#Plank's fruity now

[faceeeeee]

Here's a cursed thought for you (3 swapping Dorothy and Plank. You now have to have the unfortunate knowledge of the world's worst swap AU Plank isn't allowed to have confidence

This turned out so bad and cursed......I think I could've made better and more interesting designs if I had taken the time to think about it but I was in a bit of a hurry-

#faceee rambles #tadc oc #Plank's fruity now #god....why did i make his arms like that......... #also mouth swap cux yeah #and the feet don't make sense.... #if i ever draw the swap Au again i will probably do some modifications to both of em #plank specifically #lord bep pls don't kill me cuz i massacred your boy #I'm so sorry-

[survivalist-anon]

Log 6: Fort Dorn

Fort Dorn:

06:00 hrs

Intensive Environment Training Room

Floor -6

Four imperial fists have gone currently for 5 hours planking by their arms and feet in a room that has been designed to reach temperatures of 200° Fahrenheit. Grilled for what had occurred last night.

"So.....you four think you can just sneak out..... pretend to be not just civilians.... MORTAL civilians.", the current chaplain, Aldercon, steadily paced in his armor. "So. Did you boys have a nice drink? In which would be at this point.... quite frankly the biggest waste of your Oolitic kidney's FUCKING TIME.", leans down to Bilhard's face.

Bilhard was doing relatively good, sweating liters of his sweat per second, "SORRY SIR!". His voices shouted.

Raises up, takes a step to Urtus. "You are going to be here just as long as Bilhard is. Do you understand me?".

Urtus was neck and neck to Bilhard. By this point he's matching Bilhard on everything including sweating. "SIR YES SIR!"

"I CAN'T HEAR BOY! THE HEAT MELTED MY FUCKING AUDITORY MODULE AID!", the chaplain shouted.

"SIR YES SIR!", Urtus responded, his voice would have reverberated throughout the room if it weren't for the heating system.

The chaplain moved on to Cahrilo. Leaned right into his face. "....what about you lover boy. FUCKING SATISFIED WITH YOUR SEXUAL SHENANIGANS?!?!".

Cahrilo, doing more than sweating his fluids right out, red in the face trying to keep focus on his plank. Unlike the rest of his brothers, he hadn't trained like this for a while. He also didn't want to answer the loaded question, which ever answer he gave, he would lose for sure. "Ugh"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOUVE BORED ME!", by this point the heating room has now gotten on the chaplain's last nerve. He paces to Moors.

".....you're here..... because you stole that United States issued assault tank from that base up in Washington....and decided to modify it.... with spinning rims.", he concluded with a terribly hidden grin.

"Those weakling, yellow bellied welps at that over polished white outhouse didn't deserve 'Edna'.", with absolutely no wasted breath, Moors had just admitted to stealing government property.

This resulted in the other three bursting into uncontrollably laughter but landing in their own boiling sweat puddles.

The chaplain signal's the operator outside of the enhanced two way mirror to shut off the heater. All right that's enough for today, and Moors you're writing a double report for moral misconduct of theft of a military vehicle."

Moors got up, "worth it.", massaging his forearms.

"Hit the showers! You all smell like the nicest part of Nurgle!", Aldercon was done punishing the four marines for the time being. He enters into a small transition chamber where a blue arousal spray coats him. His face scrunches up and he starts spitting. "BLAH! WHY DOES THE DISINFECTANT TASTE LIKE BLACK BARRIES?!? SHA'KAL!", he calls out to the facilities only Salamander apothecary marine.

On the intercom, Sha'kal man's the controls, "It's a new edible formula sir! It's to prevent the others from consuming the original disinfectant.", he has always had everyone's well being in mind. Making sure that everyone, man, marine, animal or vegetable receives the best and safest care.

"WHOS THE NUMBNUTS THATS BEEN LICKING THEMSELVES CLEAN OF DISINFECTANT?!?", he angrily wipes his eyes and mouth. "Also why black barries?! I hate black barries!".

Sha'kal got up from his chair to give Aldercon a towel, "well it was the flavor that won the facility wide voting."

"oh the cruel beauty of democracy.... status report of the morning.", he shakes his head wiping off the fruity liquid.

Taking out a clip board, "well, reserves are well stocked for the month, the parameters of the fort have once again been triple checked and fortifed-"

"Ah good. Just the way I like it. Continue." A smile creeps up Aldercon's face ear to ear, chuffed to hear that so far everything is good.

As he and Aldercon walk through the expansive underground halls containing the day's reports, all forms of activity is occuring. Construction and excavations on the expanding territory of the Imperial Fists continues in full speed. Several Marines keep the place running in full operational standards to a Space Hulk on a much smaller scale.

"-and how is the ugh....what was that project that Ihorn was doing?", Aldercon reluctantly asked.

Sha'kal checked the notes he made in the back of one of the documents, "Oh yes....um the trainable bears. So biological augmentations on the bears have been successful. They've fully adapted to the nutrition supplements and seem to have adopted rather preferable behaviors.", the two of them walk to an enormous elevator shaft fit and strong enough to carry up to several tons worth of equipment.

After a few minutes of more briefing, they finally reach the surface level of the fort. Cleverly disguised as an abandoned farmhouse, the two Astartes march to the tattered barn, where most of the animals the Imperial Fists use for their own purposes.

"Ihorn! How are the bears doing?", he shouts to the shirtless marine.

Ihorn was originally a member of a company of Crimson fists stationed in Cadia for a temporary few decades, than was sent to a death planet. Now is perfectly content with animal training, he's the proud trainer of a team of eight, modified grizzly bears. "Ohoho, good morning Chaplain! Splendidly, look! Petunia is ready to have a litter again!", he proudly shows a gigantic grizzly bear, with a modified power pack permanently attached to the bear's back, tubes running along side her spine, ribs and head.

This was a bear made for the Imperium.

The bear stood up to intimidate the chaplain and Sha'kal. She had a furless bare belly, a side effect of the modifications made to her, slightly larger than normal due to the unnatural pregnancy. She let a low defensive growl.

"now now my sweet girl, you relax and concentrate on the cubs. Come on love.", Ihron takes a small clacker, clicks it a few times, snapping the bear back to its docile self.

Ihorn gives her an apple as a treat, giving her a stead pat in the back, "the girls always need to be spoiled. They perform better and are happier to do so.".

Impressed by the animal mastery Ihron has accomplished, Aldercon now wonders about something else, "The females? Why not the males?".

Giving a pensive thought, "well... I tried the males .....the females would kill and eat them", scratches Petunia behind the ears. "Shame really, I would like to see one fully grown.".

Sha'kal was standing in front of Aldercon in order to protect him from the bear, even if he was wearing an enlarged shirt with combat trousers. "Couldn't have you just, I don't know....not brutality alter this... innocent creature, it is in pain?", he looked at the unsightly handy work of one of the only members of the Adeptus mechanicus the fort had....a skitarii they named "Gibs".

"nonsense, I can tell she's pretty content. I've studied these lovely beasts for decades and she's just as content as a regular bear in captivity. Besides, if ever hear that measley little cord rat hurt any of my animals....I'll squish whatever is left of him.", he checks the power pack to see if it causing any discomfort.

Aldercon looks around at the other animals Ihron keeps in the barn, a few cows, some chickens specifically taken from an industrial farm several miles away and a few emotional support animals like sheep and domestic pigs. "Hmm. I see you're doing a good job. Primarch would be proud of your compassion for these beasts.", he gives him a firm handshake. He can't help but look back at the bear and attempt to intimidate her one last time.

She looked rather bored, until she was able to manipulate the muscles in her snout into a creepy, unnatural grin.

"oH sweet mother of-", he almost grabs his chest.

Ihorn and Sha'kal both laugh, "GOOD GIRL PETUNIA!", he gives her a hug for her little stunt.

Petunia gives a victorious roar, and gives Ihron a lick to the face.

As he continued to giggle, Sha'kal turned to see an unhumored Aldercon. "Oh my bad sir. We were planning that prank for weeks."

With a stern nod of head, "oh brother. Come on, let's continue the briefing".

The both of them leave the and head to the "farm house", as the two squeeze in through the threshold, a covert operation of digital surveillance is under way. As the two marine walk through, members of different chapters contribute to the complex communications system that has been spying the United States and several other countries decades before the FBI or the CIA.

"anything?", Aldercon quietly asked one member of the Ultramarines surveying the movement of the stock exchanges, monetary spending and shockingly enough the cash flow of several other developed nations on a set of 8 monitors. Hyperfocused, the marine just wags his finger 'no'. "Good work", he gives the marine a pat the back.

Walking over to an empty desk, he looks at the neatly kept but rather personalized workspace of the only confirmed Raven Guard in the country.

Letting out a deep disappointed sigh, "where is he?", he turns to see several members stop and look at the desk. Some of them silently nodding or gesturing uncertainty. "Has anyone here seen Wick?".

Giving a clarify cough, "um I believe he went 'to the field ', at least that's how he worded it to me.".

Aldercon is no stranger to rebellious behavior. When he first appeared on Earth around a hundred and twenty years ago, he had at several points been married, has had children and watched them grow up throughout their stages of life. He is certain this is one of those times, however a human teenage son is one thing, a fully grown adult Astartes fresh from his time as a neophyte is a completely different matter of frustration. "I see.....well ....did he keep his tracking system on?"

One of the fist's working on GPS tracking searches for Wick's location. "Ah yes, he is currently in Nevada."

He takes a double take, "WHAT?!"

The fist looks at the data on Wick's location. "Hmm...he's on the move but he is in government airspace."

Cupping his hands to his temples, massaging away the pent up frustrations he had just built up. "Can things get ANY more complicated?"

"3 Boogies at 12 o'clock sir. Heading to the north side of the wall.", one of the other Marines announces.

"oh goodie....the sons of Russ.... just in for a visit.", he isn't much better hearing this.

"wait they have a civilian with them", suddenly he feels the room's tone change from tense to dangerous.

Seething with rage, one rule Aldercon has been strict on enforcing is the restricted access of the Fort to moral humans. ".....Ssssssssteeeennnnnnnnnn......". He leaves fuming.

"oh dear, Aldercon please calm down!", Sha'kal runs after the chaplain in hopes he doesn't kill anyone on the way to the wall.

The room stood quite, with nothing but the beeps and pings of the monitors. All of them had gone right back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the trees past the four us, with the wind on my face and the careful dodging of branches, it felt like I was flying. I couldn't believe this was happening. Not only the cabin, but a pack of mysterious space soldiers? Forget about the inheritance money, this beats that any day!

However, I should be a little more careful with being caught up in this, I barely know these men. For all I know they could be making it up ...the more I think about it, the more I wonder why all this? Was this something I genuinely deserved? What if something else happens?

The trio stop, Sten smells the air, trying to pick up a sent. "this way.", he points his body to the direction of the mountain range nearby. As the pack continues, I have a sudden nagging feeling crawl up my spine.

"wait, you guys said this was a fort right?", I ask loudly as the brushing of leaves slightly drowns my voice out.

Fjord, practically prancing in the brush, "yes lass! It's an Imperial Fist fort! Best in the business and probably filled to the brim with traps! It's gonin to be fun!".

"Ay, are you daft!? The girl is with us, and she doesn't have any armor! Unless she's some covert Battle Sister I say we be careful.", As Toke dodged a branch, he tossed one on to what looked like a safe clearing but was actually a huge automatic trap.

I began to worry, I didn't care if these guys were heavily armored or if I didn't know them, I just didn't want them getting hurt.

"tis all right Lorey, we will keep you safe. I won't let any harm come to you.", I could feel Sten's grip adjusting to secure me. The fact he carried me here was a feat in it's own.

Their pace slowed down and soon we reached a concrete wall. This was bigger than anything current military fencing, it just looked like a thick, eerie wall. I could see graffiti and posters scattered throughout. "What the....who...built this?", I could imagine the workforce that took the time to do it.

"well, it looks we're going up!", Toke had pressed a few buttons on his arms, switching on a set of claws on his gauntlets.

Sten placed me down gently to do the same, "my dear, you will have to climb up onto my back, I have switched off the power pack so the exhaust ports do not burn you.".

I it was only now I noticed the jetpack on his back, it looked like it had little let engines on it, I climbed up and held tight. "Well, ugh...you guys are going to climb the wall, shouldn't you guys have a rope or something?".

Fjord chuckled a little, "no lass, we can handle this little obstacle all on our own.", enabling his own set of claws, the three had made a running start to the Wall's surface. All ready clearing 10 feet up the concrete barrier.

Suddenly, someone shouts from the other side.

"HAULT! PASSWORD!", the voice commanded.

No one knew what to say or do.....I had begun to worry.

"YOUR MOTHER!", unsurprisingly Fjord had the perfect response.

The sound of scuffling metal plating quickly making it's way to the top, loud exacerbated huffing and a yellow helmet peaking furiously from the top.

"PASSWORD REJECTED!", the yellow armored man then pointed a shockingly large gun at Fjord. The second the trigger was fired, that same horrifying blast erupted from the barrel like a high-speed rocket. Nearly hitting Fjord.

Dodging with unnatural grace and speed, Fjord quickly climbed up before and tackled the guard, both falling back behind the wall.

Judging from the time it took to hear a THUD, they may have fell rough 25 feet down.

I was still recovering from the shots fired, I turn to see a crater on the side of the wall where Fjord had dodged what I assumed was a missile. "FJORD! Oh crap is he ok?!".

