#oh look its me posting the chosen content again

[hycinthrt]

the beloved | the betrayer

-@ghostsmp3

#oh look its me posting the chosen content again #theres something about the narrative parallels yknow #de hyacinth #ya va a ser navidad #the chosen #the chosen tv series #judas the chosen #judas posting #john the chosen #religion #christianity #judas iscariot #john the apostle #john the beloved #art #illustration #bible #the chosen tv show

[thatonegenshinsimp]

Hi! I really liked your cuddles and cold mornings with a lover posts, would you be interested in doing/could you do a pantalone version of the cold mornings post with him please? :)

Cold Mornings With a Warm Lover Part 2 (Fem!reader NSFW)

Of course! This was so fun to write ASDXCSFSXC. I decided to add Zhongli to this one as well. Anyways, enjoy~

Notes: My wifi was crapping out when I wrote this and it kept deleting the stuff I added in after I first saved it to my drafts :')

Characters: Pantalone, Zhongli

Masterlist

Part 1

Warnings: NSFW, fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!reader, marking, fingering, creampie, squirting, hair pulling, Adeptus!reader (Zhongli), monsterfucking (Zhongli), draconic!Zhongli (horns, tail, claws), knotting (Zhongli), Zhongli has a ridged cock

NSFW content below, Minors DNI! By scrolling further past this point, you have chosen to read the content below of your own accord!

Pantalone

Pantalone had been awake for a good amount of time when you opened your eyes, sitting up slowly beside him in your large shared bed. You braced yourself on your forearms and looked around, before feeling his gaze on your bare body. Your face reddened as you pulled the covers over your body. “Oh, you’re awake.” You whispered, hiding your face in the pillow. He pulled the covers away and looked down at you, watching as you slowly curled in on yourself. “H-hey, it’s freezing!” You hissed, shivering. “Hm, then how about you let me warm you up this morning?” He asked, his hand making its way to your face as he spoke. Your wedding last night was the catalyst for all of this, not that you were complaining. You had enjoyed last night very much, especially what happened once the two of you arrived home from the wedding dinner. You were barely through the bedroom door with him when you were tugging at his clothes, begging to see what was underneath the elegant suit that Pantalone had worn. And of course, who was he to deny you something you wanted?

You were dragged from your thoughts when he gently pressed his lips against yours, watching as you practically melted under his touch. You leaned against him as he pulled you into his lap, letting you straddle his waist. He smoothed his hands up your thighs and your back, before resting one arm over your middle as his other hand came up to gently cradle your jaw. “You looked lovely in that dress last night, but I think you look much better like this.” He said, kissing you again. He trailed kisses down from your lips to your neck, leaning in and biting down on the skin at your collarbone. You gasped softly, reaching up and threading your fingers through his jet black hair. You tugged it lightly when he pulled at the skin gently with his teeth, pulling back to see the purple love bite he gave you. The hand that was holding your face slowly made its way downward as you focused on him, joining his other arm around your waist. He made sure that you were distracted by him before gently nudging your thighs open with his leg, before holding your legs open and pressing the pads of his middle and index fingers against your slit. You gasped at the sudden feeling, grabbing his shoulders as you felt his fingers slowly press into you. “Ngh~ h-hey, what about you? I wanna make you feel good too.” You mumbled, half lidded eyes gazing up at him. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps another time, but this morning is about you, dearest.” He cooed, his hand speeding up as he curled his fingers to hit that spongy bundle of nerves deep inside of you that he knew drove you crazy. You gasped and moaned loudly as he repeatedly pressed his fingertips against that spot, grinding down against his hand. “Needy thing, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you this morning.” He whispered in your ear, watching you shudder from the sickeningly sweet tone of voice he was using. You were so, so close, but whined quietly as he pulled his fingers out just before you came. “Patience, I promise it’ll feel good, dearest.” He soothed, waiting for you to come down a little from the hazy and fuzzed headspace you were in. You panted softly as he tilted your face upwards for you to look at him. “Do you want me to be on top this morning?” He asked, watching as you nodded wordlessly. Pantalone flipped the two of you over and slowly pulled the covers over the two of you as he lifted your hips a little. Your breath hitched as he pressed his tip against your entrance, before slowly sliding into you. You immediately grabbed his shoulders as he slowly pressed into you, gasping at the stretch. “Shh, just relax, dearest, I’ve got you.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him, your chest pressed against his. The blush on your face spread to your shoulders and the tips of your ears as he bottomed out, pressing his hips against yours as his spongy tip knocked against your cervix. “A-Ah~ hNn~ m’so full, you’re s’big- fuck!” You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist. Pantalone gently grabbed at your waist before he slowly started rocking his hips against yours. You whined and moaned quietly as he grunted softly, trying to keep himself under control.

Your face got somehow even redder as he started pulling back his hips and thrusting them against yours, loud squelching noises filling the room along with the noises of your lovemaking. You grinded your hips against his as he kept thrusting, keeping a steady pace as you tried to keep up. You felt his hand against your cheek and leaned into his touch, looking up at him as he smiled softly down at you. His breath hitched and a loud groan bubbled up in his chest as he hit your sweet spot, feeling your gooey cunt squeeze around his cock tightly. “HnNg~ goodness, does that feel good? Do you want me to do that again, pretty thing?” He asked, leaning down and gently pressing kisses against your neck. You nodded, tugging at his hair again as you got closer to your orgasm. The knot in your lower tummy tightened as he angled his hips and started going faster, hitting that spot repeatedly. Your velvety walls squeezed and spasmed around him as he kept you on the edge, going slower when you got too close. He twitched inside of you as you dug your nails into his broad shoulders, small tears welling up in your eyes. “That’s it, just hold out a little longer.” He whispered, before he sped up even more. His pace was getting sloppier as he left open mouthed kisses against your neck. “Nnh~ please, lemme cum, m’so close, please- AhHng~!” He cut you off with a rough thrust that sent you over the edge, gushing around his thick cock. You wailed his name as you dragged your nails down his back, leaving little red lined in their wake as your eyes rolled back a little. Pantalone looked down at you and rolled his hips against yours as he came, fucking you full of his cum. “That’s it, let me take it from here, ok? You did so good for me.” He soothed, watching as you clung onto him. You panted and whined quietly as you came down from your high, slowly calming down. He slowly pulled out and watched as his cum gushed out of you, soiling the sheets below. He then gently pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you once again. “Pantalone?” You asked, your voice still a little shaky. “Yes, what is it, dearest?” He asked. “Could we go take a bath? I’m all sweaty and sticky now.” You asked, hiding your face in his chest. He chuckled at your shyness, before picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. “Of course, my love.” He said.

Zhongli

It was rare for Zhongli to stay home for the day, let alone take leave, but he assured you that Hu Tao had given him leave for the festival period since he had helped prepare the Funeral Parlor’s decorations (which he insisted weren’t necessary) for the Lantern Rite Festival. You were just glad to see him at home, since he got up so early in the morning and usually returned well after you had fallen asleep at night.

You woke up to a pair of arms around you and looked behind you, laughing softly when your husband gently nuzzled your neck. “Someone’s touchy this morning.” You teased, reaching back and running your fingers through his hair. You felt something wrap around your leg, and pulled back the covers to reveal his long scaly tail. You looked back and noticed his golden horns as well. “Looks like this was a much needed break period. It seems like you needed some rest from work.” You said. “Ah, compared to the things I’ve had to do on the daily before retiring from my place as an Archon, I’d say that my “job” at the Funeral Parlor is more like a vacation.” He said. “And I certainly never got to do these things with you when we were still working like that. I never had a moment alone with you.” He continued. “To talk to me or to fuck me? Be specific.” You rolled over to face him, laughing when he pinned you down against the bed and spoke. “Careful that you wish for, those are dangerous words you’re saying, even if you are an Adeptus.” He said, watching your face flush and your eyes widen. Without warning, he unbuttoned and slipped off your nightshirt, doing the same to his. He leaned in close and looked for that one spot he remembered so very well on your neck, sinking his pointed fangs into your skin when he found it. “Ngh~!” His actions surprised you, it had been a while since he had done this with you, but you found yourself tilting your head to the side as he marked your neck with his teeth. You reached up and gently grabbed his hands, shivering when he pulled away. “Are you cold? Don’t worry, you’ll be warmed up soon enough.” He cooed. Zhongli leaned in and kissed you, watching your eyes go half lidded as a pleasant lustful gaze clouded them. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you this morning.” He whispered, trailing his hand down to slide down your pants. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of your underwear and pulled them both down, before he finished undressing himself. Without wasting a moment, the soft pads of two of his long, thick fingers were pressed against your slit.

“Look at me.” He mumbled. Watching as the haziness faded from your eyes and you nodded. “Hmm?” You looked up at him. “Are you sure you want to do this? I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” He said, watching as you nodded. You gasped when he slowly slid them in, pinning your thighs to the bed with his knees as he curled his fingers and grazed against your sweet spot. You reached up and grabbed his shoulders as he kept moving his fingers, scissoring them to stretch you out. He pinned your legs down with his tail, wrapping it around your ankles to make sure you couldn’t move your legs. “Mnh~ r-right there, please- Ahn~!” You gasped when he curled his fingers to hit your sweet spot again, moving his hand faster as your grip got tighter. You were about to tip over the edge of bliss when he pulled his hand away, chuckling lowly when you whined softly. You gasped when you felt his tip pressed against your entrance, moaning softly as he slowly slid into you. “Nh~ feels s’big, t-too big, it won’t fit~!” You cried out, but he forced you still. “You’re being too noisy.” He muttered, shoving two fingers into your mouth and pressing the soft pads of them against your tongue. “Every time we do this, every single time, it fits. Lie still and take it like the good girl I know you are, and I’ll reward you, ok?” He cooed, watching you push your hips back to fit more of him inside of you as you nodded. He chuckled. “That’s it, slowly now.” He whispered, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. He held your hips steady as he kept pressing himself into you, his grip tightening as you squeezed around him. “Mnh~ ‘li, Ngh~ stay still, please- Ah~!” He pressed the base of his knot against your entrance, lifting his head from your shoulder and pressing soft kisses against your skin. He trailed kisses up from your shoulder to your neck, before sinking his fangs into your skin. “HAh~!” You dragged your nails down his back, gasping and whining. He tensed up slightly when you scratched down his back a little, your sharp nails drawing little red lines on his skin. He stayed still for a bit, letting you adjust as he rocked his hips against yours slowly and gently. “Hn~ look at you, you’re already so pliant under my touch, aren’t you? You’re just waiting for me to ruin you~” his long serpentine tongue licked his lips as he spoke. You nodded, already almost mindless from the way he was now rolling his hips steadily against yours. You slowly reached up and linked your hands with his, breaking his concentration for a moment as he looked at you. It was a way for you to be closer to him, not that he minded. He wrapped his tail around your leg as he went faster, his tip bumping up against your cervix as his ridged shaft grazed against your velvety walls. “Right th-there, please- Hnn~ ‘li, don’t stop- AhnNg~!” You moaned loudly as his tip hit your sweet spot, raising your hips to let him get a better angle. “Such a good girl- fuck- I’m gonna fill you up nicely, gonna stuff you full and breed you~” he whispered, his grip on your hips tightening as he twitched inside of you. His pace was getting sloppy, and he was panting softly as he got closer to his release. He pressed his lips hotly against yours, muffling your cries of pleasure as he went faster. Your hands went from being over his to his shoulders again, squeezing them as the coil in your lower belly tightened. “M-Morax, m’close, m’so close- AHhng~!” He gripped you tighter as he heard you call him that name. He loved it when you did that, you knew he did. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking as it hit you in waves. He slammed his hips against yours a few more times before his knot swelled inside of you, trapping his thick cum deep in your spasming cunt. He fucked you through it, rolling his hips against yours as you rode out your high with him. After you had come down somewhat from your highs, you pulled away from him as you spoke.

