#baking bread or tending the library

[canisalbus]

I find little Machete being happy over bread baking to be so endearing, especially because I can imagine a world in which helping with baking was one of the few childhood joys he had (due to the lack of art of him happy as a pup), and then remembering the art you did months back of modern Machete making a souffle, I can see reincarnated Machete being drawn towards baking in his free time due to those residual feelings from his past life.

.

#aww dang #it's funny you remembered the souffle and made that connection #I didn't even think of that but it's very fitting #to be fair the part of his childhood he spent as an oblate in the monastery was relatively worry-free and uneventful #small children are good at making their own fun it often doesn't take much to make them happy #Machete was nervous and sensitive as a kid that's just part of his innate personality but that doesn't mean he was miserable all the time #things started to get difficult when he was old enough to start his apprenticeship #and his master was way harsher than he was prepared to handle #answered #lunalemures #his life would've been less turbulent if he had chosen to stay in the monastery and become a monk instead of pursuing a clerical career #baking bread or tending the library #with bland regular meals twice a day and bedtime at 6 pm #but he would've never met Vasco of course

[st-el-la-luna]

Syrupy Sweet: Nasty Baker! Soap x Reader

tumblr deleted the orgininal for whatever reason. Luckily I tracked down a reblog. Edited and added some new stuff (love tumblr for deleting my most popular post, rip my 600+ notes 😔)

NSFW 18+

Soap is forced into an early retirement. He gets a job at a small bakery. And that's where he meets you

➔ gn!afab!reader (described as having boobs & wearing a bra), creepy soap, pervy soap, obsessive soap, lust at first sight, non/dub-con cum eating, dirty thoughts, fantasizing, humping inanimate objects, coming in panta

After so many years working in the military, serving his country. Protecting the people of the world from danger. The last thing Soap expected waas tyo be discharged so suddenly and with so little warning.

Too much time working with explosives has affected his hearing. A bad knife wound, or a torn Achilles tendon. A bad break that never healed right. A couple of head injuries too many. 

"An early retirement," they'd called it. Forced retirement more like it. They won't even tell him why, just that he's, "no longer fit for active duty," and that he should be grateful that they, "got him such a nice deal. That he gets to keep his pension."

He’s bitter about it, understandably, He likes his job. He’s good at it. They can’t be serious about this! His performance hasn’t been hindered. 

Regardless of the reason, in spite of his arguments, Soap is benched, permanently. Price is apologetic, Ghost is... Distant, though that's to be expected. Gaz promises to keep in touch. And he does keep in touch, they all do. 

But it’s ot the same. Soap still feels lonely. Bored. He doesn’t know what to do with himself or all the time he suddenly has on his hands. Doesn’t know how to operate without the adrenaline rush, without something to occupy his hands and minds. He figures that, maybe, he should get a job. A civilian job. Not one of those cushy desk jocky jobs Price had offered him out of pity, Soap wants a job far removed from the military. Really reintegrate himself into normal, civvie life. 

After a bit of searching along the drizzly cobbled Glasgowian streets, Soap finds a little coffee shop and bakery nearby. A tiny, quaint little thing, run by a sweet old woman who just doesn't have the energy to keep the doors open on her own. 

The place is situated on a street corner, tucked away from the busy traffic-filled streets. A soft bell jingles when the door opens. The sign is hsand painted. The place, though clearly aged, is well looked after, loved. The wood floors and counters shine; the tables and chairs, though antique, are comfortable, well made; plants hang from the ceiling; and a couple bookshelves line a wall, a leave a book take a book community library. 

Soap applies for the position and despite his lack of experience, he gets the job. Something about him reminding the old woman of her own son. 

At first, Soap worked there with her. Learning the ins and outs of the trade. How to make meringue and bread and macrons and creme brûlé. It's not easy, not at first, but with practice and time, he gets the hang of it. 

He figures it's because of his experience with explosives and chemistry. Baking is... Kind of the same thing. 

Eventually, he's left to tend to the day-to-day affairs of the bakery. The woman still writes all the recipes and makes some of the breads. But he's the one managing the front of the house. 

It's where he meets you. 

Sweet. Kind. Polite. Breathtaking. Irresistible. Sexy. You. 

You come tumbling into the warm bakery on a day when the weather is particularly bad, even for Scotland. Strong winds, cold rains threatening to turn to hail, thunder rumbling in the distance. 

You're soaked to the bone. Hair dripping. Shoes leaving puddles in your wake as each of your steps is announced by a wet squish. Your full cheeks bitten by the cold, fingertips numb, you offer him a blinding smile. 

He's more focused on your tits though. And your bra. Visible through your thin, now see-through, shirt. Black lace. He can see how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take. He can even see a small mole, or maybe a birthmark, on the swell just above the cup of your bra. He wants to sink his teeth into you. Wants to suck that mark into his mouth, chew and lick at it, make it bigger. Make it his. Make you his.  

He's drooling a little, he realizes absently. 

"Hey," you say softly, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. Hands curled into adorable little sweater paws as you try to wipe your wet hands off on your equally wet pants. 

Soap just stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Shell shocked. He... He’s never... You’re so... He... Holy fuck. 

Eventually, he clears his throat and manages a smile, stepping a bit closer to the counter so he can hide the growing tent in his pants. He forces himself to meet your eyes, rather than stare at your chest. 

But they’re staring at me, his innermost thoughts whine, wanton and airy in his mind. So desperate for attention... for love... ready to be suckled and bit and groped and pinched... 

Johnny leans forward, elbows resting on the counter and chuckles, flashing you an easy, charming smile. "Hey... Looking for something to warm you up?" 

Please say you've already found what you're looking for. Please say you want him to warm you up. With his hands. His mouth. His cock. Please say– 

"Yeah... Do you guys do hot chocolates?" 

"It's not on the menu, but I've got my own stash in the back," he says as he looks you up and down. But how could you blame him? What with your... everything! This is your fault, honestly. Dirty, dirty, little thing, wearing a white shirt in the rain. You know what you’re doing. Something sinister and heated bubbles in his gut. A thick, molten, syrupy desire, a primal need. A sort of instinctive pull, a fish lured in by the soft glow of an angler fish. A moth to a flame. Helpless but to stare, slack jawed, and fighting back drool, as you stare up at him expectantly, He smiles, his lips spreading further as he notices your flustered state, how you shift under his stare, biting your lip as he looks you up and down. Logically, it’s a nervous reaction. But, in Soap’s quickly spiraling mind, it’s a clean indicator that you want him too. "I'll make one, special for you, darling." 

Your eyes sparkle, your smile tears the breath from his lungs. "Really? Oh my god, thank you." 

Soap grabs a mug from the shelf and twirls it around his finger. He pulls up his sleeves, bunching them around his mid biceps. He flexes, purposefully, showing off the hard-earned muscles in his arms, the scars, the prominent veins, his big, strong hands. Hands that would look so perfect around your neck. Or holding your wrists. Or deep between your shaking legs reaching deep and good, far past anything you could reach on his own. He wonders if you’re a crier. He hopes that you are. 

Soap notices the way your eyes fall to the newly exposed skin. The way your jaw drops a little. The way you close your mouth. The way you glance away before quickly looking back. The way your throat bobs when you swallow... 

Holy shit. 

He can give you something else to swallow if you'll let him. Please let him. 

He rolls his hips against the counter and lets out a stuttering breath through his nose. His lips part. His tongue feels thick and leaden in his mouth. 

A moan bubbles in his throat, he disguises it as a cough. "Can..." He swallows another noise as he shifts his stance, achingly cock pressed against the teeth of his zipper. He makes a show of dusting the counter off, acting like he's tossed something into the bin so he can adjust his pants. "Can I get you anything else?" 

Your eyes, gorgeous eyes, scan the menu and the display. "A cinnamon bun?" You ask, pointing to the delicacy through the glass case. "Please and thank you." 

"You're in luck," he says, rutting against the counter again, as quick and harsh as he can without drawing attention. A part of him thoough, a sick, twisted, part of him that quickly spreads his mind like a weed, corrupting and poisoning, wants you to notice. Wants you to catch him. To punish him. "Just made a fresh batch... I've just got to head back and ice them." 

"Oh, I'm fine with one of them from the display, you don't need to trouble yourself." 

Oh, and how sweet you are... 

You keep chewing on your bottom lip. Part of him wants to stop you, tell you that that’s his job. Wants to bite your lips until they’re raw and swollen. 

He's fucked. Well and truly fucked. 

He smiles. You’re blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking in his eyes. "No trouble at all... It's my pleasure." 

And it is his pleasure. Very much so. 

He comes out a bit later, a little out of breath. A little red in the face. A couple buttons undone on his shirt. 

"Hot in there," he says with a smile, setting the mug and a cinnamon bun on the counter in front of you. He sets another little plate down, a doughnut. Chocolate frosting with a cream filling, the sticky white substance still pouring from the hole. 

"I uh, I didn't order that," you say with a little, awkward laugh. "The doughnut." 

"I know you didn't, sweet thing... It's a new recipe I've been trying out. Trying to get right... Mind telling me what you think? It's free of charge, promise." 

"Oh," you blink, staring up at him with those wide eyes. God, how he wants to see those eyes watering. How he wants to see those eyes tearing up as you choke on his cock. How he wants to see you cry as he fucks you. You smile. "Thank you!" 

You pay for your drink and dessert and blink up at him from under your lashes. Your smile turns shy as you chew your lip. Stop it. Stop it. You’re going to make him lose his mind. You have to know what you’re doing to him. You have to. "Keep the change." 

He smiles. "Thanks." 

You find a seat in the corner and settle in the corner with a book. Soap keeps an eye on you the whole time. Watches you as much as he can without attracting unwanted attention. 

His cock throbs in his pants when he sees you take your first bite of the cinnamon roll. When you wipe at the icing with your thumb and lick it clean. He watches with delight as you eat and drink, rolling his hips against the counter in time with the bobbing of your throat as you swallow. 

Soap watches you with rapt attention as you enjoy the desserts. His lips parted, jaw slack, drooling. He wonders if he could convince you to lick it away. He is so glad that he stopped by the office to record the security footage. He’s going to be watching this over and over and... Fuck! 

With a final grind of his aching cock against the counter, his boxers are flooded with a wet, sticky warmth. He mourns it going to waste like that. His cum belongs in you. Your tight pussy, round ass, past your full lips. 

"How was it?" He asks, breathless, when you return your dishes to the counter. He shifts his stance, hiding the wet spot in his pants. He's not embarrassed that he came in his pants just from watching how your throat moves as you swallow. At watching the way that you lave your tongue over your fingers, licking the thick glaze away with a spit-slicked tongue. 

He just doesn't want to weird you out. 

"It was amazing," you say. "I really liked the balance of the sweet with the salty... Sometimes the sugar is just... Too much." 

"I agree," Soap says, breathless. He swallows a lump in his throat. "I agree." 

You become a regular from then on. He always gets you freshly baked items, from the back. No matter how busy. 

He's not supposed to alter the recipes. But he doubts the lady will mind that he made a change. All he did was put a little love into the recipes. A little bit of himself in the sour cream glaze. 

Keep your eyes peeled for a part 1.5 involving what soap did in the back room!

Comments and reblogs help motivate!

Masterlist!

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #x reader #dark fic #johnny soap mactavish #cod x reader #nastybaker!soap

[topguncortez]

Made With Love- T. Kazansky

word count: 700 genre: fluff:) requested: yes

Note: my requests for full fics are NOT open, HOWEVER, I will always accept asks/requests for blurbs, moodboards, fake social media posts, etc :) I also don't have a general tag list anymore but HIGHLY recommend you follow my library page @cortezslibrary and turn on post notifications

Iceman would never admit it out loud, and if he knew that you were telling people, he would blow a gasket. But Iceman’s third favorite thing in the world (behind you, of course, and flying) was baking. He learned to back as a young boy, sitting on the counter and watching his mom bake anything from cookies, to brownies, to pies. Whenever Ice was having a bad day, he knew that when he got home there would be some sort of baked goods on the counter with his name on it. When his mother passed, Iceman inherited all of her cookbooks, and recipe cards. 

That was one of the ways you knew that Ice had a bad day at work, was when you came home to the smell of vanilla and warm bread. You sighed and kicked off your shoes, wondering what kind of baking mess you were going to be met with. Tom wasn’t always the cleanest baker, tending to throw flour and egg everywhere. 

“Bad day?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. Tom looked up from the loaf of bread he was kneading and nodded, “New brownie recipe?” 

“Yeah, black walnuts and white chocolate,” Ice said, pointing to the pan of brownies that sat by the window sill, “Slider asked me to try them, saying his mom used to make them like that all the time.” 

“And these?” You asked, picking up the tin of cookies. You were surprised your cabinets weren’t bursting at the seams with how much tupperware was stored in them. 

“Rhubarb bars!” Ice smiled, “Viper’s wife sent him with fresh rhubarb for me to use.” 