Toke and Sten quicken their pace up the wall.

"Do not worry about him, the fall will knock some sense in him.", Toke clawed at the concrete.

As soon as the three have reached the top of the wall, we were met with several of them pointing guns at our direction....and one big furious looking guy with greyed hair was staring daggers at us.

"STEN! YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP WITH THAT MORTAL CIVILIAN HERE AND I WILL PUT YOUR IDIOT BROTHER DOWN!", he points to Fjord pinned down to the ground by two other Marines, trying to bite their hands.

Sten and Toke had locked it up.

"You know just as well as I do that killing another Astartes is not deeply frowned upon, and in our current circumstance....an act of heresy on its own!", Sten stood his ground, but I can tell he was trying to cooperate.

I was starting to feel guilty for being in this mess, "Sten what's going on?".

"Do not fret, Aldercon is just a little more cautious than the rest of us ....", he tried to assure me, however I've been in enough situations to know that stare of his had a history.

End of Log 6

@kit-williams @barn-anon

#space marine husbandry #warhammer 40k #survival log #imperial fists #space marine #space marines #space marine husbandry sentience

[peakdeer]

Day 12 - Ancient

The pillars of the Greatbridge were centuries upon centuries old; it was only natural for them to experience some wear-and-tear. Unfortunately, they were in water, and some parts of the pillars had begun to disintegrate under the new weights on the pedestals. So, who better to fix it than Pix himself? He’d gathered all the materials he should need—clay, mud, stone of many types, and a special tar mix he used for waterproofing. It should have been an easy trip—take just one of Shelby’s water breathing potions, patch them up, and then head back to his base for a nice herbal tea, flavored with a bit of froglight juice. He was thinking maybe ochre this time—it had a distinctly fruity taste that he could really go for right about now.

So, of all things, he hadn’t expected to find a ship under the waters. It was made out of a smooth and slightly spongy material that he immediately recognized as warped wood. Warped wood was naturally fireproof, but he was not certain if it was waterproof. He’d have to test that sometime—warped wood would either be a terrible shipbuilding material or an absolutely fantastic one, he wasn’t quite sure. The planks were kept together by a special waterproof tar that he took a sample of, curious to know if it matched the tar that he used for his reconstructions. The ship was well-built, sturdy with excellent craftsmanship. There was very little wear-and-tear other than the original sinking, even with how long it must have been down there. The ship was covered with plants of all kinds, kelp and seagrass and every color of coral. The mast protruded from the wreck, looking lonely and sad in the water’s depths. It was relatively small, likely a fishing vessel of some kind. There was a small captain’s corner tucked into the upper deck and alcoves where bunkbeds would be on the lower deck. Unfortunately, half of the lower deck was irreversibly smashed, and he wouldn’t be able to explore that. The captain’s door was locked, and he fiddled with it for a good while before surrendering and vowing to bring proper lockpicking equipment later. He began searching through the barrels in the ship, curious to see what may have been inside.

He spent hours down there, observing all the little artifacts and clipping small samples of coral for further study. It was fascinating, observing this ship. There was even what appeared to be a stairway down into the earth beneath, though it was blocked. He’d have to come down later with a strength potion to remove that for further exploration.

All too soon, Pix had to come to the surface, his water breathing potions now all gone and only seconds left before the last one ran out. He’d have to commission Shelby for some more, though he wasn’t sure if she needed any froglights. Maybe he could trade some magma cream instead?

Later, Pix would have to put together a proper exploration of the sunken ship, taking out some of the artifacts and preserving them. The water here was not quite freshwater, but not quite saltwater, so they should be just as well-preserved as the ship. They’d be better off if the ship was just a little bit more towards the sea, but then he might never have found it. He was just lucky that the ship was as preserved as it was.

He’d probably have to expand the museum now—it wasn’t large enough for all the artifacts he was finding. He wondered for a moment about who originally made it, about what artifacts used to be in it, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He’d likely never find out, so it wasn’t much use daydreaming about it and driving himself up a wall. He’d just need to find a new excavation project to keep his mind busy, which shouldn’t be too hard. There were always lots of artifacts to be found and ruins to explore and patch up around here.

Oh, and that tea he was planning on getting. Definitely pearlescent froglights. He could use the slightly minty taste in his tea, that sweet coolness with the barely detectable flavor of peach or dragon fruit.  He’d have to stay up late again, he noted, gazing at the deep purple sky. He didn’t mind, though—what could be better than recording his latest discovery by candlelight with a nice cup of tea?

#empires smp #empires smp s2 #emptober #pixlriffs

[nemobeatrice]

@fugio-week0

FuGio Week Day 6: Honeymoon - Honeymoon in Chiang Mai

Ao3

Quotev

Wattpad

The day after their wedding, Giorno and Fugo took a plane to Chiang Mai, Thailand. Mista had everything under control while they were gone, and Sheila assisted and guarded him.

Their flight was long, taking about 10 or 11 hours, which gave them time to rest. The plane landed, and it was morning, but they took a taxi to Na Nirand Restort to unpack. The room they resided in was small and cozy. There was also a safe to store their valuables.

“What shall we do?” Fugo asked.

“Perhaps we should eat first,” Giorno suggested. “Want to eat here?”

He nodded, and the two went to the restaurant inside the resort, eating outside since the weather was pleasant. It was quiet, too, except for the bugs screaming. The couple looked through the menu and then waited once a server took their order.

“I was thinking that we should head to Doi Inthanon National Park after this,” Giorno said, breaking the river’s trance on Fugo. “I couldn’t stand sitting around in that plane.”

“I was going to suggest that also since you like nature so much. I know we just got here, but this place feels so calming. I was worried there would be screaming children here.”

Their server came by, dropping off their fruity drinks and desserts. The stacks of food the restaurant gave them were tiny.

“Oh, this looks too adorable to eat.” Fugo eyed the carrot cake, strawberry cake, and tiny burger.

“Too beautiful to eat, but I’m hungry.” Giorno grabbed the small chopped fruits and ate them.

“Is this fruit sauce? What is this for? Hmm.” He poured the red sauce into the strawberry cake. “Oh wow.”

The blonds ate and finished their drinks, heading to the national park soon after. They followed the trail. It was rainy the day before, so the ground was soggy, and the planks were slippery. However, there was that fresh pine aroma lingering in the air. Birds chirped as they walked around.

“This place is stunning,” Giorno commented as they continued walking.

Fugo saw a green-tailed sunbird and took a picture with his camera, causing the bird to fly off. “I got a picture for you.” He showed the bird on his camera, causing them to take a step off the trail to stop.

“Such vibrant colors. You never see these birds in Naples.”

They continued walking.

“Do we even have birds like these at home? You’re more into nature than I am.”

“I’ve been too busy to focus on things like that. Maybe next time, I’ll find out. Oh, do you know that bird you took a picture of is a male? The females aren’t as colorful.”

Fugo giggled. “Are you an ornithologist now?”

“No, but I remember my mother talking about a scary bird she saw in Egypt. I wanted to know what type of bird it was, so I could scare her, but that no longer matters now. Come on. We’re almost to the top.”

They reached the top of the tallest point in Thailand and left a coin. On their way to the bottom, the weather shrouded the area in clouds, making it look mystical.

Since there was still time to kill, they headed to Wat Chedi Luang. There were many temple complexes, most built in the northern Thai style architecture from the Lanna Dynasty.

“Are you religious?” Fugo asked while they explored. “I can’t believe I never asked that before, even though we just married.”

“I’m just as religious as you are.” Giorno stopped to look at his map. “And yeah, I can’t believe I never asked that before too. There should be a golden temple around here, but—agh!” The clouds lifted, and the sun shined on Wat Phra Singh, blinding onlookers with light.

“Gees!” Fugo shrouded his eyes.

“It wasn’t that bright in the photos I’ve seen. Want to head inside?”

“Sure, but my eyes need to adjust to the brightness.”

Giorno held Fugo’s hand and took him inside. A big giant golden statue of Buddha greeted them.

“Wow.” Giorno looked at the other small golden statues. “Is this all made out of gold?”

“Don’t know.” Fugo shrugged. “When you told me we were heading to Chiang Mai, I searched a few things about this place. Someone in 1367 brought the statue from Sri Lanka to this place. The person had to have brought it in parts.”

Giorno's stomach growled.

“I knew those small snacks wouldn’t fill you up,” Fugo remarked. “Maybe we could head somewhere to eat.”

“Oh? Where are we headed to?”

“It’s a secret, but does khao soi sound good to you?”

-

The two walked a few blocks to a small restaurant in an alley, a spot most tourists would overlook. It was an outdoor dining area, plants decorated the walls, and a tin roof covered the place should it rain. The place wasn’t fancy either. Most of the chairs were plastic and didn’t match. But plenty of people sat and ate, and the aroma of beef and unknown spices filled their nostrils, tempting them to stand in line.

“How’d you find this place?” Giorno asked.

“Before we left, I searched for places to eat on Google Maps. I wasn’t picky.”

The line wasn’t too long or short, but they got in and waited. Plenty of food was on their menu, but the couple wanted to try some beef khao soi. After waiting and watching someone cook behind the counter, they received their big bowl. They sat down and ate with spoons and chopsticks. Fugo took the first bite, eating the beef.

“Oh, this is good. I’ve never had anything like this before,” Fugo commented.

Giorno took a bite and took a sip of the broth. “Creamy with a nutty taste. I think I saw someone put some coconut milk powder on it.”

“Spicy! Hot!”

“Can you handle it?”

Fugo sweated. “Y-yeah.”

Thankfully, they were hungry enough to empty the never-ending bowl.

“Want to head to the zoo?” Fugo asked.

“Yeah, which one are we heading to?”

“We could visit the tigers or the one with the elephants.”

Giorno thought deeply for a few seconds. “Let’s go see the elephants. I’ve never seen one except in pictures. Someone told me that elephants in Asia are different from the ones in Africa, and I’ve only seen the ones in Africa.”

The two left, taking a cab to the Elephant Pride Sanctuary. Once they went in, they saw people playing, petting, feeding, and washing the elephants.

“I thought they’d be a lot bigger, like the size of giants,” Giorno said.

“Same.”

The elephants were still big, just not in the way they thought.

“I’m going to get closer to one of them,” Giorno said.

They got close to one of them. Somebody handed Giorno a sugar cane, and he fed it to one of the elephants.

“Oh, I see the difference now,” he said. “It’s the ears. This one has smaller ears than the African ones and is hairy.”

“I noticed the two lumps on its head, too,” Fugo commented. “And some don’t have tusks. I think it’s the females that lack them.”

They continued talking around, learning about the elephants and the sanctuary. Afterward, they helped make medicine and changed their clothes somewhere to participate in the mud spa, where they gave the elephants treatment and washed them. The water was freezing, but they had fun and got muddied.

Daylight was dying, and Giorno and Fugo cleaned the mud off them, dried up, and left, heading to the night market.

-

The blonds were somewhere in a crowded street. Musicians played music in the middle of the streets, food stalls were everywhere, and vendors sold things for under $1. There were so many colorful lights.

The two bought things for their friends. Fugo found an article of black gothic-looking clothing that reminded him of Abbacchio and bought some incense for Sheila. Meanwhile, Giorno looked for some Trish would want. Giorno wanted to ask Fugo what month was Trish’s birthday so he could get her some jewelry with her birthstone, but he doubted he knew since Fugo didn’t think much of Trish. Perhaps this pink bracelet would make a fine gift. After buying it, he bumped into Fugo, but a jazzy song distracted them.

“Is that a Miles Davis song I hear?” Fugo asked. “That’s Bucciarati’s favorite musician. He would’ve loved it here.”

“Did you buy anything interesting?” Giorno asked. “I bought gifts for everyone back home but got this pink and gold fan for myself. I even bought a gift for you. The vendor told me this crystal necklace has some calming power, but I think she made that up so people could buy it.”

“I also bought things for everyone, including you and myself. I got you an elephant plushie and bought a whole bag of peanuts for us to snack on. I’m not hungry, and I doubt I’ll be because of that big bowl we had for lunch. What about you?”

“I’ve walked around a lot, but I’m not hungry. Shall we head back?”

“Yes, please. My legs are screaming. I need a rest.”

#jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #fugio #fugio week #fugio week 2023 #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #fugo x giorno #giorno x fugo #jjba fanfic #jjba fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure fanfic #jojo's bizarre adventure fanfiction

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Agrippina (Drottningholm, 2021): Reactions, Part II

let’s continue now

rivals to lovers (“savannah—“ they’re fruity. come on now.)

is it really a handel production if the singers don’t dance during their arias (and they have every right to! the man knew how to write a bop)

bros being bros

okay this is actually really cute

wind machine person is having a BLAST back there

twinsies

we love instrumentalists in the boxes!!!

well the whole world bows before that VERY GOOD LOW NOTE

wild goose chase

now let’s all make a sycophant—er, compliment line

poor confused bb

oof

well nerone that’s one way of doing it

when the entire rest of the cast makes callout posts about you

a little masterpiece

it’s giving pride and prejudice vibes

fair enough

MOOD LMAOOOOOOOOOOO

her voice is like butterscotch (also i love this aria)

actual footage of me after i figured out how to fake being asleep as a kid

oops

beware poppea with a weapon

“you trusted AGRIPPINA???????? you’re not that dumb”

“fiiiiiiiiiiiiine i won’t kill you then”

yes

congratulations for actually figuring that out

“fool me once…”

be careful what you wish for; it may happen immediately

y’know, it’s funny because this is one of the spiciest libretti ever and it was litchrally written by a cardinal

it’s not planking (see met 2020 staging of the same aria) but i’ll take it!

