others. But I have never met anyone quite like you before. Your bravery, your warmth, your valour. You are unique," his big, warm hands covered theirs with ease as he edged closer, "and I am yours, for as long as you need me. Against Ketheric, against the Absolute.. everything."

Tav swallowed. The radiant energy flowing from his heart was almost unbearable to withstand. They felt themselves drawn to him, leaning in. Halsin followed.

The distance between them seemed miles and nothing at all, as they were pulled together. His eyes focused on their lips, head tilting to accommodate their impending meeting.

The air was hot and doused with lavender and clean soap; the energy palpable. Tav closed their eyes to let it overtake them.

"Ahem." Came a voice far too close, "Not to break up this lovely little moment, but that strange ox is looking more appetising by the second." Astarion drawled with a sass that was entirely his alone, "Any chance of wrapping this up?"

Tav opened their eyes to see Halsin looking irritated but resigned to the intrusion.

They laughed between themselves; the bubble of their celebration had clearly clouded their awareness for intruders.

"I'll be back up shortly." Tav said, tight lipped, their focus still on Halsin.

"I told you to leave it." Came angry, hushed chiding from Shadowheart. Tav heard a small scuffle of clothes being wrenched and Astarion being dragged away, bickering following their leave.

"Reality beckons it seems." Halsin said with a small smile.

"It seems so." Tav breathed out, disappointed.

They pressed their foreheads together, chuckling lightly. A moment shared between them, connecting them.

They both took cleansing breaths and Halsin kneeled up to stand. He took a little time to familiarise himself with his new braids, while they gathered the various glass containers, soap and brush, placing them gently within the silver basin for ease.

Tav had chosen one above either ear, pulling them up into his half-do, to help secure it.

He gave a murmur of agreement, "I will wear them with pride. Thank you for honouring me."

"Thank you for trusting me to do so." They leaned up and pulled out his usual loose curls around his ears to frame his handsome face.

Their eyes met and air around them stilled, cloaked in coconut and lavender.

Halsin quickly grasped them into a desperate kiss, wrapping his strong arms under them and pulling them into him.

Tav's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling in closer, willingly losing themself in him.

Halsin's heat flooded into them; his desire, his adoration, his need.. and into him they poured their reverence, their respect and loyalty, their awe and their unyielding desire.

They felt is arousal pressed flush against their own, and Halsin huffed out air.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "My heart. If I could, I would take you as many times as you would allow. I would caress your skin and fill my mouth with your taste until you could bare it no longer," he licked his lips with the ghosting thought of your essence on his tongue.

"I would bury myself slowly inside you, feel you gloriously stretch around me. Gently make love to you underneath the light of the moon again and again until we are both spent.."

There was a pregnant pause.

"But?" Tav asked, eventually. Halsin gave a long, frustrated sigh.

"But.. tonight is not that night. Not here." Halsin looked disappointed but sure in his judgement. Tav brought a hand to cup his face, pulling their lips into a side smile.

"I know, I agree," Barely nodding, Tav looked into Halsin's gorgeous face, "But know that every fantasy that keeps me awake at night, has your name falling from my lips."

Halsin's eyes darkened, then softened with a sheepish grin.

"Those are unfair words spoken to a man so close to giving in." He teased, still grinning, "I would like to at least repay you for your efforts. It seems a travesty that I should reach orgasm and you should not."

"Dear one, I had Silvanus' light coarsing through me. Trust me when I say that is more than enough excitement," They paused for a moment, "I do believe you're the only man to have actually made me 'see the Gods'." They laughed, quoting previous, over-confident lovers. Halsin joined them, his chuckle warming through the night.

They kissed again, softly this time. Several slow, peppered kisses. Each one reaching new depths in their desire for him.

"We'll have to continue the celebration another time." Tav licked their bottom lip and gently sucked it between their teeth, trying to contain more words, that could potentially leave them delightfully bruised and aching the next day.

"I will sorrowfully count the hours until that moment comes." His loving gaze pouring over their face.

"I will gladly kill anyone who tries to stop it."

Halsin gave a short, breathy chuckle, "I'll take care of this, you have another waiting for you." He swallowed, beginning to pull away but stopped. His eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked to the ground.

Tav turned to see what he was concentrating on, to see a tree sapling unfurling out of lush greenery, on the spot where he had spilled himself.

Their mouth gawped open, eyes wide.

"That's an oak sapling." He breathed in shock.

Tav blinked hard twice, "Well. Silvanus did say that you were the seed to fertilise the land. Apparently that wasn't an aphorism." They returned their gaze to him, expression almost identical.

Halsin shot out a laugh, "Praise Silvanus. Praise you, my heart." He chorused, pulling them close, cupping their jaw.

"Praise you, my love."

•°•°•

Mmhm, that's some good eatin'.. want some more? 👀😏

[dekariosclan]

Hello my friend!

So we all know how amazing and wonderful Gale is, how kind, good, caring and funny he is. He is, in so many ways, a perfect man.

He is, however, only human. I have the tendency to idealise him, and forget this.

My question to you is - what do you think his flaws are? Both generally and as a husband/life partner.

💜

Ohhh I love this question so much ❤️ I am a hopeless romantic, and I adore Gale’s charming, sweet, loving adorkableness! He is truly amazing—but I can confirm NOBODY (and no relationship) is ever 100% perfect.

The thing about a long-term committed relationship is that, while your partner’s charms make the relationship wonderful, their flaws are what make it REAL. And that’s just as important.

So let’s talk about our charming Gale’s less-than-charming aspects, shall we?

[warning: this went from a short & concise answer to a rambling dissertation, please prepare yourself accordingly! Also I know this ask/answer was supposed to make Gale a little less perfect and help lessen our obsession, but uhhhh, I seem to have veered hard in the opposite direction 😂]

———

First off: The Pomposity™️ (I’m not 100% certain that’s even a real word but you know what I mean right) So we all know that by the end of the game, (human) Gale has come to accept himself as he is, and decided to henceforth be known as ‘Gale Dekarios, a most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.’ He’s come a lonnng way in cutting down his ego, but let’s be honest: some of it will never truly go away. And that’s fair, because he IS brilliant, and he IS talented, and he IS extremely passionate about magic.

…but it’s tough to remember all that and give him a pass when that usually-oh-so-adorable-finger-in-the-air is now aimed at YOU, as he declares that ‘after all, he IS an expert on [*insert topic here*] because he WAS awarded [*insert scholarly award here*] from the one and only [*insert impressive Blackstaff Academy professor here.*]’

And all you wanted was for your opinion to be taken into consideration regarding the wine selection at dinner.

———

Second: The Disarray / Messiness. Gale has a brilliant mind, one that he applies full throttle to any and all situations: concentration on magic spells, lance board strategy, calculations, poring over ancient tomes, and even figuring out how to cook something edible out of rotting fish heads and some moldy cheese (no veggies, though!)

The problem is, while his mind is brilliant and he will keep it laser-focused on his chosen subject at that current moment, from a day-to-day perspective he is straight-up scatter brained with all the things he has his hands in. We can see this in his vision of his tower: BOOKS. BOOKS EVERYWHERE. Some stacked in piles, some shoved onto shelves, some left open on the page he was reading when he got distracted, etc.

We also get confirmation of this from Tara in the epilogue:

Tara: The way he leaves his potions in absolute disarray—I know for certain he wasn’t raised in a barn, but you’d never know it.

It’s one thing to have books & potions & scrolls scattered throughout his library and sitting room—you have no complaints against that, you HAVE moved in with/married a wizard, after all—but to find them in the kitchen, wine cellar, even occasionally stuffed into your own wardrobe? It’s a bit much.

TLDR: Our rizzard is a hot mess.

———

Which leads us into perhaps his biggest flaw: The Fussiness.

So about all those books everywhere, on everything, all at once? You didn’t try and ARRANGE them or organize them for him, did you?…You did?! Oh, gods! No, no, he had an ORDER to them, you see, and he knew that the exact spell he needed could be found in the third book down in the stack next to the piano, page 453, why did you ever decide to move it?

Well, you explain as patiently as you can, it was in the way, and frankly you could tell from the dust on it that he hadn’t touched it in several yea—

BY ELMINSTER’S ELBOW, did you ALPHABETIZE his illusion scrolls??! Oh, for the love of—!

You get the picture.

There would undoubtedly be moments when you found yourself fully exasperated by this man and his exacting, fussy nature.

———

All that being said: true fights would be rare.

The occasional huffy remark or quickly-forgotten gripe would occur now and then as in any relationship, but a real, anger-filled argument? With heightened emotions and hurt feelings? Rare indeed.

The only thing bigger than Gale’s brain is his heart. And while his mind is dedicated to a great many things as mentioned above (magic studies, lance board, etc) his heart is 100% dedicated TO YOU, and you alone. So on those rare occasions after a fight has occurred, it does not take long for him to come down from the heat of the moment and realize, oh, hells, he’s been an ass, hasn’t he?

He knows you love him. His anxiety about not being enough for you has long since disappeared, and he’s calmed his worries that you would ever leave him, but still…there’s always a lingering concern that maybe you’ll grow distant from him after an argument.

If you are in the wrong and he is certain of it, he will be stiffly polite until you offer an apology, and then he will be taking you in his arms, kissing you passionately and telling you ‘all is forgiven my love, let’s never speak of this again’ (and trying hard to hide his relief that you apologized first, because he was not sure how long he would be able to hold out and stay mad at you.)

If HE is in the wrong, though? And you are truly mad at him? And he knows he really stuck his foot in it? Oh, boy.

You’ll be treated to an apology so eloquent it would make poets weep, and it will come packaged with hand-holding, pouting, pleading, and Gale getting down on his (bad) knees.