“It seems you needed this break more than me, horny lizard.” You muttered, running your fingers through his hair. “Is that an invitation to go again?” He asked, smirking down at you. You shook your head. “I’d pass out before you’d finish, I’d much rather stay like this for a while, instead.” You pressed your lips against his forehead, smiling softly. “Besides, we both know you like it when I wash your hair.” You replied, shifting to a more comfortable position and pushing him on his back. He fell back against the pillows and chuckled softly as he wrapped his arms around you. After a while of staying still on his lap, he finally pulled out, watching his cum dribble from your spent hole. You whined at the loss of contact, before he picked you up and slowly carried you to the bathroom. He ran the water warm, just the way you liked it, before slowly getting in. You hummed happily as he kissed you, running his hands over your skin. He grabbed the soap from beside the bath and wrapped his tail around your waist to keep you steady as he lathered the soap on your body. He took extra care when he got to your chest and your thighs, retracting his claws to make sure he didn’t accidentally scratch you on the sensitive parts of your body. You sighed deeply as he hummed a tune long since forgotten by time, his deep baritone voice calming you and further bringing you down from the euphoria. He grabbed the shampoo and put it in your hair, starting to move on to his hair when he felt your nails scratching against his scalp. You slowly massaged the shampoo into his hair as he rested his head against your chest. You felt him unwrap his tail from your waist, and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead as he rested his tail on your lap. “Just rest, honey, I’ve got this.” you whispered, knowing how exhausted he was after such a long night. You slowly started washing his tail, lathering his scales with soap before moving on to massage his back. You rolled your palms against the muscles that were potentially sore or strained, making sure to ease the knots in his shoulders and his back. You heard him hum softly, his tail thumping against your lap as a result of your soothing touch. You giggled softly. “You like that?” you asked, watching as he nodded. You gently tapped his large golden horns, as if to tell him to lower his head. He lowered his head to where you could wash his horns, huffing quietly when you told him the two of you had to get out of the bath soon. “Five more minutes.” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you. “We still have to change the bedsheets, ‘li.” you muttered, causing him to sigh. “Ok.” he mumbled back, slowly getting up out of the bath and grabbing some towels from the linen closet. He returned a few minutes later with some towels, saying that he’d changed the sheets. You smiled, slowly standing with his help as he dried you off and carried you to bed after draining the tub. He then got under the covers with you and rested his head against your chest.

By the time you looked back at him, he was looking up at you with half lidded eyes as his tail wrapped around your leg. “Are you cold, dearest?” you asked, causing him to shake his head. “I just want you close to me.” he mumbled sleepily, leaning up and pressing his lips against yours. He flipped the two of you over to where you were resting your head against his chest, your weight grounding him as his eyelids got heavier with exhaustion. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “I love you.” he whispered, nuzzling his nose against your neck and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep. You smiled softly, closing your eyes as you spoke. “I love you, too.” you whispered, falling asleep in his comforting arms.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #pantalone x fem reader #pantalone #genshin pantalone #pantalone smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli smut

[david-talks-sw]

An allergy to the Prequels

While I'm putting together a post about the evolution Lucasfilm's transmedia strategies, this part kinda turned into its own thing!

So I'm not sure if anyone else noticed, but, uh... there hasn't been that much Prequel content since the Disney sale, right?

'Couple novels and comics, some episodes... but nothing meaningful.

The more I look into it, the more it feels like a deliberate avoidance to touch on anything Prequel-related - beyond the required quota, that is - to a point where they'd rather tell stories set during periods that are Prequel-adjacent (Dark Times, High Republic) than something set around Episodes I, II and III.

On-screen policy: "pretend they never happened"

I mean, this one's no secret. When The Force Awakens had been announced, with J.J. Abrams at the helm, everyone sighed in relief. "Finally, George Lucas won't keep ruining the franchise."

When Abrams had been announced as the director of Episode VII, I remember this cringey animated video started circulating online, titled "4 Rules To Make Star Wars Great Again" or "Dear JJ Abrams":

“Star Wars isn’t shiny and clean... Star Wars is a western.”

If you ask me, those two things are not mutually exclusive.

'Cause Star Wars has always been both, for many Prequel kids. Both clean and dusty, Coruscant and Tatooine. There was never a disconnect between the Original Trilogy (OT) and the Prequel Trilogy.

Even the documentary The People vs George Lucas shows Prequel-hating fans begrudgingly admit their kids felt all six episodes tied seamlessly.

Abrams, on the other hand, said: "I think [the "Dear JJ" video] was right on." Later on, he also said:

he considered "putting Jar Jar Binks's bones in the desert" on Jakku, somewhere, and

he intentionally made the lightsaber fights "rougher", "primitive" and "more powerful" unlike the fast-paced ones in the Prequels.

Later, we found out he wanted to blow up Coruscant.

It's clear he wasn't a big fan of the Prequels.

But y'know what? Not many fans over 20 were, at the time. And when The Force Awakens came out, most them celebrated it as a wonderful love letter to the OT.

Star Wars is cool again. Mission accomplished 🙌 !

However movies keep coming out, and references to the Prequels - if there are any - are literally just that... references.

Sometimes in the shape of a cameo ("hey look, Genevieve O'Reilly from the Ep. III deleted scenes is playing Mon Mothma again!")

Sometimes in a name (Luke name-dropped "Darth Sidious"!)

But nothing set during the Prequel era, and nothing treating the events that happened in that period as relevant or impactful, beyond subtextual nods.

In fact, the trend of avoiding anything Prequel-related continues as the final film in the Skywalker Saga comes out:

The Rise of Skywalker has a secret Sith society that chants the name "Palpatine" instead of his Sith name "Darth Sidious",

the film pretends the Kaminoans never existed,

and neither TROS nor Trevorrow's Duel of the Fates script even try to bring Hayden Christensen's Anakin Skywalker back on screen. Let that sink in, we're talking about the Chosen One, Skywalker Senior, whose sins caused this whole mess... and his name isn't even uttered once in the final chapter of what Disney dubbed the *Skywalker* Saga (or the entire Sequel trilogy, for that matter).

But hey, The Clone Wars got renewed for one last Season! That's cool right? So many stories had gone unfinished and somehow the animation looks even better than befo--

-- oh. It's not 22 episodes? Only 12?

Four of which had already been shown to us, but hey! We need to set-up the Bad Batch series, so let's shoehorn those episodes in there, and forget Son of Dathomir, Dark Disciple or Crystal Crisis.

*sigh* Better than nothing, I guess.

In other mediums: "just not a priority"

Now this is something that I'll explore more in the transmedia post (and purely my interpretation), but the noticeable change between Lucasfilm's transmedia strategy *post-ROTS* and the one post-Disney sale is that:

Before, the games, comics and novels were the main content. After all, Revenge of the Sith had been released, so that was it, for the movies. Thus, a variety of other content was being cranked out to keep the Star Wars franchise relevant. There were comics set 100 years after Episode 6, comics set 25,000 years prior, games set in the Old Republic era, other stories in the New Republic era, novels galore, a couple of parody films and an animated show, The Clone Wars, which sometimes received its own tie-in comics, novels and games.

After the sale and ever since, most of the transmedia products have had only one goal: promoting the films & streaming shows.

So while in 2015 you won't see an abundance of Prequel content... you'll see an avalanche of OT books and comics come out.

Why? Because the heroes of that era will be in the Sequel Trilogy movies. It provided context to the kids who hadn't seen the OT yet, and reintroduced those films to a new generation of fans, while priming them for the Sequels.

A multimedia marketing strategy that ultimately proved successful.

However, it continued even after The Force Awakens came out.

Don't believe me? Compare how many comics there have been set during the Prequel era vs the OT era.

If they make comics about the Prequels, they're limited runs.

Case in point: before the current Yoda series, the best any Disney Prequel-set comic series ever got was 6 issues.

Note: it's worth pointing out that the frequency of mini-series aren't just a Star Wars-specific thing, it's a comic book industry thing. The readership for comics is dwindling, many people are reading scans online, and so no publisher wants to commit to a story that lasts more than 4-6 issues. My problem is: there absolutely would be readership for a Prequel comic series to warrant an extended run instead of a mini-series.

Let's talk books. There have been give or 64 canon novels published since the Disney sale.

Only 11 of them are set during the Prequel era. And even those stories only came out when the planets were aligned.

Almost half of them were released while being a part of some bigger multimedia push.

Example:

Before the Obi-Wan Kenobi series was being released on Disney Plus, we'd had one novel and like two comic stories about him during the Prequels... released between 2012 and end 2021. That's about three pieces of content in almost ten years.

Clearly a low frequency.

Then, when the series is around the corner, two books and a comic story comes out in the space of months, plus an anthology book with an alt cover with his face on it and a comic with a story of him and Anakin in the first issue, all in 2022.

My takeaway: short of there being a film or series that needs to be promoted, you'll rarely get any Prequel comics or books.

And this is OBI-WAN we're talking about. The character who even the Prequel haters love. Imagine how little attention the other ones get.

Gaming-wise, Battlefront had no Prequel content at all (again, 2015 was the year where OT content was shoved down the consumer's throats to prep them for Episode VII), and Battlefront 2 only released Prequel content a full year later.

All that being said, we did seen some Prequel elements here and there. After all, some actors got to reprise their roles, books and comics came out featuring Prequel characters... but there's a catch.

The stories they appear in are set in-between Episodes III and IV, a time-period known as "the Dark Times" or the "Imperial era".

"Dark Times" being used instead of the Prequel era

It's easy to see the appeal of this era. You keep the same threat from the Original Trilogy - the Empire - but redress it with Prequel elements... while also cherry-picking the best characters of both the OT and the Prequels and giving them a chance to shine again.

The situation is more clear cut, as opposed to the complex one in the Prequels. Bad guys are stormtroopers, good guys are anyone else. And the stories no longer take place in the shiny capital, you're back on the frontier.

But at this point... it feels like a cop-out.

When you consider how much content has been set during the Dark Times, it's nothing to sneeze at. Since the sale, we've had:

2 movies (Solo, Rogue One)

4 series set in that time-period (namely The Bad Batch, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Andor, and Star Wars: Rebels).

2 video-games (Jedi: Fallen Order and Jedi: Survivor).

17 novels (such as Ahsoka, Lords of the Sith, the new Thrawn books, etc)

And just a whole bunch of comic book series & mini-series (like Kanan, Princess Leia, various Vader-centric comics including Darth Vader: Lord of the Sith, many tie-in mini-series promoting Rogue One, Jedi: Fallen Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi, etc).

There's been so much content made for this time-period that it feels like an unwillingness to do the work and create something set something during the Prequel era, let alone something that follows its Jedi.

After all, why make a story set in the Prequels (disliked by vocal fans) when you can just take the characters in that story and put them in an OT setting (which will appease the Prequel-haters)?

Maybe these stories get relegated to the Dark Times because:

there seems to be a perception that anything set in the Prequel era won't sell?

or maybe the current SW writers weren't fond of Episodes I, II and III, and don't find those Jedi characters likable, thinking they're too righteous and dogmatic which makes it hard to craft a story around them.

Or maybe it's because they're under the impression that the Prequel Jedi are bad. Like, canonically, in the narrative. Not just in a "I don't like them" sense, but also in a "the story is all about them becoming corrupted" sense.

Let's expand on that last point.

Retconning the Prequels as the "Fall of the Jedi" era

Somehow the rare stories set during the Prequels that we do get seem to automatically be about how "the Jedi lost their way/failed".

The series Tales of the Jedi is explicit about it...

... and I already explained why it contradicts what George Lucas established here and here.

You also see it in Rebels and the new season of The Clone Wars...

... in comics...

... in games...

It gets to a point where the Prequels era has now been redubbed the "Fall of the Jedi" era by Lucasfilm.

You wanna know what that period was referred to before the Disney sale? The "Rise of the Empire" Era.

Because - and I'll never get tired of saying this cuz it's factual - the Prequels aren't about the fall of the Jedi, they're about the fall of the Republic and Anakin, and rise of the Empire and Vader.

So in addition to being overdone, the "Jedi lost their way" is not even the intended narrative of the Prequels (if one puts any stock in Lucas' words). It's a minor subplot at best, hardly the focus of the films, let alone a whole time period.

But dubbing it "Fall of the Jedi" implies that there's another era in which the Jedi were in their heyday.

Because Star Wars authors are in luck! Yet another alternative has presented itself in the shape of a new transmedia initiative, and it's even better than the "let's set it during the Dark Times" solution:

A new transmedia initiative: The High Republic

You wanna deal with the Jedi before the Empire, but for some reason you wanna avoid dealing with the ones seen in the Prequels?

Look no further. Meet the Jedi of the High Republic.

Noble, adventurous, inspired by the Knights of the Round Table, they're everything the OT kids dreamed about when they heard ol' Ben Kenobi talk about the Knights of the Old Republic.

That's more like it!

Note: the High Republic was created for other reasons and has many more upsides than the ones mentioned above. Namely, a fresh new spot in the timeline that allows for creative freedom and a beautifully-coordinated transmedia storytelling effort where retcons are non-existent. However it does seem evident that not having to deal with the 'unlikable' Prequel Jedi and their "fall" is one of those upsides.