(also the flapping the toga around is ENTIRELY understandable i would do it too)

this orchestral introduction is a vibe to me specifically

I LOVE THIS ARIA (and that dress omg)

✨it’s a mental breakdown✨ *insert kazoo*

“i fucked up didn’t i”

“nope i am TOO SMART AND CUNNING AND GIRLBOSS TO FUCK UP”

a kiss can blow you away

“this is totally fine and normal”

Couple Of The Year (not)

so close…

“not in front of the wifey! don’t do the bawdy hand signals where my wifey-wife can see”

annnnnnnnnnnnd there it is

ANOTHER ARIA I FUCKIN LOVE

mother-son vibing times

surely there will be no more hijinks or obstacles!

…oh wait, there’s still another act

(which will be liveblogged later today most likely)

#opera #opera tag #agrippina #opera liveblog #handel #george frideric handel #händel #georg friedrich händel

[myladyofmercy]

young royals rewatch

episode 2

still don't know why simon is at the breakfast table

and if it's the lunch table why didn't do that thing already at breakfast?

also love the difference between how maddie talks about last night compared to nils retelling

august is such a little shit (NOT affectionately)

wille looks so much younger when he smiles awkwardly in this scene

willes hot lesbian moment

i don't like the fit of felices blouse

also fredrikas naked legs. i would freeze.

felice has her phone connected to a portable charger. the little details in this show

is it hoodie weather? jacket weather? or tshirt weather? i am confused

it's interesting which countries use letter grading on tests and which one use numbers

if wille hadn't told wille about the private tutoring simon wouldn't have given august the drugs to sell and the football field scene and everything after wouldnt have happened

did felice braid her own hair or did maddie do it? and vice versa who does maddies hair?

i wonder if frida had bangs she's growing out or if her fringe is cut like that deliberately

simon looks so lost in the boat

but the lighting is so pretty

not the bro slap

is anyone gonna help simon with that fucking boat?

make rosh sapphic in season 2!

simons bedlamp is the same one my parents had when i was a kid. i had the same one in green. yay ikea!

ayub is giving me ned from spiderman vibes

august looks so much better sweaty because then maltes beautiful curls aren't hidden behind kilos of hair gel

teach august to knock in season 2!

also don't make jokes about your family members masturbating pls

august isn't only cockblocking wille all the time but also brotherblocking

bye erik gotta hang out with my crush

working out would be the last place i would want to hang out with my crush tho

but the eye contact is nice. i wonder how they choose that spot infront of eachother to do planks (is that what they're called?)

wille is getting suspicious

august lives and breathes in turtlenecks

august trying to fake having adhd is the only august scene i will gladly rewatch bc it's just so fucking funny

love all the little stuff they're doing during workies like the ring stuff and such

august cockblocking AGAIN

also someone on instagram finally found simons real actual hoodie but it's sold out

felice inviting simon for wille not knowing what she's going to unleash

FUCK YOU AUGUST

that shot of willes naked feet was very unnecessary. no thank you. at least put socks on him

willes red pinterest lights

wille channeling his inner mean girl (iykyk)

jag kommer.

wille not knowing how to ride a bus is me in every social situation

at least simon picked him up from the gas station so he wouldn't get lost

those girls saying hey prince remind me too much of the current yr fangirls

ayub ultimate wingman

(deleted scene where wille or simon notice the other has ketchup in the corner of their mouth and wipes it away)

they are not wearing any helmets. this is unsafe.

august just waiting for wille to come back to put him in his place

fuck you august

sara and drawing should be a bigger part of season 2 i wanna see it again

simon and his clementines (or whatever they are) now i want one too

simons happy mood immediately went sour after that text from wille

also wille sitting with the lights around him. he lives for the aesthetic.

vincent and nils are very fruity in that one scene

but i love all the shots of the students just doing random stuff in the background

simon and his clementines are a very big part of this episode and only this episode right?

both august when talking with sara and simon when talking with august are so loud how doesn't everyone hear them talking about the pills

i hate the nike shirt with a burning passion

those rowing machines look like hell

did simon just stuff the pills in his pants?

augusts speech is so awkward i love it

but did he think that was enough of a repayment?

can't believe august got to give simon a forehead kiss before wille did

i have watched that movie and it was very disturbing

love all the face stuff the girls have on

the finger touching reminds me so much of jude and connor from the fosters

augusts close up in the red and black sweater makes gim look like he's wearing a star trek uniform

on the first watch i thought wille wanted to jump out of the window

wille is wearing ralph lauren pj pants. he really is a prince

i love the loud breathing in this scene

wille.exe has stopped working

can't believe simon scored the prince of sweden in a looney toones tshirt

i love the shot of the outlines of their faces pressed against eachother

hope they didn't get back to the movie tho

#i think this format works better #will continue with the rest of the episodes #don't know how to do read more on mobile tho #or on desktop for that matter #young royals #lana rewatches yr

[beansisarat7]

yo moots plank might murder me if i dont do this SO...

for the past maybe...week? maybe more i cant remember, ive noticed one of my friends being a lil fruity towards me. and im not sure if it actually means something or if im just jumping to conclusions.

but anyways heres a list of what i remember and you can give a judgement

this was probably the first fruity thing i should have noticed but he put a heart beside my name on the register for a while. when i asked him about it he said "its so people think you have a secret admirer"

he also has been VERY nice to me recently. i mean. hes been there a lot recently? and hes been making stuff for me and im like?? "sir???"

he asked me to go somewhere with him (and friends), and kept commenting on how it would be better if i could come. When i said i could, mans was practically beaming??

has also asked me to apply for a job with him. he says he's been depending on me to do it for him to enjoy it

has been very touchy (for him) recently. i mean. before...recently? he Did Not Like me even patting his shoulder?? now he has decided he is okay with me doing that and also trying to wrangle pen caps (which he purposely steals) out of his hands every 5 minutes

seems to have changed the way he gets home purposely to spend more time with me. it may be a coincidence. i dont know.

idk i am very confused if im interpreting this right which is why i am summoning a Council of the Moots™️

so...verdicts?

@thedragonemperess @angelwiththeblue-box @crowleyhighrising and any other moots who want to weigh in

[blankdblank]

Poke Pt 7 - Yacht Party

…

Whistling in the exit of your closet Eddie took in your own toga reminiscent style dress the bright white sheer layered skirt was slit up to the upper thigh and met the golden belt that separated the base from the lace top. With thick straps in white and a low dip in the cleavage almost to the belly button that flowed out to reveal the golden glittery heels you had chosen for the event. “Wow. You need a sign to remind gentlemen to pick their jaws up off the floor.”

“Funny,” you teased, folding a stretchy pair of shorts to cover the thigh holsters for a couple of your daggers for worst case scenario that also would help keep guys from peeking up your skirt if the wind blew the slit back too widely. “I’m sure no one will care about my dress as I death grip the wall.”

“I can skip the trip to prison if you need me there.”

“I’m ok. If I feel bad I am not above fainting or breaking into hysterics to have Tony himself fly me home. Or maybe Prince Thor, I think he can fly if he has his hammer.”

“You can beat this evening. I know you can.”

After a hug for him you said, “You’ll miss visiting hours.” And he chuckled hugging you back and kissed you on your cheek taking notice of the one side of your hair braided back so you could flip the rest over to your left side knowing the boat would drive it wild no matter what you tried to do with it.

The ride didn’t calm things and from the concrete pathway to the wooden docks your focus shifted in a means to calm yourself on the pelicans and gulls who watched your stroll beyond the guards at the entrance who took your invitation shared the lit pathway would guide you to the proper ship. At the base of the plank bridge to get onto the yacht you paused hearing the guests already aboard.

Mid stare at a gull hovering above the boat in a try to focus on anything but the fact you would be out on the open ocean for who knows how long you flinched to look at Sam in his step up to your side with an impressed whistle. “My sister would die of envy seeing this ship. She loves to sail.” His eyes landed on you asking, “Ever been on a boat like this?”

“I’ve been on ferries, but I haven’t been over the open ocean yet.”

“You’ll be okay. Stark’s probably built this thing himself. Bound to be unsinkable.”

“Well, there’s a history of unsinkable ships that beg to differ when it comes to that claim.”

He chuckled and said, “We’ll be just fine. Just in case,” he said showing his duffel bag at his side holding his metal wings, “Brought my wings, things go south The Falcon’s got you.” To yourself you grinned and followed him up into the monstrosity of a boat.

Surely one that would make your ancestors weep, not just for the luxurious ability to have food storage, running clean water and plumbing but for the fact that nothing of the earth other than the single fallen tree stump of an end table was here. The wood was fake same as the faux leather seats and imitation marble finish on the metal surfaces. Nothing of this boat showed the respect boat makers used to put into building sea faring vessels to keep from displeasing the Gods in crossing the tumultuous open ocean and you guessed that might be why they always bothered you.

With legs crossed you sat with eyes fixed on the open ocean in your second level seat unable to keep on your feet to mingle in the crowded floor below. “Thirsty?” the voice at your side brought the sudden place of Prince Loki there with two drinks in hand, one of which with a pacifier band around the stem of the fruity blended drink he offered to you. “The bartender insisted I offer you this one.”

Unable to help it you chuckled and accepted the drink, “It’s a virgin margarita. Thank you.”

“What would maidenhood have to do with drink offers?” he asked and you glanced away to keep from spitting your sip of the drink on him. “Is it repulsive? I shall demand a new drink to replace it.”

You shook your head and giggled in catching his eye to say, “Virgin, when related to drinks means alcohol free.” And his eyes narrowed, “It’s illegal for people under 21 years old to drink alcohol in this country. Others it ranges from 14 to 18 depending on their culture.”

“Why would they have such variation?”

“Because hardly any of the countries share the same faiths, histories, cultures or beliefs on how they should be governed. So just stubbornness and idiocy.”

“I had hoped the drink would aid in a welcome of my company, you seemed troubled when I arrived.”

Softly you chuckled and replied, “Quite humorously for my bloodline I have a fear of open ocean outside of wooden boats.” His eyes locked onto yours in a moment of shock, “There’s no earth in this boat. Vikings paid homage to the Gods for smooth sailing across the oceans. Might just be me.”

And he grinned your way stating, “Not only you. Those who can hear Yggdrasil have higher expectations when it comes to vessels. Your ancestors would be proud you wish to honor their traditions, the ocean is not a fair mistress, she is an insurmountable warrior, she demands respect.”

“How have your candles and soaps been?” You asked to change the subject, uncertain of what meaning his lingering stare into your eyes meant.

“Quite exquisite. Thank you again for your care in crafting the mixtures for us to our likings. Your customers have been favorable of temperament?”

“For the most part. Before the shoes Natasha and Steve bought me I got shunned a bit because of my clearly worn name brand shoes, but the new ones have helped to give me a bit of credit to my image. Used to be called an immigrant and now people are asking if I’m paying my dues in the entertainment or beauty world until I get my big break. When Stark came in I almost thought he would just order enough to use that as a means to force me to accept the money he offered.”

“What should it matter what shoes you wear when you are working?”

“The shop has an image to uphold for their most superficial of clientele.”

“Should they ever release you from employment alert my brother and myself and we shall raze the building to cinders.” That had you giggle around your next sip and he said, “You doubt my loyalty.”

“Not at all, Prince Loki. Merely I question how Stark would handle the discovery of who was behind the attack after he’s vetted you both as Heroes.”

“Not one person in my lifetime has been foolish enough to dub me a Hero. I am the God of Mischief and Deceit.”

His eyes lowered to the hand you offered him that his rose palm up to accept, “Fool, right here, pleasure to meet you.” To himself he chuckled and smiled in a glance away. “See, that smile,” he glanced back and chuckled again as you said, “Pure sunshine. You can’t convince me there’s evil in there no matter how many times you stab your brother.”

“I unleashed an army on New  York,”

“Oh who hasn’t unleashed havoc on New York. Havoc is the new pink pumps of the season, everybody has to have some. New York, Washington, California, your brother leveled a town in New  Mexico. Now you go and attack Rhode Island or someplace small like that then we can talk crossing into unthinkable territory, which is seven miles below evil. You have to earn evil.”

He smirked and at the notice he was still holding your hand he released it to take hold of his drink for a sip to break his stare only to look down at that hand resting on his knee when the boat began to pull away from the dock. “I murdered my birth father.” He blurted out as if to try and not lie to you or make you believe he was anything but evil as most from his planet thought.

“Did he raise you?”

“No.”

“Were you close or just a birthday card once a year type of situation?”

“He abandoned me at birth in a frozen tundra in the midst of a battle between the Jotuns and Asgardians and never acknowledged me as his child or that I even existed.”

You nodded and said, “Selfish quim had it coming then.” Throatily to your sip of your drink he chuckled and bubbled into a few moments of unforgiving laughter. “I’d pick Frigg as a mother any day over that bastard.”

“King Laufey of the Jotuns, or Frost Giants, as some nations dub them.”

“Odin’s half Frost Giant in the legends. They knew each other?”

“Odin,” his eyes fell on you, “Father is half Frost Giant in the legends?” You nodded and he said, “He never speaks of this if it is true.”