You shook your head, smiling at your husband. You walked over to him, and wrapped your arms around his waist, and laid your head between his shoulder blades. Ice sighed and put his hands on yours. He looked around the kitchen that was covered in baked goods. One thing he loved about you was that you never pried. You always let him talk to you when he was ready. 

“It was Mav,” Ice said. You removed your arms from around his waist as he reached for a raspberry cheesecake cookie. 

“What happened?” You asked, and took a cookie from the same tin. 

“He’s just out of control again. I think it’s got something to do with Bradley’s birthday coming up. . .” Ice looked down at his hands. You nodded, it was coming up on Bradley’s first birthday since Goose’s death. Carole had even asked Ice if he would make a birthday cake for the little boy. Ice quickly agreed and had gone out to buy a bunch of dinosaur themed cake toppers. 

“And how do you feel?” 

“I feel. . . overwhelmed. I don’t really know what to think about it. I try not to let my mind drift there but I can’t help it,” Ice had shared after Goose’s death the guilt that he felt about it. That first night you held Ice as he woke up in a cold sweat. Ice didn’t go back to bed that night, but spent nearly three days baking everything under the sun. You knew that he needed to seek help when you woke up at 3AM to the fire alarm going off, and Tom Kazansky in tears. 

“Well,” You pushed off the counter and walked over to him, “You can always talk to me. As much as I love your baking,” Tom smiled, “I am always here for you to talk to.” 

“I know, and I love you for it,” Ice said, and ran his hands down your sides. You smiled and leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. Ice chuckled, and grabbed your face gently, bringing you in for a real kiss. 

“Mm, you taste like chocolate chip cookies,” You said against his lips. 

“In the green tupperware on the table.” 

You smiled and pecked his lips before going over to where he said. The tupperware was still warm as you opened the top and grabbed a cookie. You moaned as you took a bite of the soft gooey cookie. 

“God, I am so glad our child is going to have a parent who can bake.” 

Ice chuckled, as he went back to kneading the bread he was working on earlier, “Yeah, we’re gonna win all the- wait, what did you just say?” He looked up at you, and you gave him a tight lipped smile. 

“Surprise?”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun 1986 #iceman #iceman fan fic #iceman fan fiction #iceman imagine #iceman x reader #iceman x you #iceman x y/n #tom kazansky #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky fan fic #tom kazansky fan fiction #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky x y/n #tom iceman kazansky

[a-love-like-yours]

So if I don’t get an ending to season three with a cottage in the South Downs I will never ever recover.

I need a small little unassuming cottage surrounded by the most beautiful and well tended gardens with plants that grow unbelievably well, almost by some miracle maybe? But just rows and rows of the most beautiful and most verdant plants in all of England.

Stepping inside it will be just full of beautiful golds and yellows and greys and greens and reds.

There’s a small closet just down the hall that appears to be a coat closet, but when opened is a large library full of rows and rows of books. Whatever book you could ever possibly want can be found in this room. Collections of classics, the rarest books of prophecy, hand written poems seem to have a place on the shelves as well. And drawings. So many sketches and portraits of all the mundane and perfect moments of domestic life. Maybe of a certain demon tending the garden, or drinking wine by candlelight (maybe real, maybe battery operated), or sleeping curled up seemingly in the most uncomfortable position in the armchair, with his legs thrown over the armrests and his hair all flattened to one side (this is the angel’s favorite, though Crowley pretends to hate it).

And in the sitting room there is a large desk, maybe like the one that could be seen at one bookshop in Soho, with a seemingly out of place Magic for Dummies book half opened and a notepad full of notes laying out.

And across, nestled just past the armchair with the demon lazed across it, is the (infamous) love seat definitively from the bookshop in Soho. There are small comfortable windows with a beautiful fireplace nestled between them, though it does not get much regular use, and of course, not very far away and nestled into a corner, is a fire extinguisher always at the ready.

Then as you move further down the hall you’ll see beautiful art along the walls. And places for Crowleys beloved statues.

At the end of the short hallway you’ll find a beautiful kitchen. There is always delicious food and it never goes bad. Always fresh baked bread and tea at the ready, always small sweets and a home cooked meal waiting for friends.

Then down the stairs to the cellar, where is somehow never gets musty, or full of cobwebs, but always has cases of delicious wine and bottles of single malt scotch at the ready.

Then is you travel back up the stairs and to the other end of the small cottage you get to the bedroom.

A beautiful mix of gold and grey, seemingly something that might not go together, but works miraculously for the space. A small cozy and private place.

There are shelves of books and plants all throughout the home, with comfortable rugs and seating as well.

It is a retreat, a Heaven, a home.

And shared by an Angel and Demon who have pined and pained for over 6000 years and deserve the best of it all.

And I want it for them.

#they deserve so much better #they deserve all the happiness #they deserve the world #they deserve a little cottage in the south downs #a cottage with books and plants and wine and scotch and all the happiness #there were angels dining at the ritz #and a nightingale sang in berkeley square #good omens s2 #ineffable lyrics #david tennant #good omens theory #good omens s3 #good omens #neil please

[rangergirl3]

The thing about gradually coming to terms with long-repressed traumatic memories is:

Well, you tend to make jokes that no one else finds funny, but it’s how you cope. Sort of.

Mostly to fend off the screaming in your head.

Which can work. Until you have enough faculties to deal with it, which I thankfully do.

Trauma mentions after the cut. Nothing graphic, just yucky.

I made the following joke upon realizing that there is 100% no way I should ever trust my biological father or mother within 100 miles of me or any kids I have.

Let’s just say that waking up sweating, and visceral panic attacks, intrusive flashbacks, and a literal textbook worth of gradual realizations are a real bitch to work with when it ends up that I also have survived: incest. Wish that was a mistype. But it’s not.

Ugh.

Just YUCK.

Although the stuff my mother would tell me as a kid (aka If you ever tell anyone about the stuff that happens at home the social workers will come and take away your siblings and you’ll NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN) really starts to make sense now. (She was a real mean piece of work too. Each of my parental figures really does deserve the other. It’s a match made in Hades. I wish them a very predictably miserable eternity together.)

At the time, I just figured she really hated anyone knowing we, I don’t know, were noisy and messy at times, like kids tend to be.

But instead, my mind was just doing this: Running from anything I felt I couldn’t control. Which was everything.

Thank goodness I have stable relationships now. I mean, it still is nasty to deal with all of the health consequences - past and present - and I’ve definitely begun an overhaul of the house, instead of just a typical spring cleaning. Something about just throwing myself into a mountain of tasks can help me feel a little less lost when the noise inside my head gets too loud. (As long as I make sure I get enough sleep, rest, and relaxation, too.)

But yes, that’s…well, the biggest reason I took so much time off of Tumblr. There were other memories I uncovered - to no one’s surprise, I witnessed a LOT of messed up stuff in my early life that just got stuffed under the rug - including two suicides of total strangers because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time- side note - Please Please Please LIVE. Each life is such an irreplaceable treasure. Please choose to live. Please.

So. That was a lot. I’m a little bit nervous posting this, mostly due to some very cruel anons that have interacted with me in the past, but I wanted to update you, my friends🥰, on what all’s been up these last several months.

Just as a reassurance: I’m safe. I’m truly very happy. And I’m not going anywhere. Except maybe the library. Every time I get another set of books, and cart them back home, my husband just looks up at me and laughs, because it’s not even surprising anymore. 😂

Also my kiddo has asked for a Belle dress as a future gift so that she can ‘look and act just like my mama!’ Which made me supremely delighted.

And now, I’m going to go bake some zucchini bread. And brainstorm my next book. 😎 Because I think some people could really benefit from hearing that people with a terribly painful backstory can still snort milk out through their nose in delight at a funny joke. It just takes some time to get to that point.

#Rangergirl update

[luvcraze]

Ideas for Local Places Couples can Enjoy Together

1. Botanical Gardens:

Explore the beauty of nature together by visiting a local botanical garden. Take romantic strolls through lush gardens, admire colorful flowers, and enjoy peaceful moments surrounded by greenery.

2. Local Parks:

Spend quality time together in a nearby park. Pack a picnic and enjoy a meal outdoors, go for a leisurely walk or bike ride, or simply relax on a blanket and watch the world go by.

3. Scenic Lookouts:

Seek out scenic viewpoints or lookout points in your area where you can enjoy breathtaking views together. Whether it's a hilltop, a rooftop terrace, or a waterfront promenade, watching the sunset or city lights can be incredibly romantic.

4. Cafés and Coffee Shops:

Discover cozy cafés and coffee shops in your neighborhood where you can enjoy intimate conversations over cups of coffee or tea. Find a quiet corner, sip your favorite beverages, and savor sweet treats together.

5. Local Wineries or Breweries:

Take a tour of a nearby winery or brewery and sample local wines or craft beers. Learn about the production process, indulge in tastings, and toast to your relationship with a glass of your favorite beverage.

6. Art Galleries or Museums:

Get cultured together by visiting local art galleries or museums. Appreciate the beauty of paintings, sculptures, and exhibits, and discuss your favorite pieces with each other.

7. Farmers' Markets:

Explore farmers' markets in your area and enjoy browsing fresh produce, artisanal goods, and handmade crafts. Sample local delicacies, pick out ingredients for a romantic dinner at home, and support local vendors.

8. Outdoor Concerts or Events:

Check out outdoor concerts, festivals, or events happening in your community. Enjoy live music, performances, or cultural celebrations together under the open sky.

9. Historic Sites or Landmarks:

Learn about the history of your local area by visiting historic sites, landmarks, or heritage buildings. Take guided tours, explore architectural wonders, and immerse yourselves in the stories of the past.

10. Cooking Classes or Workshops:

Sign up for cooking classes or workshops together and learn new culinary skills. Whether it's baking bread, making pasta, or mastering sushi rolls, cooking together can be a fun and rewarding experience.

11. Hiking Trails:

Explore nearby hiking trails or nature reserves and enjoy outdoor adventures together. Take in scenic views, breathe in fresh air, and bond over shared experiences in nature.

12. Beaches or Lakes:

Spend a day at the beach or lake soaking up the sun and enjoying water activities such as swimming, paddleboarding, or kayaking. Pack a beach bag with snacks, sunscreen, and towels for a relaxing day by the water.

13. Bookstores or Libraries:

Get lost in the aisles of a local bookstore or library and discover new reads together. Browse through shelves of books, share recommendations, and find cozy nooks to read aloud to each other.

14. Food Trucks or Street Food Markets:

Seek out food trucks or street food markets in your area and embark on a culinary adventure together. Sample a variety of dishes from different vendors and enjoy a casual and delicious dining experience.

15. Local Theaters or Performing Arts Centers:

Support local arts and culture by attending performances at theaters or performing arts centers in your community. Enjoy live theater productions, concerts, or dance performances for a memorable date night.

16. Farm-to-Table Restaurants:

Dine at farm-to-table restaurants or farm-to-fork eateries that showcase locally sourced ingredients and seasonal menus. Experience the flavors of your region while supporting sustainable and eco-friendly dining establishments.

17. Community Gardens or Urban Farms:

Volunteer or visit community gardens or urban farms in your area and get your hands dirty together. Help plant, tend to, or harvest fruits and vegetables while learning about sustainable gardening practices.

18. DIY Workshops or Classes:

Take part in DIY workshops or classes that interest both of you, such as pottery, painting, photography, or home decor. Get creative together and unleash your artistic talents while learning new skills.

19. Historical Walking Tours:

Join historical walking tours or heritage trails led by local guides and explore the rich history of your city or town. Discover hidden gems, architectural landmarks, and fascinating stories from the past.

20. Outdoor Yoga or Fitness Classes:

Attend outdoor yoga or fitness classes held in parks or green spaces in your area. Stretch, sweat, and strengthen your bodies together while enjoying the beauty of the outdoors and staying active as a couple.

These local date ideas offer couples the opportunity to bond, connect, have fun, explore, and create cherished memories without having to travel far from home. Strengthening their relationship right in their own backyard. Whether it's exploring nature, supporting local businesses, or learning new skills, there's no shortage of ways to enjoy quality time together in your local area.