And if you’re still mad at him after that?

Well, then you’ll have to complete a gauntlet harder than anything Shar could ever throw at you. You’ll have to try and stay angry, explain your anger, AND explain to Gale why he won’t be easily forgiven, all while looking directly at this:

And this:

AND THIS:

…

…needless to say you will be failing, and hard.

Not that you mind, because the make-up sex will be absolutely phenomenal. Gale doesn’t just want to repair your loving bond after you’ve had an argument, he wants to improve it. Which requires much study and experimentation, of course.

And for awhile afterwards, all will be bliss again.

…until you find a pile of scrolls shoved under your side of the bed, and some open books scattered across your dresser, and you decide it time to do some organizing. ———

So yes, my friend. Gale definitely does have some flaws, and at some point they WOULD drive you crazy in any sort of relationship you have with him. Gale is wonderful, Gale is loving, but Gale isn’t perfect!!

…but when he takes you in his arms after you’ve made up, and his mouth is hungrily devouring yours, and he’s murmuring words of adoration against your skin as he trails his kisses down your neck, chest, hips—

Nevermind! I take it all back. He’s perfect. 😂

[diejager]

My deep dark desire for a distillery au wherein each force is a competing distillery and you yeet an expert taster reader in there who is in charge of judging each whisky and ranking them. Either they are pulling out all the stops on your tour and treating you like a princess or doing the opposite and threatening you to rank them the highest :')

Mhairi, I am the worse person to ask about whiskey, my parents have delicious smelling ones, fruity and spicy ones, but taste wise? I gag like there’s no tomorrow, especially gin!! I hate gin. The only thing I can stomach so far is sweet, coffee and cream flavoured Baileys Irish Cream. (I know there’s Irish whiskey in it, but it’s only 17% compared to the 40% of any other whiskeys)

Eau De Vie Cw: Alcohol drinking, whiskey taste, tell me if I missed any.

Whisky had always been your favourite, your little secret that you shared with your closest friends alone —your penchent for judging whiskeys and bourbons alone, managing to include rum and brandy in rare occasions. So when you were approached by a known figure in the Whiskey industry that acted as the face for many distilleries across the world, you couldn’t turn down the offer when you were given so much in a simple deal.

You were responsible to drink and rank many popular brands by taste and smell alone, the only person delegated to become the judge. You were given the privilege of taking home a bottle of each brand after this competition, another reason to accept it. So you signed the contract without a second of hesitation, shaking her hand to conclude the deal before she left you squirming with excitement in your office home.

You were flown from your city to a calm part of the Scottish countryside, a chalet overlooking the Scottish highlands and its green beauty. This was the quaint house you would temporarily live in with the rest of the team orchestrating this friendly competition, leaving the connecting house up the cliff side to the different distilleries. From what you’ve heard, Kate Laswell - Kate you called her after a few meetings that had fully bloomed into a friendship of alcohol connoissoir - the participating teams were the British company 141 - who in coalition to Chimera and the ULF - would represent their alliance, the American Shadows, the multi-national KorTac and the Russian brewery Konni. They were all popular brands distilling whiskey and brandy in their own countries, creating a plethora of tastes and sensations that would explode on your tongue after a few sips.

You were ecstatic, your mouth salivating at the simple thought of tasting the finest whiskeys from around the world, but you had a few days to rest and tour the side of Scotland you were shipped to. What you expected to be calm and mild-mannered men and women from their side of the world to meet and eat with refined etiquette, was shattered the second you peered through the door after walking down the connecting path from your chalet to their house.

They were loud, rambunctious in the very sense of it, loud and jovial, hurling insults and hissing out jeers at one another. It was a dogfight between brewers, like cats and dogs. You felt like a stranger, gawking at the group hurling words at one another until it all stopped, the open living room falling in silence when they heard you drop your bag on the polished wood. You’ve never seen humans move so fast until the second after the silence, scrambling to clean the room up and wooing you with their compliments and sweet pleasantries to appease you.

They gave you a tour of the house, the rich wine cellar that was open to you whenever you wanted a drink, the wooden patio that had it’s own lounge and bar, and the various rooms in the mansion-like chalet. They all vied for your attention, ripping one another’s throat to have a second of your attention, kissing up to you with sweet compliments and even sweeter praises.

The Brits - well, three English and one Scott - were a good mix of mature and zealousness, low voices and near-overwhelming figures with their broad shoulders and stocky mass. They came with other people to represent their company: Farah and her devoted Alex from ULF, and the crude Nikolai and Krueger from Chimera.

The Shadows were American, the most American you’ve ever seen, energetic and determined to win you over, and the CEO, a man with a southern accent and a seductive smirk, swiping you off your feet with pet names that made you fluster.

KorTac had as many accents as they had people of different countries, both men and women skilled in multiple languages and conversing so fluently that you started to question if you were on the same planet.

Konni was rough on the edges, their leading figure as scheming as he was gentlemanly, his thin lips letting out the most vicious praises to have you squirming under his dark gaze and unmoving determination for the win.

Days later, you met them at the compound farther down the road, away from the beauty of the coast and cliff, a long table exposing their finest to you. Poured in a cups, one with ice and another without, they were left for you to decide which would win the prize for both straight and on the rocks. Today was the day you would nominate one as the best, standing higher than everyone else without bias despite the times they rendered you a flustered mess and made you unendingly grateful for their help.

Your pallet exploded with flavour every time you sipped on a different brand, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the deliciousness of every bottle. 141 brought three bottles of their aged whiskey: a smoky Scotch Whisky made in the same Highlands you were tasting it, the bitter spiciness of rye whiskey from the American branch of the ULF - credits to Alex for introducing it - and the woody and fruity aroma of Chimera’s whiskey. Shadows had brought - unsurprisingly - their most popular types of whiskey to the table: Bourbon made in their own distillery in Kentucky, a sweet and mellow sub-type of their first one and the smooth flavour of their wheat whiskey. KorTac had a large variety to it’s collection: a floral tasting whiskey that outmatched Hibiki Harmony, a nutty sensation of a bottle made in Ireland and the rich and peaty on of a danish-made bottle. And finally, three Russian bottles from the biggest distillery in Russia: a sweet and smoky bottle, a second one with rich malt and honey, and a third focusing on aroma with it’s spicy odour and fruity taste.

They were all so delicious, if you had these bottles when you working at the bar, mixing concoctions for paying clients, you would’ve been overjoyed, but those days were long gone, your priority standing elsewhere than fulfilling your dream. Truthfully, you didn’t know who to give the medal, the flavours so vast and unique. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if you took a second or third sip just to be sure.

Part 2

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 17

Part One Link to ao3 Part 16

A speedy update? Couldn't be me lmao

Step Seventeen: Tell a Story

The party really wasn’t like any of the ragers he used to throw, but in Steve’s opinion that made it a thousand times better. 

From his vantage point on the arm of the couch, Steve could see everything, and all looked to be going well. All of the parents had quickly clustered together around the big dining room table, smoking and playing cards as they reminisced about the good old days and enjoyed the wine Steve had broken out of the cellar. Mike and Lucas were sprawled out across the floor, their books in piles around them as they designed new characters and argued about the best way to win against dragons, while Nancy and Jonathan had curled up together on the loveseat by the window, sharing a cup of cocoa and quietly whispering about god knows what. 

It all seemed peaceful. 

So naturally Steve was sitting next to the most chaotic conversation he had ever heard. 

“In terms of controlling the fight and better initiative, it’s the halberd. Hands down,” Frank declared. He was putting emphasis on every single word, as if doing so would somehow sway the three preteens throwing him impressively dry looks. 

“That’s assuming you have the speed and dexterity necessary to gain that advantage,” Dustin sighed, shaking his head and tutting. “The greatsword is not only faster, but it is shorter, which makes the swing that much more versatile.”

Mike and Lucas sagely nodded along from their spot on the floor next to Dustin. the calmness of the action only riling Frank up even more.

“Reach is speed on its own!” He snapped, tossing his hands in the air, turning to the others for help. Steve bit down the laugh that was attempting to escape, doing his best to appear supportive, and Eddie was already reaching over to give his friend the conciliatory pat on the shoulder. 

Steve wasn’t exactly positive how the debate had started, but it had to have been at least fifteen minutes of furious back and forth between the two. It was pretty entertaining to watch, made even better by the quiet comments Eddie would whisper up to Steve when he was sure no one else was listening. 

“Careful there Frank,” Jeff called from the other side of the room, not looking up from Will’s sketchbook as he did, “you sound like you’re losing to a twelve year old.”

“I am not losing,” Frank ground out. 

“I’m not twelve!” Dustin protested.

“Of course you aren’t losing, Frankie,” Eddie interjected, his tone practically dripping with false kindness. He accompanied the words with a brief pat to the top of Frank’s head. 

“Dustin just isn’t opening his mind to the possibilities that your elder brain has already thought through,” Steve added on, his stomach doing a weird flip-flop when Eddie turned to look up at him with a little gremlin smile. Teasing friends was different when it really was just teasing, and Steve couldn’t resist the urge to jump in and knock at Frank a little for getting so into a debate with the kids. 

“Okay just because you play now doesn’t make you an expert, Steve,” Mike added on, never one to miss a chance to try and knock Steve down a peg. Steve, very maturely, rolled his eyes and chose not to reply. 

“How about it, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked, looking up at Steve where he was sitting perched on the arm of the couch, “halberd or Greatsword?”

“Steve, if you don’t choose the sword, I will feel personally betrayed,” Dustin spat out before Steve could even open his mouth. It was accompanied by a murderous looking glower, and Steve knew trouble was starting to brew on the horizon. 