Another perk that the High Republic era offers is more freedom in terms of storytelling compared to the Prequels.

In 2016, Pablo Hidalgo tweeted he still quotes to authors the following excerpt of West End Games' guide for aspiring Star Wars writers, from 1994.

You can't write "this was the best day in Luke Skywalker's life", for example, because another author may want to write a better day than the one you just wrote.

My guess is that a similar approach applies to how all characters from the movies are treated. They're massively iconic. So you can't write a book that drastically changes how Mace or Yoda or Obi-Wan are perceived overall.

The stories need to be self-contained, disregardable if necessary, because you'll have dozens of writers coming up with new stories for those same characters, and you need to leave them some room.

Examples:

Notice how in the book Dooku: Jedi Lost we never see how Dooku turns to the Dark Side and joins the Sith.

Same goes for crossover comic book arcs of the Star Wars issues, like Vader Down or Crimson Reign... the characters don't really change by much in those comics. You could stick to just watching the movies and you wouldn't really miss anything.

But with The High Republic, you indeed can develop these characters as much as you want.

All stories featuring Avar Kriss leave an impact on her, you can nail down who she is perfectly in one book or one comic arc, both being just as meaningful to her character.

The fact that she's not as iconic/famous a character as Mace Windu means that authors can go to town on crafting an interesting and nuanced character arc for her that'll have a beginning, middle and end... something Mace will never really get.

CONCLUSION:

Back in 2015... let's not kid ourselves. The Prequels were unpopular and Disney is a multi-billion dollar corporation. Opting to make as much money as possible is what they do.

It's the same reason they decided not to go with George Lucas' original plans for the Sequels, in 2012.

I mean, imagine you're Disney. You just dropped 4 billion dollars, with a B, on this franchise. Your next Star Wars movie needs to be worth the price tag. Now, you can pick between two options:

Option #1 is uncharted territory and it explores the midi-chlorians (the cursed word…!) and the guy who presented you with this option also openly admits that a big chunk of customers won’t like it, but he wants this to be done because it’s his vision.

Option #2 is very simple: a soft reboot, that plays on nostalgia that the same chunk of customers (aka the 'boomer and Gen-X fans who grew up with the Original Trilogy and now have kids, grandkids and MONEY) will like.

It's a no-brainer. They gave the customers what they wanted.

But time has passed, the fans who were children when the Prequels first came out have grown up, and grew up with characters like Yoda, Mace, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto and other Jedi as their heroes, aside from main characters like Anakin and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

Can we maybe expand on them, flesh them out more?

No, let's either ignoring the storytelling potential of these characters or reducing it to them being "righteous, arrogant and dogmatic".

God forbid we get a story showing the Prequel Jedi in a *gasp* more positive light? One where their POV is more understandable, instead of the same old "we brought this on ourselves" storyline.

There's a whole decade between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones... you're telling me there's no space to show us Anakin's training and how he formed bonds with the Jedi we later see in The Clone Wars? I tried my hand at it here:

Interesting or fun Prequel-set ideas from other pro-Jedi fans on Tumblr can be found here, here and here.

And y'know, part of the Star Wars intent is for fans to take the ideas in the movies and come up with their own stories. You're supposed to create headcanons.

What I'm saying is fans of the Prequels are being given less "imagination food" than the rest, and many of us who like the Jedi in particular are forced to rely on headcanons only. "Better than nothing" is no longer an acceptable standard.

There's a range of recognizable Jedi characters that have already been established in films and TCW, can we maybe expand on them, flesh them out more, instead of whole new ones?

#jedi order #star wars #sw meta #long post #meta #lucasfilm #star wars prequels #prequel trilogy #sw prequels #high republic #the high republic #dark times #imperial era #the clone wars #tcw #sw negativity

[aclowntiny]

Sunflowers and Snapdragons- Woozi x Female!Florist!Reader

Word Count: 5700 | Flower Shop, Fluff, Some Quiet/Sunshine Vibes | Warnings: a lil language & a couple naughty jokes oopsie

This latest photoshoot required going to a flower shop. It was this one specific one in Seoul that had three walls of flowers that made perfect backdrops. A lot of people already went to it for instagram shots, so there was some work cut out for them to make it unique, but everyone was confident carats would like it.

Seungcheol was really excited to visit the shop, having seen a lot of posts about it, and Minghao was admiring blossoms the moment they walked in. No one was at the counter yet, so they had some time to roam. Jihoon wasn't frustrated, though- they'd arrived with the crew over fifteen minutes early to scope things out. He strolled through one of the color-coded aisles, fingers gently brushing a delicate white bloom as Mingyu passed him by with a massive rose in hand.

"Are you using that for the shoot?"

"I'm not sure," Mingyu shrugged and grinned, "but if I'm not, I kind of want to buy it anyway. This will make great photos, too!"

As Jihoon glanced around, he could see that several members were already taking their own selfies with the flowers. Seungkwan had chosen a sunflower, Joshua was posing with a rose in a way that (at least, to Jihoon's eyes) only made him look like James from Pokémon, and Soonyoung looked like he was about to eat a marigold. To each their own.

Maybe he would join them later, but for the time being Jihoon was content to wander over to the pre-arranged bouquets wrapped up near the front. One was a splash of fall colors, reds, oranges, and yellows bursting from it, while another was a passionate, romantic red. This is red, too jokes aside, it was amazingly crafted, asymmetrical with one side waiting while the other burst like a firework, the perfect representation of an anatomical heart newly beating for its object. Who had such eyes as to create a work like this, Jihoon wondered as he leaned a bit closer, scanning the flowers and catching the fragrance of one of the small, thin roses making up the still-subdued half.

Right then, a figure came bouncing out of the doorway behind the counter, spinning in a circle in the air and making several small leaps to the counter before executing a few more clumsy, uncoordinated, unadulterated joyful dance moves. Several grooves later, your eyes flew all the way open and you jumped, hastily pulling a pair of airpods from your ears and straightening your apron again.

Jihoon A. kind of wanted to know what you were listening to B. was surprised to see someone like you running this elegant floral shop. You were young, surely close in age to him, and if your clumsiness, huge smile, and eager wave told him anything, not the usual personality one saw in a florist. Not that he ever made a habit of going to flower shops. He barely went anywhere, frankly.

"You're here for the shoot, aren't you?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper, and Jihoon was surprised just how pleasant it sounded.

Giving a hum in response, he nodded. “Is this shop yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied with a salute, “I studied the language of flowers for years and now I translate it for everyone!”

A very unique way to look at that. “I see. Alright, then, er, what are these saying?”

“Oh, those?” Your eyes fell on the largely peach-toned bouquet he pointed to and widened. “Uh, you know what’s funnier than those? This bouquet over here is my gag gift.”

Jihoon cocked a brow. “Flowers this beautiful as a gag gift?”

“Yeah, so like the yellow carnations mean ‘you disappoint me’ and the orange lilies are for hatred, oh and geraniums mean stupidity, so this one is the ‘screw you’ bouquet. People either get it with the gag card or just don’t tell the person,” you reply with a grin, hand waving over both the autumnal bouquet and his question.

“Ok, that is funny,” he agreed with a chuckle, unable to resist imagining getting one for one of the members without them realizing.

Before you could say any more, though, one of the photographers approached you, causing you to turn his way.

“Hi,” you waved, bouncing on your heels, “you’re here for the shoot, right? Which wall were we setting up at again? I made sure they were all ready.”

“We were planning on starting with the pink one.”

“Oh, good!” You clapped. “I was hoping you were going to use the pink one! Let’s go get started. …see you in a bit!” You called to Jihoon as they took him back aside to prepare.

Wow. Lot of energy. As the stylist got ready to check him over, he ended up next to Minghao and Seokmin.

“You sure seemed to hit it off with the florist,” he commented matter-of-factly.

“She just seems…really chatty,” he replied with a sheepish smile, “not how you usually think of a florist being.”

“Maybe not, but it’s kind of nice. A florist with a flower-like personality!” Seokmin said with a smile. Leave it to him to find an angle like that- such was his charm.

“I think you two would get along really well,” Jihoon told him with a teasing eye roll.

~

For this shoot, Soonyoung went first; he was paired with white flowers, which really made the pink backdrop stand out. The other members watched, some cheering and some cringing, as he posed, the lovely style of the shoot surely something carats were going to enjoy. That was how Jihoon thought of it, otherwise it wasn’t exactly his style, but thinking of bringing smiles to everyone’s faces was worth almost any concept.

After Soonyoung was Mingyu, who had yellow. At the professionals' prompting, you handed him a big yellow hibiscus, which he accepted with a smile.

“Your skin is so pretty!” You gushed. “And your smile is very nice.”

Mingyu looked quite pleased with himself, pulling himself up to his quite full height. “Well. You aren’t so bad yourse-”

“You remind me of my brother!” You added with an innocent grin, adjusting your name tag, which Jihoon saw read (y/n).

“Ah, right, thank you,” the tall rapper accepted the compliment sheepishly. Everyone else snickered behind him as you bounded back off, completely naïve to it all.

“You’re not going to be in front of the pink wall,” came a sudden voice at Jihoon’s side, sending him jumping back a bit.

Turning to face the sound, he was faced with the sight of you at his side motioning to his outfit. “You’re wearing red. That wouldn’t look good with the pink wall. You’re going by the white or the red one, huh? Oh, uh, not that you don’t look good, just color theory and all. You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often.”

He found himself flushing into the whirlwind at the compliment. Why, he couldn’t say- it wasn’t the first he’d heard, but something about the words coming from a florist stuck with him. “Thank you,” he replied stiffly, unsure what else to say, “I am going to the red wall. A few of us are going monochrome.”

“It’ll look great!” You cheered him on, handing him a single red rose.

"Oh, you don't need to-" Jihoon held the flower back out, but before he could finish you were bouncing off again at the photographer’s behest.

You talked to the others, too, but didn’t seem to give out any more flowers, just danced around the makeshift studio suggesting flowers and making adjustments, flitting around like a dandelion seed on the wind. Curious.

~

When the formal photoshoot was over, Seventeen gathered in front of the white floral wall to take group pictures with you in thanks. You insisted on doing 'a silly one', prompting some of the members to get really wild with their poses and wow Jihoon had no idea you'd be able to stretch your leg as high as you did. He held out your flower like a magic wand, having kept it in his hands the entire rest of the shoot- it was such a perfect rose, they even let him use it as a prop for some of the pictures.

A part of him still wondered why you gave it to him. Another part of him wondered what song you had been listening to when he first saw you. A third and final part just wondered why he cared when he had everything else in his life to think about.

Two was bigger than one. The only way Jihoon would ever find time to go back to that shop would be necessity, like if he left something behind, forcing him to return. Glancing, he saw the original jacket he'd entered the florists' with hanging on a peg behind the counter. Then promptly set his gaze drifting far from that, perusing a row of chrysanthemums as he followed the sea of men that was his members out the door.

"Goodbye!" You waved to them, apron flapping back and forth with the motion. "You were great models! I'll buy your pictures!"

A few cheers rose from the guys, Seungcheol, Joshua, and all three members of Booseoksoon at least. A wave of pride crashed over Jihoon's chest, probably because you were so earnest. Not because of the way the color of your eyes was brought out by the stars in them.

"We'll keep buying your flowers!" Seokmin called, waving the little bundle of pink azaleas he'd bought at you.

The last of you Jihoon heard as he exited your viral shop was a bright, musical giggle that echoed in his mind several times over.

~

Hands in his pockets, Jihoon made his way to leave the dorm the next day and go collect his jacket.

"You're leaving?" Soonyoung. Unabashed shock colored his tone, his mouth wide open.

"You're doing it too," Jihoon teased in response, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, but I'm me. I go shopping, I take walks, but you? You never leave. Where are you going?"

"I left my jacket at the flower shop yesterday, the long one I had on over the red? So I'm just going to see if they still have it."

"That's one of your favorite jackets," Soonyoung commented as he opened the door, ushering the both of them past the threshold.

"I know, so I hope they still have it."

"You never forget things like that," his bandmate pondered with a tilt of his head.

"They must have put it somewhere weird," Jihoon shrugged in response.

The jacket conversation died there, but Jihoon couldn't help hoping his tiger-loving friend didn't suspect anything as he strode along the sidewalk, hailing a taxi.