#in love #love #love language #lovers #couple #couples #i love her #i love him #i love you #love quotes #date ideas #date night #partner #family #married life #married #boyfriend #girlfriend #couple goals #cheap #ideas #idea #cute #self care #self love #self motivation #beach #garden #books & libraries #books

[goldkirk]

MORE happy things for today

• cat headbumps

• realizing you’ve made progress

• pre-diced canned tomato

• interesting conversations with strangers

• tap water

• boundaries

• people who really do stay predictably kind

• free information

• people who were brave

• kids in rain boots

• nail polish

• art videos

• documentaries

• the live captions feature in Teams meetings

• color coded calendars

• chairs

• long phone charging cables

• star identification apps

• bold red leaves against gray concrete

• old people riding bikes

• kids hopping off of benches and curbs

• breathing

• wobble stools

• why am I suddenly able to do this, what is happening, I’m grateful but bewildered and amazed

• chapstick when your lips are scratchy and pokey

• peer reviewed research

• Duolingo

• what the word for “sandwich” is in Dutch

• French onion soup

• Pinterest

• past you taking notes during meetings

• whiteboard wall stickers

• cats in hoodies

• postal service mail people

• public transit

• being safe and alone

• shared looks between strangers

• dogs sighing

• lit fireplaces

• having your own candle

• sturdy bookmarks

• being able to think of good things

• meetings ending early

• low pain days

• learning to layer clothing

• extra food

• roasted vegetables

• the smell when you bake bread

• phone cases

• people’s various keychains

• pandiculatuion

• Pipa Pipa frogs

• ginkgo leaves in the fall

• Mike Rinder

• paint

• public libraries

• doodles around the edges of school notebooks

• compassionate listening

• rest

• bat shaped Halloween gummies

• caring for yourself

• magic

• community gardens

• braided cord cables my beloved

• working crosswalks

• favorite blankets

• loving people

• growing, gardening, and tending your love

• theatre techs

• digital banking

• crochet

• rainbow yarn

• getting enough hours of sleep

• hearing someone else’s good news

• well organized computer files

• teachers

• people who lived despite it all

• zucchini bread

• ambient lighting

• justice

• equity

• the UN bill of human rights

• kidshealth.org

• peanut butter

• spicy sweet potatoes

• electricity

• mascara

• choices

• cinnamon sugar on butter bread

• tea kettles

• the moon

#fivethingsaday

[pasdetrois]

Pass the happy! When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications ✨

smaller town museums. A bit oddly specific, but those are the museums I’ve found that tend to be nearly empty of patrons but also laid out in really interesting ways. My favorite of the set I’ve visited was a camera history museum in Girona!

forest hikes, especially in the autumn 🍁

freshly baked bread

wandering around libraries + hidden reading nooks

cats trotting up to you and perhaps even permitting you to pet then

#thank youuu 💕 #im so sorry for the delay as well! I thought my drafts had eaten this message and woe and agony ensued lol #but then I found it again \o/ #✉️.msg #pristina-nomine

[oculusxcaro]

What's an average day in Khare's life?

Just when most people's days are coming to an end, Khare's has only just begun. Starting fresh at 8pm, she has a quick shower before towelling off and getting ready for her shift at the diner. From Monday to Saturday, she works between the hours of 12am to 8am, quite literally the graveyard shift according to people in Gotham.

Upon arriving at the diner, whoever's on shift passes on any and all updates before clocking off themselves. After the Scarecrow's recent attack on the Grand Avenue, Pauli is unable to work nights until having made a full recovery from Jonathan's fear gas so it's up to night staff to get prepped for the upcoming day and this is where Khare comes in, preparing meals for the early morning rush. There's more to her shift than just prepping meals - there's last night's dishes to be washed and put away, the floor to be swept, the counters to get wiped down and that's not counting the kitchen itself with multiple machines and cook tops to scrub. Pauli prides himself on owning the best diner this side of Miagani Island and Khare works hard to maintain standards of cleanliness, to ensure that the food is as fresh as can be and up to expectations. The first few hours usually involve cleaning, taking overnight deliveries of milk and other supplies requiring chilling on top of serving customers looking for a bite to eat at this ungodly hour. Pauli's Diner is a 24/7 joint whose doors are always open after all, so she often has to stop what she's doing in order to whip up a quick meal before getting back to what she was previously doing. At this time of night, she'll cook just about anything providing the ingredients are avaliable so it's a good time to eat if people want to avoid the crowds. 4am is usually when the rush begins. Right before dawn, the GCPD are winding down from a long night of tackling crime and tend to be (very) hungry. Pauli's Diner is one of their favourite places to hit up, looking for hearty meals in place of dinner and that's when the bacon and eggs start cooking. Pancakes, waffles, fried breakfasts - you name it, Pauli's got it and Khare will be busy cooking at this time on top of serving pots of strong coffee and tea. After this, things quieten down for a bit, long enough to get things cleaned up and the next round of meals prepared. Muffins, biscuits, cakes and bread rolls will be baking in the ovens at this time so that people in a hurry can take a quick meal with them on their way to work, making for a pretty versatile menu suitable for most early risers who don't have the time to dine in. By the time 8am rolls around, Khare's cleaned two or three times and prepared the majority of morning meals in time for Pauli himself to arrive and take over for the day. He's gotten better since the attack but can't come in until daylight due to lingering effects of fear gas, meaning Khare might not get to leave until later during the winter months until he's ready to handle things for the day. After clocking out, the rest of the day is hers to do as she pleases until her shift repeats at midnight. Thanks to being experimented on, Khare has little need of sleep, only lumbering two or three hours at a time (which is fine by her - the nightmares are awful) so there's plenty of time to do whatever. Blending into the crowds, reading at the library, feeding the birds at the park, visiting the local malls and so much more, Khare will happily spend as much time as she can outside of her nasty little apartment, only spending long enough there to have a shower and a short nap before work and on days off, spends time with a coworker like Cindy, watching a movie at her place or at the cinema.

#anonymous #🌈 || musings #🌈 || headcanons #🌈 || character sheet #Thank you dear nonny! #I hope this answer wasn't too boring asdfghjkl #Khare is busy a lot even at dead hours #There's so much to do as it's a pretty sizable diner and only a few people working at night #Sometimes it's only her #Which is okay as she can handle it #Many diners have a lot of crappy frozen food but Pauli's is pretty good as lots of stuff is made fresh overnight #Like bread rolls for instance #Put a cooked breakfast in that and it's a hot meal to go #She plays Pokemon Crystal and other games on her shitty ancient Gameboy otherwise haha #Won't leave it at 'home' too long in case the moisture of the atmosphere damages it

[00katrinka00]

Decades Challenge 1890s Update #1

I'm going to start playing through the decades challenge here on my Tumblr in between my legacy updates. I'm actually super excited to start playing.

That had to have been the longest train ride of Josephine's life, and her older brother couldn't even have the decency to pick her up himself.

This isn't fair, Josephine though to herself. It wasn't Willow Creek that Josephine disliked, she was actually content moving back, excited even, to be able to spend more time outside without the thick clouds of smog filling her lungs.

It was Daniel whom she wasn't excited to see. They had never been close growing up, a 10-year age gap tended to do that to siblings, but Josephine had no control over the situation. She was a child and therefore had to be placed with the only adult left in their family.

With a deep breath Josephine began to head inside.

Next-door, Abigail Alden was busy baking some milk-break to welcome their new neighbor back to Willow Creek. Every woman in town had been buzzing with the latest gossip since the news had broke a few weeks ago about the sudden death of Thomas Williams.

What were they going to do with the daughter? everyone had been wondering.

Abigail had stumbled upon the answer relatively quickly, there were perks to living next to the junior Williams boy and his wife.

"Is that milk bread?" Abigail's son, Theo, asked. He and her other two boys, all seemed to be able to smell food from a mile away.

"Not for you," Abigail chided him. "The Williams girl just moved in next door. Mary and I are going to bring over some milk break to welcome her back to town."

"We are?" Mary asked still looking down at her needle point.

"Yes, we are," Abigail said confidently, like she knew something her children did not.

Theo raised an eyebrow, "Need I remind you that Mr. Williams is married. His wife is pregnant, with their second child. If this is some sort of elaborate scheme to get Mary betrothed to him, it's not going to work."

Abigail brushed her son off, "Nonsense. Cynthia Williams is too sickly to be carrying children, all the doctors advised her against getting pregnant again. She'll most likely die during childbirth and then Mr. Williams will be on the hunt for a new wife, and he'll remember how our Mary was among the first to welcome his younger sister back to town, a kind gesture indeed."

"Well, you two have fun with that," Theo shrugged. "I will be headed back to the library, too many books to read, and not enough time in the day."

Theo started to get up. "Not so fast Theodore," Abigail began to say. "You're coming with."

"It's Theo," he quickly reminded her. "And do I have to?"

"We must present ourselves as a unified family," Abigail concluded.

"What about father? Ben? Charles?" Theo pointed out to his mother. How were they meant to be a unified family if half their family wasn't going to be there.

"Ouch!" Mary suddenly yelled. "I dislike needle point so much."

Abigail ignored her and flashed Theo a pointed look, "You're going."

"Hello Daniel," Josephine greeted her older brother. She was unsure of exactly how to greet a sibling you hadn't seen in 8 years. "Thank you for allowing me to stay in your home with you and your family, I deeply appreciate it."

"You are very welcome sister," Daniel answered stiffly, he seemed to be just as usure as Josephine in this situation. "I want to go over some ground rules, expectations if you will."

Alright, Josephine thought. Most households have expectations and guidelines to respect. This shouldn't be too bad.

Daniel cleared his throat and begam. "First and foremost, as you may have heard my wife Cynthia is unwell. Pregnancy is difficult for her, and the doctors have prescribed bedrest for the remaining months of her pregnancy. That being said, I will expect you to take over all housework. This includes caring for my son Kenneth and attending to all of Cynthia's needs while on bedrest. I mean you will be in charge of cooking, cleaning, laundry, childcare. Do you understand?"

"What about school?" Josephine asked the first question that came to mind. It felt like a million thoughts were flying through her brain.

Daniel was silent for a moment, "Oh, Josephine," he began to say. "I think there has been a miscommunication, you will not be attending school any longer. These chores will take up your entire day, there will be no time for studies."

Josephine began to panic internally. Father had always wanted her in school, her studies had always been important to him. "What about when Cynthia is better?" Josephine asked quickly. "Will I get a tutor then?"

"No, Josephine the only thing you should be focused on right now is the housework," Daniel told her anger beginning to creep up into his voice. "Then after Cynthia is better your focus should be on courting, finding a husband to marry when you turn 18. Women have no business learning mathematics or science."

"School was important to father!" she exclaimed raising her voice. "He wanted me to learn those things."

Daniel gave her a stern look, "I don't care what father would have wanted. You are now living under my roof so you will abide by my rules, and you will treat me with respect. If do not like my rules then I can throw you out onto the street and you can fend for yourself, do you understand?"

Josephine went silent.

"Do you understand?" Daniel raised his voice this time.

"Yes," Josephine said. "I understand."

"You understand?" Daniel's voice a bit sterner this time.

"Yes, I understand, sir," Josephine told him just as there was a knock at the door.

Josephine opened the door and stepped back to join her brother.

"Good afternoon Mr. Williams," the older women greeted them. "We have stopped over to welcome your dear younger sister back to Willow Creek. We are truly excited to see you, I'm Abigail Alden and these are but two of my children, Mary and Theodore."

"Theo," Theo quickly interjected, but then his eyes settled on Josephine. She was easily the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"What impeccable timing you have Mrs. Alden," Daniel said through gritted teeth. He then gestured towards Josephine, "and might I introduce you to my younger sister, Josephine."

"Good afternoon, pleased to make your acquaintances," Josephine greeted her neighbors.

"Please, do come in," Daniel gestured for the guests to follow.

Once Daniel had led the Alden family into the drawing room he headed back towards Josephine. "Do go put some tea on," he instructed her. "It'd be awfully rude to welcome guests into the home without tea."

"I don't know how to make tea," Josephine told him. She watched as anger flashed across his face again.

"Figure it out," he said through a clenched jaw before leaving Josephine alone in the entryway.

"It was very kind of you guys to welcome my sister to Willow Creek," Daniel said as he sat down to join the Alden family.

"Oh, it was all Mary's idea," Abigail grinned. "She heard of your sister's return, and she just simply had to be the first to welcome her back. She even made the milk bread all by herself, such a talented cook my Mary is."

"I did?" Mary asked.

When Josephine was done brewing the tea, she set it onto the table and joined everyone else. The only remaining seat happened to be the one next to Theo. Josephine was having a hard time hiding her disappointment over the move, and it seemed to be showing on her face. Theo took it upon himself to try and make her smile.

"You know," he leaned toward her and in a low voice said, "it isn't your brother's fault he looks like a fish."

Josephine cracked a smile but quickly composed herself. "You can't say things like that Mr. Alden, they're rude."

"Theo," he told her. "It's Theo."

"Do you read, Josie?" Theo asked her.

"Josephine, but please call me Ms. Williams," Josephine corrected him. It was far too improper for a man, especially one she had such a small acquaintance with, to be calling her by her first name. "But yes, I do read."

"What types of books are you interested in, Josie," Theo questioned. He watched Josephine's brow furrow in frustration with his insistence on calling her Josie, it made Theo smirk.

Instead of correcting him, Josephine launched into a giddy conversation about some her of favorite academic journals. Theo couldn't help but find Josephine's enthusiasm over academics charming and irresistible. He had to admit, he'd never met a girl who knew as much about science and mathematics as she did.