“Eh, I think Baby might have a problem if I start using a different weapon,” He said, staying neutral and dragging the boys into a different conversation before feelings started to actually get hurt. 

“Baby?”

Fuck. 

Steve’s whole body stiffened up, and he glanced quickly at Eddie before turning away, mind racing to come up with an explanation. How the hell was he supposed to casually bring up the bat studded with nails that was sitting in the trunk of his BMW?

“Okay, but we’re talking in game, not real life!” Lucas objected, keeping the conversation flowing and unintentionally bypassing Eddie’s question. 

“Baby would be more effective than a halberd though,” Dustin pointed out, and Mike hummed in disagreement, flipping the pages of the manual in front of him as he looked for a counter argument.

“So who’s Baby?” Eddie asked quietly as they continued the debate, leaning back towards Steve so only he could hear the words. He was looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes, completely at peace with a soft smile and lax shoulders. He was the picture of calmness, and Steve wouldn’t ruin that with the Upside Down, not even in the most roundabout way. 

“I’m gonna get a refill,” Steve whispered to him instead, reaching down to quickly run his fingers through Eddie’s curls impulsively before standing up and stretching. He felt the hem of his maroon sweater ride up over his hips, and the boys groaned as the bottom half of Steve’s stomach came into view. “Do you want anything, Eds?” 

“Um no, ‘m okay,” Eddie said, his voice uncharacteristically small. Steve relaxed from his stretch, giving Eddie a quick once over. He looked the same as before, save for a slight color on his cheeks and averted downward facing eyes. 

Weird. 

Something to check on. 

But later. First Steve had to take a lap. 

“Dustin, don’t make Frank blow a gasket,” Steve ordered as he passed by, pushing the kids hat down over his eyes. Dustin growled at him and waved his arms blindly in an attempt to smack Steve away, but Steve easily dodged it, sliding over to the edge of the living room and down the stairs to the wine cellar. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered to himself as he picked two bottles at random. How could he have said something like that? He wasn’t even drunk! It had just slipped out, but that didn’t make it okay. Sure, the very existence of Baby wasn’t covered by the NDA’s, but just knowing about her would be enough to make Eddie curious, and curiosity led to more questions, which lead to more answers, which lead to more danger. 

Steve’s stomach flipped over on itself, and he leaned back against the cool stone wall of the cellar, worrying his lip as he tried to take a deep breath. 

There wasn’t any danger. Not anymore. It was just a party, and it was just one little sentence. Eddie would forget about it by the time he walked back up the stairs. He was working himself up over nothing. 

Or everything. 

‘Or’ might just be the scariest word in the world, Steve thought to himself as he climbed up the stairs feeling about ten thousand pounds heavier. He trudged over to the kitchen and quickly opened both bottles, leaving one to air out as he carried the other over to the dining room table, silently listening to the adults as they gossiped. 

“It’s such an insane story,” Sue Sinclair was saying in a quiet breathy voice as Steve walked in, barely even noticing as he started refilling her glass, “it’s hard to believe.” 

“It was harder to live through,” Hopper replied, extremely somber as he gravely shook his head.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise and giving up the act. He looked up just a bit to make eye contact with Joyce, who was also clearly hiding a smile behind her hand. 

“Maybe we should pause this conversation?” Karen asked lightly, politely jutting her chin out towards Steve who continued to pour without comment. 

“Steve knows,” Hopper quickly smoothed over. 

“He babysits Jane with the others,” Joyce added on, giving Steve a secretive look as she continued, “such a big help with acclimating her.”

All eyes were on him now, and Steve played his part perfectly. He poured the last of the bottle into Hopper’s glass and stepped back with a sigh. 

“She’s a great kid. Amazing even, after everything she’s been through,” Steve said, his voice pitched to the ultimate tone of caring worry. 

This seemed to seal the deal for the rest of the adults, and they fell one by one. Hook, line, and sinker. The women were twittering on about how sad the whole story was, and the men were shaking their heads and muttering to Hopper about how drugs were going to ruin the nation. 

Everything was going to plan. 

Steve couldn’t help the little burst of pride he felt watching all of the parents gossiping like hens. He was the one to come up with El’s cover story, and it couldn’t have been going better. 

El might not be allowed to go to school until next year, but Steve didn’t see a point in keeping her locked up in the cabin until then like Hopper wanted. The government knew she was alive now, and she had all her paperwork. Besides, having her drop out of the blue sky into one of the most unforgiving social settings on the planet was a complete recipe for disaster. 

This party had been the perfect test run for the story they were going to use to explain her sudden appearance, and it had passed with flying colors. But Steve had known it would work, never had any doubt despite everyone else’s concerns. 

He knew because he knew this town like the back of his hand. If you gave them a good enough story, something juicy and wild but with enough reality that it would stick, then they would buy it. Not only would they buy it, but they would sell it to everyone else on the block too. Now that Sue Sinclair, Claudia Henderson, and Karen Wheeler had the ‘truth’, El would fly into Hawkins High with only minimal odd looks and the occasional jerky kid to deal with. 

And what was the best cover story for a girl like El? 

“I just can’t believe that there was a suicide cult right here in Indiana,” Chuck Sinclair commented, sitting back in his seat. “How did no one know about it?”

“There was no way to leave without being killed. Anyone who would have told someone was killed. Brenner, the one in charge, was convinced he could create dimensions to other worlds and give children superpowers with LSD, if you can believe it,” Joyce replied, laying on the shock and surprise a little thick in Steve’s opinion. Still, whatever got the rest of them on board.  

“Ridiculous,” Ted Wheeler muttered, sounding absolutely disgusted. 

“We’re just lucky we found Will and Jane when we did. We were too late for the others,” Hopper paused to take a long slow sip of his drink, really selling the story. He even lowered his voice, causing them all to lean in, “The feds want to keep it real hush hush, and we were so afraid for the kids that we just went along with that bullshit water contamination story. But I mean, c’mon. Water contamination? Those people disappeared.” 

A round of mutters among the group, and then Karen Wheeler spoke up. 

“But Barbara Holland using drugs? I knew Barb her entire life. She always had such a good head on her shoulders,” She said, grief coating every word. Steve dragged a sharp breath in, holding the bottle close to his chest and forcing himself to stay still and silent as Hopper and Joyce did their best to explain. 

This was the part that sucked. To make the story work, really work, it had to involve everyone. Benny, Barb, Will, even the two hunters. All of them had to be explained, or the story fell apart. It felt dishonest to make Barb a part of it all, but El was still here, and Steve still had a chance to help her. 

For El. It was all for El. 

“That’s how the commies get you,” Ted remarked to Karen the second Hop was done speaking. “We’re just lucky she didn’t bring Nancy into it.” 

Steve bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. This wasn’t about him or his guilt. It was about El. 

“At least you saved that precious little girl,” Claudia breathed, hand still over her heart as her eyes glistened with tears. “It all must have been so scary for her. Does she know… you know… about her mother?”

“She does, but she doesn’t like to talk about it,” Hopper laid both hands out on the table 

“Listen, we really shouldn’t have said anything to you all.”

This was it. This was the moment that would tell them what was going to happen from here on out. Steve held his breath

“Our lips are sealed, Jim,” Chuck said instantly, the rest of the group nodding along. “Last thing any of us would want to do is put your daughter or Joyce’s son in danger. Whether it’s the government or some freaky cult stragglers.” 

There it was. 

In a small town like Hawkins, lips were always sealed. People said they wouldn’t say a word, they promised to keep a secret, but Steve had no doubt that by the end of the week the entire town would be abuzz with the story. The best part was, there was no one that would end up hurt. Hopper looked like a hero, Joyce went from local crazy woman to single mother who did everything to protect her baby, and El was just a poor child who was rescued from an insane terrible man. 

It was the truth, just… shifted ever so slightly. No lies involved. Not really. Just a perspective on it. 

The mood and the topic began to move, and Steve moved with it. He went to escape out the side door back to the living room, but as he went past her Joyce reached out, taking his wrist in her small hand and squeezing it once. It was a tiny display of affection, barely anything, but it stopped Steve in his tracks, making his heart do strange weird things that left his chest aching. 

Damn. 

“Are you alright?” Joyce murmured to him below the sound of the conversation. 

“Yeah?” Steve replied, unspoken question sitting between them as Joyce continued to hold onto his wrist. 

“You looked upset when you came in,” She observed. That was the best and worst part of Joyce, she never let anything drop. It reminded Steve a lot of Nancy actually, both of them so determined to get to the bottom of everything, even when it was best to just leave it alone. 

Of course it had to be Joyce. 

“‘I’m okay,” Steve said, trying for a thin little smile. 

Joyce hummed, rubbing her thumb over Steve’s arm as she forced him to keep eye contact until the fake smile slipped from his face. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said, a dark cloud coming over him as Joyce continued to hold on. It was the same thing as Nancy. Stifling, impossible to be around, a feeling of claustrophobia that would never fully go away. 

It wasn’t any of Joyce’s business. It wasn’t like she was his mother. 

“Well, if you need anything you can always come to me or Hop,” Joyce said after a too long silence, releasing Steve’s arm. “We’re here for you guys too, not just the kids.”

“You’re allowed to not be okay.”

Eddie. 

Since he had said those words, they had been permanently branded in the forefront of Steve’s mind. Every time he tried to forget them, they returned with a vengeance, hitting him directly in the soft spot right above his breastbone. 

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know that. He knew that he was allowed to not be okay. He did. But it was silly for him not to be okay, because nothing had really happened to him. Will was the one who had ended up in the Upside Down. Nancy’s best friend had died. El had been fucking tortured for her entire life. 

In comparison Steve’s problems were so small it was laughable. 