~

No longer reserved for a day's shoot, your shop had some business. A teenage couple was taking pictures in front of the pink wall in the chaste embrace of first love, a man alternately held up bundles of white and red roses, clearly trying to make a decision, and there you were behind the counter, shimmying with one airpod in as you secured some daffodils with twine for an older lady. It seemed like Jihoon was going to catch you dancing every time he saw you.

Glancing further behind your counter, he saw his jacket hanging on the peg where it was left the day before. Bingo. Striding forward, he got in line behind Daffodil Lady, who was just finishing up handing off some won to you before you gave her a receipt. When he stepped forward, your face lit up so bright it sent a whole swarm of butterflies fluttering inside him.

"Hi!" You waved, popping out your single airpod and placing it back in its case- interesting that you did that now and not when you were helping the old lady- before leaning forward on your wooden counter. "Woozi, isn't that right, sir?"

He chuckled. "Oh, just call me Jihoon. Sorry to bother you, but I think I left my jacket here?"

You waved a hand, still smiling brightly. "Oh, you're not bothering me. You could never bother me. Well, unless you were, like, burning my shop down or something- that would bother me. No arson on my florals, please!"

Jihoon just chuckled with a shake of his head as you bobbed over to the wall rack that housed his jacket, plucking it off the peg. "This one, right?"

"Yes," he nodded, "thank you."

"Of course, Jihoon," you replied, using his name, "anything else I can help you with?"

Maybe it was the way you said his name, the fact that just showing up, taking his jacket, and leaving seemed lame, but suddenly he felt a strange bit of conviction wash over him. Turning around, his eyes scanned the rows upon rows of blooms, taking in the fluttering rainbow of roses and carnations, sunflowers and snapdragons, tulips and hyacinths, before locking on a soft purple bundle. He walked over and took them gently in his hands, returning to your counter.

"These are really pretty," he comments as he hands them to you, "I'd like to get some of these for my studio."

"I'll put them in a vase then," you replied with a nod as you trimmed them and stood them up, "great choice! Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love. Maybe they'll help you write a love song."

Your eyelashes fluttered a bit as you spoke, and when you said goodbye, you told him you hoped you'd see him again soon. He was almost tempted to forget something again.

~

"These are nice. When did you get these?" Seungcheol waved his hand over the vase of lilacs on Jihoon's desk, head tilted inquisitively.

"I bought them when I went back to that flower shop to get my jacket."

His leader smiled. "Oh, from the really friendly girl? You bought flowers?"

His face felt a bit warm. "I felt weird leaving without buying anything. Having something to decorate is kind of nice anyway," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, it's nice to bring a little outside in, especially since you never go out," Seungcheol teased, elbowing him lightly.

"I do, too...sometimes."

"Oh yeah? When was your next plan to leave here?"

Shit. "Er, ah..." Light bulb. "To get lunch!"

Seungcheol raised a brow. "You always get that delivered."

"Well, fine," Jihoon teasingly huffed, crossing his arms, "then we'll just have to make do bringing outside in, won't we?"

"Nothing wrong with that," the older man replied, leaning back into the lilacs and inhaling their scent lightly, eyes dropping closed a bit, "I wouldn't mind having a vase or two to brighten up my brother's place."

"I could get you some," Jihoon blurted out, cursing his own response's speed.

That smile of Seungcheol's was no good. "Oh yeah?"

Jihoon's face warmed, but he didn't back down, doing his best at a flippant wave of the hand. "Sure, I mean...you were the one who wanted me to get out more, weren't you?"

"Yeah," the rapper replied with a fond glance Jihoon had to roll his eyes at, "I suppose I was."

~

You were dancing again when he came in, this time with more of a formal choreography- Vixx’s G.R.8.U, if he wasn’t mistaken. The moment you saw him, though, you popped out your airpods again.

“Were the lilacs mean to you?”

“What?” Jihoon frowned slightly, eyes fixed on the way you fell into a forward lean over your counter, peering at him with your chin in your hand.

“I’m just messing with you. Wondering if you gave then the boot and are looking for a replacement or something. Maybe they talked back.”

“Oh, I forgot, you think flowers can talk.”

“Don’t make me sound crazy!” You protested, eyes widening in what Jihoon hoped was mock-offense, “I just mean flower language like from the Victorian days!”

“I know, that’s why you have ‘screw you’ bouquets and whatever the ones you wouldn’t…” Jihoon trailed off, hand waving over the infamous peach bouquets from visit number one, either new ones or somehow you were magically keeping them fresh for days on end, probably the latter. They were in a different position, individuals parted this time, revealing a card attached to the wood backing that revealed their price and identity. Those particular bundles, filled with coral roses, tiger lilies, and the occasional carnation and dotted with coriander flowers, were dubbed the “Let’s Get Down to Business” bouquet.

“Not red?” Jihoon mused quietly out loud.

Your gaze drifted diagonally downward; clearly you heard him, faint panic rising to your eyes as they fell upon the very-directly named arrangements you’d made.

"Those weren't my idea, just my translation! It was a popular request! Er, and no," you stammered, not meeting his eyes, “red’s more romantic than…uh, well, forward. Red is usually more for true love.”

You look really nice in red. If you don't usually, then you should wear it more often. “I see." His own stare trailed to the floor. "Well, are there any flowers just for friendship? I don't know if you remember S.Coups from the shoot-"

"One of the other red guys, right?"

He had been placed at the red wall. "Right."

"Medium tall? Black hair?"

Rather than point out that that description would match multiple members, Jihoon just nodded. "Yeah, the leader."

"Say the name guy," you agreed, mirroring his nod.

Say the name guy. He exhaled in amusement at that. Cute, but totally accurate. Jihoon was going to use that sometime. Seungheol would get a kick out of it too.

Fingers gently caressing a lily, he repeated what you said with a nod of his head and a twinkle in his eye.

“So S.Coups needs flowers now?”

“He said he wanted some after he saw the lilacs.”

You lit up. “Yellow roses are perfect to show friendship! How are these?” You asked as you pulled out a vase of yellow flowers.

“Perfect.”

“And I’ m really so honored you guys like my shop,” you added with a little bow as you started ringing up the vase.

“I’ll never go anywhere else for flowers,” Jihoon told you with a smile, “also, I have to ask- what music are you listening to?”

You glanced down at the counter again sheepishly, but a big smile spread across your face. Cute. You should tell her. No, shut up. That’s weird. “Well, I like upbeat stiff a lot. Right now I’m listening to-”

“Vixx-sunbaenim? G.R.8.U?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you- Oh, wait, I guess you would,” you chuckled nervously, “yes. That first day I was listening to MCND’S H.B.C. I guess I like acronyms!” At this, you gave a full-blown laugh, that sound better music than anything your airpods could have come up with.

“I guess so,” Jihoon said, and with that he left, wishing he knew what else he should have said.

"Oh, and here. Since those aren't for you, this one is," you stopped him before he left, leaning forward with a large camellia in hand.

As he waited for another cab, Jihoon snuck a glance into the wide windows of your shop and saw you, airpods back in, twirling around again behind your counter, heart constricting at the sight.

~

“Wow, that’s a really hype beat! I’m going to have to come up with a fast dace, aren’t I?” Soonyoung waltzed into Jihoon’s studio with a teasing groan.

Jihoon paused the instrumental immediately, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know, this is just something I’m working on. I felt like making something upbeat.”

“Well, I can see why,” his hyung commented with a nod further into the room, “I think you have a problem.”

Giving a quick dart of the eyes across the room, the composer took in the four vases of flowers placed on two empty chairs and the two empty desk spaces that had once remained. “What do you want me to do?” He replied quietly, curtly. What else could he do, for that matter? He was running out of excuses to go see you. “I can’t think of any other reason to go!”

Soonyoung’s brows furrowed, gaze alternately narrowing and widening. “Huh- oh. Oh!” He smiled, a sight that usually didn’t bother Jihoon, but this one was even more immature than Seuncheol’s. “You want to see that florist again, don’t you? I was just going to tell you you were getting addicted to flowers.”

“Addicted to flowers?” Jihoon chuckled into the words despite the slight glare on his face.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen you do weirder things for inspiration,” Soonyoung replied with a shrug. “I saw her dancing, are you making a song for her?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.”

“What a couple, you too,” Soonyoung shook his head, “you’re like a sunflower and a snapdragon.”

Two impulses rose, one to correct his tiger-loving bandmate that he and you were not a couple at all and one to state that in fact, you’d displayed those very two next to each other down the aisle of wooden boxes with all the yellow-toned stock. They apparently went together to some people. Maybe that was just offering ammo, though.

“Do you just buy flowers and leave? She’ll never know you like her.”

“She’s not supposed to. I mean, I don’t. Not really. Just a little.”

Soonyoung gave Jihoon his hoshiest cat eyes, shuffling closer with his hands behind his back.

“Look, I don’t have time to date anyone anyway.”

One more shuffle across the hard floor. Every muscle in Jihoon’s body tensed slightly. “How much time out of the week do you spend on trips buying flowers? A dinner or two’s time, you suppose?”

“I’m…I’m not good at saying stuff like you are,” Jihoon finally sighed into the unrelenting cat eyes and lopsided grin. “I should just be happy to go in and get flowers.”

“You want me to do it for you?”

“No.”

“I can. I’ll go in and just tell her how much you-”

“Absolutely not. That would be worse.”

“Well then, if you want it done right, you’re right. The only way is to go do it yourself,” Soonyoung concluded with a nod.

The worst part is that it wasn’t a bad point, damn his Bugs Bunny method. Didn’t change anything though. Time was still short, he wasn’t totally sure you were interested, and the mental image of any discomfort crossing your face on his account was nearly enough to bring a slick of sweat to his tightening palms. Going to your shop was all he had.

“I’m not going to harass her,” he finally spoke again, imagination starting to fade back away into reality.

“Then don’t. Maybe you should try…” Soonyoung paused for dramatic effect, opening his palms in little stationary jazz hands. “Complimenting her.”

“Complimenting her?” Jihoon repeated dumbly, hands opening and sliding back toward his keyboard, yearning for comfortable, familiar territory.

“Sure. Say something nice, see how she reacts. Kindness without commitment.”

Not a bad idea. He didn’t have to say anything stupid, after all. Nothing too weird. Drumming his fingers on the solid edge of his keyboard, he wracked his brain for things to say. What he said would depend on the context of course, because he’d only say something nice in response when it came up, not just blurt it out, and it has to be normal, not something out of the lyrics he definitely hadn’t been toying with writing about you.

“You’re overthinking things now, aren’t you?”

Jihoon opened his mouth fecklessly, no sound coming out, but before he could chastise his friend the studio door swung open again.

“Jihoon, we need to talk about all the flowers all over the dorms, you’re killing the rest of the vocal unit’s allergies and Jun just complained that-”

Seungcheol, the one who opened the door, swung into the room and locked eyes with Soonyoung, who crossed his arms and smiled with a nod.

“I’m on it,” he said.

Jihoon’s head fell into his hand, beat all but forgotten as he cursed his own slip of the tongue. Should’ve had the flowers sent to his mom or something.

~

“I, uh, listened to the songs you mentioned.” Jihoon stood at your counter yet again, hands wringing a bit nervously. He waited a week this time, practically the longest he'd gone, and the sight of your smiling face was like a pitcher of water in the desert. He wished you knew that, but wasn't about to be the one to tell you right then.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I liked them."

"Oh, good! I know you literally make music for a living so it would be pretty embarrassing if I recommended you stuff and you thought it was terrible or poorly made or whatever you call it when they don't produce it right if there's a word for that and I did, well, whatever the opposite of impressing you is."

"You always impress me," Jihoon chuckled.

"Oh, with my flowers, right." With a small unreadable smile, you glanced down at a set of pink tulips you were wrapping up.

"Not just with your flowers."

~

"And then you just LEFT?" Soonyoung burst out indignantly, arms flung open wide.

"What else was I supposed to say? I didn't have some poem to read her, song to sing! That was hard enough," Jihoon shot back, once again sitting with crossed arms in his now even more flower-filled studio.

"Oh no no no," Soonyoung shook his head over and over again, "no no no, this won't do at all. You can't be cryptic like that and just-" He sighed. "You're going back there. Now."

Jihoon didn't even look up from his laptop this time. "And waste all my cab fares?"

"You don't think seeing her is a waste and you know it. Otherwise we wouldn't have these, remember?" Soonyoung loosened one tulip from the pink bundle, sliding it upward from the vase until Jihoon smacked his hand, finally looking up into his triumphantly smiling face. "See? And if you're so worried, I will personally drive you back to her shop."