"Oh, your sister has arrived just in time for the social season!" Abigail exclaimed.

"She's far too young to be attending any social events," Daniel quickly added in. "Besides, she's agreed to help with housework in order to allow my wife more time to rest throughout her pregnancy."

"You must at least bring her to the picnic next weekend," Abigail told him. "Everyone is going, and it will be a great way for Josephine to meet more people around town."

"We'll see," Daniel said his voice stiff.

"Well," Abigail began to say after a silence that lasted slightly longer than usual. "We best be heading home; it's beginning to get dark out."

"Yes," Daniel said. "Let me walk you guys out."

"You know," Abigail began as soon as the Alden's got settled in their own home. "That was the worst tea I've ever had, what kind of girl doesn't know how to make tea?"

"It tasted just like hot water, with a hint of basil," Mary added in pulling her needle point back out.

"I quite like basil," Theo noted.

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

That's all for update 1. I hope everyone enjoyed, I have a lot of plans for Josephine and I'm excited to play through all of them.

#TheSims4 #TheSims4Gameplay #TheSims4Community #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Gameplay #decades challenge

[gardnwalls-a]

         🌦   «   aslihan   malbora   .  cis   woman   .  she/her   .  30   .  »   was   that   MIRAY   GÜLEN   walking   through   the   doors   of   amorelux   ?   i   heard   they   just   moved   in   to   apartment   701   from   NEW   YORK   CITY   ,  NY   and   work   as   a   pastry   chef   .  they   seem   whimsical   &   resilient   but   don’t   get   on   their   bad   side   !   they   can   be   timorous   &   shambolic   which   makes   sense   since   they’re   a   GEMINI   .  you   know   they’re   home   when   you   see   a   flash   of   earthy   scent   of   rain   in   the   air      ,  hazily   waking   up   to   a   ray   of   sunshine   kissing   your   skin      ,  licking    cake   batter   straight   from   the   spoon   while   baking   and   the   prickly   sense   of   bare   feet   touching   uncut   grass   .   /   @amoreluxintro​

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀basics

name   :   miray   gülen   .   nicknames   :   n/a   .   gender   :   cis   woman   .   pronouns   :   she/her   .   age   :   thirty   .   date   of   birth   :   21/06/1992   .   sun   sign   :   gemini   .   moon   sign   :   pisces   .   place   of   birth   :   new   york   city   ,   ny   .   nationality   :   american   .   ethnicity   :   turkish   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ occupation   +   education

education   :   culinary   school   degree   .   previous   occupations   :   library   assisstant   ,   bartender   .   current   occupation   :   pastry   chef

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ romance   +   attraction

relationship   status   :   single   .   sexual   orientation   :   bisexual   .   romantic   orientation   :   biromantic   .   longest   relationship   :   approximately   three   years   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ appearance

hair   colour   :   dark   brown   .   hair   style   :   long   with   curtain   bangs   and   styled   depending   on   the   mood   .   eye   colour   :   dark   brown   .   clothing   style   :   very   fond   of   prints   ,   florals   and   colors   ,   tends   to   have   a   more   bohemian   approach   in   overall   style   with   a   lot   of   denim   and   gold   jewellery   .   tattoos   :   a   trail   of   paws   across   her   right   shoulder   and   a   jigsaw   puzzle   piece   on   her   wrist   .   piercings   :   multiple   along   each   lobe   ,   helix   and   daith   piercing   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ personality

positive   traits   :   altruistic   ,   resilient   ,   whimsical   ,   eccentric   ,   vivacious   ,   spirited   ,   intuitive   ,   mirthful   ,   loyal   ,   empathetic   .   negative   traits   :   gullible   ,   apathetic   ,   shambolic   ,   frivolous   ,   capricious   ,   irresponsible   .   likes   :   the   smell   of   freshly   baked   bread   ,   stopping   in   the   middle   of   the   street   to   pet   a   stray   cat   ,   thrift   shops   ,   late   night   walks   on   the   beach   .   dislikes   :   confrontation..   that’s   about   it   ,   i’ll   come   up   with   more   soon   ok   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ hobbies   +   skills

noteable   skills   :   baking   ,   cooking   and   creativity   in   the   kitchen   altogether   .   secret   talents   :   karaoke   .   languages   spoken   :   english   ,   turkish   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ biography

         despite   minor   complications   ,   first   whimper   sparks   in   a   dimly   lit   room   ,   with   the   summer   breeze   wafting   through   window   screens   ,   as   miray   was   placed   in   her   mother’s   arms   for   the   first   time   .   born   into   an   newly   established   family   of   three   ,   she   became   the   latest   addition   as   cemile’s   first   biological   daughter   and   nadir’s   second   ,   preceded   by   her   half   sister   ,   hazal   ,   whose   mother   tragically   passed   away   after   giving   birth   .   though   always   aware   of   the   fact   that   they   only   shared   a   father   ,   it   was   as   if   that   piece   of   information   made   no   difference   at   all   in   the   bond   the   two   established   growing   up   in   the   same   household   .   the   environment   in   which   she   was   brought   up   entailed   anything   a   child   could   ever   want   or   need   ,   loving   and   supporting   parents   who   provided   a   more   than   comfortable   life   and   a   sister   that   was   almost   automatically   crowned   her   favourite   person   regardless   of   the   occasional   sibling   link   quarrels   that   barely   lasted   a   few   hours   at   most   .

         school   life   had   always   been   smooth   sailing   ,   except   for   the   inkling   miray   had   about   not   quite   fitting   in   ,   and   that’s   not   to   say   she   was   an   outcast   ,   but   when   her   friends   discussed   their   favourite   subjects   ,   she   was   the   one   who   resorted   to   a   humorous   response   in   attempt   to   avoid   admitting   she   did   not   feel  passionate   about   anything   school   had   to   offer   ,   said   behaviour   eventually   branding   her   as   somewhat   of   a   class   clown   .   though   they   were   years   well   spent   ,   and   with   her   high   school   graduation   around   the   corner   ,   miray   felt   that   she   should   have   made   up   her   mind   so   far   as   career   selection   was   concerned   by   then   and   yet   all   she   ever   truly   enjoyed   was   messing   around   in   the   kitchen   ,   trying   out   different   recipes   and   putting   homework   on   the   backburner   to   make   dinner   for   the   whole   family   .   no   one   ever   categorically   told   her   this   strictly   had   to   be   a   hobby   and   nothing   more   could   ever   come   of   it   ,   but   miray   felt   as   though   this   was   an   unsaid   rule   and   she   would   disappoint   her   parents   even   by   acknowledging   her   interest   .

         that   was   only   until   a   discussion   with   her   sister   that   proved   eye   opening   at   the   very   least   ,   when   she   realized   this   was   actual   talent   and   not   just   her   goofing   around   trying   to   make   something   nice   for   friends   and   family   .   it   was   then   that   miray   decided   studying   food   science   was   a   viable   option   and   close   enough   to   what   she   was   beginning   to   envision   for   her   future   .   yet   as   suitable   as   said   major   seemed   to   be   on   paper   ,   in   reality   ,   the   theory   and   lab   work   related   side   of   the   industry   was   not   as   thrilling   .   no   matter   how   much   she   tried   to   buckle   down   and   be   patient   in   case   there   was   a   change   of   heart   to   be   had   ,   what   was   left   of   her   tolerance   was   exhausted   by   the   end   of   her   first   year   .   with   morale   lower   than   ever   before   and   self   confidence   showing   cracks   ,   miray   dropped   out   of   college   with   a   heavy   heart   ,   only   to   opt   for   one   last   shot   at   her   future   ,   culinary   school   .

         a   more   hands   on   experience   was   miray’s   last   hope   and   eventually   proved   to   be   her   saving   grace   ,   seeing   as   she   instantly   took   a   liking   to   all   her   classes   and   everything   instructors   had   to   teach   her   .   during   those   few   years   ,   miray   felt   like   she   had   finally   found   herself   after   feeling   lost   for   much   too   long   .   in   the   meantime   ,   she   started   working   part   time   as   a   bartender   as   a   means   of   feeling   like   less   of   a   burden   on   her   parents   ,   even   though   they   insisted   on   her   finishing   her   studies   first   .   working   all   night   and   going   to   class   with   only   a   few   hours   of   sleep   pushed   her   to   her   limits   ,   but   she   had   never   felt   more   at   peace   with   herself   and   soon   discovered   an   inclination   towards   pastries   and   desserts   ,   which   is   the   path   she   eventually   followed   after   graduating   rather   successfully   .

         after   many   internships   ,   temporary   jobs   and   working   her   way   through   the   ranks   ,   miray   has   reached   a   point   where   she   has   mastered   her   art   ,   though   always   with   room   for   improvement   and   growth   ,   mainly   focusing   on   mediterranean   delicacies   and   currently   working   at   a   luxury   hotel   as   an   executive   pastry   chef   ,   constantly   coming   up   with   new   recipes   and   overseeing   the   preparation   of   desserts   and   baking   of   pastries   with   the   hopes   of   one   day   opening   up   her   own   ,   self   made   ,   shop   .

.𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ character

         you   could   describe   her   as   eccentric   ,   whimsical   ,   clumsy   ,   shambolic   ,   frivolous   .   she’s   generally   just   a   little   weirdo   ,   bangs   her   head   on   a   tree   because   she   doesn’t   watch   where   she’s   going   ,   has   a   funky   sense   of   humor   .   when   you   get   her   talking   ,   she   definitely   overshares   and   can’t   keep   a   secret   to   save   her   life   .   very   cheeky   and   spontaneous   ,   can   and   will   get   up   at   four   am   to   take   a   walk   on   the   beach   ,   good   friend   ,   but   a   coward   as   in   she   will   wait   until   the   very   last   moment   to   say   things   that   might   upset   someone   ,   because   confrontation   ?   we   dont   know   her   .

         doesn’t   think   ill   of   anyone   until   they   prove   her   otherwise   ,   but   even   then   she   gives   second   and   third   and   fourth   chances   ,   mostly   due   to   her   inability   to   say   no   .   other   than   that   shes   just   very   fun   to   have   around   ,   quirky   ,   doesn’t   know   when   to   start   being   serious   ,   which   can   be   a   little   much   at   times   ,   but   she’s..   working   on   it   .   miray   is   also   incredibly   trusting   and   loyal   ,   almost   to   a   fault   ,   where   someone   she   is   attached   to   can   do   no   wrong   in   her   eyes   and   she   will   defend   them   blindly   .

         when   it   comes   to   romantic   relationships   ,   miray   tends   to   romanticize   her   crushes   a   lot   ,   always   looking   at   love   through   rose   tinted   glasses   ,   which   is   also   why   she   tends   to   fall   victim   to   lovebombing   quite   often   .   she   will   feed   off   of   the   attention   someone   gives   her   and   then   feel   disappointed   when   they   don’t   show   enough   interest   in   her   anymore   .   her   longest   relationship   lasted   about   three   years   ,   but   it   ended   in   tears   with   her   being   cheated   on   and   ever   since   that   ,   miray   has   been   more   wary   of   others’   intentions   with   her   ,   keeping   people   at   arm’s   length   as   much   as   she   can   .   always   says   she   will   be   more   careful   next   time   ,   but   that’s   debatable   .

𓂃 . ࣪ ˖ ⠀ wanted   connections

         BESTIES!!!   shes   very   loyal..   most   of   the   time   and   even   if   she   spills   all   ur   secrets   ,   she’ll   buy   u   flowers   and   everything   will   be   ok   .   yeah   i   just   want   a   very   pure   and   loving   friendship   cause   someone   needs   to   love   this   girl..   shes   messy

         ex   plots   would   be   fun   with   her   depending   on   the   circumstances   ,   because   she   can   and   will   fall   out   of   love   and   not   break   up   with   someone   for   half   a   year   because   she   dont   wanna   hurt   their   feelings..   or   just   good   old   messy   exes   cause   i   need   a   reason   for   her   to   get   mad   every   now   and   then   >:)   also   someone   who   lovebombs   and   then   ghosts   her   but   expects   her   to   let   her   guard   down   again   if   they   just   give   her   a   kiss   and   a   half   hearted   apology   </3   because   she   will   most   likely   fall   for   it

         ugh   unrequited   crushes   /   slowburns   /   frenemies   /   enemies??   /   drinking   buddies   even   tho   she   rarely   ever   drinks   but   this   could   be   an   exception   to   the   rule   /   literally   anything!!!!

         you can also find more plots @miraysplots​ let’s do something very dramatic bestie <3

#ahq:intro #again..... did not proofread <3

[districtredrumwrites]

Thomas the Minecrafter Chapter #1: All In One Place

So I should be focusing on work, apartment-hunting, editing and filming, and basically doing anything but this. And here I am, writing for the first time in years for a fandom I’ve almost left behind

AO3 Link

Thomas is your average Minecrafter. He hops worlds, he mines blocks, and builds things. Simple, right? When Thomas generates a new world with a random seed for the first time, he's just your average player in the world, right? Well, yes, that's exactly right. But unlike other players, Thomas gets attached to some villagers he meets, all the while trying to hide that he's anything but normal.