So why was everyone trying so hard to tell him that they mattered? 

“Steve?” 

Steve had never been so happy to hear one of his kids. 

A hush fell over the adults as El popped her head around the corner, immediately coming over to Steve’s side and pressing close, trying to avoid the obvious stares coming from everyone else. They were looking at her with a mixture of pity and concern, but it was better than fear. 

“Hi Janey,” Steve said, playing with her curls and shooting her a warm grin, “you doin’ okay?”

El shrugged, burrowing impossibly further into Steve’s grip. 

“The others are being loud,” She said softly. Steve sighed, petting her hair again. He and Hop had talked about the possibility of this being too much for her, same as the Snowball. This party was mostly made up of her people, but even her people could be overwhelming. 

Luckily, Steve already had an idea in place. 

“Would you mind helping me with something?” Steve asked, already gently nudging El towards the doorway and into the kitchen. 

Making cookies was the perfect ‘cool down away from people so you don't have a meltdown and psychically destroy Steve's house’ activity. Steve had learned that El really enjoyed cooking, and although she couldn’t use her powers to get the flour down from the high shelf like she usually would if it was just them, she was still having fun. 

“Don’t listen to anyone who tells you oatmeal raisin cookies are bad,” Steve instructed, rolling out another ball of dough and placing it carefully on the cookie sheet. “They’re stupid and childish.”

“Mike hates oatmeal raisin,” El cheerfully replied, licking the spoon that Steve had handed to her when he was done mixing the batter. 

Now that it was just the two of them, she had relaxed. She was sitting on the counter next to where he was working, ever so slightly bobbing her head along to the music filtering in from the living room. Steve had relaxed along with her, all of the previous troubles of the night fading away, replaced by the smell of cinnamon sugar and the warmth of the oven heating up. 

“My point exactly. Mike hates everything great,” Steve countered, dabbing a bit of cookie batter onto the tip of El’s nose. She laughed softly, and stuck her tongue out, trying to reach the offending treat. 

“Mike likes me,” El shot back, continuing to try and touch her tongue to her nose. Steve watched her struggle for a second more before shaking his head and reaching around her to grab a paper towel. 

“Well, even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Steve whispered conspiratorially as he wiped her face clean. This started up another round of giggles, and Steve laughed along with her, his entire body feeling light for the first time all day. 

He loved each of his kids for different reasons- even Mike- but El was just so easy. The rest of them couldn't help the compulsive urge to be difficult little hell beasts. They were always trying to show off how smart they were, which usually meant disparaging Steve’s intelligence to some degree. Even Will couldn’t resist a few snarky comments when he thought Steve was being overprotective.

But El thought Steve was one of the smartest people in the world, and she was always telling him so. It was objectively untrue, but it was fun to get to show her how to do things without being afraid of being told he was doing them wrong. Even something as simple as baking cookies was an opportunity to give her a new happy experience, and getting to be a part of that was kind of magical. 

“How about this- we’ll tell Mike you made these and you’ll see just how quickly oatmeal raisin becomes his favorite cookie,” Steve offered. 

“Sounds like fun,” A familiar voice said from the doorway, making Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

Steve turned around and gave Eddie a pleased grin, waving him in and turning around to finish up with the dough.

“Hey Eds,” Steve said as Eddie leaned into his space and snagged a bite. Eddie hummed appreciatively, going for another taste but Steve smacked his hand with his spoon before he could.

“You’ll get sick eating that,” Steve pointed out. 

“So mean,” Eddie said with a fake pout. He pulled away from Steve, walking around the kitchen aimlessly with swinging arms, “I was just wondering where our liege had run off to. Apparently you went to guide a wayward princess through the fine art of confectionary creation.” 

Said ‘princess’ was staring at Eddie with open distrust. Her spoon had been abandoned beside her, and her arms were wrapped tight around her middle. Steve was immediately reminded of her initial reaction to Max. Although they were thick as thieves now, El had been cold to her too at the start. Steve had figured it was some sort of pre-teen jealousy thing over Mike. 

Apparently it was just an all around jealousy thing. It made sense though. A girl who had nothing would protect whatever she had with ferocious intensity, especially her people. Time to do a little damage control. 

“Eddie’s my friend, and he said he wanted to be friends with you too,” Steve said, pitching his voice soft and low as he reframed things for El. If Eddie was one of her people, then she wouldn’t be quite so possessive over Steve’s time. “He’s a little loud, and a little scary looking, but he’s probably the nicest person I know.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Steve just shrugged. He was just being honest, Eddie probably was the nicest person Steve knew. He cared about Nancy and Jonathan, and he loved the kids, but none of them were necessarily very nice. Eddie had taken Steve in without even really thinking about it, which would have been amazing even if Steve had just been another nerd.

The fact that Steve used to be one of the people who would have made fun of people like Eddie only made him even better in Steve’s eyes. 

El’s mouth pursed into a tiny little scowl, and she narrowed her eyes, evaluating Eddie where he stood. 

“Bitchin’,” El said after a moment, punctuating the word with an approving nod. It was probably the closest thing to approval Eddie could earn at this moment. 

“Yeah, Babydoll’s totally bitchin,’” Steve said with a laugh, stretching the word out just because it was funny to see Eddie turn bright red. Steve wasn’t sure if it was from the compliment or the silly nickname, but either way he was enjoying it. 

“It’s good to meet you, Miss Jane,” Eddie said, coughing and trying to will away the blush on his cheeks, “Steve’s told me a lot about you.” 

El turned to look at Steve, adorably confused by Eddie’s statement. Steve stiffened up, avoiding his knee jerk impulse to shake his head. He hadn’t told Eddie anything real about El, just the same story that Hopper and Joyce were selling to the parents. But El wasn’t good with secrets at the best of times, and the elaborate intricate story that they had woven would probably be too much for her. 

“El? EL!” 

“Mike, stop shouting!” Steve said, shouting himself, relieved at being interrupted before things could get hairy. He rolled his eyes and shot Eddie a look, calm now that Eddie seemed less curious about El and more fondly annoyed with Mike and his antics. “We’re in the kitchen.”  

Pandemonium as all four boys trooped in, clustering around El and chattering their heads off like they always did. Steve let out the breath he had unintentionally been holding, leaning back against the counter as he watched the kids mess around. 

“Steve, stop hogging her,” Mike snapped as he pulled away from El, glowering at him with all of the brutality of a two week old puppy. 

“El’s a person, not a toy. She can do something without you and that doesn’t mean she likes you any less,” Steve said, ignoring Mike’s sputtering denials as he helped El down from the counter, “The oven has to preheat anyway. Why don’t you go inside with them, and when the cookies are ready, you can help me dunk them in the icing?” 

El nodded, allowing herself to be pulled away by the boys. But just as she passed Eddie she stopped, grabbing onto the sleeve of his leather jacket and looking up at him from behind her curls. 

“You’ll join us?” She asked. Eddie leaned down so they were the same height and nodded, reaching out to ruffle her curls. 

“I’ll be here, Lady Jane,” Eddie promised. 

“El,” She corrected. 

That was big, even if Eddie didn’t fully realize it. It wasn’t exactly a full acceptance, but only people El actually liked were allowed to use her ‘real’ name. 

“El?” Eddie questioned. 

“A nickname. Not sure where she got it,” Steve stepped in, smoothing out the wrinkle before it could even form. He nudged Lucas, pushing them all towards the door, “Now scram, twerps.”

The kids all immediately began to groan and whisper curses under their breath at the word ‘twerps’, and they dragged El out without another word to Eddie or Steve. Steve turned and began to gather the dishes, dumping them all into the sink and turning on the water. As he started scrubbing, Steve felt more than saw Eddie’s presence approaching him. 

“I think she likes me,” Eddie sang, leaning all of his weight against Steve. He caught Eddie easily, carrying both of their weights as he continued to do the dishes. 

“What’s not to like?” Steve asked. The question was rhetorical, but the shaky little breath inward that Eddie let out wasn’t. Steve paused, sensing the mood shifting, put down the bowl he was holding and faced Eddie. 

He looked wrecked, inexplicably upset and almost guilty as he chewed on his lip and searched for words. All Steve wanted to do was wrap him in a hug and ask what was wrong, but he held back. Whatever Eddie was trying to say, it was important. 

“Steve-”

But whatever Eddie was going to say was interrupted by the sound of an engine outside. The motor was roaring, an obnoxious sound that grated on Steve’s nerves and set his teeth on edge. There was only one person who revved their stupid car that way in town, and he was the last person Steve wanted to see tonight. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good. 

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[autistichalsin]

I think the bleakest thing I ever read was the article by a man who was called to discuss surviving a "SHTF" (shit hits the fan) event by billionaires who wanted to discuss how they would stay safe. The billionaires were informed that in an apocalypse, the people they hired now to be their security would not be interested in protecting them, but instead their families. The expert suggested they show kindness to these workers now, so that they will be inclined to want to help out in those cases; offer for their families to join them in their luxury bunkers if it comes to it.

The billionaires declined, and chose to start suggesting equipping the hired guards with shock collars to guarantee compliance, or perhaps, if they had enough time before something happened, to build robots to do the job instead.

Literally the basic suggestion of "just treat these workers, not even everyone you hire, but these particular ones who you want to safeguard you and your family in the event of an utter irreversible collapse of civilization, with basic human kindness and dignity," and still the billionaire class couldn't discard their sadism enough to even consider making the shock collars a last resort.