“Well he’s probably jealous.” You said and his brow twitched up, “If it was between me and you to be Jotun I’d stay mum simply because you have to be the peak example of Jotun prowess.”

“Asgardians tell bedtime stories of Jotuns to terrify their children and frighten them to behave or they will be eaten.” He said mournfully and looked out at the sea.

“I’d start biting people then.” You said and in the spread of his smile you said, “Always a monster till you’re necessary. How the universe works. The odd one, the new one, that one who doesn’t belong. Till they need you, till they’re scared. So much easier to be scared of the new than to trust it. Well I trust you,” you said and he caught your eye again, “And you can’t stop me. I’m stark raving mad with power and will cackle in their disbelieving faces for not trusting pure sunshine.” You said with a wide smile making him chuckle again.

“Are you certain there is no alcohol in that drink?” He teased.

“Just tons of sugar.” You said taking another giggle laced sip as he took a sip of his own drink. “I heard you’re over seventeen hundred years old? How does that line up to our age progression? If that isn’t too personal.”

“Roughly similar to your age I would presume. Young adulthood.”

You gasped and said, “And they gave you alcohol, someone get this man a pacifier.” You said teasingly turning your head to call it out making him chuckle and simply use his arm closest to you to prop himself up to scoot closer.

“Shh,” he whispered through a chuckle by your ear and you giggled again. “There is little substance on this planet able to inebriate myself and my brother.” He said with his eyes focused on yours when you turned your head slightly to catch his bright gaze and smile.

The ship took a wide turn and your joking mood waned and his hand covered yours at the returned grip of his knee to lace his fingers under your palm, and next to your ear he asked, “How would you like to play a game?” You caught his gaze and he grinned nodding his head at the crowd stating, “Say a name.” He watched your eyes dance over the women in toga influenced gowns surrounded by men in both togas and white and golden suits and you chose one from the back that with a flash of green in his eyes had the man start to dance absurdly awkward luring out your smile and giggle again.

Innocent fun, insignificant playful pranks that had Prince Thor search for his brother in the crowds until he spotted him at your side with his hand on yours. Loki would never have openly chosen such a public display with anyone he dared to imagine courtship until proper tasks of approval had been sought for and by the clear try to not let you have a break to focus on anything but his magic. And the game upon his knowing Thor was looking his way had the Prince conjuring fables and joking tales in front of the possibly distressed young Shieldmaiden he would never dream of damaging her honor. Something was bothering their young respected friend and his brother while Thor saw to his sea wary Mate was distracting his chosen companion for the evening in a far more acceptable use of his magic at this party.

Some food was sampled from the migrating attendees made from faceless drones that somehow had you more weirded out than the ship. One of which that had Peter hanging on his back while it held a bucket and led him to lie down on the couch beside the pair of you. The move had you inch closer to the Prince and had his gaze drop to the thigh pressed against his to something hard he felt tap the side of his leg. He felt himself unable to help but smirk at the clear hilt of a dagger poking out from underneath the shorts that blended into your skirt from afar in its same brilliant white shade. And in a low purr beside your ear as you handed over your empty glass to a drone to free a hand so you could check Peter’s temperature the Prince asked, “Please tell me that’s a dagger on your thigh.”

With a blush to the green mist that eased the hilt of two coiled snakes in bright silver into view widening his grin as he caught sight of the full design. And he could imagine the blade in his mind by the hint of metal beneath the hilt his mist hid away again as Pepper hurried over with some sea sickness medicine. “Where else would I keep it?” you whispered back widening his grin to the point he nipped at his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Pepper in her trot up to Peter’s side offered him a fizzing drink he accepted and took your help to prop himself up to sip on it, “Here you go Peter.” And her eyes rose to you asking, “Are you sea sick too? I haven’t seen you on the main floor since we took off.”

“I’ve got a thing with metal boats in open ocean,” her lips parted, “I’m good sitting. Body just prefers wood boats it seems. Prince Loki’s been distracting me.”

“Well if you need anything let us know.”

“Does he make a lot of these drones?”

Pepper sighed saying, “It’s a new thing. He said he’d make them faceless since I thought fake humanoid ones might bother me, but these aren’t any better, sadly.”

“Because he does know about all the evidence on making AI’s and how devastatingly bad that could go?”

“I remind him daily. Only, seems he forgets, daily. Progress,” she said shaking her head and rising to her feet to go check on another person muttering, “This party is the stuff of nightmares with these waves.”

In a glance at Loki you asked, “If Stark builds AI’s can I plead asylum on Asgard?”

He smirked asking, “AI?”

“Robots with free will. Always turns out that they want to destroy the human race. Borderline Ragnarok for our race.”

“Should there be any danger to this planet we will grant you asylum. I give you my word.”

“How important are potatoes on your planet? Because if they don’t grow there I will be smuggling some there. My ancestors didn’t get to enjoy them in the older generations, but I know they look down on me in envy. Even broke I eat like a King.” Making him chuckle again. “I’m serious, one of the best foods discovered on this planet is the potato.”

“Potatoes are amazing,” Peter sighed after finishing his drink and laying flat again. “I would bring lemons. My aunt gets this big smile when she sees lemons. I don’t get it, but it makes her happy. And I’d have to bring her too of course.”

Loki smiled saying, “We have six variations of potatoes and four lemon breeds. The pair of you and young Peter’s aunt would be amply pleased.”

“Could I have a sheep? My parents promised to get me a sheep when I was bigger. Or is it mainly city spaces without any room for cottages?”

“We have a mixture of both. A quaint cottage could be arranged, or a plot of garden and field to keep your sheep in should you prefer an apartment in the Palace. With ample workers to help train you in treatment and sheering of your sheep when necessary.”

In a giggle you replied, “I would need sheep lessons.” Making him chuckle as well.

At their sides save for a trip to the bathroom you remained until the boat docked again and Loki rose to gently help you up and lead both you and still unsteady Peter to the dock. The assigned car to drive you back however found him reluctantly in release of the hand his had been fixed in for hours now. “Thank you, for the asylum and the sheep,” you said in words that muffled in the ears of the Prince whose cheek you had left a peck upon. “Sleep well, Sunshine.” You said and in a lower to sit inside the car.

“Sleep well and safe on the earth, Shieldmaiden Pear.”

.

Vision. The newest Avenger had his face plastered across the internet and all you could think of was the promise the Asgardian Prince had made you and it just made your stomach turn. He was so polite and out of everybody he could have spent his time with he seemed to gravitate to your company. Even when a long train ride let you take a long stroll in Central Park that had you run into the Super Soldiers and Sam on a run. When the Zoo was mentioned the Princes seemed to appear in mid air and as if to counter Bucky’s time with your attention another animal would be pointed to and his questions would arise all aimed your direction.

End to end between your fingers your Mate button box was flipped to tap against the counter easing the slide of your fingers to the bottom to aid the lift and flip of the box to do it again. No matter why he was focusing on you there had to be a line and you couldn’t stop hiding from your fears of finding out who your Mate was by humoring the attentions of the Avengers. Onto the counter you settled the button box and gave the button a single tap that almost an hour away had Loki’s eyes twitch off his book confirming he was alone in his gifted apartment followed by an irritated grumble and nestle back into his spot to ignore the unhelpful poke of his Mate from this infuriating planet.

Several taps more in a notice of the muffin bag you had gotten from a café earlier that had you murmur, “Let’s meet for coffee at the Blue Bird Café. Nine AM.” Your fingers tapped before you could think it through just how many could understand Morse Code this day and age, you just had to try and see if anyone would turn up.

And just like you knew it deep down, no one did, at nine or ten when you had finished off pretending to write out something in your pocket journal after you’d finished your first cider and just wanted to go anywhere but there.

 *

Glaring as he made his way to the group lunch after a much needed breakfast alone Loki plopped into his seat and turned his gaze to Natasha at her asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Ten minutes my Mate poked me last night, ten minutes. All in some absurd pattern,” Loki repeated the pattern with the tip of his finger on the table and had her, Bucky and Bruce listening to the meanings of the taps.

Bucky however asked the question the others didn’t, “So did you meet your Mate for coffee?”

Loki glared at him, “I beg your pardon?”

Bruce, “That’s Morse Code. Old school. Must have been eager to meet you rarely hear of people using it these days outside of military or science families.”

Loki asked in a slightly panicked tone, “Where would I meet them?”

Bucky said, “Blue Bird Café, nine am.”

Loki didn’t have to look at the clock but said in his rush from the table, “It’s half past noon!”

He didn’t know where that was but he knew who to talk to to get into Stark’s system. Knowing fully he had links to cameras everywhere. “Red Man, I require your assistance.”

“I am Vision, Green Noble.” The Prince led the way to one of the public labs that linked to his system that Loki linked into the simple online page of the only Blue Bird Café in New York that was located in Queens.

“I need you to help me use Stark’s system to see who was in this café this morning.”

“Are we searching for a culprit in a crime you are aware of?” Vision asked in his hover beside the Prince.

“My Mate used Morse Code to send me a message I did not understand last night and I missed the meeting they tried to arrange. I wish to know who I have spurned to offer my apologies and win back their favor.”

“Oh, very admirable then.” He said lowering as he said, “I am under the understanding that a Mate is the strongest bond you might find in your lifetime. I anxiously await my eighteenth year to have earned my own chance to meet mine.” Raising his hand to link to the system that began to shift the screen windows to delve through the system to first link into the café’s security and the street cameras to watch every person from eight am onwards.

“Pluto,” Loki muttered in the sight of you wearing an anxious expression and a slightly less casual dress entering the café, ordering a drink and muffin with glances at the door to every entrance in a clearly sinking mood as Vision continued to run facial recognition through a database while the video played.

Vision said, “From the 47 customers 24 are legally married and another 17 have announced themselves as engaged on their social media accounts.”

“Pluto Pear, that woman. When did she leave exactly?” Visio read back the time stamp and he said, “I need a print out of this list, I’m going to start with her.”

Vision asked to the print of the page behind him, “Does the young lady hold a certain physical appeal for you to begin with her?”

“I know her. I would never wish for her to believe I have left her there alone. As if I had refused to meet her on the grounds of being my Mate.”

Vision said, “Ah. Then yes, begin with the young Miss Pear.” He said offering the printed sheet that Loki accepted and hurried with rushed thanks in his race out to go and the whole while his mind raced with a single repetition, it had to be you.

Truly for months now any excuse to cross paths was taken including a laughable amount of candles and soap with films, trips out between your shifts and group meals he always made certain to be chaperoned for everyone’s comfort and for your honor the Prince searched. You were the one to make him laugh and find some sense of ease on this planet with a person who seemed to genuinely care about his comfort and tried to keep him from growing too homesick or thoughts on his lineage to spoil his wishes to ever return. If you weren’t his Mate he never desired to meet the person who dared to poke him. He didn’t want to be forced onto anyone else, he had subconsciously chosen you for a while now and would continue to do so.

 *

Three knocks soon bled to five and before the sixth could land you had opened your front door to the wide eyed Prince who rapidly opened his fist to an awkward wave. “Miss Pear. Might I come in?”

“Sure,” you said letting him inside closing the door behind him in his awkward check of the single room apartment with a lingering gaze at the boat shaped bed he pointed to mid amused smirk. “My first year here there was a play they used that as a prop in and put it up cheap for sale after it closed. Really comfy.” You looked him over and asked, “You have to go on another mission? Only seen you twitchy like this when you had to leave town.”

“No,” he replied and moved closer offering the cider in his hand you hadn’t noticed. “I owe you a drink.”

In the narrow of your eyes you accepted the still warm cup saying, “Thank you. Don’t recall how, but thank you.”

“I don’t know Morse Code.”

Your lips parted to ask over the thunder of your heart in your ears, “Did you want me to teach you.”

“Not today, thank you.” He inhaled sharply and said, “I know you went to the Blue Bird Café this morning and I know that you didn’t meet the person you had hoped to.”

“I-,”

In a step closer he cut you off saying, “Because I don’t know Morse Code and it took me repeating the lengthy set of taps that kept me up last night to those amongst the team who do.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out in realization of what you guessed and halfway hoped he might be saying.

“So I came here to ask you to poke me again,” his eyes lowered to the finger that rose to tap him in the center of his chest that had him let out a breathy chuckle and scan his eyes over your face that was still devoid of anything readable but uncertainty and shock. “No, with your button, do you have it?”

“Oh, button,” sharply your head turned setting the drink down and gingerly he shadowed you in your circle of your bed to the near burrow under the fake fur blanket you had to do to grab the button that seemed to try and keep it hidden for itself. When you stood again you eased your fingers around the sides of the box with its mint colored button now a deep green that with a press of your thumb had him exhale shakily to the poke he felt.

He didn’t know what to do or say and yet all on its own it seemed his body acted to first cradle your cheek then lean in to press his lips to yours in a blind hope that however possible he could seal this bond to never break. Just as loudly as yours his heart thundered in his chest for the action his body had taken without permission.

And when your eyes met again his breath hitched hearing you whisper at the sight of the swirls of green mist that had filled the room with sparkling veins of gold to glimmer around the both of you. His skin now blue with raised ridges trailing across his skin in snowflake like unique markings to just him from his Jotun blood paired with his crimson eyes. “Was that supposed to happen or was it on accident.”