For once, the impulse to shoot back against the gloating wasn't there. "Do- do you really want this for me that bad?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Call me a fool for love," Soonyoung replied.

Jihoon gave a small smile. "That's if you're rushing into something for yourself."

"Well, call me a fool for other people's love, then," his hyung grinned.

"Well, if you support it so much, then do me a favor...don't be there watching over my shoulder. I'll go back. Alone." Sighing and grabbing his bag, Jihoon made his way out of the studio once more.

Soonyoung just shook his head, chuckling. "What a couple you two are," he echoed his own earlier words at the composer's back.

Jihoon hailed the second cab of the day with a flush of embarrassment, not that this completely different driver would know why, it just felt like he did. Felt like everyone did. As he sat down, giving the address of your shop, he felt his phone vibrate. Reaching back, he slid it out of his pocket just far enough to see the notification.

Kwon Soonyoung: You got this 👍🏼🐯

All he could do was sigh again, this time with a shaky smile.

~

“Forget something?” If you were bothered by Jihoon’s return, you hid it well as you stood there, hands around your lovely face in a flower pose. A florist with a flower-like personality, just as Seokmin said.

“No. Well, sort of. I just suddenly needed-”

“Flowers for a pretty girl you just saw? I tease but you wouldn't believe how many times that actually-"

His hands involuntarily flexed, eyes scanning row upon row of nature's resplendent bounty as if to find the flowers that would do his job for him. Make it easier. Say all the words that had been planted in his heart on the day he first saw you, even if he hadn't realized how deeply they'd take root.

Wait, flowers did speak. You'd taught him that- there were friendship flowers, true love ones, sex ones apparently...and blooms for budding feelings.

"Lilacs are pretty, and they symbolize new love," you'd told him. That had lived rent-free in his mind for a good few days, even inspiring a few lines of lyrics ever since your sweet voice had spoken the concept into existence in Jihoon's universe, one that seemed far expanded at every one of your floral revelations.

"Yes, that's exactly it. Shouldn't it be lilacs, then?"

For the first time Jihoon had seen since he met you, you stopped fidgeting, standing completely still, jaw parting silently. Your eyes had widened a bit, narrowed with the furrowing of your brow, then blinked once, twice.

“Yes, I guess it should. You- you could also do a camellia bunch if you’re trying really hard,” you offered, head tilting his way with an inquisitive look, "but that's more like you've realized that you are in love."

A camellia. One of those big, pink, beautiful but fragile flowers he enjoyed, but also found inconvenient. Messy. Except he hadn’t minded when you gave him one- oh.

Oh.

Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Maybe, as much as it pained Jihoon to admit it, Soonyoung was right. Maybe dinner was easier than refilling six vases of water every other day.

“Which do you prefer, (y/n)?” He asked with a smile, using your name, which he rarely did, and catching a faint, flickering smile.

“I like camellias myself. The shape is appealing and the meaning is stronger. Though if you’re giving them to a stranger, I mean sheesh, lilacs are probably more-”

“No, I want the camellias. They’re for a pretty girl, remember?”

“I remember.” You weren’t dancing then. Your voice was flatter than usual. Preparing the paper, you cut the nicest-looking pink blossoms that Jihoon could see in the bunch, glancing awkwardly at him a few times before you handed it to him. “Well, alright, she better appreciate these or else she isn’t worth your time. You’re doing something nice after all, and I’ve seen girls complain about flowers their husband got them just because they were from the store and that’s messed up, so don’t you dare let her- Let her…”

Your ramblings trailed off as Jihoon accepted the bouquet, then immediately handed it back. Those usually wide eyes of yours just trailed down to the flowers, brows furrowing once again, the color of them obscured faintly by the motion.

“Is something wrong with them? Or was that the wrong color? Usually pink is the best if you want the love thing to come across, yellow's a bit platonic, but I'm sure whoever she is will like them if she's such a-"

This time, Jihoon cut into your words verbally, even as his eyes faltered, falling to the floor then back up to you, daring to ever so slightly meet yours. "You're the only pretty girl I've seen."

Jaw dropping, you took the bundle of flowers as if you'd never seen anything like them before, pulling them into your chest gently enough not to squash them, but a few petals still drifted to the floor because, well, camellias.

"So you really do like me too?" That wide smile Jihoon had come to miss on off-days, practically having it painted as a mural inside his eyelids, returned in full force as you looked between the flowers and him, knocking down the barrier that kept your counter private and stepping around.

Jihoon's breath hitched, words failing him as he simply nodded.

"Well, you know what?" You asked.

"What?" His voice felt hoarse, stolen now by your proximity, your side brushing his.

"No one's ever gotten me flowers before," you tell him with a grin before the bouquet is against his back, your arms thrown around his neck as you pulled his lips into yours.

Your smile, the way the white lights and sun filtering into your bright shop reflected in your eyes before they drifted shut, the way he could even see the spokes and intricate patterns within them thanks to the illumination, the feeling of you against him, was practically too much for Jihoon, and he quickly felt his head empty of thoughts, giving in only to sensation. No one had kissed him like you were in a long time, maybe ever, and he barely knew what to do with himself as his hands slid down to hold your waist, lips surging forward again and again.

You giggled as you two finally parted, keeping your forehead against his. "I didn't expect you to be a biter!"

If he hadn't already been flushed at the joy in your eyes as they stared into his, he would have been beet red at your comment. "Ah, did I... (y/n), I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be, it's ok," you reassured him, smile not fading a bit, "you're just a bit of a snapdragon."

"You know, that's not the first time I've heard that."

"Oh yeah?" You laughed at that, nose crinkling. "And what am I then?"

"I'd say a sunflower."

A mock-pout fell across your face. "A friendship flower? After all that?"

"Look, I don't do flowers," Jihoon muttered, "I do lyrics."

"Oh, that’s right," you told him, smile returning quickly, "duh. Then sing something."

You barely heard your shop bell ring beneath his voice as he began singing, shakily before his voice found gravity, the two of you shoving off each other at light speed, adjusting your hair and clothes as the next set of customers swung the door open with faint looks of surprise.

"Er, flowers so beautiful you'll sing," you tell them with an unsteady grin, a nervous giggle, and one final, fluttering glance at Jihoon that melted him, spreading your arms out wide, "what can I help you find?"

Jihoon drifted back into a corner, for once not feeling he needed an excuse to stay there even though he had one: he wasn't leaving until he'd actually gotten your phone number.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #woozi #woozi x reader #woozi x female reader #female reader #florist!reader

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century, poly, shifters x human romance - Chapter Seven (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Contents: some passing comments comparing two different female body types in a negative way, and some measurement taking and a dress fitting that leaves Nel a little breathless. Who knew Mr. Nancarrow had it in him to be so smooth. Mr. Darcy hand-flex fans, be warned...

Wordcount: 3931

Catch up here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw)

Edmund flushed at Nel’s boldly obvious compliment, but was saved any further embarrassment by Mr. Fordyce announcing that it was Nel’s turn, and that he would have to take Nel’s measurements since he didn’t have them in his records as he did Winnie’s.

This time it was Nel whose face turned hot, but she met Edmund’s gaze again as he stepped forwards, rested his cane against the nearby table gently enough not to cause the arrangement of dried flowers in the centre even to quiver, and then he carefully passed the ribbon of paper around her waist. He kept his eyes down, but his long, delicate fingers moved with nimble grace as he held the paper and snipped the tailor’s marks in it which would correspond to the various locations of the measurements.

“And now inhale,” he murmured, and she obliged, letting her ribs inflate naturally. She could feel his knuckles pressing ever so slightly against her body through the fabric of the thinner, less structured dress she’d chosen for that day, and she tried not to shiver.

They had begun at her waist, but a moment later she found herself scowling at Mr. Fordyce when he made Edmund kneel down on the hard wooden floorboards to measure the length of her leg.

Edmund got down alright, if stiffly, but he gasped and sucked in a sharp breath as he pushed himself upright with his cane, and he went rigid with another sudden inhale, eyes screwed shut and head bowed forwards as he breathed through a stab of pain. For a lurching moment when he raised his head again she thought he was going to pass out as all the colour drained from his face.

Clearly mortified, he looked like he was going to struggle through it despite the fact that he seemed to have been robbed of his faculties for a moment, but Nel abruptly turned to Mr. Fordyce and made a calculated assumption about the egotistical, self-important little man. "It must be such work for you to keep up with constantly changing fashions when you’re so far from Town here in Polgarrack," Nel said, and Mr. Fordyce immediately puffed up like a show pigeon under scrutiny, and graced her with a condescending smile.

"Oh, indeed, Miss Bywater, it is certainly not without its challenges. But!” he went on, brandishing his forefinger in the air as if lecturing a small and rather resentful child, “A successful tailor must be a true artist, and he must find something new and extraordinary at every turn for his patrons. So, I do make frequent journeys to Town to make my observations. That way, you see, the nobility situated further from Town are still provided with the very latest in taste and elegance without the inconvenience of a journey so long and arduous."

He pursed his wet lips and then went on while Edmund's face was a blank, porcelain mask of pain beside her, his shoulders turned slightly to hide his face from Mr. Fordyce who was currently standing perched on a small footstool near the window for a vantage point to ‘better view the proportions of the lady for whom he would have to work a miracle’. Or so he claimed. Nel just thought he felt short and didn't like pontificating at someone who was taller than him, even if only by an inch or two.

She tried not to let her face show her distaste at the master tailor’s outrageously overblown opinion of himself, but in this case, it was buying Edmund time to recover. “What a sacrifice you make for your art,” she said flatly, and he missed the sarcasm entirely.

"Indeed. A tailor ought to have a quick eye; to steal the very cut of a sleeve in passing at the merest of glances, Miss Bywater,” he intoned in an almost sing-song voice, conspiratorially leaning a little closer from his little footstool. She hoped he toppled off it. “Any common bungler may cut out a shape when he has the pattern on the table before him, but a good workman will take it by his eye in the merest passing of a carriage…" He flourished his hand as if he’d magicked something spectacular into existence at that very moment. All she saw was spittle and hot air.

"Extraordinary indeed," she said blandly, studiously keeping her eyes off Mr. Nancarrow while trying to gauge whether it was necessary to indulge Mr. Fordyce's nauseating pomposity any further. He still looked like he might appreciate a few minutes more, so she pulled out a rather higher card from her metaphorical hand. "You must truly be a master of your craft then, Mr. Fordyce, if the rose-petal gown you made for Lady Penrose's birthday in August is anything to judge. Truly, I had never seen its like before, not even when I attended the Russells’ Christmas Ball with Lord and Lady Mercer and their son last year in London." She wondered if she’d taken her flattery a step too far with that last, but he drank it up like sweet summer wine.

His watery eyes lit up at the mention of Lord and Lady Russell’s exclusive gathering, and, as she had suspected, Nel rose just a fraction in his estimation by mentioning such connections. Not that she gave a single one of Old Flint’s trumpeting farts what this man thought of her and her station in Society, but it was buying Edmund time, and he seemed to be breathing a little easier now.

"Oh," Fordyce said in a different voice, simpering just a little. “The… The Russells’ Christmas Ball? And… Lord and Lady Mercer you say?” His eyes practically glinted. “Their young son is a most eligible bachelor, I believe,” he said, apparently unaware of the impudence of such a comment. “And you were with them in Town?”

She nodded. “They’re close family friends.” Never mind that said eligible bachelor had spent the majority of that particular night scandalously secreted away in an upstairs bedroom with an Admiral’s nephew when he’d promised to dance with Nel instead. The cad, she thought with a fond and barely-disguised smile. She knew William would get a good laugh out of hearing all about the ridiculous Mr. Fordyce, and she made a note to herself to include an account of this exchange in the letter she’d intended to pen to him that afternoon.

"Yes, well, the gown I made for Lady Penrose’s birthday is one of my finer pieces, I’ll admit,” Mr. Fordyce blustered, returning to her original compliment. “Perhaps a little too fine for someone of your particular… stature," he added with a vague gesture at her figure, and she bit back a sudden, wild urge to laugh indecorously. "The young Lady Penrose does have such exceptionally delicate wrists, after all," he said, and consulted his notes rather ostentatiously and unnecessarily in order to add, "And such a minuscule waist. Still, a tailor such as I must be able to cut out not only for the handsome and well shaped, but to bestow a good shape where nature has not designed it quite so to suit the fashions of the day."

If Nel hadn't been keeping half an eye on Edmund, who now looked far more horrified by his master's words than by his own physical discomfort, she might have taken offence, but what a conceited little man like Fordyce thought of the proportions of her waist was of relatively little importance to her in the grander scheme of things. If Will had been in the room, she’d have met his eye and the two would have dissolved into uncontrollable hysterics.