And, yeah, bunkers. Normal ones made for proles cost about as much as a house, so, totally doable (/s). Then there's the luxury units. Fitted with swimming pools and movie theaters and house-made pet food and aquaponics ponds, usually settled in decommissioned missile silos for the hardening against nuclear strikes. These start at a million and only get more expensive. Vladimir Putin has a complex filled with not only pools and wine cellars and movie theaters, but also, most bafflingly, a casino. Why would you want or need to gamble in an apocalyptic scenario that has rendered money meaningless? Simple: the rich can't conceive of a world where money is meaningless to begin with. Their entire lives revolve around it, they will subjugate as many people as necessary to get more to it. They willingly doomed the fucking planet for it. Of course they are fundamentally incapable of imagining a scenario where it was all for nothing.

Not even Dr. Strangelove, with its "Mein fuhrer, I can walk!" yells as the men get ready to evacuate underground, could have predicted something this bleak. This goes beyond apathy and beyond malice to some sort of Franken-evil we are just not able to wrap our heads around. Destroy the world in pursuit of money, then use that money to escape the consequences of destroying the world- while hoarding the money that will no longer be of any use to you.

That's who billionaires fucking are. They would rather build a luxury bunker full of things that will no longer be of any use to them and design shock collars for their planned security forces than even imagine treating just the security guards as human beings- let alone actually trying to stop shitting where they eat with their pollution bullshit.

[lin11a]

After watching Good Omens season 2, I wanted to talk about this :

A lot of people did recently said that Season 2 Episode 2 was a great episode, but didn't understand the food scene, or found any reason this is here. Well, as far as I am concerned, this is actually the best scene of this episode, even better than the end, and I wanted to talk more about it.

Here is the summarized main topic of this flashback : GOD IS "TESTING" JOB WHILE CROWLEY IS "TESTING" AZIRAPHALE ON DIFFERENT LEVELS

This episode has a big flashback about Aziraphale and Crowley that can't be ignored at all, thanks to all of the elements that we learn about how the Heaven/Hell/World work in this story and about our ineffable duo. We can list those like this :

Demons always do the bad jobs. Nothing new, but what it is new is the "permit" that Crowley has from God to destroy Job possessions and family. An angel can't react against this kind of permit. Usually, angels just watch demons do their thing and rather think about the happy ending than the process, according to Gabriel's justification :

If angels let demons do and just stare, Aziraphale couldn't let Crowley do that, even after knowing about the bet. At first, he was not aware about the permit nor the bet, and although he's informed after asking, he just comes back to Earth to avoid the killing of the children by trying to convince Crowley to stop, just after the killing of the goats. It doesn't go too well at first :

In front of this apparently crualty, Aziraphale gives up and is about to leave, BUT notices that the crows around there do not go CAW CAW CAW. He turns toward Crowley and gets from him the REAL staring and honesty he was asking before at this very moment, without any words spoken.

It's important to notice that Crowley turned (twice) toward Aziraphale, so the angel can have his real answer behind the devilish acting he's got to play. Crowley lets the birds go baaaaa on purpose to see what reaction he would get from the other side, or at least, he waits to see the reaction of the angel instead of just leaving. Aziraphale understands that Crowley didn't kill the goats, and assume quickly that the children will be safe.

Crowley is not naive and knows that Aziraphale misunderstands the true meaning of his decision. But he's also enough smart to understand that Aziraphale has a weird behaviour for an angel : no angel would come to Earth reflecting on a decision from God by trying to convince a demon to stop it. It requires at least to have enough consideration toward humans and kids to act like that, which even Gabriel does not have in this story... Aziraphale does have it, and we all know who has it too but doesn't want to show it too much then constantly fails anyway...

He's so bad at being bad that when he sets the children's house on fire, Aziraphale sticks to his positions and remains sure of the idea that the children won't die by Crowley's hand. Icing on the cake : Aziraphale doesn't give up nor go away again : he even goes real close to Crowley this time, sure there is no danger at all for anyone's life, sure that Crowley can't lie anymore or hide under his role if he does that.

Right after in the cellar, Crowley just sees that for once, he's not alone during his duty, and tries to get comfy with what he has in front of him : a wine jar and an angel who has trusted him. Crowley invites Aziraphale to try drinks then food. At first, the angel thinks about temptation from a demon, but the real thing was only about curiosity. Common angels don't have enough curiosity to understand humanity : they often base their knowledge on only ONE experience (like the "birth" of Eve for Gabriel, who considers he's now an expert about human reproduction) or things they've been told since the beginning. From Aziraphale : "demons are bad, angels are good" without nuance. And THIS IS WHY he's not able to understand Crowley completly while they talk about "sides" at the first time.

Aziraphale sees the world as two sides only, but he has this empathic side that can bring him to understand humans, but also and over all Crowley. The thing is Aziraphale never really had the chance to get more interested in something that's not about his own duties, because angels usually are not curious. This is why he mixes up curiosity and temptation. He can't make the difference if he doesn't try anything.

Now, we have Crowley, who doesn't like being a demon at all, who loves questions and curiosity, who CRAVES for answers he might never have... He's on Earth for a long time and do not take his devilish work seriously, because he doesn't understand the point of choosing between demons or angels. He wants to be HIMSELF only. He wants to do what HE thinks is good, and for so long, he never had the chance to think objectively "I'm the one who's right, because I'm just myself and it's okay" without having Heaven or Hell arguing with his way of living. When Aziraphale just came in his life, it’s as if the world has finally laid out a little something, another curiosity, and this curiosity was curious about him as well, even if this curiosity is irritating. But until then, Aziraphale meets several criterias that angels don't have and that Crowley loves.

And what did God do when Job met the criterias to make God wins the bet ? God granted him with presents.

...so why couldn't Aziraphale has his own presents from Crowley, just for existing in his way ? Yep ! Eating is not at all an invitation to sin in this scene to me. Crowley's present to Aziraphale is waaaaaaay different that the presents given to Job of course, but it's undoubtedly more important on his scale. It's not about just a piece of meat : Crowley offers Aziraphale the chance and opportunity to find out, experience and enjoy what Earth can offer to him, even when there is a huge storm outside, even when it seems like the end of time ! He gives him the chance to understand why living on Earth can be beautiful and how human creativity can bring a lot of pleasure and good feelings. Food is the big part of it and the first of course, but after that, we can see that Aziraphale learned to dance (another thing that angels don't do), has a huge passion for books and a full collection of them, likes talking about everything, likes living on Earth near humans more than living in Heaven, etc. At last, it's not important that Aziraphale didn't understand the whole Crowley's elaborate morality/way of living. What's important here is that he's interested to understand, not like other people. Job kept his fey, and Aziraphale kept his trust and open-mindedness to the world. This is also a big present for Crowley, to not feel so alone like before, and also being seen as more than a demon.

Please, just mind this is my interpretation of this scene, and that I really thinks it gives a lot more than what people use to see in it.

[jadeite-art]

PotO: Erik's house floor plan (book based)

While there already exists a pretty cool floor plan of Erik's house (this one) it's constructed around the idea that there is a shore or rock formation on which the house is built and that it looks like an actual house. That didn't sit with me as the book clearly says that the house is built inside the double casing of the foundation, so I made my own model. And yes, I totally built it in the Sims.

Things we know from Leroux that helped me build the model:

The placement of the house in between the inner and outer wall of the foundation suggests that it would be roughly rectangle-shaped

There must be some kind of small platform on which you could step out from the boat. A hidden mechanism must then move a part of the wall to reveal the actual door to the house, similar to the entrance from the third cellar

The entrance from the Lake opens directly to the drawing room. I'm no expert on Victorian architecture but it appears to me that a drawing room is basically a living and based on some photos of Victorian houses I saw I concluded that there'd be a fireplace and possibly some shelves for books, even if they are not directly mentioned in the novel. Erik would also surely have a rug. Persian of course ;-)

A door in the drawing room leads directly into the Louis-Philippe room. Connected directly to it there is also an en-suite bathroom. There is also an additional door that supposedly leads to the Torture Chamber. There is a fireplace (Erik/Christine mention the scorpion and grasshopper boxes on the mantelpiece), a bed set, some kind of sofa, and a chest of drawers.

Considering how the Torture Chamber is shaped and what it does, as well as the fact that Daroga is unable to find the hidden latch on the wall that the Chamber shares with Louis-Philippe (the wall on which the peeping window must be located) I concluded that the door mentioned by Christine must actually lead to a sort of oddly shaped room/corridor that goes around the chamber where the heating system and mechanical elements are located (this unfortunately couldn't be properly rendered due to the limitations of the game). From there you can access the actual Chamber by pushing a plain frameless door. Since it opens inwards and has no handles, in order to open it from the Chamber, you'd have to resort to some kind of spring system as described in the book.

We know that the dining is accessed from the drawing room. Considering it's the dining, it must also be connected to a kitchen and pantry from which, I'd assume, one could access the cellars with wine, water, and whatever else Erik might keep in there

After dinner, Erik takes Christine's hand and shows her his room. There is no mention of them first going back to the drawing room. That led me to believe that the door to Erik's room is located in the dining room. The drawing room has enough doors as is anyway.

Leroux mentions a pipe organ that takes up an entire wall. I know organs are large but I think it would be the narrower one. Then we have the coffin in the middle (unfortunately the Sims didn't have anything I could use as the canopy), a desk the exact location of which is unknown but I'd place it near the organ, possibly some wardrobe or chest of drawers, and probably a door to another en-suite bathroom as I imagine he wouldn't be using the one attached to the Louis-Philippe.