“The mist was unintentional.” He hummed back lowly and in his lean forward to brush his nose to yours his body melted forward at the toe top lift to kiss him again. With the close of your eyes covering his shift back after his notice of the color of his hand still on your cheek. An action and pose he lingered in to savor every second of it.

“Blue is a good color on you, Sunshine.” You said and his lips parted only for the growl of his stomach to make you grin and claim his hand and say, “Let’s feed you and that angry rhino you swallowed.”

Out of your slow cooker some jambalaya was served for the both of you to go with the cheesy mashed potatoes you topped with bacon bits he amusedly poked with his spoon as if it was possibly toxic. “I’m not going to poison you,” you giggled out.

“No, there is a topping like these pebbles on Asgard and it is merely awful.”

“Well this is tiny bits of bacon.”

“Bacon,” he said in an intrigued tone and took a bite he hummed around making you giggle to yourself.

“Midgard isn’t so bad, we’ve done amazing things with bacon.”

“That you have,” he said filling his spoon again with some of the jambalaya that while he chewed it his eyes scanned over your face in your downwards gaze, “Are you pleased?” he managed to ask when he swallowed lifting your eyes again to his.

“Could use more sausage. They’re so stingy on the weight per cent these days.”

“With me?” He asked in a near squeak afraid of the answer.

“As my Mate?” you asked and he nodded, “You are indescribable. You can do magic, I mean come on, I started magic when I was a kid and dreamed to have someone who would be so much more spectacularly talented than myself. Need I say, the essence of pure sunshine in your veins. You accept my Norse roots. Some people would just label me a witch on that alone. And you tolerate my weirdness, major plusses there.”

“I would assume, my title-,”

“Psh,” you said lifting his gaze from his bowls. “I would be honored to be bound to you if you ran a button stand.” You said triggering an awkward grin across his face at the compliment. “If anything the expectations of your possible requirement to take up after Odin on what I would only assume to be a possibly uncomfortable looking golden throne in that floating golden Palace would trouble me for the increase of scowls that would develop from the stress and drive that smile of yours away. Not to mention the heightened risk of stress on the heart from a job of that level.” After a moment of his amused grin your way you asked, “Do you really live forever?”

“Roughly 5071 years.”

“Well Bucky’s close to a century and he hasn’t seemed to age much, Steve was frozen for most of his. So I suppose logically, I can’t say how long I would be around.”

His brow inched up and he said, “I would find you. No matter where in Hel they settle you to spend your afterlife.”

You nodded and asked in a rather embarrassed tone, “No possible way I could get to Valhalla then?”

“You most certainly could well earn place there. Few Midgardians are welcomed, I did not mean to worry you or offer insult.”

You shook your head, “It’s just all different than how I was taught. You’re Frigga’s son, and Thor isn’t a redhead, no telling what else could be different. I mean did you at least give birth to a eight legged horse Odin rides around on?”

“Did I what?” he chuckled out with a widening smile.

“I mean who wouldn’t be able to learn to love a guy who gave birth to Hel, the Goddess of Death; Jörmungand, the serpent that surrounds the world; and Fenrir or Fenrisúlfr, the wolf; and Sleipnir, Odin's eight-legged horse.”

“Thor did advise us the mortals had warped our tales, yet I had no imagination it could be that vastly different.” He paused and asked, “Hel, is she prominent in my life in the tales? I have never heard of a Goddess of that name.”

You said, “Those you had with the female giant Angerboda. You seem to love her in the tales. Though most of your tales I prefer include your other wife, Sigyn. You had a son with her, named Nari or Narfi.” His lips parted, “Odin uses your son’s intestines to chain you to a rock where snakes drip their venom on you and she sits beside you with a bowl to collect it. Though when she dumps it out and the venom drips on your face you thrash around causing the earth to quake. It’s quite the tale of devotion in Norse Mythology. There’s actually quite a tale for how you got married, she was betrothed to another and on the wedding day you kill him and take his shape and then reveal yourself after and she tells Odin she will honor the marriage. Sigyn’s basically known only for her devotion to you.”

“I have never wed, nor know of a Sigyn. I could never imagine my father able to bind anyone with the innards of their own child.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He shook his head, “No, you have not upset me. Although I am curious to ponder on when the tales stretched so far from the truth. Perhaps an exceptionally harsh winter with little to distract from boredom.”

“Well that’s the thing about legends. Everyone who first heard or saw them happen is dead. Kind of like the phone tree game,” his brows furrowed a moment in confusion to the name, “One person in a circle whispers to another, it can be a word or funnier a phrase and gradually through the circle the words change. Sometimes for the worse. Known a few to end in fist fights when they made us do it in schools in some mock trial to stomp out bullying as a sort of way to display how gossip explodes like wild fire. Then again it could be a testament to hearing loss rather than weak attention spans on trading whispers.” As you eyed his grin after a glance away to fill your spoon you said, “Sorry, got away from me there.”

“You did not wander far. Often I find people who ramble show great promise of intellect. Brains that are rapid to focus on new topics are very welcome amongst our scientists.”

“It must be amazing, your home.”

“My people are brilliant compared to yours, however very gullible. Hence my prowess in mischief.”

“Well, if you assume to have all the answers why would you bother looking for more?” making him smirk proudly at your words. “They’ll learn, with enough shoves in the right direction, or enough books to hurl at them. Sometimes you need a bit of mischief to open some eyes.”

“Thor has been working up the nerve to request a trip for his Mate Jane Foster to Asgard. I imagine her introduction to our scientists would be less productive than to hear from one who has crafted a rainbow portal on her own with only supplies from Midgard. Even our best crafters alive today could not tap into that technology. When Thor broke the rainbow bridge that aids in the control of the Bifrost Mother had to travel to Hel to consult with one of our scientists we had lost a thousand years prior.”

“That must have been fun for you to experience.”

“I wasn’t there,” he whispered in a downward glance then cleared his throat and drew in a deep breath, “Perhaps I should share something else, other than my race with you.” When his eyes did rise he almost flinched seeing yours on his, “There’s a, being, a Titan.”

“Like in Greek Mythology?”

“I’m, not aware of their history.”

“Sorry, Titan?”

“Thanos. I fell from the bridge when Thor broke it. Through the open void of the universe I faded to, I don’t know where. There, Thanos found me. His henchman tortured me.”

“Loki,” you said reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm that had his hand turn over to wrap around the underside of yours welcoming the contact and sadness not pity in your gaze.

“I was gone, for so very long, time is, difficult in varied realms to compare.” He wet his lips and continued shakily, “I managed to escape, with a deal. He sent me with the scepter to bring him the tesseract. There are these stones, with different powers to control parts of the universe, he wants them all and has others to locate them for him. That was why, I opened that portal. Why I killed people. To let them know something bigger is out there, and that it’s coming.”

“Okay.”

“He wouldn’t have come on his own, but I lied to him. And my Father can’t protect this planet, or won’t. I won’t let him hurt you though. I swear. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

“That’s a tall order in this city. Plus even doors are a danger to me when I’m in a hurry.”

“I’m being serious, he has decimated civilizations before and enslaved millions he allowed to survive.” His eyes scanned yours finding an expression he couldn’t decipher and he asked, “What is that look for?”

“I have secrets, terrible things I should tell my Mate, for fair playing field since you’ve been so open with me. I do trust you, I just,”

“I understand.”

“It’s just been mine, for so long. Nearly my whole life now, and Eddie, he found me at and back again from my lowest point,” Loki nodded and bit the inside of his lip at the tear that rolled down your cheek all of a sudden. “He was the first person who cared since I got here, and I just had to tell someone. It was breaking me, and he got me help with his therapist, which has helped. I just, I don’t know why, but even with you being able to rain aliens down upon us, I’m scared to tell you everything.” Another tear down your cheek had him lean in closer to your side. “Because if you knew, what I am, you would hate me. I don’t know why Eddie hasn’t left yet. He should have left me by now.”

“He is not going to leave, and no matter what pain that lies in your past, I will not leave you. And I will wait until you welcome me into the fold. No matter how long it takes.”

The rest of the meal he remained at your side and moved with you to your couch to inch closer to cuddling through a film that allowed you both to a comfortable silence. Droops of your eyes however had him excise himself to allow you to rest. When you were on your feet however with sight of his back his body went rigid to the poke he felt that had him turn to see you with your button in hand say, “Double checking.”

Gently he claimed your free hand and raised it to his lips to kiss your knuckles on the hand he cradled after, “Get some rest. Tomorrow should Stark not interfere, hopefully I could arrange a lunch to make up for my misstep this morning.”

“Not your misstep. I shouldn’t have assumed anyone else would know Morse Code.”

“I will learn, there is no fault on your part. Only imagination.”

“You get some sleep too, Sunshine.” His grin widened, “Keep that stress on your heart down.”

“I shall try my hardest with Stark in the same tower.” He said stealing another press of his lips to your hand before he released it and led the way to the door you closed and locked behind your unbelievable Mate you secretly wished would have tried to kiss more than just your hand the second time.

Pt 8

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, @alishlieb​​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

#Yacht Party #Soulmate AU #Loki x oc #sea sick #Eddie Brock #Peter Parker #Blue Bird Cafe #Vision #Bucky Barnes

[nwbeerguide]

The next in their Stone Fan Favorites series, Stone Brewing Company re-releases Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA.

image courtesy Stone Brewing Company

Press Release

ESCONDIDO, CA (March 7, 2022) – Stone Brewing announces the release of the second beer in its series of Stone Fan Favorites, Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA. For discerning beer drinkers, this is their cup of tea! In the whole wide world of things-that-go-together, tea and beer haven’t often been among them. In fact, Stone Brewing was one of the first US craft breweries to try such a feat. Blending the assertive flavors of hops and the delicate characteristics of tea takes profound expertise. On the nose, Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA imparts green tea aroma alongside peach, apricot and mango from the hops. Tropical fruit flavors – mainly mango and pineapple are followed by hints of mineral and tea. The tea flavor lingers, contributing a dryness to the finish. However elegant the artistry, this is no delicate cup of tea. The beer itself, in classic old school Stone style, is big and bold at 10.1% ABV. The Stone Fan Favorites Series is a lineup of limited release throwback beers voted on by loyal fans of the brewery’s prolific 25-year history. Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA was first brewed in 2011 to support relief efforts from the tsunami in Japan. Good friends Bryan Baird and Toshi Ishii invited Stone to collaborate on this Japanese-inspired IPA that’s been requested by fans ever since. Bryan Baird founded Baird’s Brewing in Japan and Toshi Ishii, who got his start at Stone (1998-2001) founded Ishii Brewing in Guam, soon to open in Japan. Stone’s Senior Manager of Brewing, Jeremy Moynier, shared, “Brewing with tea is a great challenge. It’s important to get the right tea and have it integrated and balanced with the other ingredients. This beer definitely strikes that balance, even at 10.1% ABV! This is a special beer, and I fondly remember that day, over 10 years ago brewing with Toshi and Bryan. This is an internal favorite and we are stoked our fans agreed and voted for us to brew it again.” Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA is now available nationwide in 12oz six-pack cans, 22oz bottles and draft. Visit Shop.StoneBrewing.com for shipping direct to addresses in CA, OH and Washington D.C. or locate the beer by zip code at Find.StoneBrewing.com.

…

TASTING NOTES  

Appearance: Pours a deep gold with a cream-colored head.  

Aroma: A complex blend of herbal tea and hops: elements from both ingredients are there. The up-front aroma is mostly green tea, and there are also strong elements of peach, apricot and mango from the hops. 

Taste: There is a massive hop presence in both the flavor and bitterness. The hops start off as tropical fruits like mango and pineapple, and then are followed by hints of mineral from the Sorachi Ace. The tea flavors assert themselves mid-palate and linger nicely with a dry character. 

Palate: Medium-body, dry and bitter finish.  

FOOD PAIRINGS  

Appetizers: Pork Shanghai Lumpia*, Coconut Shrimp, Chicken Satay, Fried Gyoza, Wasabi Deviled Eggs 

Soups & Salads: Fruity Goat Salad (w/ berries & fillo-wrapped goat cheese)*/**, Socal Superfood Salad*/**, Katsu Chicken Salad*/**, Green Papaya Salad

Entrees: Lemon-Oregano Charred Chicken*, Cedar Plank Salmon, Japanese Beef Curry with Rice, Chicken Pot Pie 

Desserts: Pistachio Ice Cream, Lemon Macarons, Macadamia White Chocolate Cookie 

…

ABOUT STONE BREWING

The San Diego-based Stone Brewing is the 9th largest craft brewer in the United States and an industry leader in environmental sustainability. Stone operates breweries in Escondido, CA and Richmond, VA, plus seven tap room and bistro locations and one of the nation’s largest craft-centric beverage distributors, Stone Distributing Co. The company’s long list of environmental efforts includes a LEED Silver Certification, world-class water reclamation, solar panels, creative uses of spent grain, and even live goats for ecological vegetation management. Stone has been called the “All-time Top Brewery on Planet Earth” by BeerAdvocate magazine twice. To find Stone beers, visit find.stonebrewing.com. For more information on Stone Brewing visit stonebrewing.com, Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. 