All that mattered now though was that her plan to distract the master tailor for a time had worked. Stoking the already puffed-up man’s ego had kept him occupied long enough that whatever pain had been exacerbated by being forced to bend Edmund’s bad knee to the hard floorboards had dissipated back to something more manageable, and a minute later, he very lightly touched Nel at her elbow as he moved around her on the pretence of taking another measurement.

‘Thank you’, he mouthed, blinking rapidly and barely meeting her gaze. He was still the colour of fresh parchment, but he was no longer clenching his teeth like he thought he might be sick. She hoped she hadn’t embarrassed him by acting so presumptuously.

“Forgive me, Mr. Fordyce,” she smiled sweetly to the older man. “I do believe I interrupted the proceedings with my questions.”

“Oh, yes,” the man chirped, blinking like an owl surprised by the arrival of daylight. He’d clearly not noticed at all. “Yes. Well, if you could hold out your arms while Mr. Nancarrow passes the tape around your chest.”

Her heart skipped a beat at that, and while Edmund was methodical and nothing but proper, he did let his dark eyes flick briefly to her face as he closed the tape snugly around her breasts. Her breath caught. Beneath the fabric of her dress, she felt her nipples tighten and she licked her lower lip just a little, sinking her teeth in before resuming a perfectly blank expression. Never in her life had she been touched like that by a man. Her previous mantua maker in Sussex had been a woman after all, as would have been the case here, had Winnie’s not recently relocated.

If Edmund’s gaze had dropped to her mouth for the briefest of moments, she pretended not to have noticed, nor to wonder what it might mean, if anything.

“Inhale again,” Edmund said in a low, sweet voice, his eyes flicking fleetingly back up to her eyes.

Slowly, she obliged and felt the paper tape stretch taut against her bodice as her breasts lifted with her breath. She felt the tension go out of the line as he let the paper slide between his fingertips to measure the slack. All the while, his hands remained steady as a surgeon’s, and she tried not to stare at the elegance of his long fingers where they held the paper securely against her chest in order to snip more little cuts in the paper to mark the dimensions.

“Exhale,” he whispered, and she did, shakily. “Thank you, Miss Bywater.”

“Nel,” she whispered back, but he only inclined his head in a way that said he could, regrettably, never call her something so familiar in such a charged setting. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or frustrated, and found herself oscillating between the two.

Then the moment ended and she almost swayed.

Edmund stepped back, dropped his eyes, and crossed the room to hand Mr. Fordyce the tape. Its coded marks at various lengths indicated that the full set of measurements had been taken, and that the appointment was drawing to a close.

Mr. Fordyce let his eyes flick along the length of it — no doubt noting all the places where her circumference was less elegant than Winnie’s — and folded it carefully up into an envelope. “My thanks, Miss Bywater. I think we can make something with that. Come, Mr. Nancarrow. We must leave these elegant ladies in peace to begin our work.”

Winnie, who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the room the whole time and pretending to work on her embroidery, rose gracefully and thanked Mr. Fordyce with just a little hint of frost in her usually sweet tone, and said that she looked forward to seeing their creations soon.

“I shall work on your dress personally,” Mr. Fordyce said as he bowed over Winnie’s hand. Nel thought that, given half the chance, he might just slobber all over it for the honour of sampling her ‘delicate wrists’ again, and shuddered. Winnie withdrew her hand almost immediately.

The way he had worded his comment though made Nel wonder if that meant that Edmund was going to make her dress, and her eyes darted questioningly to him.

He was watching her, and one corner of his lips lifted.

That was all, but in that moment, she knew it would be the case. His hands would have touched every inch of the dress she would wear to the ball in Plymouth, and her heart skipped and soared as if she would feel the ghost of his touch when she wore the dress itself. In a way, he would be closer to her that night than any man would even if she danced with them, because the fabric would rest against her very skin. Well, against her chemise and stays, but still, it was closer than any other man would get. Her core heated at the thought and she hoped her face didn’t betray her as the gentlemen bowed and left.

In the silence of their departure, Winnie arched an eyebrow at Nel. “Well, that was an interesting morning,” she said.

“Indeed,” Nel replied carefully.

“Since the ball is only a couple of months away, you must learn to dance properly,” Winnie added as she crossed to the window and watched their small carriage draw away from the front of the house. The shapes were made a dark blur by the rain. “I’ll teach you myself.”

“And what if I have no intention of dancing?”

Her chest still felt tight and her lungs seemed full of sea foam after Edmund had touched her, and imagined she could feel the warmth of his hands lingering through the fabric of her dress. It was most distracting.

“And I do know how to dance,” she added petulantly as she flopped into the other chair by the fire and picked up her own embroidery hoop, scowling at the wonky patterns on it. Had that been a strawberry or a carrot she’d been working on? “It was the local dances at the harvest celebrations that left me stumped. I can dance a passable minuet or quadrille as well as the next country gentleman’s daughter. I just choose not to.”

“You cannot sit the whole ball out and refuse to dance,” Winnie groaned, turning back to face her. “You’ll draw attention to yourself.” And, by extension, she might embarrass the Lady Winnifred Penrose.

“I’ll draw more attention to myself by dancing,” Nel said with a sullen expression as she began to pick rather savagely at her lumpy embroidery with a tiny pair of scissors. Lord, what if Edmund had happened to see it? He’d have thought it was the work of a small child with a knitting needle and ball of garden twine. “It’ll be like watching a bear in a skirt,” she muttered glumly.

Winnie snorted an extremely undignified laugh into her hand, and the two women promptly dissolved into giggles. “I’ll remind you of that when we’re at the ball,” Winnie snickered.

“Oh you’d better not,” Nel groaned. “If I get the giggles in public, it’s uncontrollable, and it’s even worse when it’s a formal setting.”

“You managed fairly well at the Lammas Dance when Old Flint did his best to reduce everyone to hysterics.”

That just brought back memories of meeting Edmund’s dark eyes again, and the feel of Locryn’s huge, rough palms against hers, and clamping around her waist, lifting her high and laughing in his rich, gruff bass as he turned her, and then of her crushing idiocy in almost letting herself kiss the man in public and in front of his lover. No matter that Edmund had said all was forgiven and forgotten; she would never erase that night from her mind.

When the gowns had been made, Mr. Fordyce returned with Edmund for a final fitting in late November, and Nel tried to ignore the odd fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Mr. Nancarrow seeing her in something that was not only a lot finer than her usual redingote dresses, but in something which he himself had made to fit her body.

As Winnie’s maid helped her into it upstairs, while Winnie was downstairs having any final alterations noted, Nel silently scolded herself. ‘Edmund Nancarrow is not going to look at you with even the faintest whiff of interest beyond that of a professional tailor doing his job. Mr. Nancarrow, like Will, is only interested in men’. The memory of the heat in his eyes made her assertions fracture and crumble like fragile cliffs into the insistent sea below. Mr. Nancarrow was probably not only interested in men, but she could tell herself that for the time being all the same.

With her expression set in a rather sour grimace, she thanked Liddy and walked towards the staircase which would lead her down to the drawing room.

The dress was really lovely, and although it wasn’t nearly as complicated and showy as Winnifred's, it had its own elegance and richness that Nel loved more than Winnie’s. The fabric was a warm, green silk damask that shone in the light like a cut and polished emerald, with peonies and curled leaves and fruits shimmering subtly like frost on a windowpane. The sleeves ended just below her elbow in a soft spray of intricate white lace, and there was a small trim of lace around the low, square neckline that was so delicate and fine, it reminded her of the patterns of sparkling sea foam on the sand. The bodice snugged in around the waist, and fastened almost invisibly up the front in a series of minuscule, gold hooks and eyes, while the skirts fell away in a fountain of heavy, forest green fabric to the floor. It would be finished with a delicate, muslin scarf around her shoulders, secured with a silk peony. There were even matching shoes, which were surprisingly easy on the feet, even if the heel was a little higher than those she was used to.

Nel actually felt comfortable in herself as she moved about in it, which she rarely did when dressing up for dances, and she tried to draw on that confidence as she descended the stairs carefully, one hand on the bannister in case she stumbled.

She met Winnie just coming out from her fitting, wearing her own, cream and peach confection which she somehow managed to make look spectacular. Nel was sure that she would have looked like an upturned peach cobbler if she’d put that on.  

Her friend paused in the doorway when she saw her and gasped. “Nel!” she cried out. “Oh you look beautiful. The fit is perfect! And that colour! Why, I declare that the all gentry of Wessex will be prostrating themselves at your feet!”

Nel shook her head with a little blush, a dark curl escaping from the tight arrangement pinned at the back of her head above the collar and out of the way of the tailors’ fingers, and she continued down the stairs.

“Lady Winnifred,” came Mr. Nancarrow’s warm tenor from the other side of the doorway into the drawing room. “Forgive me, but you dropped —”

He stepped across the threshold and into sight, holding a muslin kerchief between the slender fingers of his right hand, but he looked over to his left and caught sight of Nel on the staircase.

The kerchief fluttered forgotten to the floorboards.

His lips parted and she watched him inhale slowly.

No, Mr. Nancarrow was most definitely not only interested in men.

There was no way Nel could still try to believe it after seeing that expression on his face, and she tried to hide a smile.

Winnie turned to glance at him and artfully hid her own little smile before dropping easily to retrieve the abandoned kerchief. She rose and leaned fleetingly in to whisper something in Mr. Nancarrow’s ear before flitting back towards the foot of the stairs just as Nel reached the last step.

Edmund immediately turned red from his collar to his ears, and swallowed visibly. He shot Nel one last glance and ducked back into the drawing room without a word.

Nel raised an eyebrow. “What did you say to him?”

Winnie just squeezed her shoulder. “Prostrating,” she whispered with feeling, and flitted away upstairs like one of the Fair Folk.

When Nel entered the drawing room, Edmund was standing beside Mr. Fordyce with his eyes on the floor and a lingering warmth to his face, but as she crossed to them and Mr. Fordyce declared that the creation was truly a triumph, Mr. Nancarrow raised his dark eyes at last and offered her a very small smile and a single, slow nod.

That one, gentle expression from him was more affirmation than any amount of twittering drivel from Mr. Fordyce as he paced around her and appraised her like an expensive piece of Wedgewood pottery on a plinth.

She watched Edmund take a step away from Mr. Fordyce as the man trotted around behind her and then went back towards the window to leave Edmund to make any adjustments, since he had been the one to make the dress and not Fordyce himself.

Edmund’s dark cane made a now-familiar clunk on the floorboards, and it sounded unusually loud to her while all the other sounds in the room seemed to fade.

“If I may?” he said to her in a soft undertone while the master tailor paced about near the window, utterly absorbed in the sound of his own voice. Nel had no idea what he was saying or if it was even addressed to her.

Edmund’s dark gaze had snagged momentarily at a piece of lace trim around the neck of her gown and he gestured towards it.

She glanced down and saw the problem, and then nodded.

“Of course,” she whispered, tilting her head a little in the opposite direction. It exposed her throat and collarbones, and gave him all the access he would need to free the lace from where it was folded over on itself. Her heart was beating like a trapped bird in her throat and she was sure that Edmund would see it thudding frantically against her skin.

And while Fordyce blathered on to his own reflection in the window about the fact that the cut of the dress and the padding were more important than the underlying body, and how his assistant had clearly understood this when making the patterns for the dress from Nel’s measurements, Edmund slid his fingertips carefully against the exposed skin of her chest.

Goosebumps prickled to life in their trailing wake.

Her breath hitched and she tried not to gasp.

Gently, he withdrew the tiny fold of lace that had been tucked under between the neckline of her bodice and her skin, and smoothed it flat again with his fingertips.

Nel exhaled shakily, angled a little away from him. If she’d had to look at him in that moment, she wasn’t sure she could have weathered the heat in his dark brown eyes. Her whole body thrummed like the rigging of a ship in a gale, and if he kept it up much longer, she would founder on the shore.

Wearing the dress he had made — had touched in every stitch and hem and seam — Nel did feel as though his hands were on her already, around her waist, on her hips, her shoulders, the small of her spine. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t prickling.

His knuckles brushed her collarbones as he withdrew his touch. Nel ached all over for him to linger, but he didn’t, and when he was done, he took half a step back and smiled.

“Perfect,” he breathed, meeting her gaze directly.

___

Nel's dress, for those interested. It's a little early for the period, but shhh. It's gorgeous.