If you like the model feel free to use it / reference it in your fanart or fanfic :-)

[anamoon63]

Thank you to @nocturnalazure, @kimmiessimmies and @marcishaun for the question! 😘❤️I decided to answer in one post and with only one sim because I'm having a bit of a busy weekend, I had a small window of time to sit down and do this and I really didn't want to leave anyone behind, so I hope that's not a problem. 😉

TONY LANGERAK

I'm sure nobody expected this, but Tony Langerak was my first ever favorite sim, 'favorite' being understood as a sim you can't stop playing with and that also has its own story. So for this time and in answer to my dear three mutuals who asked me this question, I am going to list 5 facts about my beloved Tony. 💙

THE FACTS:

Fact # 1

Tony Langerak is not technically an OC of mine because he was born in game, but his looks and personality are totally my creation. As his last name says, he is descended from the Langeraks of Sunset Valley; he's Dustin's great grandson and Parker's grandson. He was born in Hidden Springs, then he migrated to Starlight Shores, then back to Hidden Springs, and finally settled in Island Paradise. He has a twin brother, Mike; they are not really identical but if you dress and style them alike, they will look very similar! (BTW, Mike is married to the famous singer Miranda Cho, sister of another famous singer Michelle Cho, both Dale' Cho's aunts. This is where the Langerak and Cho families meet!). Tony is and adult (around the middle 40s), and belongs to generation four of The Kamels of Hidden Springs (One gen before the Cho Brothers). In addition to having a twin, Tony has two older sisters who are also twins, Kamillah and Lillian. And a brother older than all of them, Kurt.

Fact #2

Tony didn't go to college; his dream was to be a writer (Illustrious Author). To pursue it, he moved to Starlight Shores with his twin brother and the two of them worked hard to get to the top. It was there that Tony met his first wife, outstanding acrobat Cassandra Steele. His stay at Starlight Shores didn't last long though, as he became an explorer and traveled all around the world to get relics to sell, making money very quickly. His aspiration then changed drastically, now his desire was to have a Private Museum, which he eventually achieved. Also, after getting practically all the treasures he could in his adventures around the world, Tony managed to achieve his primary aspiration which was to become a famous writer. He began writing about his travels, and then he continued with novels of all genres, including an autobiography.

Fact #3

In terms of skills, Tony is quite talented and multifaceted, not only mastering writing but also painting, sculpting, and in his spare time, he plays the drums. He's a seasoned traveler and explorer, he's a professional diver, he's an expert in martial arts, and he practices meditation. Additionally, and thanks to Jeannine, he knows all the secrets of nectar making, has his own vineyard and wine cellar, and, of course, he has his own winery in his vacation home in France.

Fact #4

Today, Tony leads a fairly peaceful life, but it wasn't always easy, it may have been full of successes, but it was also full of failures, mainly his love life, which was quite chaotic. He married very young to Cassandra Steele, but during their marriage, on one of his trips to Champs Les Sims, he met Jeannine Lambert with whom he had an affair that later turned into a steady romance. For a while, Tony led a double life, being unfaithful to Cassandra (perhaps due to his commitment issues). When he finally confessed to Cassandra about his affair with Jeannine, she asked him for a divorce. Tony begged her for a long time to forgive him, but Cassandra wouldn't budge, and they ended up separating. The post-divorce period was a very dark time for Tony, during which he drank himself into an alcoholic. It was difficult for him to get out of it, but he finally did and, once sober, he made the heartbreaking decision to forget Cassandra forever and propose marriage to Jeannine.

Fact #5

Jeannine was not Tony's only romance. After his divorce from Cassandra, Tony had several other affairs, including a marriage with Mia Azul, the red-haired mermaid from Island Paradise; a more or less long relationship with Aislara Alvarez with whom he had a son; and even a steamy affair with Adaeze Min in Shang Simla. But all that is already behind him (apparently), he is now happily married to Jeannine and lives with her and their four children in Island Paradise. Jeannine has been trying to convince him to move permanently to their house in Champs Les Sims, but Tony is not sure, as he is very attached to the island. Recently Cassandra called him and asked him to meet to discuss an undisclosed matter, will she come back to disrupt Tony's life again, or will she let him finally enjoy his peaceful marriage with Jeannine? We will see!

-----

Additional note: Tony and Cassandra's story has been on hiatus for like two years or more now, but it's still going on in my imagination, lol. I hope to resume it soon.

Additional note 2: I know the answer to this ask was supposed to be only 5 facts, but you know, I'm a compulsive storyteller, plus when I start talking about my sims there's no stopping me, so they weren't really 5, but more like five groups of many. 😋

I have much, much more to say about Tony, but this will be all for today. Thank you all for reading this far! 😊💗

[teaandsconeswrites]

Small Comforts - Zhongchili Oneshot - Touch-Starved Zhongli

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53352868

Rating: M

Main Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Touch-Starved Zhongli

Read below the cut or on the Ao3 link above! 🔽

Zhongli’s voice caresses Childe’s ear as he explains the subtle differences between Sumeran and Fontainian wines, but all Childe can focus on is Zhongli’s lips, damp and shiny from his last sip of the wine.

Their nights together always end this way, sitting next to each other in Zhongli’s front room, drinking and talking about everything and yet nothing until Childe excuses himself before he can be asked to leave.

Not that Zhongli ever has asked him to. But he’s never asked Childe to stay either.

“This particular variety is brewed in Fontaine. The fermentation process is undertaken by a local winery and the sealed bottles of wine are then stored in a cellar beneath the Opera Epiclese. It has a structured yet crisp quality that I personally find quite delectable.” Zhongli opens the next bottle, holding it out for Childe to sniff. “Would you like some?”

“Sure, thanks.” Childe takes the bottle, deciding to test his luck by briefly touching Zhongli’s forearm. “Ah, you’re truly spoiling me tonight!”

Zhongli tenses and pulls his arm back stiffly, but he smiles, his eyes locked onto Childe. “It is my pleasure. There is little more precious than sharing good wine and good conversation with valued company.” 

“You’re right there.” Childe pours a small amount into his glass, then raises it to his lips as he hands the bottle back to Zhongli.

No luck today either, then.

Childe is no expert on the topic, but when Zhongli had agreed on dating—or ‘courting’, as he put it—Childe had been pretty sure that was supposed to include some manner of physical contact between them.

However, despite the weeks spent dining together, walking together, and spending long evenings deep in conversation, there’s been not a hint of initiation from Zhongli’s side in that regard, despite Childe dropping every hint he can think of that he’s interested. 

It doesn’t make sense.

Staring at a spot on the wall across the room, he takes a long sip of his wine, letting it sit between his lips far longer than necessary, and he catches Zhongli watching him out of the corner of his eye.

This is weird. What kind of bizarre situationship has he gotten himself into?

“How do you find it?” asks Zhongli.

Childe swirls the wine around his mouth. It’s like drinking a fresh glass of water on a summer’s day (which is appropriate, considering what he’s heard of Fontaine’s Iudex). Crisp, as Zhongli phrased it.

Childe would have never thought to put it that way, but Zhongli is a true gentleman, a man who intimately knows these finer things in life, while Childe attempts to play a cheap mockery of one. Sure, there are things he likes more and things he likes less, but if it gets him through his next battle alive, that’s good enough for him.

“It’s good,” he says. “Really freshens up the palette! Where’d you get it from?”

“It was a gift from a Fontainian client I consulted for on behalf of the Wangshang Funeral Parlor. A Liyuen staff member who worked at their business passed unexpectedly without any family remaining, and they wished for some advice regarding the appropriate ceremony through which to honour their colleague. I found the request quite touching, and so extended my services beyond those they officially contracted me for, and the client was satisfied by the service delivered.”

Childe nods and downs the last of his wine. That’s Zhongli alright—ever the reliable gentleman to both friends and business partners alike.

“Might I refill that for you?” asks Zhongli before Childe can ask it himself, holding out the wine bottle in offering.

“Please.” Childe holds out his glass, and Zhongli pours the wine, keeping a close yet distinguishable distance between them.

Childe watches the sea of red rising in his cup, not a single splash or droplet moving out of place, as expected from the expert pouring technique of the refined, esteemed gentleman Zhongli.

But what if that is the problem between them? What if Zhongli’s gentlemanly ways dictate that he waits for Childe to make the first move? What if there is some unspoken Liyuen social rule that Childe is unaware of, and he’s the one who has been holding up the relationship?

That must be it. Zhongli just needs a bit of encouragement!

Childe sets down his wine glass. The numbing buzz of the alcohol dulls his inhibitions, and leans into Zhongli’s space with what he hopes is his most charming smile. “Zhongli.”

Zhongli wrinkles his nose a little, but smiles back nonetheless. “Yes, Childe?”

He’s smiling—good sign! One point in Childe’s favour!

Time for step two!

Sure, he’s not the most experienced in these things, but he’s seen enough theatre performances to get a general gist for setting the scene of Desirable Romantic Advances, so he cups his hand to Zhongli’s cheek and brings his face level with Zhongli’s. 

Oh gosh, his skin is so smooth—how? This man is over six thousand years old but with skin quality that any of Teyvat’s top actors would be jealous of.

Heck, he’s jealous now.

Zhongli’s eyes flicker between Childe’s face and Childe’s hand, a crease forming in his brow and his lips tightening.

Oh, now this is awkward. He kind of expected Zhongli to get the hint. No matter—focus. Think of something to say.

Childe clears his throat. “I must say I’ve been having a great time tonight.”

“Ah. Yes. As have I,” answers Zhongli rigidly.

A bit more enthusiasm would be nice, but it’s a start, and Zhongli admitted to having a good time. That means he’s clear for step three…right?

No, hesitation is weakness. Can gods smell weakness?

He’s not going to risk it.

Childe leans in, eyes half closed, bringing their lips within an inch of each other’s. Zhongli lets out a sharp exhale, creating chill pinpricks of electricity dancing across his damp lips.

Come on, Zhongli, lean in, get the hint here.

Zhongli does not get the hint. He stares at Childe, eyes wide open and as stiff as, well…a rock.