   It was in the middle of a rainy night when the stranger arrived. Everything had been normal the day before. The sun had risen, and Patton had rolled out of bed, and tended to his crops. The farmer carried out his normal routine, while the other villagers had done the same. He’d had such a good harvest, too! He was even able to fit in a visit to the market where he sold his bread, carrots, potatoes, and pastries, and he’d met up with his friends there! It hadn’t just been a normal day, it had been a happy one!

   Logan had been very focused on his studies recently, and had actually left the library for once (“Even librarians need to eat, silly!” Patton had chided him, handing him baked treats), and they’d both had a chat with the newest resident of the village, Virgil.

   Virgil had arrived at the village just a few weeks ago, and he was… nice…

   Sure, he seemed a little standoffish, but he was probably just shy around strangers. And sure, he seemed to lurk in shadowy areas no matter how much Patton encouraged him to get some sun (“Your skin is so pale! Are you sure you’re not sick? Maybe you should see Emile our cleric.” Patton had been snapped at for that, but he was just concerned!). And he did rub what looked like powdered squid ink around his eyes, but… It was a unique look, and Virgil liked it. It might even be cultural, Virgil wasn’t from around here after all! 

   Virgil had been hesitant when Patton had introduced his new friend to his librarian friend, but he’d come over anyway. He seemed awkward and out of place, and Logan had been a little rude, more focused on his book and quill – so Patton had asked them about the weather. Wasn’t the sun very nice today?

   That had been when Roman had stopped by for the first time in months. He’d rode in on his great white stallion, iron armour gleaming over his light bronze skin, and like always, he’d received a warm welcome from the village, especially when he came bearing gifts.

   Roman had had so much to sell. He had coal and iron for those who worked at the forge, he had sticks and flintstones for the fletchers, and he even gave some zombie flesh to Emile the cleric (Patton didn’t know why, and he decided not to ask. He was pretty sure Roman didn’t know why either).

   After shaking many hands, and recieving many hugs, Roman had broken away from the mob of people. “I can’t stay too long, I’m afraid.” He told the adoring crowd. “Adventure waits for no man! I want to see everyone before I have to leave again.”

   “Romaaaan!” Patton called out, waving cheerily, and beckoning his friend over to the village centre fountain where he, Logan, and Virgil were standing.

   “Padre!” Roman called back, jogging over. “And Specs!”

   “It is good to see you again, Roman,” Logan said, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

   Roman grinned back. He opened his mouth to say something else, probably to tell a tale or joke, but then he stopped dead, halfway towards the fountain, looking over Patton’s shoulder.

   Just as Patton turned around to check what was wrong, Logan started to say, “Ah, Roman, this is–”

   “Virgil,” Roman said, his face stony, looking at the black-clad villager. “What are you doing here?” It sounded more like a command than a question.

   “Princey,” Virgil said, straightening up from where he’d been ducked down. Had Virgil been hiding behind him?

   Patton glanced concernedly at Logan, biting his lip, who looked bewildered. This wasn’t the enthusiastic greeting Roman normally gave everyone.

   Virgil then seemed to remember Roman had asked him a question. “I live here now.”

   Roman spluttered as if this was a great offence. “Here?” He bit out. “You’re living here? At this village?”

   Virgil folded his arms and gritted his teeth. “Yes, that’s what ‘I live here now,’ means, Princey.”

   “Since when?” Roman demanded.

   Virgil scowled and his pale face reddened slightly, but Patton couldn’t help but notice how his eyes darted towards the alleyways that lead in the direction of his house.

   “Virgil moved in just over a month ago, Roman,” Logan said calmly, albeit quietly, looking between the two. “Is something wrong?”

   “Do you two know each other?” Patton asked.

   “We’ve met,” Roman said shortly.

   Virgil snorted, “Yeah, you could say that.”

   Patton and Logan exchanged another confused glance.

   “So, uh, Roman,” Patton said, aiming to break the ice. “How long are you staying for this time?”

   Roman always came back to this village in the plains, just on the border of a desert, but he never stuck around for long. He always said his life was in the next great adventure. He had dreams of being great, of helping people far and wide, and of everyone knowing his name. Patton remembered the last time Roman had been here.

   “You’re already great, Roman,” Patton had told him once over rose petal tea. They were sitting in Patton’s house before the fire. It was small, the lanterns were smoky, and the light blue carpet was worn, but his house was welcoming and bright, and he had a yellow cat named dandelion that he was allergic to. “You know you’re always welcome here. We love having you.”

   “I know, Padre, I know…” Roman had said. He had been smiling, but there was something pained about his eyes. “And I really enjoy being here. I do, but… I don’t belong here.”

   “Of course you belong here!” Patton had gushed back, but the truth is he had been so worried. Had he done something wrong? Had he said something, or been too overbearing that Roman didn’t want to be around him?

   “Patton,” Roman had said holding up a gentle hand. “I just don’t belong here. This life isn’t for me… I couldn’t imagine waking up in the same bed every day, and doing the same thing over and over again… This just isn’t the life I want, so I can’t stay.”

   “Oh…” Patton said. “I see.” But he really didn’t.

   “But, hey,” Roman said on a happier note. “I’ll always come back here! It’s been great seeing you.” Roman started to get up. Patton reluctantly put down his teacup. “I’ll always come back  – unless I’m vanquished by monsters in some dashing tale.”

   “Don’t even joke about that, mister. And I’ll hold you to coming back.” Patton said sternly, also getting up, and folding his arms. His face then softened. “Do you have to leave now?”

   “I…” Roman looked around a little uncomfortably. “I think I should.”

   “Well…” Patton trailed off. Then he smiled brightly for Roman’s benefit. “I’ll see you soon. And bring me back a hat from your next adventure.” He then pulled Roman into a tight hug.

   Roman chuckled into his shoulder. “I will. Don’t worry.”

   That had been almost half a year ago. Roman had been gone longer than usual, and honestly, Patton had been starting to get a bit worried.

   He was worried now of course. But if everyone just spent a little time together, he was sure they could all get along, no matter what had happened between Roman and Virgil.

   Roman cleared his throat. “Uh, actually, Patton,” Roman said, eyes flickering between him and Virgil. “I think I’ll be sticking around this time.”

   Patton’s mouth fell open. “Really?” He asked, hardly daring to believe it.

   “Yes,” Roman declared, but there was a wince around his eyes. “I think I will.”

   Logan looked at the villagers in the market, then looked at Roman. “But you just said–”

   “I know what I said!” Roman said loudly. “But, uh, I’m trying something new. Change of plans. After all, it’s not the same thing every day if I’m trying to experience sticking around for the first time, right?” 

   “Right!” Patton said enthusiastically.

   Virgil snorted. “Right, this is you ‘trying something new,” Virgil said lifting his fingers to make air quotes.

   Roman scowled, and for a moment Patton was genuinely afraid they’d start an argument.

   Instead Roman just frowned, and took off his rucksack and started rooting around in it. Virgil tensed up, but Roman was ignoring him. Roman pulled out a handful of glowing purple books and passed them off to Logan, and put his bag on the ground. 

   “I found these in a few dungeons on my travels. They were surrounded by zombies, but I slew them with ease! I thought these would be the perfect gift for you, book work.” And he pulled Logan into a hug, despite the fact that he’d just stuffed the other man’s arms with books.

   “Oh,” Logan said softly. Patton could never make Logan’s voice sound soft like that. “Roman, I…” Logan looked over the enchanted tomes as if he’d been handed solid gold. “Yes, I…” Logan cleared his throat. “These will be quite adequate. Thank you, Roman.”

   Virgil looked at the books in Logan’s hands, and between Logan and Roman. “Seriously?” He said, and Patton couldn’t help but frown. “You’re selling enchantment books. Some noble warrior you are.”

   Roman was back to scowling. “I am not ‘selling enchanted books,” he snapped. I found these, and since I’m certainly not going to use such heinous tricks, I thought I’d give them to someone who will actually get a use out of them, instead of letting them rot in a chest in a dungeon,” he snapped.

   “For the last time,” Logan looked up, sounding irritated. “Magic is not ‘heinous’, or evil, or bad, or anything of the sort. None of those are objective terms! Magic is a tool. Saying it’s heinous is like saying your sword is evil because it cuts things, and you have no problem using that, Roman. Furthermore, the ‘inventory’ slots in chests don’t allow any sort of natural decay like rotting, or–”

   “Yeah, yeah,” Roman cut him off, rolling his eyes, and throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I knew you’d find these interesting, book nerd. Do you really think I’d give them to you if I thought they were all evil? I’d just burn them instead of handing them off to my friends.”

   Logan looked faintly scandalised at the thought of burning books, but he acquiesced. “Yes, well. I will certainly enjoy researching these. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

    Roman was grinning again. His smile lit up the world.

   It was at that moment thunder chose to rumble overhead. The group looked up just as the first few drops of rain started to fall. Patton hadn’t even noticed the cloudiness.

   “Well,” Patton said, clapping his hands together, trying his best to sound lighthearted. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure we could all use a good night's rest. But how about you guys come over for breakfast tomorrow? I make a mean croissant!”

   “Oh, how I have missed your cooking, bready-steady-go!” Roman enthused.

   Logan, who had once again been engrossed in his books (how did he hold so many books at once?) looked up. “Yes, breakfast at seven, like always. I’ll see you there.” He turned away and headed in the direction of the library. Logan had actually moved into the library, out of his parent’s house, and had a room of his own.

   “I need to get home anyways,” Virgil said, and also turned and walked away. Patton’s smile faltered slightly. Still, he turned back to Roman and smiled again.

   “I suppose you’ll be staying at your normal room at the bunkhouse?” The villager asked the adventurer. 

   Roman stretched and grunted, already sounding relaxed. “That’s right,” he said. “As soon as I get Gracie fed and watered and her own bed,” he looked over at his stallion, where plenty of children were gathered playing nearby or petting the horse.

   “Oh, I almost forgot,” Roman said, once again reaching into his rucksack, and bringing something out before putting the bag on his back again. He handed Patton a hat made of woven straw.

   “It… It’s not much,” Roman said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact as though he thought Patton wouldn’t like it. “But I also found a book on weaving, and I got bored when I was camping, and you wanted a hat, and…” He trailed off a faint blush on his face.

   “Oh, Roman, I love it! I’ll wear it forever!” And Patton put it straight on his head.

   “You do?” Roman asked, his grin coming back.

   “Yes, of course!”

   Roman laughed, sounding proud and confident again. “It’s good to be back, Patton,” Roman said with another of his great smiles. Then he pulled Patton into a hug, smelling like sweat and metal and pine all at once. Patton hugged him back.

   Then Roman was gone, jogging back to his horse, and greeting the children. One of them pulled out a wooden sword, and Roman pretended to duck away, and held up his hands in surrender. Patton smiled. 

   “Good to have you back.” He murmured.

   Of course, Roman wasn’t the stranger that arrived later in the night. Roman had arrived during the day after all, and this was Roman. Roman was never a stranger. And Virgil wasn’t a stranger anymore. Like Logan said, he’d been in the village for more than a month now, and Patton was enjoying getting to know him. And Logan had lived here his whole life, and would probably never leave. Sure he didn’t talk to too many people, but everybody knew him.

   No, the real stranger arrived well into the night. The rain was pouring down like the gods were angry with the world, but at least there was no thunder or lightning. There were zombies, though. 

   No one knew where they came from, and Roman certainly hadn’t brought them with his return. Everyone had been woken up by the zombies moaning, and skeletons rattling, spiders hissing, and creepers exploding, though Patton hid under his covers. There were always monsters roaming in the dark. That was normal, but it was nothing the guards and iron golem couldn’t handle. There was a curfew for a reason. There were so many more monsters on this night. Patton had been terrified that someone was hurt or worse.

   The guards shouted for everyone to stay inside, and he could hear the normally kind and paternal iron golem slamming the monsters with its huge arms. Distantly he could hear Roman fighting the monsters, too.

   Patton hadn’t even been aware a new person had arrived in the middle of the night. He had no idea that a new adventurer appeared out of thin air, and slashed monsters like they were nothing, and fought with desperation to keep villagers from being infected and turning into zombies, a fate worse than death.

   Patton would make a new friend tomorrow. 

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #minecraft #my writing #Thomas the Minecrafter #TtM #LycaClient

[nobodieshero-main]

Keika - main character

Keika was born to a Miednic couple who attempted to drown him in the Mahina River when he was only a few days old. (yeah the trauma runs deep with this man)

The general idea had been that, due to the rivers reputation, they'd just sort of assumed she'd suck the baby into her icy depths and they could wash their hands of him. but it didn't actually work out like that, bc while her waters are cold her heart is not. Instead, she rescued him, tucked him all nice and cosy in among the river plants and then drowned his parents as punishment.