:3

I hope you’re still enjoying it, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#laces for a lady #i'm flyign out the door as i post this and i'm so late but HERE IT IS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT THANK YOU FOR YOUR ENTHUSIASM SO FAR #I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS CHAPTER #lemme know about mistakes and i'll fix them when i get back later

[ipsen]

Intangibility

For @weektg!

Inspired by day 6: Romance (if you can call this that). And, of course, once again cross-posting from AO3, as is my wont.

Not to be completely predictable, but it’s more EtoKen from me. One day I’ll write something else for this fandom. Maybe. No promises.

This is literally the only thing I wrote besides Bitter Dream, which I’ll be reblogging at some point. Enjoy the rest of TG Week everyone! Looking forward to everyone’s pieces.

Kaneki should’ve known what she was up to. But, like with most things, Eto was one step ahead.

He was to be her shadow in the days following her arrest. The CCG, while it seized her home and belongings, had designated a hotel room for her to stay in; they had just arrived after a morning shopping trip, where she’d bought that haircut kit.

The first thing he asked was, “Why?”

And her first response was to laugh. “Do I always need a reason to do the things I do?”

“Yes,” he said. “Senselessness doesn’t suit you, Ms. Takatsuki.”

In her chair before the dresser, she laughed again, but it was more of a giggle this time. He felt more unsettled by it, because the One-Eyed King wasn’t supposed to be… this.

Tracing the edge of the box with her finger, she smiled. “You know me so well.”

And he imagined that was as far as he’d get. 

“So will you do it?” She turned slightly. “Or shall I go to a barber instead? Spend what remains of my funds?”

Because they’ll be suspended soon. What they both know to be true went unspoken. It was inevitable now that she was officially on the CCG’s radar. One RC scan and that was the end of it.

“What else would you spend it on?” he asked.

“I was thinking charity.”

Charity? “Charity?”

“Charity.”

His eyes narrowed. “What kind?”

With a flick of her thumb, she cut the packaging open. “You know.”

He didn’t. “You expect too much of me.”

“Do I?” She brought the box closer to her, opening the top and examining its contents. “You need stronger shoulders.”

“Hmph.”

Hadn’t he borne enough weight for enough time? Hadn’t he suffered long enough? And for what? The world had betrayed him at every turn. His aunt hated him. Hide was gone. His own mother had beat him. And now Takatsuki was another farce too, another sick joke with him as the victim. It was all for nothing. All meaningless. He refused to let this world hurt him further.

So, when he was done, he would go out with a bang, and then everyone would—

“Kaneki.”

Eto’s voice pierced his thoughts and threw him off-trail, as it always did. Sometimes, he felt like she had a special sense for it. Then again, she was an author.

“What?” he sneered. It didn’t deter her, unfortunately. Nothing he did would.

“I was thinking of a bob cut. Thoughts?” She twisted her head this way and that, the mane that was her hair swaying as she did.

“Why?”

She sighed. “Again with the whys…”

A memory of trailing behind the Asaokas reared its head, and he glimpsed her from afar at one of her early signings. “You used to wear your hair like that, when you were just starting out.”

“Oh, you remember!” She giggled this time. “How sweet of you. So?”

He scoffed and turned away. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“So cold, Investigator! You’re my escort, right? The least you could do is indulge me.”

She let the box spill from her hands back onto the dresser as she leaned back in her seat.

“I’m only supposed to keep an eye on you.” Kaneki crossed the room to their luggage. “You can pretend like I’m not even here.”

“I could never ignore you.” He felt Eto’s eyes on his back as she spoke. “Oh, that’s for you, by the way.”

He had picked up a wrapped package; judging by its size and shape, he guessed it to be a book. He didn’t say anything— giving her ammunition to play with was a dangerous act— but he did examine it a bit closer.

“It’s the author’s copy for Takatsuki’s last work.” He heard the chair squeak as she stood up. “I won’t be using it, so it’s for you.”

The disgusting voice in the back of his mind— the one rebelling against his chosen path— told him to open it. In front of her, no less. But that would mean giving her the advantage. Giving her what she wanted.

“It’s called King Bileygr,” she continued, either unaware of (unlikely) or not caring for his inner turmoil. “I’ve always wanted to write it.”

Bileygr. Another name for Odin. Rough translation: one who lacks an eye. So in other words, the One-Eyed King.

Three years ago, he might have cared, but no such emotion filled him now. Aogiri, Takatsuki, the CCG— none of it mattered to him anymore. And besides, her arrest had already sealed her fate; any extra evidence was redundant.

He threw it back on top of her other things, and it made an ugly noise. He waited for her to comment, as was her wont, but nothing came. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her drift to one of the two beds in the room, flop on top of it, and then become still.

He watched her openly; there was no point in pretending otherwise, because he knew she knew. She simply stared at the ceiling with those eyes whose shade reminded him of a coming storm. A quiet, brewing phenomenon waiting for the right moment to burst and destroy everything in its path when it did.

Anger.

This was the manager’s child, he unfortunately remembered. The manager, who had left her in the 24th ward, which Touka once described as a shithole.

“Kuzen learned about the One-Eyed Owl, a ghoul who hated the world.”

Sorrow.

Against the bed frame, Eto’s small body looked even smaller. One of the largest known kakuja in the CCG’s database was, in truth, just this petite woman staring at nothing before him.

“She seems to have lost hope in everything; she expects nothing from anybody…”

Bitterness.

Kaneki picked up the package with King Bileygr in it, and his thumb brushed over the packaging.

“I… I like you!! We’re so similar!”

Betrayal.

(…)

He moved it to his own bag, then stood over her, making his first mistake. “Get up,” he commanded.

She glanced sideways at him. “Hm? For what?” Her tone, light and fleeting like the bird she was, betrayed her caged body language.

He walked to the dresser. “A bob cut, right?”

And for the first time, she followed him.

She took her seat again in front of the dresser, hands folded over her lap. He opened the box and examined the tools. He still remembered the style Hinami had wanted when she traveled with him, and used that as a blueprint.

Without a proper cloak to cover Eto, he used his own coat instead. It was a few sizes bigger than her, anyway, working just fine.

The whole time, she shamelessly watched him. Not like how a predator watched their prey, like he expected. It was a different kind of gaze: softer, deadlier. It was a gaze that reminded him of an old knife— the way it seemed sharp from a distance, but upon closer inspection and usage, was actually quite dull.

He found the brush and got to work, undoing the knots in her hair. Or, as he quickly learned, lack thereof. His surprise was illustrated by a smile in her eyes.

Kaneki set the brush down on the dresser and gathered her hair behind her shoulder. As he did so, the fabric of his gloves brushed against her neck. At that, he heard the slightest hitch in her breathing. A crack in her mask.

Affection was such a foreign entity that a false touch was enough to give pause.

He tried to ignore it, but the memories came anyway. Memories of the words she put to page, memories that wrapped him in a frigid embrace, memories that expanded his scope of the world and taught him about its wrongs, memories that whispered to him in his lowest moments that he was not the first to fall through the cracks.

And he inevitably imagined how she might have been when she wrote those words. Alone, and shivering underground. No father, no mother, no comfort— only walls and torn flesh to embrace her. To her, love must seem like both something to be coveted and feared.

It was just so easy to take it away.

Before he could reach over her and grab the scissors, risking again to even ghost some part of her body, she pressed the scissors into his hand. A shield against further vulnerability, further possibility that things could be better for either of them.

Further possibility that something valuable could be taken from them.

He stared at the tool. “Ms. Takatsuki, this is the wrong pair.”

Eto slowly turned to look. “So it is, Investigator.”

More walls, more hiding. She handed him the right pair this time. He got to work.

Snip, snip.

The longest bits of hair fell to the floor in clumps.

Snip, snip.

There was a surprising volume to her hair, he noticed.

Snip, snip.

Through the mirror, she watched him, her green eyes like the tranquil center of a hurricane. Where he often could not predict where the rest of her body would go— wild birds were difficult to cage like that— he sensed that he could always find her eyes.

Snip, snip.

Kaneki didn’t like his conclusion.

“You know—“ Eto broke the silence, as was her wont— “the Commission and the editorial department at Shoeisha are letting Takatsuki hold a press conference for the book.”

“How nice of them,” he mumbled, setting the scissors down and picking up the other pair from earlier.

“‘Nice,’” she repeated, making the word as empty as it sounded. “It’s amusing how much they’re trying to keep your investigation under wraps.”

“You’re Sen Takatsuki,” he replied easily. “Imagine the panic that would happen if it got out that you were a ghoul.”

Snip. Snip.

Eto chuckled and adjusted her posture for him. “I’m just another writer.”

“‘Just.’” Kaneki’s tone hardly carried the weight of his implication.

A pause, then a sigh escaped her. “You’re too much,” she said with a defeated smile.

He used the comb to see if he had missed anything, silent.

“Anyways, about the press conference— I’d like for you to attend.” She waited for his reaction.

He looked back, brow furrowed. He spotted a stray strand of hair.

“Will you attend?”

Snip.

“Don’t be so suspicious,” he replied, failing to scowl. It made her giggle.

“Someone has to watch me, right?” she rightfully pointed out. “So… I want it to be you.”

Snip.

The last bit of her hair floated to the ground. Kaneki paused, hands hovering over her shoulders.

“Me?” came the question.

She answered it with another one. “Who else but you?”

He set the scissors down, now properly glaring at her. “Don’t do that.”

She returned it with an innocent smile. “Don’t do what?”

“Be phony. Saying things you don’t mean. It’s unbecoming.”

“Oh?” She shifted to actually look at him this time. “Have I ever lied to you?”

He said nothing.

“You think I do,” she said. “I suppose I can’t fault you for it; I often speak with every intent to deceive, after all.”

“And why stop now?”

Eto looked back in the mirror at his handiwork, but he could tell she was somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where he would never reach.

She spoke first. “You are…”

Terrible. Pathetic. Worthless. A burden.

“… very good.” She touched the ends of her hair, then smiled with practiced ease. “Well done.”

(…)

She stood from her seat and undid his coat, tossing it to the floor and fluffing out her freshly cut hair. She headed for the shower. Kaneki, for his part, stayed rooted to his spot, the scissors and comb trapped in his hands. But before she disappeared from the room, he made his second mistake.

“It looks good on you.”

And Eto, for all he knew her to push forward and never look back, turned around.

“The style,” he elaborated further. “It looks good on you.”

She stared at him, her expression soft enough to kill. “Thank you, Kaneki.”

Then she was gone.

#tg #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re #tgweek23 #eto yoshimura #sen takatsuki #ken kaneki #etoken #fanfic #writing

[thepatronsaintoffilth]

You Smell Like Trouble (A Heisenberg Smut Fic) - Chapter 6/?

AO3 Chapter Link

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pairing: black AFAB cis reader x lycan!heisenberg

CW: dubcon, NONCON*, dirty talk, frottage (i.e. non-penetrative genital-to-genital rubbing), overstimulation, rough PIV sex, unprotected sex, slight bondage (gag), vaginal ejaculation (i.e. squirting), dumbification/mind break, creampie

*EXTRA CW/AUTHOR’S NOTE: I CANNOT stress the noncon aspect of this enough. This chapter doesn’t get overtly “violent”, but the words “no”, “stop” and “don’t” get ignored A LOT. Even in a fantasy context (keep in mind the A/B/O dynamics at play here), I want to emphasize that we’re heading into some boundary-overstepping here. 

If that’s going to yuck your yum or worse, trigger you, please spare yourself.

🛑🚫✋🏾ADULT CONTENT, MUST BE 18+  ✋🏾🚫🛑      

You open your mouth and try to address him. 

The words you want to say are as clear in your mind as they can possibly be, considering the sheer amount of endorphins and lycan pheromones muddling your brain. You hear them echoing in your head:

Please, it's too much. We need to stop. Karl, please. Please, listen to me.

You don’t say a single one of these words. 

There’s only silence punctuated by your labored breathing.

The words continue to bounce around in your skull, stuck in the hazy expanse between your ears. You open your mouth and try again, try with all your might to say them out loud.

"Uhw … ina … ahn …" is all that comes out before your mouth snaps shut. 

Oh god, you lament. What the fuck has he done to me?

It’s a silly question, of course. You know very well what he’s done to you. 

Lord Karl Heisenberg just fucked you within an inch of your life. He just reduced you, his chosen vassal, to little more than a loose bundle of nerves, drool and tears in his bed. 

And, as you watch your Lord paw at you like he’s got all the time in the world to devote to this task and nothing else, it becomes clear that your gladiator is gearing up for another “round”.