Childe sighs and backs off, his hand falling to his side. “You can say if you don’t want to kiss me, you know? You don’t have to sit there looking at me like that. I won’t do anything you don’t like.” He shrugs. “Guess I got the wrong idea, but a bit of rejection won’t upset me that easily.”

He is upset. Just a bit. Where does this go now? If Zhongli doesn’t want Childe near him, does he even want to carry on dating him at all?

“No,” says Zhongli, looking down at Childe’s hand and fiddling with the cuff of his shirt, “your perception was not incorrect.”

What? This makes no sense.

Childe pinches his nose. “Now you’re confusing me. If you didn’t want to, why look at me like I was about to eat you?”

“This situation is… It has been a while.” Zhongli continues to fiddle. “The things which we are experiencing together…there is a certain novelty to them that I appear ill-adjusted to.”

Ill-adjusted? Novel? Then Zhongli hasn’t…?

Oh.

“Wait, Zhongli, are you saying you haven’t been with anyone before? Ha, I guess that tracks—prim and proper Mister Zhongli, as celibate as a mountain!”

“I have.” Zhongli huffs, his shoulders rising in protest. “I am not completely ignorant to the ways of this world. Besides, there are many manners in which the earth itself might bend and capitulate in order to form new—”

“No, I don’t want to hear about how mountains—” Childe sighs and digs his knuckles against his temple. This is not how he’d expected this conversation to unfold. In fact he’d very much like to re-fold it and put it at the back of a very dark space. Preferably one where he doesn’t have to think about mountains doing that ever again. “Forget about it. So, how long since you last…?”

“Last copulated? Or are you asking how long since I last experienced romantic inclinations?”

Okay, good. So Zhongli does feel some romantic inclination toward him. Does he really have to call it copulating, though? Fucked, boned, slept with—any of those are far better than copulating.

Childe shrugs. “Either, really.”

“In that case, it must have been…” Zhongli counts across his fingers, then repeats the action before concluding, “Two, approximately.”

Childe scoffs. “Two years? That’s nothing! You know, it’s been longer than that for me too, come to think about it.”

“Ah, no. I must apologise for my lack of clarity—I was referring to millennia.”

“Millennia?” Childe resists reaching forward and shaking him. Two millennia without a quick make out or fuck to his name—the poor, deprived man! He almost, almost lets himself laugh, but Zhongli is pulling at his cuffs again and Childe is here to kiss Zhongli today, not upset him.

Eyes on the goal, eyes on the goal. No distractions, no hesitation.

(That’s what Skirk used to tell him, anyway, and that philosophy has done him well in life so far.)

“So, let me get this straight,” says Childe, flinging an arm over the back of the sofa. “You haven’t hooked up with or liked anyone for over two thousand years?”

“That is correct, more or less.”

“And what’s the ‘less’ part?”

Zhongli hums and shifts his gaze toward the window, but his eyes don’t quite focus, seeing something lost in a time that Childe can only imagine. Sliding his hand across the cushion, Childe brushes his fingertips against Zhongli’s and, meeting no resistance, threads them together. Zhongli responds with the barest squeeze.

This is the first time he’s touched Zhongli, aside from casual brushes against each other in passing.

Warm. Zhongli is warm. And soft. His fingers are slender yet solid, like the supple branches of the young, bare trees that used to tap his knuckles in greeting whenever he went adventuring through the forest just outside of Morepesok.

Zhongli looks at their intertwined hands and gives Childe a small smile, his eyes briefly closing. “My own sentiments mattered not,” he says. “For an Archon to enter into an intimate relationship, no matter how much they might consider that person a friend, a peer, one whom they respect above all, the reality and implications of their relative positions cannot be ignored.

“While Rex Lapis had long been the leader of his people, the seat of the Geo Archon was one of the seven bestowed upon this world by Celestia itself. Such an arrangement would ignite questions regarding potential biases compared to other peers, or opportunities for that inherent imbalance between them to be manipulated. In short, it was not a position that I wished to impose upon myself, or those around me. Thus, from the day on which the Geo Gnosis was transferred into my being, considering such emotions became unthinkable.”

Zhongli goes quiet, continuing to stare at their hands, and it hits Childe that perhaps this is the first hand Zhongli has held in all those years too. A weight tugs sharply down in his chest and he closes his hand tighter around Zhongli’s.

At least he gets to hug his siblings when he goes home. 

Zhongli however…

“Hey, give me your hand a moment,” says Childe and, not waiting for an answer, he pulls Zhongli’s hand into his lap, turning it palm up. 

“What do you intend?” asks Zhongli. He holds his hand straight as the blade of a sword, fingers glued together, but he leans forward, watching Childe’s movements, curiosity kindling in his eyes.

“I intend to show you what you’ve been missing out on.” Taking the stretch of skin between Zhongli’s thumb and index finger between his own finger and thumb, Childe rolls his thumb across the tense tissue in a gentle, massaging motion. “How’s this? It’s good, right?”

A soft gasp comes from Zhongli’s lips. “It is unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant,” he replies, his words followed by a suppressed groan as Childe thumbs into a particularly tight knot. “In fact, it is quite pleasant indeed.”

“See, me touching you isn’t so bad after all!”

“That is never what I meant to imply.” Zhongli pulls away slightly, but Childe holds him firm in his lap.

“I know, I know. I kinda get it too, I guess.”

“You do?” Zhongli looks up to meet Childe’s eyes. “I suppose that would be natural, given the nature of your own position.”

“Right. I fooled around a bit when I was younger, as you do, but after I was promoted… Well, when you’re about to stick your dick in someone and they call you ‘Lord Harbinger’ instead of your name, it’s a bit of a boner killer.”

Zhongli cracks a smile at that, a low chuckle in his throat. Then his amusement vanishes and he places his other hand atop Childe’s, almost needy in the way he touches him. “Yes, it is a peculiar feeling, to be seen as one’s title and not as oneself, is it not?”

Childe freezes.

Most people do see him as a title of sorts, don’t they? Lord Harbinger, Harbinger Tartaglia, Vanguard of the Tsaritsa. Even Childe is technically a title, although he considers it as much a name as Tartaglia nowadays, and Tartaglia is, as with the other Harbingers, as much a role as a name.

Zhongli’s gaze bores into him. Zhongli understands this too. Rex Lapis, Prime of Adepti, Geo Archon. Zhongli knows this too well, and he knows that Childe knows and Childe knows that—

A creeping unease crawls up the back of Childe’s neck.

Too seen. Far too seen.

He resumes massaging Zhongli’s hand, looking down at his work to break eye contact. “Yeah, sounds about right. Anyway, I never much felt like it after that. Had more important things to do by that point.”

“That is an experience which I am also able to find relatable.” Zhongli removes his free hand from Childe’s to take a long, thoughtful sip of his wine. “Perhaps it could be said that there is more commonality in our lives than first meets the eye.”

It’s weird to think that he and Zhongli could have much in common. Zhongli has lived for forever, leading a nation to prosperity, and creating a just and fair land. His name carries esteem and respect borne of reverence and loyalty. Meanwhile, Childe has spent his life falling into strange places, stabbing the biggest beasts he can find, and leaving a trail of general chaos in his wake.

But Zhongli thinks they are alike, and he doesn’t seem to find that a terrible concept.

If that’s true, his own unfortunate few years of celibacy are nothing compared to Zhongli’s self-imposed distancing, and while a bad guy like him might deserve it, his chest twists at the thought of Zhongli living through each of those long years, not alone, yet endlessly lonely.

He doesn’t need to kiss Zhongli anymore. What he does need is to be the one to show Zhongli everything he’s missed out on, to let him feel all the little things he’s spent so long deprived of.

Childe shrugs. “Heh, maybe you’re right. You know, I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yep, and a pretty great one at that, I’ll say.”

“Oh?”

“Wait there.”

Childe releases Zhongli’s hand (which is met with a disgruntled twitch of Zhongli’s lips) and gets up. He makes his way down the hall, where shelves upon shelves of trinkets watch this rare intruder into their home.

At the end of the hallway is the door Childe guesses is the one leading to Zhongli’s bedroom. He opens the door to find out that A) He’s right, and B) Zhongli’s bedroom is one of the fanciest bedrooms he’s ever seen. (Which is saying something considering that one time he snuck into the Tsaritsa’s room on a dare when he was sixteen).

The bed is easily the width of two regular double beds, and the golden sheets shimmer, rippling like a pool of gold as he approaches.

Silk sheets? Damn, he’s putting those on his room’s request list next time he’s back at the palace.

Childe grabs the topmost blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders, as he does whenever Teucer asks him to play the role of ‘Super Mister Cyclops’, and pauses by the bookshelf to pick out a big, dusty book on Liyuen history that Zhongli probably likes.

Book in hand and blanket cape equipped, he returns to the living room, jumping into the doorway with a loud, “Behold!”

Zhongli tilts his head and brings his index finger to his chin. “That is an interesting choice of outfit.”

“It’s a blanket—for us.” Childe sweeps the blanket-cloak off and holds it up alongside the book. “And some light reading! I thought that as you’re new to all this, instead of going all in, you might prefer to try…”

Try what? Cuddling under a blanket and reading together? True, that is what he was going to suggest, but it sounds so sappy and weird that he can’t bring himself to say it.

“Something that’s a bit lower pressure,” Childe finishes. “So, what do you say? You trust me on this?”

Zhongli looks him up and down and—oh, archons—he really just asked Zhongli to trust him.

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

The entire history of the world seems to play out in Zhongli’s eyes, but just when Childe is starting to expect that Zhongli will brush him off with a gentle, “Another time, perhaps,” Zhongli nods and pats the spot on the sofa next to him.