He was found later that day by Toa, the chief of the Makai, and she's very quick to adopt him, seeing him as a gift brought to her by Vietua and Maurua both. Just two days later, she finds a second baby - a little halfling with stubby little wings and lungs like a whale.

Keika and Ahuru grow up together, siblings in every way but blood.

Keika is also a caster, which means he was already born with the ability to manipulate stardust- but thanks to the circumstances of his childhood (dunked in magic river, raised in magic forest) his abilities were like. hella magnified. all casters have a limit to how much stardust they can use before they have to tap out, but keika...doesn't. not really.

when they're around 10 or 12, toa - for no apparent reason - banishes both her children from the woods. there's no explanation. so the two of them are forced to figure out how to survive in the outside world, in a land totally foreign to them. thankfully, they eventually reach the small town of Arlet, where they are taken in by the innkeeper and slowly adjust to their new lives.

keika spends a lot of time in those first few months just, angry and bitter and hating everything but ahuru. he was basically nocturnal for the first few months - bc he still wasnt used to the sun - so he tended to be skulking about when marlow would be starting on the daily breads.

she watches him for a bit, sees him kick a cart, and pokes her head out the door to bark at him to come punch dough if he's going to make his attitude physical. so. he does. and baking becomes a Thing for them and also a good calming technique.

something marlow quickly finds out about who prickly new apprentice is how curious he is. he LOVES knowing stuff and making shit up and pestering her about what she knows about anything and everything and, eventually, when she runs out of answers, she shoves him towards the town library.

here, keika discovers fiction. worlds to get lost in to distract himself from the one he does live in. he starts spending all of his time in the library, even venturing out in the daylight just to go sit among the many many shelves. the library becomes it's home, and he it's keeper.

scared of sheep

he has brown hair in tight waves that gets frizzy easily and usually prefers to wear it long

light brown skin

wears corsets as a fashion accessory and 2 belts that criss-cross over his waist

carries a key-ring everywhere, and every key has a memory attached

flute player

#character files #keika

[holycorrupt]

🌧️ 📚 and 📅 for both sam and francis !

From this Prompt list: Here Thanks for the asks!! You picked some really good ones 👀 🌧️ What is the favorite thing for you OC to do on a rainy day? Francis: He's used to a rainy day meaning he should just rest and not burn too many calories so he tends to spend the day reading or napping as soon as the weather turns. He doesn't like getting wet unless he's bathing so he'll avoid going out at all costs! Sam: He would honestly see it started raining then get very excited that he doesn't have to do any watering in his garden. Only to very quickly panic because he probably just hung some laundry and hour before hand LOL Otherwise he would probably use the time to make jam, bread or other baked goods to fill the home with warmth and good aromas~ 📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose? Francis: He has quite a bit of information floating around in that well read brain of his so he has a lot of options I feel like. The cop out option would be to talk about religious prayers and customs because it was drilled into him as a child. If it was a topic he found more interesting though he would probably go on a long rant about all the censored history and how rare it is to find any good information about life from before MOTHERS rampage. (If he lived in our universe He would probably have the same energy of rant reserved for the burning of the library of Alexandra and how much of a tragedy it is to lose all that information) ((he's a nerd)) Sam: So you ask Sam to talk about something he cares deeply about and he would go into a very long winded conversation about flower hybridization and the very complex way that color and pigment is passed down and seed selection and very much just talk the person who asked him's ,ear off, and then once he's done with that he'll start going and going about the actual plant husbandry. If you're lucky he'll realize halfway through how excited the topic got him and how much he's talking and get flustered and embarrassed for dominating the conversation LMAO 📅 If your OC had one day left to live, how would they spend it? Francis: He would do everything in his power to rescue Mary and get her somewhere safe. Even if it means sacrificing himself to do so. He's going to die anyway...might as well right...? Sam: He would have a much harder time accepting his fate (especially if he knew it was going to happen) He would probably break down and make sure he told everyone he cared about just how much he did care about them. He would tell them every fear and worry he ever kept hidden or lied about and try his best to make the most out of any time he had left.

#mtecomic #ask game #ask #sam #francis #sam would go up to his mom and be like #IM DYING SO I GOTTA TELL YOU IM GAY AND I DONT WANNA BE A SOILDER LIKE DAD AND--WAHH IM IN LOVE WITH FRANCIS!!!!!!

[lantern-hill]

online resources for recipes/food info

Serve This With That:  - suggestions for what type of sides to serve with main dishes. https://servethiswiththat.com/

Butternut Bakery Blog - great baking inspo, especially within the cookie/bar realm.  https://butternutbakeryblog.com/

Half Baked Harvest - good and relatively simple soup & one-pot pasta recipes, plus a very good website design in my humble opinion. https://www.halfbakedharvest.com/

King Arthur Baking - what I love about KAB is that they actually explain why you’re using certain ingredients and methods. You not only learn how to make certain recipes, but you also learn info that you can transfer to different recipes/use to modify recipes. Great for a variety of baked goods. https://www.kingarthurbaking.com/

Recipe Tin Eats - This is my go-to for Asian food- not just East Asian, but all Asian food, from Vietnamese to Indian. This is where I usually go when I’m trying to replicate asian takeout. My faves from here are the flatbread, butter chicken, pad see ew, and bibimbap. https://www.recipetineats.com/

Claire Saffitzs’ Dessert Person - I highly recommend checking out the Dessert Person cookbook from the library/buying it, as it’s a great resource for improving your baking skills, but the YouTube channel is also really good. This isn’t the type of recipes you make every day or even that I would bother copying down for the most part, because they tend to be very involved and not very intuitive if you’re relatively amateur like I am, but the basic recipes, like the Pie Crust (which is amazing) and the Tart Crust, or the Olive Oil Dough (both also fantastic) are actually not as hard in practice, despite how many steps they seem to involve. It’s intimidating to read a recipe where all the steps are really thicc, but the truth is it’s all relatively simple, just explained in extreme detail (which is wonderful for beginners). So far from this I’ve made the mushroom galette, the caramelized honey pumpkin pie, and the meyer lemon tart as well as some of the basics.   https://www.youtube.com/c/ClaireSaffitzxDessertPerson?app=desktop 

Immaculate Bites - I’m literally obsessed with Imma, the woman who runs this site, she’s so iconic. I’ve made the Trinidad Chicken Roti, Beef Empanadas, Jamaican Beef Patties and Tourtiere from this site and they all go so hard??? Highly recommend browsing the site and bookmarking everything that looks good bc oh man some of these recipes will really change the game. https://www.africanbites.com/

Williams Sonoma - The Williams Sonoma cookbook collection was what initially got me hooked on cooking. If you can, I would 1000% recommend snagging a copy of the Williams Sonoma Cookbook and Williams Sonoma Baking Book/taking them out from the library. Those two specifically are game-changers, though the rest of the extremely extensive Williams Sonoma cookbook collection tends to be rather inconsistent in quality. (the other ones I would recommend is the Williams Sonoma ones that focus specifically on one course/type of food or the FoodMadeFast collection). Their website also has a bunch of their recipes, though. I love their Old Fashioned White Bread, Buttermilk Bread, Whole Wheat Bread, Baked Mac & Cheese, Cranberry Upside Down Cake. https://www.williams-sonoma.ca/recipes

Mon Petit Four - Compared to everywhere else on this list, Mon Petit Four has much less recipes, but they’re pretty solid, and though it’s a lot of work I highly recommend giving the Orange Marmalade recipe a shot. https://www.monpetitfour.com/

anti-resources (places i do NOT recommend): Taste of Home, Food & Wine. Just don’t do it. 

#og #cooking #resources #cottagecore

[nikethestatue]

One Day in Velaris

Based on the following prompt:

Prequel to 'Of Fawns and Shadows'

The "Cabin Trilogy" (Snowed In, Five Golden Rings and Mistletoe) are heavily referenced throughout

(Takes place after Nyx's birth, approximately late April/early May)

Spring finally came in full bloom upon Velaris.

It adorned its avenues with cherry blossoms that flowered with pink and white, purple and coral, magenta and ruby. The scent of jasmine hung in the air. It was as if the world woke up after a long slumber, and now dressed up in all its finery. 

Elain Archeron was making her way up the stairs of the House of Wind.

Through the Library.

Nesta had shown her the way–which was all fine and dandy, but now, Elain was muttering curses under her breath–counting the steps. It wasn’t the ten thousand steps that led from the bottom to the top, but it was still an annoyingly arduous trek up, through the house that Elain didn’t care for. It held too many uncomfortable, unpleasant memories for her, and now, even with Nesta living here happily, it never felt like somewhere Elain enjoyed being–if it weren’t for Nesta, she’d never come back here. Well…that wasn’t entirely true. Someone else lived here, who was even more interesting to her than Nesta, but that was for her to know and for no one to find out.

She finally spied the heavy oak door and stopped, catching her breath, before opening it. She was panting and sweaty, and completely out of breath. She was not a warrior, and was not trained. Her body was soft and unlike her sisters, who were strong and toned, she enjoyed baking and eating bread a little too much to ever maintain a svelte figure. If her mother was alive, she’d call her fat. But then, of course, any deviation from the strictest societal norms was unacceptable for her mother. Elain’s only ever rebellion against her mother’s rigorous expectations was her insistence on keeping her nails short, so she could still dig in the dirt and tend to her flowers. For that, her hands were smacked with a bone fan and she was ordered to still get a manicure. She was only eleven back then.

“Petal!” Cassian’s voice boomed, waking her from her unhappy reverie.

She squinted at the bright sunshine and stepped out onto the training ring.

Before she could answer, Cassian whistled under his breath, and promptly received a smack on his shoulder from Nesta. 

“Hey,” he cried, “she is wearing pants!” as if it explained everything, including his reaction.

“Have we finally broken you down?!” he exclaimed. “And you decided to become fast and strong?”

“I am already fast and strong,” Elain shrugged.

He smiled, “of course you are, but I am glad that you are here!”

“Don’t you have work to do?” she reminded him meaningfully, “aren’t you a General, or something?”

“Or something,” he agreed, laughing.

Elain was quick and had a wicked, teasing sense of humour, which surprised Cassian greatly, once it was revealed. He thought of her as quiet, polite, a bit prissy, and maybe even prudish, but as it turned out, she wasn’t any of those things. Well, she was polite. She, in fact, laughed at his bawdy jokes, had a calm nonchalance about her, and much like him was friendly and laid-back. 

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, sizing her up and down. “So why are you here?” he repeated, “and dressed like that?”

She looked down and remembered that she was dressed unusually. She was wearing…trousers. Knit hose, to be exact, and a long knit tunic that skimmed her thighs, all paired with a pair of suede ankle boots. 

“You are here to train!” he exclaimed. 

She rolled her eyes and suggested, “calm yourself, Commander. I am not here to run in circles, while you bark orders at me,”

“That’s not how we train,” he protested.

“Hmmm,”

A low, gravelly, midnight voice said, “I invited her.”

Without even seeing him, Elain knew that Azriel was behind her. She always sensed him, when he was near. And she worried about him, when he was far away. His heady, delectable scent of cedar touched her nostrils, and she barely contained a sigh of pleasure, stopping just in time from inhaling it deeply into her lungs. 

She composed herself, before turning around, and immediately felt her face heat up. There he was. 

The sun behind him gilded his hair, making the thick, inky-black mop look almost purple in this light. The breathtakingly beautiful face maintained a friendly, bland expression that he wore in front of others when he was faced with her. 

“Good morning, Elain,” he said evenly.

“Good morning,” she whispered and her voice sounded choked to her own ears.

Then, she awkwardly thrust a box into his hands and chirped, ‘this is for you!’

He raised his eyebrow and then opened the lid, and smiled.

“These are your favorites,” she explained, her voice still sounding strangled and hoarse. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at them.

Elain only just became aware of the women who were moving about the ring. There were probably around a dozen now, perhaps a few more. They ranged from what she assumed were priestesses, based on their flowing robes, a few Illyrian females, tall, lanky and winged, and some other Fae–all, in addition, to Nesta and Emerie and Gwyneth, whom Elain met before. Now, everyone were craning their necks, while pretending like they didn’t care and weren’t desperate to find out why Elain was here, what she brought him and why he invited her.

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured softly, his face softening and a gentle smile fluttering momentarily over his sensuous mouth. 

“I wanted to,” she explained, swallowing, “as…payment. For the lesson.”

“Ah,” he nodded his understanding.

“Why is he getting cakes, and we aren’t?” demanded Cassian, outraged, as he peered over her shoulder and spotted the treats that were nestled in the box. There were apple cakes, and chocolate and caramel slices–Azriel’s favorite, and therefore, completely off-limits to everyone–tartlets filled with fresh raspberries, pistachio buns brimming with cream. 