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3tGe2L0

#Beer #News #Brewery

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Bar fight

“When you said you were taking me to a place of your culture, I was expecting someplace more.....refined”  Morgal stepped out of the cab after his human friend and gazed at the establishment in front of him. The outer walls were covered in decaying wood planks that looked like they could catch fire any second. The noise coming past the saloon doorway was overflowing with laughter and music and as Morgal watched a human stumbled out, threw up on the pavement, then proceeded to pass out on the ground. He made sure to step extra carefully around the pile of vile as he followed his friend to the entrance.  “I’m guessing you were expecting an opera theater or art gallery?” Jack asked as he wrapped an arm around Morgal’s shoulder and ushered him to the door. “That’s high society bullshit, the smallest of the small of human culture. You want to find the beating heart of mankind, this is where you come to.”  Morgal looked once more at the shady establishment and then back at his friend before sighing, letting himself be carried along by Jack’s arm. When he moved to this new world Morgal could not help but feel like he was always being watched by the humans and judged. His species carried three extra sets of arms across his body which must have intimidated them. Jack had been his first human friend since migrating to the human homeworld and he had not felt the same gloomy cloud of judgement when they were together. They both worked in office positions side by side and had developed a friendship over the previous months. Jack had gone out of his way to help him understand human customs and had not once asked for anything in return saying “Friends don’t bargain.” Tonight he asked Morgal after work if he’d want to join him for some “human culture” and he felt accompanying him would in some small measure pay him back for his kindness.  Jack pushed open the doors and Morgal finally got a look inside. Unlike the decrepit exterior, the inside of the “saloon”, as Jack had called it, was vibrant with color and life.  Rows of round tables were filled with various humans laughing, drinking, eating, and playing various games. Uniformed human females walked between the tables delivering goods and taking orders.  One side of the saloon had a large stand with countless bottles of strange liquid, each one held in a different glass bottle of color and shape. Morgal noticed with amazement how the humans behind the stand listen to orders made and somehow slide over to the exact bottle and perform a vivid acrobatic display of pouring the drink for them before accepting payment.  Morgal was so transfixed by the skill that he hardly noticed Jack pulling him over to a nearby vacant table. The two swept off a pile of crumbs from the previous occupants and sat down at the table. “So, what do you think so far?” Jack was nearly shouting to be heard over the roar of the gathered crowd. “It is..” Morgal began as his eyes made another pass around the room, “not what I expected.....” As his eyes wandered they laid sight upon a human female walking past him carrying several large beverage containers, more than Morgal thought possible for a species with only two arms.  As she skillfully avoided a patron who suddenly fell in her way her eyes met his. For a moment Morgal realized he had been rude by staring at her and remembered that Jack said some human females don’t like it when they are stared at. Before he could look away he noticed the uniformed female smile and wink at him as she passed by. Morgal felt something he was unsure of for the first time that made him feel lighter than normal and he attempted his practiced human smile back at her before she vanished into the throng of patrons.  Morgal looked back at Jack who was now staring at him with his head cradled in his hands.“I think I am enjoying it much more now.” Morgal admitted as he slacked back into his chair while Jack drew a mischievous grin and raised his arm up. Morgal was curious for the meaning when suddenly the female he had been staring at was beside them.  “What’s your poison?” she said as she pulled out a pad of paper. The smile at seeing her again rapidly left his face at her words. Did I offend her!? I knew I shouldn’t have stared! Why did I stare!??!!?  Morgal’s head was racing with ideas, each worse than the last. “She means what drinks are we ordering Morg, not literal poison.”  As Morgal let out a sigh of relief Jack continued speaking with the uniformed woman. “I’ll have a glass of whisky with three shots of tequila.” The uniformed female nodded and then looked at Morgal. “And for you hun?” Morgal paused to consider his options, he was still unfamiliar with human drinks so figured he should play it safe.  “Do you have anything fruity?” he queried. She nodded, “We have a strawberry daiquiri that’s nice and fruity; though I’d have picked you for something a bit more sweet.” She made a movement with her lips and eyes and Morgal cursed himself for not learning what human facial gestures meant. Thankfully Jack came in to save him before his mind began racing again. “He’s a sweet heart alright, basically a giant teddy bear with all those arms. He’s still getting used to our drinks so we’ll start with those daiquiri’s and see how the night goes.”  She wrote down something and then left the table back to the stand at the far end for the drinks. Morgal was content to watch her go when Jack motioned his attention. “Think she’s into you man.” “But I am not a man Jack, we’ve been over this.” Jack shook his head. “No, I mean I think she’s got you on her radar. Play your cards right and you might get some digits tonight.” “Why would I need more digits? I already have 45.” “I mean her phone number digits.” “Your phones have digits?!”  Jack’s hands covered his face for a moment and dragged down across his face. “I think she likes you and wants to know you.” Morgal felt that light feeling again at that and stared back at her. “Why didn’t you say so?” “Remind me to get you a book on human sayings. You are in desperate need of one.”  Before Morgal could ask further he felt something grab hold of his right shoulder. He turned his head and saw a rather bulky man behind him, his massive hand firmly clenching his shoulder.  “Can I help you?” “Yeah, by leaving.” the man replied. Looking past the man Morgal could see two other men standing behind him, one cracking their finger knuckles while the other drinking from a glass bottle.  “I do not understand.” Morgal was unsure if this was another human custom or not, but he felt the hand on his shoulder tighten further.  “Don’t care what a alien freak like you gets or not, so long as it’s getting your sorry ass out of this place. Now.” The expression on the bulky man’s face was one he had often seen in human motion pictures, “Anger” he thought it was called.  “Who you calling freak?” Morgal turned to see Jack stand up and walk over to them. “You look like the shit I scrape off my shoe when I get home at night.”  “Buzz off limp dick.” one of the men standing behind the bulky man said. “Yeah, this is between us and the alien.” the other chimed in, finally finishing their drink. “His name is Morgal, and he’s my friend.” “Gay friend” the knuckle man chuckled.  The uniformed female returned to the table and set down the tray. “Here’s your drinks fellas.” She began putting them out on the table but then stopped when seeing the situation. “If you’re going to fight take it outside.”  The bulky man let go for Morgal’s shoulder and looked at the female. “Don’t worry hun, they were just leaving.” He glared at Jack with daggers in his eyes to emphasize the point, but Jack just shook his head and reached for his drink. “We’re not going anywhere till we’ve had our drinks.” he said as he brought his whisky up to his mouth.   “Then let me help you finish them.” In an instant the bulky man’s hand lashed out and slapped the glass out of Jack’s hand. The liquid spilled across the table as it flew towards the uniformed female. She started to raise her arms but the glass was too fast and was about to smash into her face when a hand sprung out and caught it.  Morgal calmly set the glass down on the table and stood up to face the Bulky man. “That...was rude.” The words came through clenched teeth as Morgal began feeling angry himself for once. He could handle name calling for himself, but this Bulky human had nearly hurt the female human who had made him feel light, and that upset him.  The Bulky man smirked and brought his fists up. “Yeah? What’re you going to do about it?”  Jack’s fist smashed into the man’s face and sent him sprawling back into the two men behind him. “How about that for starters?” Jack quipped.   One of the men holding the Bulky figure dropped him and lunged at Jack. Morgal grabbed him with his arms and casually tossed him in a different direction. They landed on a nearby table and sent the collection of cards and drinks scattering to the floor, much to the displeasure of the table’s occupants who then stood up and advanced on Jack and Morgal.  “Thanks for that, but could you’ve aimed for someplace else?” Jack said as he slowly began backing up. Morgal shrugged. “It was either that or the other option.” “What other option?” Jack asked as a fist came hammering into his gut.  “That. That was the other option.” One of the new comers grabbed hold of a chair and swung it at Morgal. He brought his arms up just in time and the chair shattered into pieces on impact. A chair leg went flying into the glass of another patron and shattered it, dousing them in cold brew. Letting out a roar of anguish the doused human rushed the chair wielding human and began savagely beating him with his fists.  More and more patrons began getting drawn in as the constant shoving, punching, and flying debris hit bystanders sending them into a drunk filled rage. Morgal quickly found himself having to constantly defend himself from all sides.  Through the chaos he saw the human female he had been speaking to before grabbed by another male human, he could see she was struggling to get free of his grip. He began moving towards her, throwing away battling patrons that blocked his way as if they were twigs.  As he reached her he grabbed the man’s arm with three of his own and squeezed. The man let out a yelp and let go of her as he turned to face Morgal. Still holding the man’s arm he lifted him into the air and began punching him with his remaining five arms in rapid succession before swinging him like a rag doll over his shoulder into a nearby table.  He turned around to the human female and saw her looking at him again. The anger suddenly was sapped from him, replaced with an almost sheepishly demeanor. He did not know what to say, so he just bubbled the first thing that came to mind.  “Sorry about the table.” She shrugged and rubbed her wrist where the man had grabbed her. “Place needed a makeover anyway. Thanks for the help.” Morgal was about to say something else when he saw her reach for a glass bottle beside her and fling it at Morgal. He brought his hands up to block but the bottle instead flung past him and hit the man that had grabbed her straight in the face sending him back sprawling to the floor once more.         He was grateful that she had saved him when he remembered what jack had said earlier. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a business card and held it out to her as she ducked another flying bottle. “Thank you for saving me, here is my phone number. Feel free to call me.”  She took the card out of sheer surprise then ducked back down as Jack came flying back between them. Morgal excitedly knelt down to Jack. “I did it! I gave her my digits!” “That’s great pal.” Jack coughed as Morgal helped him to his feet. “Can tell me all about it later, but kinda need your help for a second.”  They turned to see the Bulky man from before now back on his feet. He picked up an entire round table and flung it at the both of them.  Despite the swirling chaos around them, Morgal was surprisingly happy that he had decided to join his friend tonight. Maybe they would do it again soon. 

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story #bar fight

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

#fanfic #starker fic #starker fanfic #starker fanfiction #starker au #starker neighbours #ironspider #ironspider fic #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider au #ironspider smut #sorta #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #starker prompt #ironspider prompt #sie fics

[rabbitcruiser]

International Talk Like a Pirate Day 

Yar harrr! Ahoy there ye lily livered blaggards! It be Talk Like A Pirate Day, and that means it’s time for pillaging and the imbibing of rum!

Pirates have been all the rage in recent years and out of that particular fascination came an insane and completely pirate-oriented idea: that there should be a day dedicated to keeping the piratical language alive and, more importantly, the tradition of all things related to pirates.

So Talk Like a Pirate Day was invented. And now it’s time to celebrate with all of the pirate talk that can be mustered in one day!

History of Talk Like A Pirate Day

It was June 6, 1995, and a group of men were playing racquetball at Albany in Oregon. All throughout they were shouting encouragement to each other. On this particular day, for reasons unbeknownst to them, they started shouting piratical slang at each other. From there it just kind of took on a life of its own, and they realized by the end of the game that it was necessary that they establish a holiday to celebrate that encouraged the use of such a fine vernacular. The first thing they needed was a date, and it just so happened that the date selected was the birthday of his ex-wife.

For the next seven years they honored this holiday, in relative obscurity, until they happened upon the email address of one Dave Barry, a syndicated columnist and author of a great number of books. He also happened to be hilarious, like any good pirate should be. From there it’s all history, Dave Barry promoted the holiday, and it’s been one amazing year after another as people all over the country celebrate this auspicious holiday.

How to Celebrate Talk Like A Pirate Day

Getting involved with this day is sure to be a LOAD of fun! Because it’s just a silly day, be sure to involve all of the pirate-like silliness that can be mustered. Try out some of these ideas for enjoying Talk Like a Pirate Day:

Talk Like a Pirate

Ahoy, Matey! This obvious application of the celebration might be a little more difficult than one might think. Because, who actually knows what pirates sound like when they talk?! Some phrases are more commonly known, like “pillage” or “landlubber”. But others are a little harder to understand. Here’s some vocabulary and lingo to help get novice pirate talkers started:

“Son of a Biscuit Eater”. This is what pirates might call someone they don’t like, the idea being that a biscuit eater is refined and, well, not a pirate.

“All Hand Hoy!” Upon hearing this, everyone needs to get on deck to help out.

“Bring a Spring Upon ‘er”. A phrase meaning to turn the ship in another direction.

“Grog Blossom”. A person who has a red nose because they drink too much alcohol (probably rum).

Read Some Pirate Tales

Even people who are land-dwellers can certainly use their imaginations to read about different pirates and their escapades. From classic to modern, stories about pirates are bound to be exciting and adventurous! Surely reading some books about pirates will help to build up that Talk Like a Pirate Day vocabulary.

Take a look at these classic pirate novels to get started:

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. The Scottish author brought pirates to life in 1881 with his talk of buccaneers and buried gold.

Peter Pan by JM Barrie. Infused with run-ins with Captain Hook, the original Peter Pan stories from 1904 are much darker than the Disney animated remake films.

The Pirate by Sir Walter Scott. Written by another Scottish author, this 1821 novel features Captain Cleveland, a shipwrecked captain in the setting of the island of Shetland.

The Life, Adventures, and Piracies of the Famous Captain Singleton by Daniel Defoe. The first book written on this list, the 1720 book tells the story of an Englishman who was stolen, raised by gypsies, and eventually takes to life on the sea.

Watch Pirate Films

Not into reading? That’s okay! Plenty of films about pirates have been created so that individuals and groups can spend a couple of hours hearing all kinds of pirate-speak.

The Pirates of the Caribbean series of films can take up a nice chunk of time with its 6 different movies in the franchise. Or for an inspiring one-off, try a modern day somewhat-true-to life pirate story starring Tom Hanks, Captain Phillips.