“Then that I shall. I am curious as to what precisely you are proposing.”

Oh. Zhongli trusts him. In this, at least.

Nice.

Doing his best not to process how fuzzy his chest turns at that thought, Childe sits next to Zhongli, fans the blanket out across them, and hands the book to him.

“Thought you probably like this one.”

Zhongli takes it and turns it over, smoothing his palm across the cover. “Yes. Although I have not read this one yet, it is a topic which I enjoy reading from multiple perspectives. Then you wish for us to read it together?”

“You got it. I leave it in your hands, narrator.” Childe slips an arm around Zhongli, hand hovering above Zhongli’s shoulder, suddenly nervous.

It’s ridiculous, acting like a schoolboy taking a girl out to the local eatery for the first time. But Zhongli is no teenage crush. Zhongli is an immortal ex-Archon who hasn’t so much as kissed for millennia, and now it’s up to him to re-introduce Zhongli to the pleasures of intimate touch. He, a damn Fatui Harbinger of all people, being tasked with something so delicate, so significant in shaping how Zhongli might experience his remaining millennia on Teyvat.

It’s ludicrous, and on paper, he’s hardly someone up to the task, but he doesn’t consider himself adaptable for nothing, so taking a plunge of confidence, he lowers his hand to rest on Zhongli’s shoulder.

Zhongli stiffens.

Oh no. He’s messed this up. Zhongli is going to shrug him off and tell him that this was a bad idea after all.

However, Zhongli opens the book, takes a deep breath, and begins to read. “In the beginning, when Rex Lapis first watched over Liyue alongside his faithful adepti, he took on an appearance quite different to his later guise, wherein his visage was divided in twain. In this form, Rex Lapis bore—” Zhongli chokes suddenly “—two sets of eyes upon his twin heads, so that he might gaze upon all corners of his nation.”

Childe snorts. “Two heads? Really, Zhongli?”

Zhongli squints at the characters on the page, as though expecting them to shift to form a more reasonable sentence. “It would appear this book might contain…certain embellishments of the truth.”

Childe can’t resist playing along with the ludicrousy of it all. “You sure whoever wrote this didn’t just catch you showering in a waterfall one day? You know, two heads could also mean…” He wiggles his eyebrows at Zhongli.

Zhongli makes a strained choking sound in his throat. “I can assure you that my ‘Head Count’ is as one might reasonably expect.”

“And what might one ‘reasonably expect’?”

Zhongli’s face colours and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. It’s adorable, but today Childe is here to comfort Zhongli, not embarrass him, so he grins and pulls him closer, scooching over so they’re pressed against each other.

“Ah, your face! I’m joking, I’m joking. Aw, come on, enough with that look! You look like Teucer the last time he tried to show me how well he’d remembered all his letters, but he got stuck in the middle and Anthon started teasing him about it. He was so angry—he didn’t speak to Anthon for a week!”

Zhongli presses his lips together, his brow twitching. “So my behaviour reminds you of a petulant child, ready to revoke my desire to speak with you at a moment’s whim?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Childe shrugs, Zhongli blinks, and oh drat, has he pushed it too far?

However, after a short moment looking dumbfounded, Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head, looking back down at the page and smoothing it open. “Then I had better make more optimal decisions than such a child and not allow myself to squander such precious moments between us. Shall we continue?” He fixes his gaze on Childe, and Childe thinks he feels— No, he definitely feels Zhongli lean into him, just a little.

Progress!

“I await your performance.” Childe leans toward him. They’re so close they could kiss. He wants to kiss Zhongli so badly, on those perfectly formed lips of his, but today is for making sure Zhongli feels comfortable around him, and he knows how to pick his battles. There will be plenty of time for kisses another day, when Zhongli is ready.

Zhongli continues reading from where he left off and Childe resists the sordid temptation to comment on Zhongli’s (lack of) two heads, and other anatomical peculiarities the book depicts. After the initial weirdness, the narrative heads in a more typical direction, detailing how Rex Lapis led his people through a multitude of wars with minimal casualties, how he built his nation into a strong and prosperous civilisation, and how his people spoke his name with reverence and adoration.

As they near the end of the first chapter, Zhongli rests his weight snugly against Childe, and Childe takes his chance, squeezing Zhongli’s shoulder and speaking against his ear.

“If I knew Rex Lapis,” he says, “I’d make sure to worship him every day. He sounds like a great guy. I’m sure he’d deserve it.”

Zhongli sighs, then—in a beautiful miracle—rests his head on Childe’s shoulder. “There would be no need for such reverence, but I believe he would appreciate your sentiment, nonetheless.”

Childe freezes. Zhongli’s head is on his shoulder. Zhongli’s head, his shoulder—it’s real and it’s happening!

Calm. This is good. This is progress.

Zhongli turns the page, continuing onto the second chapter, and Childe takes his chance, letting his cheek rest against the top of Zhongli’s head. His hair is impossibly smooth and Childe is overtaken by curiosity, running his fingers through the silken strands that caress his skin, so pristine and orderly compared to his own chaotic curled locks.

He continues playing with Zhongli’s hair throughout the chapter, and at the end of the final sentence, Zhongli pauses.

“Childe?”

“Yeah? This okay?”

“This is more than okay.” Zhongli gives a small, satisfied huff. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

Childe’s stomach wrings tight, like a washcloth being squeezed out, and a wave of a strange, tingling feeling floods through him from head to toe. 

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

“Of course,” he says. “I know what I’m doing, after all.”

“That you do. I am appreciative of your expertise; there is much yet in this world that lies beyond my experience. Your guidance is both treasured and appreciated more than you might realise.”

Childe forgets to breathe. His throat sticks and he inhales with a sharp cough. “Alright, alright, enough of the poetics. You’re making me… Hey look, there’s an early drawing of the exuvia there!” Childe points to the picture that they can both clearly see without his guidance, but thankfully Zhongli takes the hint and resumes reading from the spot Childe highlights, pressed tightly in the crook of Childe’s arm.

This time, instead of running his fingers through Zhongli’s hair, Childe massages his fingertips against Zhongli’s scalp in small circles, and Zhongli makes a deep sound low in his throat. Zhongli swallows, throat bobbing as his words falter, but he fights to continue reading for several pages more.

Eventually, even Zhongli’s resolve of stone crumbles and he folds the book closed on his lap, the noise rumbling through him. In turn, the sound vibrates through Childe in waves, and as he adjusts his position to allow Zhongli to snuggle closer, he catches a glimpse of Zhongli’s closed eyes. He looks so peaceful, and Childe continues the slow rhythm of gliding his fingertips against Zhongli’s head, listening to Zhongli breathe slowly against him.

Childe lets his cheek fall against Zhongli’s head and he closes his eyes, the low, rumbling noise continuing to emulate from Zhongli, lulling him deeper into a pleasant doziness, and as he leans against Zhongli he realises: this isn’t just any weird sound. Zhongli is purring. Zhongli is purring because of him.

How novel, that hands so used to twisting life, to breaking it, could be used like this, to bring such tender pleasure to one so unused to it.

The happy, fuzzy wave pulses through him again and he holds Zhongli to him a little tighter.

He could get used to this.

* * *

Warmth hits Childe’s face and he cracks open an eye to be met with a piercing stream of sunlight. He attempts to roll his shoulder, but it’s weighed down by something heavy and soft, and when he tries to move his arm, his fingers are numb, a tingling sensation in his fingertips.

Huh?

He lifts his head to find an ex-Archon peacefully sleeping on his shoulder, and the memory of the previous night seeps back into his thoughts—the failed kiss, the reveal that Zhongli hasn’t had anyone like this for millennia, the reading, the cuddling.

And now Zhongli is here, sleeping on his shoulder, mouth slightly parted, the fingers of his left hand knotted into the fabric of Childe’s shirt. 

Zhongli deserves this. Zhongli deserves everything good.

Although he can’t yet have the privilege of pressing his lips to Zhongli’s, Childe instead touches them to the top of Zhongli’s head, placing a secret kiss there, and takes Zhongli’s free hand in his own, relishing how Zhongli’s fingers close instinctively around his.

Zhongli has missed out on too much, for too long, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make up for it now. For the rest of his years, he’ll make sure Zhongli knows what it means to have someone by his side, ready to swaddle him in a blanket of the affection he deserves. Kisses, hugs, hands held—Zhongli will have it all.

And maybe, just maybe, those things will provide some small comfort to Childe, too.

[rabbitcruiser]

Freemark Abbey Winery, St. Helena (No. 2)

In 1939, three businessmen from Southern California, Albert "Abbey" Ahern, Charles Freeman and Markquand Foster purchased Lombarda Cellars. Together they reopened the winery and renamed it Freemark Abbey (a combination which includes a portion of each partner's name). During the 1940s and 1950s the partners sold the majority of their wines to retail outlets in San Francisco. The winery went through several hands in the early 1960s before being purchased by a group of seven partners in 1966. After the purchase, the new owners made major improvements to the facility.[2] This core group owned the winery until 2001 when they sold it to The Legacy Estate Group. In March 2005 the Legacy Estate Group overreached and tried to consolidate Arrowood and Byron into one group. Eight months later, in November 2005, the Legacy Estate group went bankrupt and sold its assets in an auction. Freemark Abbey is now a part of Jackson Family Wines, which is owned by the family of the late Jess Jackson.

The winery won the New York Wine Tasting of 1973, a wine competition of 23 California, New York, and French Chardonnays. The blind tasting brought together 14 wine experts, including France's Alexis Lichine. Freemark Abbey Winery achieved international recognition when it achieved sixth place in the historic Judgment of Paris, placing ahead of two French and two other California wines.

Source: Wikipedia