“I brought enough for you to share,” Elain said, while Cassian dipped his huge paw into the box and fished out a bun, which he then proceeded to jam into his mouth, whole.

Azriel was shaking his head, muttering, ‘savage’.

Cassian nodded proudly and affirmed “An Illyrian savage!” while swallowing the bun. Azriel handed him the box and then said, ‘take it inside. By the time I come back, there better be something left in there for me. Got it?”

“Got it. Though I make no promises. What are you going to do?” he then asked, curiosity lacing his voice. 

“Must you know everything?” Azriel groaned.

“I must. I must know everything,” Cassian nodded eagerly.

Azriel regarded him for a moment and then extended his hand to Elain. Cassian followed the movement, but did not comment. Even if he was surprised. Even if he watched Elain reach for the scarred hand and take it in her own. Azriel’s long fingers wrapped around her pale small hand and he tugged her alongside him and she went with him, holding onto his hand like she was used to it. Cassian, to his credit, did not comment, but somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he recalled that Elain was the only person that he’d ever met, in his 540 years, who did not notice Azriel’s hands. That first meeting, back in the sisters’ grand mansion, when she and Nesta were still human women–she saw his hands and then she saw them no more. She was the only person, it seemed, with whom Azriel did not feel self-conscious about his maiming.

“We are going to train,” Elain threw over her shoulder. Indicating, perhaps, that she had no need of Cassian any further.

“You came,” Azriel murmured so quietly, only she could hear him. They crossed the ring and went over to a table that had dozens of daggers laid out neatly. “Thank you.”

“I can’t stay away,” she confessed, clutching at his hand. 

It’s been a few months since they spent those three days and two nights in the cabin. Together. Just the two of them. The two nights when Elain slept in Azriel’s embrace, tucked to his chest, surrounded by the strength of his arms and the darkness of his wings. Three days about which she thought incessantly, constantly, obsessively. She replayed those days in her head, recalling every action, every word, all the moments that they shared, each touch and laugh and embrace. She wondered if Azriel thought of those three days as well?

His mesmerizing hazel eyes dropped to her legs, to the hose that she was wearing, and just like that, she knew. He remembered. He chuckled softly, recognizing everything that was going on in her head. 

“They look familiar,” he noted quietly, nodding to her legs.

“Appropriate for the lesson?” she asked.

“Quite. Hose. No hose,” he shrugged. “I am not picky. I prefer no hose, but,” he sighed.

Elain smiled. 

“People are watching.”

He nodded, “they are”.

Elain gave a conspiratorial glance around and then whispered, “I made you more sweets. Only for you. Because I knew that Cassian would hog them.”

Azriel grinned–a happy and relaxed smile–one that she only saw when he was with her. He laughed and smiled with others, but not quite like that. 

“You are my good girl,” he murmured. “My flower.”

The backs of his fingers brushed against her forearm in a gentle caress. 

“Thank you. But you don’t have to bake for me,”

“I don’t, but I like to. Just like I love cooking for you, and only you.”

Elain didn’t realise that someone was approaching, but judging by Azriel’s change of tone, someone was. 

“Do any of these strike your fancy?” he asked, pointing to the assortment of daggers. Elain finally looked at the table and shook her head. Up close, the blades looked wicked: sharp, lethal, dangerous. 

She ran her fingers over the hilts and shook her head, “I don’t know…which one is good?”

“Daggers?”

Nesta’s voice jolted Elain and she turned to her sister. 

“I thought it was time for Elain to learn some basic techniques,” Azriel explained simply, sorting through the daggers. “Know how handle herself, should the need arise,”

“I think it’s a good idea,” agreed Nesta, though she watched the two of them closely, with her usual stillness. 

“Which one would you recom-,” Elain began saying, but Azriel interrupted. He quickly unsheathed Truth Teller from his thigh and flipped it expertly in his hand. The obsidian blade gleamed in the sun, devouring all light.

A hush fell over the ring, all activity grinding to a halt. 

Whatever Cassian was doing with Gwyn and Emerie and some other females stopped and he turned his head sharply, to watch Azriel. Azriel rolled his shoulder and then said to Elain, disregarding everyone’s amazed scrutiny, “How’s this one? You are familiar with it,”

“But it’s yours!” she reminded him with an easy smile, not quite understanding this tense reverence that everyone was currently displaying. 

He opened his palm to her and offered her the dagger. She took it, her fingers closing over the hilt with strange familiarity, as if it was hers and she used it daily. Watching her, Azriel smiled. 

“Ours,” he said softly, watching her grasp his Truth Teller in her little hand. She bit the tip of her tongue between her teeth, as she concentrated on slashing the air with the dagger. 

“Easy there, little flower,” he murmured, and then gently caught her wrist and stepped beside her. 

“Alright, show me!” she commanded. 

And Azriel did.

Other females gathered around them, watching, while he patiently manoeuvred her hand, showing again and again how to best hold the dagger, how to position her wrist, what to do with her thumb, how to hold her stance.

Throughout, Azriel was completely professional, dedicated to the task at hand, calm and tranquil, as always, even when Elain made a dozen mistakes in fifteen minutes. He corrected her gently, answered, when she asked, smiled, when she stomped her foot in frustration…But he did not release her from his hold. Not for a moment. His hands were on hers the entire time, and if she was practicing the movements, then his hand rested on her waist, or her hip, or the small of her back. 

The other females followed the instructions, watched attentively, and did whatever Azriel showed them, but, when they expected him to demonstrate the movements hand to hand, like he did with Elain, he did not. The scarred hands only touched her skin, only Elain’s body. When another female needed assistance, he acted the way he always did–showed it to them with another dagger, and avoided any contact.

Emerie and Nesta were going through their cooldown, while Cassian was finishing something with Gwyn, when Emerie murmured,

“I’ve known him for months,” she jerked her head towards Azriel.

Nesta allowed a cursory glance towards her brother-in-law and her sister.

“And you’ve never seen him like that,” it was a statement, rather than a question.

“I haven’t,” Emerie agreed, squinting, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

Nesta waved her hand, “don’t bother asking me. I don't know.”

“Don't know what?” Emerie chuckled.

Nesta rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond.

Emerie sat down, draping her arms over her knees, as she watched the other side of the ring.

“This development may break some hearts,” she sighed. Nesta was still lying down, eyes closed, but Emerie was watching.

The long, white ribbons were fluttering in the wind, attached to two poles. No one’s been able to cut the ribbon since the first batch of trainees–and even those who did cut it, couldn't often repeat the feat. Gwyn, once she accomplished the task, lost interest in it. Others struggled. Only Emerie and Nesta were able to cut the ribbon successfully again and again. 

Elain’s long braid bounced and bobbed behind her back, as she followed Azriel’s instructions, and even from here, Emerie could see that a sheen of sweat covered the beautiful Archeron sister’s neck and face. It amused her that Elain seemed to be arguing with Azriel, which wasn’t something anyone ever permitted themselves to do here. It wasn’t an angry argument by any means, probably just Elain trying to convince him that she was doing things correctly, though Emerie knew that Azriel didn't even have to look to know where a mistake was being made. He smiled, amused, and seemingly enjoyed the verbal sparring, and it was an expression that Emerie had never seen on that beautiful, chiselled face of his before. Azriel looked happy? 

And then, Emerie spied something unexpected. Something that she never shared with anyone. While Elain was waving the deadliest dagger in history with maniacally unwavering confidence, Azriel stood behind her, never taking his eyes off her hand. Without moving his head or changing his expression even for a second, his index finger slipped along her braid and with magnificent speed and agility, he thrust it under the loop of the white ribbon which held the braid together. A swift, feather-light pull and the white ribbon was in his possession. He squeezed it in his fist and then pocketed it, all without making more than three gestures. Sneaky spymaster. 

Emerie smiled.

So that’s the ribbon that the stoic brooding shadowsinger actually desired. 

*

The hour was up and Elain walked over to where Nesta and Emerie were lounging.

“Oh, gods, I am hot!” she complained, and Nesta tossed her a towel. 

“You need to drink water,” said Emerie, and pointed to the water station. 

Elain giggled, “who knew that holding a knife could be so tiring!”

She tousled her hair and added, “oh, and I even lost my ribbon! Oh well,”

Emerie smiled, as she snuck a glance at Azriel, who in turn snuck a glance at Elain, watching her like a hungry wolf.

“Did you enjoy your lesson?” Gwyn asked, and then continued, without pausing, “I can’t believe that Azriel offered to train you himself! He trains us here, but he is very difficult to persuade to give any extra lessons. I asked him many times…I mean, I know he is very busy! But he is also the best with the daggers and I wanted him to teach me some techniques, but,”

“Who said he is the best with the daggers?” challenged Cassian.

“Oh, here we go,” Nesta muttered under her breath and Emerie chuckled.

“Hey, brother!” Cassian called out to Azriel, who was arranging all the weapons on the table, “word has it that you excel at dagger play?!”

Azriel turned a disinterested gaze to Cassian and then said calmly, “Word would be correct”.

“Care to be proven wrong?” Cassian winked at Nesta.

Azriel sighed and then said, “You want your ass handed to you this early in the morning?” he shrugged his shoulders, “as you wish.”

He sat down on the bench and asked Elain, “do you need to go back? Or do you want to stay for a bit? Just long enough for me to put the General here in his place?”

Elain laughed softly, and nodded, watching him with wide eyes, as he toed off his boots. 

“I can stay,” she assured him, and sat beside him. “What are you going to do? Are you going to beat up Cass?”

“Probably,” he tried to hide a smile. 

She laughed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

He glanced at her and murmured, “You look lovely with your hair unbound.”

“I lost my ribbon,” she said uselessly, watching him, their faces so close, she noted the golden and emerald lights glimmering in his gorgeous eyes. 

“It would seem so,” he nodded once and she glanced down at his bare feet. Back at the cabin, when they told each other things that they never dared to utter before or again, and when he almost placed his mark on her, Elain told him that he had beautiful feet. Judging by how she softly licked her lower lip right now, watching him as he rose to his full height and then quickly removed his shirt, she still felt the same. 

Meanwhile, Cassian made wild eyes at Nesta, trying to make her look at the pair, and being extremely frustrated by Nesta’s nonchalance.

“Don’t hurt Cass,” Elain begged.

At that Cassian exclaimed, “Don't hurt Cass!?!”

Azriel rolled his shoulders and then unstrapped Truth Teller from his thigh and handed it to Elain. “Keep it safe, while I deal with that,” he waved at Cassian, who selected his own dagger and a short sword and stepped out in the ring, stripping off his shirt and barefoot.

Elain moved closer to Nesta and Emerie and plopped down on a bench, almost missing it, unable to tear her eyes away from the two towering specimens of savage masculine beauty. Emerie straightened her out helpfully, smirking.

“Cassian never needs a special invitation to be shirtless,” Nesta snickered dryly.

“I heard that!” he yelled.

The three women laughed and Nesta added, “I have to pay him in gold coin to keep his shirt on!”

“I heard that too!” he flexed his muscles and Nesta suddenly became adorably flustered, waving him off, while her face reddened. 

“Can’t deny that they are pretty,” she murmured, watching them, as the males stretched and rolled their massive shoulders, twirling their weapons in their hands, acquainting themselves with the blades.

“They are not going to hurt each other, are they?” Elain worried, and Emerie patted her back, shaking her head.

“It’s just practice,” she explained.

The clash of steel sang in the morning air, as the swords came together and jolted all the observers, making Elain jump in her seat. But her eyes were glued to one particular participant whose almost-naked body, save for his trousers, she finally saw in all its glory, in this stark sunlight. The lean muscles tensed and relaxed with each precise movement, and watching Azriel with his daggers, manoeuvring with such graceful, confident fluidity had Elain thinking that perhaps, Cassian bit off more than he could chew. Cassian, handsome and magnificent, was bulkier and just a little bit slower, parried and fought aggressively, with exactness that was honed over many centuries of training and battling. Yet, just as they said that the call of battle was an invitation to a deadly dance for Cassian, then this vicious, intimate blade-to-blade combat was the song in which Azriel lived and strived. 

Amazingly, the two males managed not to actually cut, or even nick, each other, despite handling four blades between themselves. Elain was awed by their incredible agility and how each arm seemingly knew what it was doing on its own accord–stab, slice, parry, attack, parry again, strike, slash. Their bodies felt the approach of the blade with keen, innate understanding, and despite the massive size of both males, they twisted and lunged and bent and spun much like Nesta did on the dance floor. 

Emerie, who was lounging on a chaise, propped on her elbows, watched this display of aggressive masculine posturing and domination with a small smile on her lips. Especially when she glanced at Elain, who looked like a mesmerised baby, with her enormous brown eyes blown wide with admiration and unabashed lust, her full, pink lips slightly parted. It wasn’t Cassian who inspired such adulation from her–that was left for Nesta, who watched him with pride and smugness, mixed with sexual hunger. Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from Azriel, who, Emerie had to admit, looked stunning this morning. He was relaxed and eager, and gone was his usual solemness and quiet detachment. For once, he wasn’t just training others, but was actually enjoying himself. It was a very, very rare sight. 