Invite Friends to Celebrate All Things Piratey

Well mate, celebrating talk like a pirate day can be as easy as a day in the tropic. Simply work to turn up that pirate-speak vernacular, pour a few fruity drinks with umbrellas in them, and gather with friends to celebrate the day in your piratey best clothing! There are songs to be sung and wenches to be clenched, and who can resist a backyard barbecue with grilled pineapple, salmon made by walkin’ the plank, and a perhaps inappropriately large amount of pure sugar cane rum? Talk Like A Pirate Day is comin’, are you ready to pirate it up? This is certainly the perfect day for it!

Source

#New England Pirate Museum mural #Salem #Massachusetts #New England #USA #summer 2018 #original photography #travel #vacation #Pirate's Museum #Nassau #The Bahamas #2013 #San Francisco #California #San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park #ship #sailing ship #International Talk Like a Pirate Day #InternationalTalkLikeAPirateDay #19 September #architecture #cityscape

[luxurymarriedlady]

TOXIC SUGAR DADDY

This is my very first blog post and it’s going to be about my most toxic sugar daddy that forced himself into becoming my ‘boyfriend’. The red flags should have occurred to me when he started moving fast in the arrangement after one month. Telling his friends and family about me. Mind you I wanted to be discreet! He’s overweight, feminine, extremely possessive, impotent and has a horrible temper that results in him yelling, swearing and name calling. He even blamed me for not being able to get it up after he admitted that ‘he was in his head’ and had performance anxiety. He had the audacity to call me mechanical in the bedroom. Honey I can assure you that there are thousands of men who get hard just from looking at me fully clothed. 

There were so so many things wrong with that arrangement but I kept it going because I fell in love with the potential. Thinking that in the future it would be better. Wake up call honey. We are in reality. Real life time. The now. How people act now is how they are! People grow but that kind of change can truly just be a fantasy. 

He’s always talking to me like a child and hurts my feelings like no other and now I’ve realized that an overweight, high blood pressure, angry, small limpy gummy dick, fruity, fussy, stinky, sweaty, ugly a** dog like him does not deserve me. He even told me that he feels like I eat till I’m bloated so he doesn’t touch me. I looked him right in the eyes and told him that he is sad. A sad man. I eat what I want when I want and frankly all women get bloated. I’m sorry that I want my food to settle before laying down like a plank. He says I’m rigid, a jerk this and that and I’ve never called him anything or said anything spiteful. I take his words and simply bite my tongue saying “I don’t like how you talk to me.” Ah yes, now it makes sense as to why you have to pay young women to like you. He claims that older women are jaded and younger women are full of life. B*tch shut the f*ck up. Older women see your bullsh*t. You choose to manipulate younger women because they are young. I should have question why he had two divorces, and lived alone with two cats. 

At the end of the day sugaring is a luxury hobby for me. I never wanted a relationship with him but he forced it upon me. Right now I plan on ghosting him and if he harasses me I’ll simply tell him it’s over, I deserve better and to take care. He is an abuser and a narcissist and this is the end of that era. 

until next time, xo

babyluvssugar

#sugarbaby #sugardaddy #sugardaddystory #sugarbowl #sugarbabe #luxury #levelingup #levelup #sugarbabystory #sb #sd #sugaring

[compassroseproductions]

Everyone Dice: Session 002 - Sewer Surfin’

Art by @darkthare

[Image Description: The party of Everyone Dice is in or near a river after their foray into the sewers. Foremost and leftmost, Alois is talking to fish and feeding them from her trail rations. She is human, nude, and freckled, with long black hair that protects her modesty. In the center foreground, just to the right of Alois, Cordelia is rinsing her hair and watching Alois curiously. She is a half elf, and also nude and freckled, and her right arm bears an intricate sleeve tattoo that resembles an eye with patterns and music notes around it. In the midground and at the rightmost edge, Shay is tying her hair back into a ponytail. She is a half elf, with long black hair, and she is wading in her crop top and pants. She has intricate tattoos on her wrists. In the far background, framed in the space between Cordelia and Shay, Zaala and Burnie are sitting close to each other on the shore, conversing quietly.

End Image Description.]

Everyone Dice: Session 002 – Sewer Surfin’ 

“Welcome back everyone to the second session of Everyone Dice.” 

The session opened with a discussion about the Itch.io Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality which offered over 1000 games for a minimum price of $5 with all proceeds split between the NAACP and the Community Bail Fund. We also talked about Black Hole Entertainment Comics who featured Lynn in their first edition of Lift Off!

(The Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality ended with over $8 million raised!)

Kacey then quickly recaps the events of session one finishing with the party above the sewer grate. 

“Who is going down the ladder first?”

Scottie: “Me!”

Erin: “Alois.”

May: “Cordelia is definitely last.”

The Party decides on their order as: Zaala, Alois, Shay, Cordelia and Burnie. As soon as Zaala’s feet touch the stone, she hears a gasp and sees a figure in tattered clothes flee into the sewers. Everyone is quickly distracted by who does and doesn’t have Darkvision (only Alois, Cordelia and Burnie do). 

Scottie: “I’m a goliath, goliaths don’t have Darkvision, what do you want from me?”

Erin: “A likely story…”

Scottie: “I get to be harder to kill.” 

Alois and Shay, halfway down the ladder, also see this figure and the three take off in quick pursuit. Cordelia and Burnie follow from a distance. Alois wild shapes into a boar to match Shay’s speed of 40 feet. Shay closes the distance between herself and the figure using step of the wind to push off of the walls. A gap in the path covered by rickety planks proves no trouble for everyone except for Cordelia and Burnie who slip into the muck beneath. Zaala stops to help them even when it means giving up the chase. 

Scottie: “Given who Zaala is, she would be more interested in helping Burnie... and then also Cordelia.”  

With a natural twenty, Shay closes the gap and tackles the target to the ground. Close behind, Alois piles on top of the figure and Shay. The party is now able to see that the figure is a short individual in dark tattered clothes that haven’t seen a wash in days or even weeks. Pockmarks and sweat cover his face. 

Lynn tries to argue her case of using mending to remove the stains from Burnie’s skirt. “What if I cut the skirt where the stains are and then use mending, would that work?”

In a soft form of torture, Alois (still as a boar) begins blowing into the man’s ears while Shay questions him. He claims to have just been doing maintenance, but our insight reveals he’s obviously lying. He’s not wearing a uniform or insignia and tried to say he had not seen the zombies around him. 

Alois manages to find an iron key in the man’s pockets. Shay ties him up and finds out his name (as far as he knows) is Tristan. Burnie tries to talk calmly to him, while everyone else offers help through intimidation. Tristan reveals he is in the sewers on a job, “to make that bastard Ulrich pay” but doesn’t really know the specifics of why. He was hired by Abigail Ulrich, the lord’s sister and in return she will cure his gravely ill sister. 

Burnie suggests the party take him before the lord and Cordelia questions the point, but eventually agrees when Alois claims to have a secret plan. Zaala tosses the bound Tristan over her shoulder and leads the group back to the town square. A small crowd has gathered there, and a guard questions the party. After Alois siphons “an unnatural amount” of blood from Tristan and it follows the party in a fine mist. He is handed over to the guards. 

Burnie: “Question, sir, do you know if there’s perhaps a launderer of sorts open…this late?” Guard: “A launderer…. This isn’t the capital missy. We’ve got a place where you can wash your clothes. No one’s gonna do it for you.”

Cordelia dumps her shoes in the sewer and the party decides to clean in the nearby river. Zaala rests on the bank. Alois and Cordelia are completely naked which draws curious glances from passers-by. Burnie and Shay are still dressed to some degree but are washing in the water. 

Burnie: “Hello Shay, how goes the cleaning?”

Shay: “Um…. It’s going…” 

The two discuss Shay’s homeland of Urtu. Shay calls it boring and dislikes the rules about how people can live. That is the reason she left, to be able to live the way she wants too (though exactly what that means is left vague). The bond over their shared travels and the new experiences they’ve had along the way. Shay is impressed by the prevalence and variety of magic outside of Urtu. 

Alois uses talk to animals to converse with the small silver fish in the river. She easily befriends them with food. The noises of this conversation sound like soft waves and bubbling brooks, which captivates Cordelia. The fish tell Alois about the ‘rotten ones’ they’ve seen travelling nearby, coming from the west. They make a deal: Alois brings more food if the fish find out more information.

Burnie: “I am endlessly fascinated by your magic Alois”

Alois: “Oh neat.”

Zaala attempts to discuss Alois’ shape-changing abilities but finds the conversation difficult to progress. In Zaala’s tribe children are not gendered and are able to choose their own later in life. 

Out-of-character the party gets distracted by how many secrets we’re all keeping. 

Erin: “Session 49: We find out all of Alois’ secrets. Then Session 50 Cordelia betrays us.”

Scottie: “I thought session 50 we find out Cordelia’s secrets, not that she betrays us.” 

Erin: “It’s both, it’s both. The secret is that she’s going to betray us.” 

Back on track, dressed, and clean, the party walks back to the Lord’s manor. Roderic opens the door, surprised to see them so late, but lets them into the meeting room. A minute later Lord Ulrich joins them. Alois explains her plan. Using the siphoned blood, she can track Tristan and suggests they let him escape and follow him to Abigail’s base of operations. Lord Ulrich is unsure whether to trust the party over this plan and first wants to gather as much information as possible from Tristan. Burnie requests the Lord find Tristan’s sister so something may be done to help her illness, and he agrees. The conversation over, Lord Ulrich leaves and the party notices he is no longer carrying the walking cane with him. 

A brief mid-session break happens. 

The party heads back to the Blue Willow Inn and finds a table for dinner. Cordelia begins playing a soft tune under the party’s conversation. Alois calls Thana over and asks for “a bunch of kale soaked in saltwater”. Despite her confusion Thana agrees to have it ready in the morning. Alois then asks for a dinner recommendation as she’s “in the mood for anything”, they settle on six chicken pot pies which she’s never had before. Burnie orders 1 pot pie for herself and Thana offers to just bring a tray of pies for the group. Cordelia is not hungry but amused by the situation and insists on “all the pot pies you have”. 

Thana: “All of them?”

Cordelia: “All the pot pies!”

Zaala: “Are you going to pay for that Cordelia?”

Thana: “That was going to be my next question”

Cordelia: “That depends how many ‘all of the pot pies’ is”.

Eventually they land on 13 pot pies for the table and some venison for the homesick Zaala (it’s not moose but it’s close). The ale is disappointingly weak for Alois as she’s used to Bralian moonshine. Zaala tries Burnie’s fruity wine. 

Zaala: “It’s not…the worst alcohol I’ve tried.” 

Burnie raises the cup in cheers “Well, to not the worst!” 

Alois enjoys her pies and shovels them down. Burnie tries to make conversation while avoiding the day's events as they’re not “dinner appropriate conversation”. Shay mentions tackling Tristan earlier and she and Zaala begin discussing the combat training they both undertook. Shay was not allowed to officially ‘train’ in her homeland but watched others and taught herself. Shay says she wouldn’t be upset to go home but doesn’t really see the need, for the moment her place is the road. Burnie is listening to Cordelia play. 

Burnie: “I’m curious Cordelia, do you draw your magic from the music you play? 

Cordelia: “Yes, to some degree. Though it’s more that the music is the magic.”

Burnie: “I think I’ve heard of that before, but I’ve never met one such as yourself, or such as Alois. Honestly, I’ve never met any people like any of you before”. 

Zaala: “It is my understanding that what I do is, not unheard of necessarily, but rare”.

Cordelia: “I am the only one like me, so I’m not surprised”.

Lynn, very suspicious: “The only one…hmm”

May: “Stop being suspicious of me!” 

Lynn: “You say suspicious shit all the time” 

AJ: “Now you know how I feel!” 

Alois gets the party back on track and in character by asking “So, what’s with all those…clothes, Bunny?” Burnie was simply raised to dress that way ‘like a proper lady’. Cordelia laughs at this response. 

Alois: “Why though?” 

Burnie: “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, it was just the way I was raised.”

Alois: “Yeah, but why?”

Cordelia: “She never learnt to question that.”

Burnie: “I’ve learned to question it, it’s just the way that things are done” 

Zaala: “I think it looks quite nice!” 

Cordelia (mockingly): “Like a proper lady”. 

The conversation shifts to the different ways of dressing people are used too. Alois is not used to people like Burnie. Zaala’s people mostly dress like her as the cold doesn’t bother them. Shay dresses similarly but is used to a warmer climate. Zaala also says the raven feathers in her ears come from her mothers’ companion, as the raven is her family’s symbol. Alois proudly shares the wolf-pelt she’s wearing is her first trophy. Shay is surprised but impressed by this. 

Alois shows off her bear trap: “You should have seen it, I caught it with one of these initially but it broke free. Now that I had some of its blood, I could track it and it was so fun! Took a few days but I got it!”

Shay: “I mean…yeah it sounds like fun. Camping? I bet it was like camping but you know, tracking an animal.” 

Burnie inquires if blood-magic is common where Alois is from. Alois just repeats that she doesn’t understand the questions until Burnie gives up. Alois asks Cordelia what sort of music she plays, to which she responds, “All music”. Alois wants a demonstration.

Cordelia: “You want me to play you all of the songs?”

Alois: “Well you said you knew all of the songs.” 

Cordelia: “Alright! I will do all of the songs, at once, for you.

Cordelia stands up and using both the lyre and her voice performs a cacophony of sound. It is unpleasant but after the initial shock, a melody forms within releasing a uniquely beautiful sound. Alois: “I’m sure it’s going to sound even better when I hear all of them separately”. 

On the topic of music Zaala reveals she has a flute but cannot play it very well. It was beautifully carved from bone by Zaala’s sibling, Veleo. Their brother, Nakein, was the musician in the family, not Zaala. Her people find what they are good at and do it, for her that is protecting people and weaving. “Weaving is a good reminder that my hands are useful for more than just hurting those that would hurt mine.” 

The party finishes dinner and eventually retire to their rooms for the night. Before heading to bed, Burnie says a prayer in privacy (Zaala takes a walk). She retrieves a collection of bones from and lays them out before her. The ceremony ends but she keeps her head bowed and softly speaks. 

Burnie: “I hope you had a good day today. I hope you’re doing alright. I noticed earlier that you were with me when I healed shay in combat. Do you know her? 

Fingers brush against her arm in response.

Burnie: “Do you trust her?”

A soft chuckle accompanies the bones as they shift to indicate “yes.” 

Burnie: “Do I have something to be jealous of?”

More laughter, the bones return to their place.

Burnie: “Alright I understand. I love you” 

A soft kiss is placed on her forehead and she finishes up for the night. 

As Cordelia lays in bed, she falls into sleep enveloped by darkness on all sides. After a few moments it parts but she finds herself in a darker version of her room. Pulled outside, she rises and opens the door, only to step into the town square. The sounds of activity swirl around her but she is alone there. At its centre, in front of the beacon, a metal musical stand has grown from the ground itself. She approaches and with each step the sounds grow louder until a deafening peak. An invisible conductor taps against the stand, stopping the chorus and calling coloured lights to erupt in the distance. A large book of music appears on the stand, its pages blown over by the wind. A strange voice, constructed with a thousand other sounds speaks to her, saying simply “the chorus calls”. Cordelia takes the book, lands on a tune titled The Minuet of Mending. She begins to play but upon the first note, wakes up again in her bed. 

The party awakes in the morning to the knock of a guard, called to talk with Lord Ulrich as soon as possible. They get dressed and ready before heading off to meet him. He greets them at the door, carrying his walking cane once again. Tristan was killed in the night by Roderic, who has now fled to The Geist lands west of town. He had a noose tied to his neck and was strangled. The party agrees to chase Roderic west. Ulrich offers a wagon of supplies to help them and asks for haste. Burnie asks if Tristan could have become a ghost, but the barrier of the beacon prevents undead being created within the town. Alois and Burnie decide to conduct an autopsy on Tristan’s body and leave town in the afternoon.  

Session two ends here. 

#everyone dice #dnd art #dnd #dnd livestream #dungeons & dragons #dungeons & dragons livestream #everyone dice recap #compass rose productions

[honestsycrets]

The Exchange | [ Hvitserk x Reader ]

❛ pairing | hvtiserk x reader

❛ type | drabbley-oneshot

❛ summary | something about her makes him do something stupid-- but he’s only just met her.

❛  warnings | arranged marriage, mention of trades. 

“Stop that--” 

The two brothers walk down a long corridor. Hvitserk bends his head closer to his brother, grinning ear to ear. Light filters in between the planks of the roof,

“Think she’s pretty?” Hvitserk asks, hopping to turn in front of Ivar. His brother wears a scowl, annoyed that Hvitserk would ask such a thing. Probably because he was conned into this deal-- because he arranged this crackshit deal for his brother.

“What do I know?” Ivar jabs at the ground. “You wanted to see her. You marry her.” 

Hvitserk throws his arms back, the leather of his forearms running against each other, and his soft chestnut hair. “If she isn’t--” 

“No, Hvitserk. What was it that you said… right. ‘Wait-- stop! I want to see her,’ now she’s yours.” Ivar raises his other hand to his shoulder, where Hvitserk had punched and cracked his bone, which yet still was sore and painful. They come to a stop in front of the tall doors, shut uptight, with two guards standing there at attention outside the door. Hvitserk drops his hand, peering to the inky black hall behind him. With a hiss, the door in front squeaks open. 

Oleg steps out, running his hands together. His dull stare pierces through Hvitserk, the source of his irritation. “Well,” he holds the door open, first for Hvitserk, then Ivar who follows after. “She’s inside.” 

Hvitserk bounces forward despite the fact that his brother has a sneer, turning around to speak to Oleg, not at all bothering with looking at his sister-in-law-to-be. Which is fine because... he doesn’t want Ivar getting any wicked ideas. Not after last time. No, this is to make up for that-- and that is probably partially why Ivar agreed. 

“You’re Hvitserk.” 

He jerks to the side. Beside him, a phantom, with long hair tumbling past her waist. She’s shorter than him, but has a feisty look in her eyes. Well-- he was right. She was beautiful donned in a rich dress, arms folded over with fur on top of fur. He shifts, slightly to the left where Oleg and Ivar were discussing formalities. 

“Uh,” he bends into a nod. “And you’re… going to be my wife? What’s your name?” 

You say your name, cut short, snappy. Your ringed fingers run together, nose scrunching up cute. “You’re the one who bought me.” 

“Bought--” he laughs. “I didn’t buy you.” 

“What else do you call it when you exchange a life for the price of another?” 

His face, completely lost from what she meant, turns toward Ivar. With a great sigh, you turn away from him. Perhaps believing that it was pointless, you fluttered your eyelashes together to suppress what he interprets as tears. 

“Wait-- Your brother?” he asks, stopping you by setting his hand upon your the white fur on your shoulder. Without speaking, you nod. Normally, he wouldn’t care what his brother did. But he’s reminded of last time. 

Hvitserk’s head rolls, and his jaw clicks as he twists his teeth together with a loud grind. “Okay,” he mutters, and makes his way toward Ivar and Oleg. 

“That quick?” Ivar says to him. Hvitserk grips his brother’s shoulder, guiding him away from Oleg, minding the fact that they’re being watched by what is left of Oleg’s great army. Hvitserk set the palm on top of the pommel of his sword. Bowing his head and lifting it again, he spoke. 

“What are you going to do with him, Ivar?” 

“With who?” 

Hvitserk leers out the corner of his eye. From that alone, Ivar already knows what he’s about to say. “He has to die. What if he comes back?” 

Not that Hvitserk was doing to deny that much, but given how you stood, caressing your arm, he knew that would destroy any opportunity he had in this marriage. “You can make a friend of him.” 

“We tried that. Men like us don’t have friends.” Ivar jabs his crutch down, hobbling closer. He leans in, nice and close, cheeks touching. “What do I tell him?” 

“Tell him we are family.” 

“Family,” he tsks. Yes-- it’s not as if that nasty scar piercing across his cheek wasn’t from Bjorn and Ubbe. “She’s his favourite sister. What would he do to bring her back home?” 

Hvitserk doesn’t have the answer to that. Neither does Ivar, who gazes at the other men there, debating what he might say until he relents. Maybe it’s for forgiveness. Maybe its Ivar’s growing headache with his brother. 

“I’ll take care of it.” 

Like that, Ivar takes his own guards and slips out, motioning for Oleg to follow with. With that, at least a portion of him feels a little more settled, and he turns to find you standing not far behind-- watching not far behind. Your hands clasp, in front of the silver thread that makes up your beautiful dress.

“You did that for me?” 

Yeah, he mutters. He supposes he did. Your eyes flutter to his hands. They’re nicked with the battle, and still you take them, hold them nice and tight. “I don’t know much about heathen weddings.” 

“Don’t expect you to.” 

“I’m Christian. I won’t convert for you.” 

“I know that.” Hvitserk scoffs, tugging lightly, and he brings you close enough for your breath to puff against the hairs that pepper above his thin lips. 

“Well--” you lean in, catching him by surprise. When you kiss him, its a soft glide against his chapped lips and a partial smile catches on his lips until you pull away. “--when’s the wedding?” 

Hvitserk laughs. 

“How about now?” 

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @belovedcherry @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#Hvitserk x Reader #Hvitserk/Reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk x y/n #hvitserk imagines #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #vikings imagines #viking imagines #vikings x reader

[dragon-fics]

DOS: Crashed [2/2] (Taffia X Female Elf/Reader)

Chapter summary: Taffia has chosen to protect you since the bandits have attacked, and she very rarely leaves your side. One day when you decide to make yourself a cool refreshing drink, you accidentally cut yourself. This triggers something inside Taffia, something that changes you both of you forever.

Note: GAY COUPLE AHEAD! DON'T LIKE IT? THEN LEAVE!

--------

It has been about a month since the bandits tried to kidnap me, and Taffia still hasn't relaxed. I haven't heard anything from the creatures that visit me about the men, whether they were near or in the forest. So, I'm presuming that Taffia scared them off for good. But Taffia wasn't convinced. She's constantly watching me, and following me; making sure I'm never alone. She even sleeps at the base of my tree. At the start, I was all right with it, as I had been pretty badly shaken after my incident with the men. But now? Now, it's just annoying.

Time after time I've gone out to gather food or ingredients for remedies and Taffia would follow. She'd about three paces behind me, her head looming over me like a pink cloud. Often enough I'd have to go into areas of the forest only big enough for a human or elf to pick berries or gather leaves. And Taffia would try to squeeze in beside me, usually getting stuck in brambles and scratched by their thorns, or she'd get her wings stuck between tree branches. It was frustrating because I then had to clean her scratches and put ointment on them after.

And then there was the time I needed to take a nap because I woke up in the middle of the night to heal a poor injured gryphon. It had been a lengthy procedure, so I needed to catch up on my sleep. I had only been asleep for about an hour when I heard something big and heavy hit the side of my house. I sat up with a jolt and got out of bed. I rushed to the door, thinking another creature had flown into my house. I opened the door to see Taffia clinging onto the wooden platform in front of my door, her wings sprawled out to keep balance. Her head was a few inches away from my own. I heard the wooden plank creak from under her. She gave me a nervous smile as half of the plank broke, splinters flew everywhere. I let out a shriek and shielded my face with my arm. I looked at Taffia, who was now hovering by my door. I took a deep breath.

"What is it, Taffia?" I asked, trying to act as concerned as possible. Her icy blue eyes looked straight back at me,

"I wanted to make sure you were all right?" She responded, concerned. "I haven't seen you since this morning."

I sighed. "I appreciate your concern," I started, "but I was in the middle of a nap."

Taffia dropped her gaze. "Oh... sorry." No sooner had she said the words, she flew down to the base of the tree. She lay down, wrapping her tail around a tree root.

"Taffia" I begged quietly. I thought about racing after her, but she seemed to pout, and I was still tired. I settled that I'd apologise to her later. And I did and so did she, but she didn't ease up on her protectiveness.

I've somewhat gotten used to it but I still find it annoying that I can't have time to myself, but maybe over time, she'll leave me alone and deem that the world is safe again.

*-*-*-* 

It had been a very warm week, and I wanted a refreshing, fruity drink. So, I gathered berries, star fruit, dragon fruit and star apples to make a sweet, refreshing drink. Taffia was right behind me, which was a habit that would not change soon. I picked a few of each fruit so I could have a nice breakfast tomorrow and make a few batches of the drink for later. Taffia found it rather strange that there was fruit named after dragons--because dragons rarely eat fruit, though she admitted that it looked similar to the ancient Fire Dragons' flaming egg. I brought the fruit back to my house where I prepared it. I was near the end of cutting a star fruit when accidently I cut myself. I sucked in air between my teeth.

"Ow!" I hissed. I spun around to get my box of healing ointments and bandages for people. I had just put the box on my table when my door swung open. I jumped back in fright. In my doorway, I saw a female, pink winged angel with lilac horns sprouting up between her magenta locks of hair. She had icy blue eyes, and her skin had a rosy hue. She wore a taffy wrap dress that ended at the knee. Her looks left me speechless.

"(Y/N)!" Taffia's voice came from her lips. "What happened?" She asked. She took my cut hand and looked at my finger.

"Taffia?" I questioned. She looked at me.

"Yes, (Y/N), it's me," she said, looking at me. She undid the clasps on the box and rummaged inside.

"Wait, I have to clean it first," I said interrupting her search. I walked over to the sink. I turned on the tap and let it run for a few seconds before putting my finger under it. Once the wound was clean, I sat at the table and picked out a cotton ball and some tape from the box. I cut off some tape and held the cotton ball to my cut. I looked up to Taffia.

"Could you put the tape around my finger?" I asked. She took the piece of tape and wrapped it over the cotton ball and around my finger. "Thanks," I uttered and closed the box before putting it away. "So, how did this"--I gestured to Taffia's humanoid body--"happen? And why haven't you used this form before?" I asked, sitting back down.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," she started. "I just felt you were hurt and came up here. I felt something inside me spread through me and now I'm like this." She paused. I saw that she wanted to tell me something, but she as was scared.

"Taffia, what is it?" I asked, grabbing her hand. She looked at me and took my hands in hers.

"(Y/N)... I love you. And I think this form was an act of magic, an act that brings us together or that shows us that we are meant to be together." I looked up at her. I felt something inside, like I had found myself by hearing those words. Taffia looked away. I rose slowly to my feet and held her cheek.

"I love you too, Taffia."

#Taffia X reader #dragon one-shot #dragon one-shots #dragon x reader #dragoness x reader #gay couple