“Well, they are certainly putting on quite a show today,” Emerie muttered under her breath.

Elain glanced at her, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Emerie waved her finger between the two clashing males and added, “See, all that wing display,”

Elain, and Nesta, looked to see both sets of magnificent wings flaring, the membrane catching the sunlight and appearing almost iridescent. Now, Elain could see the multitude of scars on both of their wings, some almost faded, some small, others long and jagged, but the entire surface of their wings was covered in them. It made her heart ache for both of them. 

“That’s not what Illyrian males usually do,” Emerie continued lazily. 

“What do you mean?” Elain finally asked.

“Oh, Illyrians will protect their wings at all costs, especially during combat. You’ll never see an Illyrian with his wings untucked like that when daggers and swords are flying around. Some Illyrians, in ground combat, would go so far as to bind their wings to their bodies, so as to avoid them being accidentally tugged or pulled or slashed.”

“So,” Elain looked at her in confusion.

“Oh, I think that they are trying to impress the ladies,” Emerie chuckled.

Nesta snorted.

Elain blushed.

She had noticed, though, that none of the females had actually left, once the males began their sparring. The females milled about, pretending to drink, or arrange weapons and training equipment, but it was obvious that they were completely taken with the sight in front of them, and no one was actually making the move to leave. 

“I think we can all agree that Azriel is not exactly the most relaxed male out there,” Emerie said, “in fact, he is rather tightly wound up usually.”

Elain smiled softly, but couldn't disagree.

“This,” Emerie jerked her chin towards the two, “is very unusual. Very unlike him. To be parading his wings like that,”

She began re-braiding her long dark braid and asked absently, “Wonder why that is,”

“Why?” Elain insisted.

Emerie grinned and explained, “He is definitely trying to impress someone,”

“With his wings?”

“With the size of his wings,” Emerie corrected. 

Elain’s brow furrowed, and Emerie added, “It’s an Illyrian thing…They can’t actually help themselves.”

“In what way?”

“If they are in front of the object of their affection, they can’t help but display their wings. It’s instinctual. Funny how up until today, Azriel here, never displayed his wings…”

Elain turned crimson, and then muttered under her breath, “Oh stop it! Who cares about the wings…”

“Oh they do,” Nesta nodded slowly, smiling.

“Well, it’s not like any of us are going to grow some suddenly,”

“Oh, it’s not what we can grow,” Emerie fell back on her elbows, “it’s what they can grow…”

Elain absently braided her hair, and then immediately un-braided it, recalling that Azriel preferred it unbound. She wanted to know more of what Emerie was hinting at, but she was too  embarrassed to ask. Emerie finally took pity on her and said offhandedly,

“They say that the size of the wingspan corresponds to the size of some other parts on a male’s body,”

“Oh,” Elain’s throat bobbed and she suddenly felt very hot. Her hair was much too thick and heavy around her.

“They say,” Emerie continued, without looked at Elain, “that Azriel’s wingspan exceeds everyone’s wingspan in all of Illyria,”

“What?” Elain sucked in her breath. 

Goodness…

She had seen Azriel in nothing but his undershorts. Those plain black undershorts that…well…

She fanned herself, finding the warmth of the sun very stifling.

She thought about those undershorts a lot. All the time, in fact. She thought about him and that glorious bronze body every moment of the day. She thought of how his rough, scarred hands felt on her skin, scraping ever so gently against it. She thought of his spectacular back, all muscled and inked, and how all that muscular gorgeousness slid into the trim, slender waist. She certainly thought of his firm, chiselled behind that she had touched–as a nurse. Only as a nurse. The long, powerful legs, the sexy feet–she thought about all of him. But, she thought of the shorts the most. Because he certainly packed something magnificent in them.

“In all of Illyria?” she blurted out, before clamping her hand over her mouth.

Both Nesta and Emerie laughed at her.

“It’s true,” Nesta sighed. “It’s not something that I discuss with Cass though.”

“I’d imagine,” Elain murmured, her eyes darting between her sister, Emerie and Azriel. 

Gwyn was standing on the side, completely oblivious to everything, making stabbing motions with her hands, as she mimicked what the males were doing. 

“She is really into it,” Elain noted softly.

“Oh yes,” Emerie smiled. 

Elain turned her attention back to the males and sized up Azriel’s wings–she recalled a conversation that they had back at the cabin, about how Cassian and Rhys would argue and fight and measure each other’s. Now she understood why. Why they’d scream and argue and fight with fists to claim supremacy.

“His are bigger,” she murmured, watching the clawed tips peak above his massive shoulders. When standing like that, it was obvious that Azriel’s wings were bigger. And when the wings fluttered and unfurled they blocked out the sun.

“They are,” Emerie confirmed with a nod.

She sipped some water and then said quietly, almost to herself, but loud enough for Elain to hear,

“There are tales about him,”

“What sorts of tales?” Elain wondered, knowing that they were not discussing Cassian.

“Oh his…prowess,” Emerie levelled her a curious look, as if considering whether she should say more. 

Elain didn't respond, but waited, her hair ruffled in the spring breeze.

“They say,” Emerie finally continued, her tone measured, voice quiet and melodic, “that he does not take Illyrian females to his bed…”

Elain stifled her blush, nervously wringing her fingers on her lap, running them over Truth Teller’s scabbard.

“They say he would not besmirch an Illyrian woman’s reputation, even if she was willing…” Emerie sighed, and even Nesta turned to listen to her.

“In the bedroom, he respects the female,” Emerie’s long, lanky body folded over itself, as she wrapped her arms around her knees, “but he dominates completely. And he accepts nothing less. He is carnal in his affections,”

Elain wiped her brow and both Emerie and Nesta noted how she shifted on the bench, squeezing her legs together. 

“When you’ve been with him, it’s been said that he spoils you for any other male. Everyone seems lacking, once he’s had you, for he leaves such a mark on the womb,”

“What do you mean?” Elain breathed, eyes bright and shocked with surprise.

“He offers the female what she needs. Some need it gentle, and though they say that he is a kinky prick, he would offer gentleness. Other females seek submission and want to be controlled and he is a natural born Fae predator, so he gives them what they want. He is not safe or easy and that is a dangerous combination, considering his otherworldly handsomeness too–it’s irresistible.”

“Who says this?” inquired Nesta, now curious herself. Elain remained silent, only clutching Truth Teller harder.

“He is considerate,” Emerie explained, “and secretive, but after 500 years, even he cannot be entirely without a reputation. I’ve heard many things, especially from the Illyrian males, who resent him, yet envy and admire him as well.

“I’ve heard that he goes, he goes hard…and deep. And he is relentless.”

Elain did not comment, but she recalled Azreil’s own words, which he whispered heatedly in her ear, when he told her that once the flesh had cooled off, he liked for the female to ache inside for days at the memory of him inside of her.

Emerie blew out a long sight and added with a smirk,

“I just see a kindred spirit,”

“Have you been with him?” Elain asked carefully, unsure if this line of questioning was appropriate.

Emerie shook her head no and shrugged,

“No, I am no virgin and I’ve been with a male or two, but that’s not my preference. With Azriel,” he threw a glance at him, “I feel a connection–he loves pussy, I can feel it,”

“Emerie!” Nesta snapped at her, and pushed her shoulder playfully.

“What?!” Emerie laughed, “Are you a maid?” she asked quickly of Elain, who squirmed and mumbled something unintelligible.

“He looks like he’d devour it, if the female was to his liking,” Emerie shrugged indifferently.

Elain jerked up and gushed, “with his mouth?!”

The other two grinned at her and then Emerie nodded, “With his mouth. Though I hear that’s a seldom occurrence, reserved for few and far in between. He is known for his cock and how ably he uses it…”

Elain bit her lip, and then felt her head, her whole body heat, from Azriel’s blunt stare from across the ring. Even though he was still sparring with Cassian, his arms acted on their own, while his attention was turned to her. In her chest, Elain felt her beast pace nervously, impatiently, as if the conversation woke it up and it was seeking its mate. Her beast wanted to be conquered and controlled by the other one–the one that was the predator, the one that was ready to devour and destroy. 

Azriel’s lips curved into a dark smile, like he knew what she was thinking…Or, even worse, what they were discussing. 

“He looks at you as if you are a juicy peach to taste and savour,” Emerie said and then stood up. 

“He is just my brother-in-law,” Elain reminded her lamely. It sounded false even to her own ears.

“Hmm…” Emerie scratched her chin and suggested, “if you are still a virgin, I’d recommend you allow him to remedy that. It would be an unforgettable experience, I’d imagine. If you have a choice, that is a choice to make…It’s a mark you’d want to carry inside your body, Elain. Azriel is not something you’d ever forget.”

Meanwhile, Azriel’s arm slid from behind him and in the next moment, he pressed the tip of his dagger to Cassian’s chest.

“You are dead, brother,” he winked at the swearing Cassian, who almost started to say something about ‘unfairness’ and ‘another round’, but Azriel waved him off with a laugh.

Elain walked towards them, hearing Cassian’s grumbles.

“So, friendship won?” she wondered with a soft laugh, and handed them both drying cloths.

“No, Elain,” Azriel said evenly, “I won.”

He took the cloth and dabbed it over his glistening face and neck.

“Az cheats,” Cassian mumbled.

“Unless you have evidence, it’s all hearsay,” Azriel shrugged innocently. 

“Asshole,”

Elain giggled. 

Azriel, in turn, declared quietly, “By way of deception, thou shalt wage war”.

“What is this?”

“That’s his Intelligence Agency’s motto,” Cassian muttered. “Of which he is the founder and the head. So you still think he doesn’t cheat?”

Stomping angrily away, Cassian planted a loud kiss on Elain’s head and then left them behind.

Elain went and poured Azriel a full glass of water. When she turned to give it to him, she found him standing in front of her, watching her.

The training space had gradually emptied, and it was just the two of them left.

Silently, she handed him the glass and he drank deeply, without taking his eyes off her. 

“You two looked good out there,” he babbled, clearly thinking of what to say. Then, “Would you lick me?” she asked abruptly, and for once, Azriel was taken aback, his eyes flying open in surprise.

He gathered himself quickly and then stepped even closer to her, setting the glass aside.

“Where do you want me to lick you, flower?” he asked softly, his voice low and so gravelly, Elain barely heard him. The noise in her ears and the blood that rushed to her head weren’t helping either. “Because I’ll be only too happy to lick you anywhere.”

“There,” she whispered, her eyes dipped down. “With your mouth,” she added.

“Well, I could only lick with my mouth,” he reminded her, amused.

His hand covered her neck and he pressed lightly, but firmly, as he brushed his thumb over her chin, sliding it along her jaw. Her breath hitched and her eyes grew heavy-lidded. The tantalising, heady scent of her arousal drifted up to him and he breathed it in deeply, letting her see how she affected him. He didn’t even hide the fact that he could scent her.

“When you become mine,” he murmured quietly, lips barely touching her ear, her hair, “you will part your thighs for me and you will touch yourself, as I watch you,”

Elain swallowed desperately, and his other hand pressed to her back, holding her up, while he continued whispering, “you will open your sweet flesh and then I will taste you, at last. I will lick you until you scream my name and until the pleasure of my mouth on you will sear into your very womb. And you will come on my tongue,”

“Azriel,” 

“You will come on my tongue again and again, until your screams turn to cries, because the pleasure would be so great. I will drink your essence, flower. I will lick and slurp and taste until you won’t be able to take it any more, but I won’t stop. Not until you run dry and so destroyed by your climaxes that nothing but I, Azriel, is left on your skin and your lips.”

His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek and he smiled triumphantly, “So yes, Elain, my beautiful flower, I will lick you.”

He stepped back, leaving her standing, or rather, swaying, in place, with her lips parted and her cheeks red. 

He wiped his naked torso with the cloth, enjoyed the lustful gaze with which she followed every movement, as she stood, unmoving, clenching her thighs together.

“Did you enjoy your dagger lesson today?” he asked with a small smile.

“Yes.”

“Will you come back for more?”

“Yes.”

“You need quite a few lessons, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me,”

“Yes,”

“To continue teaching you?” he finished his thought, smiling.

She finally came out of her stupor and nodded, “Yes, please. I’d like you to teach me.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

He tugged his shirt back on and asked, “Do you want me to fly you back home?”

“Rhys said that he’d come and pick me up,” she said with a small grimace.

“Ahh,”

“I think he has business to discuss with you and Cass.”

“Well then…some other time, perhaps.”

She extended her hand and he took it, as they slowly made their way towards the door.

“You make me happy, flower,” he confessed.

“You make me happy, Azriel,” she supplied.

As they walked, hand in hand, a pair of eyes watched them from the shadows.

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