It doesn’t seem to matter to him that his opponent isn’t at all up to the challenge. It doesn’t appear to faze him that your ability to speak is so compromised that all you can do is stare up at him and pray that he takes pity on you and stops on his own because you can’t even beg him outside the confines of your mind.

Karl … Karl, please … I can't … Karl, I can't move … My Lord, please …

You continue to think the words - or rather, a sliver of your consciousness continues to shriek these words from whatever post-orgasm pocket dimension its been banished to in the aftermath of your first sexual encounter with a lycan.

You keep trying to move. You manage to raise your head off the mattress ever so slightly, but it’s too heavy. It drops back down with a soft thud. 

Karl starts laughing at you. The sound is quiet, almost vague, but the ripple of it through your skin is anything but. You feel it pouring down your back as he licks and sucks at your neck. You feel it in your belly, as he kisses down towards the curls between your legs and back up again.

"Shhh ... I know, honey, I know," your Lord chuckles. 

He sounds so relaxed ... soft, even. It derails what little train of thought you were on. He’s ... content. Maybe even happy.

Isn’t that all that matters?

Your stomach lurches. Where did that come from? Why would you think such a thing?

You swat those tender feelings aside and try to get a better grip on this sense of uneasiness at odds with it, eager for some kind of handhold, something that’ll keep you from floating away again. 

You catch a glimpse of his eyes peering up at you from under his brows, watching you intently as he peppers your belly with kisses. You look back for as long as you can. You tell yourself you’re just trying to keep him in your sights - the same way you would any other potential predator in the woods. 

But everything - his scent, his touch, his tongue tracing arcane patterns between your breasts, your sweat melding with his, the contented little sounds he makes every so often - is drawing you further and further from the very vital and necessary vigilance that's keeping your brain from shutting off entirely. 

You can still feel it - that part of you that won’t relax into your bliss, the part that won't surrender itself to the inevitable. It's still there, very much intact - growing more and more distant with each passing moment, but offsetting that distance by getting louder and louder.

You latch onto that strand of reason guiding you through the haze, holding tight to it even as his knee nudges your legs further apart.

His mouth - in your fragmented, hazy perception - seems like it's everywhere at once: between your breasts, at your throat, pressed against yours. His hands slide down, tracing the curve of your hips and your waist, gripping your thighs. Still touching you with no real aim or goal, it seems, just reveling in the feel of you while you fight the urge to fall to pieces again.

A much needed jolt runs through when his thigh draws up against your pussy, still so raw from him fucking you. Your heart thumps hard against your ribs. Your hands fly to his shoulders before you’re fully aware of the sensation having returned to your limbs.

The sensation, a fair amount of coordination ... but barely an ounce of strength,

What the … ?

You’re pushing against him, but with almost no force at all. The very same hands that subdued a soldat just a few weeks ago have been rendered purely decorative - reduced to a pair of fluttering little ornaments pressing against the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Come on, you think. Come ON ... !

You keep trying to hold him off anyway, appalled at the sight of your elbows wobbling. You seem to be fighting gravity more than your Lord, who continues to nibble at your neck and earlobe like he hasn't taken any notice of your pathetic attempt to shove him away.

Eventually, he does seem to notice, because he guides your hands back down beside you, pinning them at your sides. 

“Shh,” you hear him saying, “no need for that. I’ve got you …”

Unable to form the words to tell him that’s not at all a comforting sentiment, you use your slowly returning strength to squirm underneath him. He isn’t putting all of his weight on you, but between just a bit of his heft and your lack of coordination, you’re still not getting anywhere fast.

You wriggle and jerk slightly, testing your compromised ability to move. One of these restless motions proves to be your undoing, bringing your hips up against his. 

You freeze.

Then you shudder as you realize his dick - hard, hot and leaking with anticipation - is now pressed right between your legs, right where you’re still aching for more, but still too sensitive to abide his touch. Right against your throbbing clit. 

Shit, if he moves even a little bit -

He’s already shifted against you before you can even finish the thought.

... Oh, fuck …

You try not to react, but it's no use. It doesn’t even matter what gave it away - the way you flinched at the contact ... the ridiculous little squeak you let out when it happened ... the way your back arches up a bit in response ... 

It doesn’t matter. He knows. You hear him laughing again.

“You like that a lot, don’t you?” he asks, because knowing or not, he still wants to tease it out of you and rub it in. “Hmm?”

It isn’t enough to have the victory. No. He has to savor it.

You bite back a hysterical laugh as the random thought of scolding him for poor sportsmanship, of all things, almost knocks you (even more) off-balance. 

He props himself up over you suddenly, putting some distance between you, but rubbing himself harder between your thighs in the process. You squeeze your eyes and your lips shut tight, but another squeak escapes you.

“You do, don’t you?” he reiterates, feigning shock. “I bet you could cum again, couldn’t you? Just like this? I wouldn’t even have to put it back inside, would I … ?”

You’re jerking your head from side to side, trying to deny it, but before you can fix your mouth into some sort of coherent denial, Karl is already setting out to prove his theory.

“Nuh … Nuh,” you babble. “N … Nuh -”

He’s kissing you, further fumbling your delivery of a clear “no” - not that you were having much success getting it out anyway. Your resistance melts into a whimper as he crowds in close, body-to-body with you once again as he grinds himself between your legs.

The heft and motion of his hips puts an exquisite pressure on your swollen clit and a slippery friction against your slit, parting your lips with his length.

Setting a steady pace that slowly starts to unspool you all over again, he keeps going, overriding your weak mewling as he rocks you back and forth.

He watches your eyes glaze over again; your mouth still moving without any (intelligible) sound coming out. He holds you still and stares you down the whole time, rocking you back and forth under him, watching you come apart. 

You stare back up at him, unable to look away with his hands gripping either side of your head. You murmur desperate little pleas, each one rendered incoherent as you start to pant and groan. He kisses you until you give up. Your eyes drift shut in surrender.

”It’s okay … I like it, too,” he whispers against your mouth between his kisses. The two of you trade the same breath back and forth, back and forth. A bit of drool escapes out the corner of your mouth; he laps it up with his tongue and keeps going. 

“K … Karl,” is all you manage to say before he starts applying more pressure and you start seeing stars.

“It’s okay,” he whispers again. “I’ll take care of you … You’ll see …”

In the end, it’s all too much at once.

Pinned beneath his bulk, pushing as hard as you can (which isn’t very hard at all) against his shoulders and shaking your head, you cum anyway. It’s a comparatively smaller climax, not the thunderous crescendo from before, but all the more ruinous for its closeness, its quiet intimacy … its inescapable, delicious inevitability.

You barely even make a sound when it happens, too overwhelmed to offer more than a gasp as you come down the other side of your peak.

He’s kissing your cheek, chuckling into your ear. “Damn, that was fast. I knew you could do it. Good girl.”

Those last two words have a disastrously galvanizing effect, almost like a spell.

You hear them, and you feel your limbs move suddenly. Your legs fold around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back. Your hands claw at the back of his shoulders as you bury your burning face in his neck.

As a method of attack, it leaves much to be desired. Less a grappling hold and more like a harmless koala clinging to a branch. He strokes the back of your head as you cling to him and try not to die of embarrassment.

“You poor thing,” he whispers against your temple before he kisses it. “We’ve barely even started -”

Your heart nearly stops. 

He’s joking. 

Surely, he’s joking. 

There’s no way he’s serious.

“- and you’re acting this way,” he finishes, slowly tightening his arms around you in turn. His laughter rumbles through you like quakes in a fault line. You start to shake again.

He lets you go abruptly, watching you flop onto your back as he releases you. You feel his hands on your thighs, moving with renewed intent, and it starts to look less and less likely that he was joking.

You find your voice again, forcing your mouth to work against the pull of desire: “… K-Karl … Ple … Please -”

“It’s okay, that’s a good thing … I’ve got you,” he says, his velvety voice vibrating through your skin as he steamrolls over your words with ease.  

He still won’t listen,  you wail silently, watching in helpless fascination as he sits up, stroking himself idly. You glance down and immediately wish you hadn’t. He hasn’t gone soft even a little bit, not once. And despite dripping profusely, he’s still not in any kind of hurry to wrap things up. 

I have to reason with him, you think frantically as the idea of facing off against this unholy stamina brings the feeling back to your limbs again. Distract him. Slow him down. Something. Anything. Fuck.

You tilt your head back and see something lying a few feet away on the bed. 

You turn onto your side, then your stomach, rotating underneath him now that he isn’t holding you down with his weight. You start to shimmy towards it, concentrating on the object like your life depends on it.

If I could just … reach …

“Oh?” He seems genuinely amused by your limited movements, electing to observe you rather than stop you. “Where are we going?”

You don’t answer. You feel him shadowing you the whole way, eerily patient and good-natured, but still clearly in pursuit. He’s humoring you, letting you inch - half-crawling, half-dragging yourself - across his bed. 

“So determined,” he teases.

You feel his hands and mouth on you as you struggle towards your destination, squeezing your breasts and your waist, kissing you down your spine till he reaches the small of your back.

Your Lord freezes suddenly, and your heart lurches. You feel the exact moment he realizes: you’re crawling towards what’s left of your nightgown.

The afterglow has hardly even begun - isn’t even yet a pinprick on the horizon as far as he’s concerned, since he’s nowhere near done with you - and you’re trying to get dressed.

He’s no longer amused.

The linen is ripped from between your fingertips as soon as you lay your hand on it. You flop forward onto your belly, arm still outstretched. All that energy expended for nothing.

You feel him covering you suddenly. You twist underneath him, barely moving as he uses his bulk to keep you in place.

“I have been very patient with you,” he mutters, a frightening new edge to his voice. 

His hands slip under you. One takes you by the throat, forcing your head upright, while his other hand slips down between your legs, dipping deftly between your thighs. You cry out, still too sensitive in that area to stand the way he’s touching you. He tugs you upright onto your knees, pulling you back against him as you start to flail.

“What, you have somewhere to be? A train to catch, perhaps? Or am I boring you?”

You hear something like wounded pride, maybe even hurt, in his voice - alongside a quiet fury that ties your stomach in knots worse than if he were bellowing at you.

“Please, no,” you whimper, trying not to rub against his length so much in all your struggling, “I just - ! I need -”

Without warning, he pushes you forward, making you sputter.

“Oh, I know what you need, you little bitch,” he snarls, gripping your hips tight and pulling you up onto your knees. Misjudging the way he’s maneuvering you, you try to push yourself back up, only to feel his palm flat between your shoulder blades, shoving you facedown with your hips still in the air.

You feel the tip of his dick rubbing against your slit, the smooth head parting the opening as he grunts and positions himself behind you.

No, not this soon, not so soon after - !

“What you need is your back broken, that’s what you need. If that’s what it takes, then so be it.”

Your attempt to crawl away from him earns you a few sharp slaps to your ass and thighs.  

“Gonna make me work for it, is that it? Fine … We’ve got all night for you to learn … Hold still, goddammit -  !”

You stop moving to spare yourself another slap, but keep begging: 

“Karl, don’t, don’t, don’t, please, I’m -“

Karl pushes into you again with a groan you can’t help but echo. His is one of triumph; yours, a jagged, shuddering little cry. You crawl forward barely an inch or two before he yanks you back against him, pulling your ass flush against his hips with a decisive smack. 

“Aah, fuck, that’s … perfect. You’re perfect inside,” he moans, almost as if to himself, the feeling of your walls closing and twitching around him seeming to distract from his anger momentarily. “Nice and broken … Yes …”

You lie still and let this now-familiar, but no less overwhelming sensation, pulse through you. There’s a taste in your mouth you can’t begin to describe, something almost, but not quite metallic. You feel yourself contracting and squeezing around him, further enfolding him as he pushes deeper and deeper still. 

You’re scared and more than a little disgusted with your crumbling resolve. But it feels so good, so unimaginably good. It's like your body somehow forgot the depths to which your Lord could take you. It feels like it did the first time he was inside you, brand-new and terrifying and thrilling and -

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep your knees from giving out. “Karl, please … ”

His palm comes down on your ass again, your barely audible whining seeming to return him to the task at hand. He starts to move inside of you, fucking you in short, hard thrusts. You sputter more half-hearted protests, every other word mangled each time his hips slam into you.

Willing or not, your body picks up his rhythm, his hands on your hips guiding you back against him to meet each punishing stroke. You feel the scale teetering back and forth inside you, veering wildly between the fear that he might stop and the fear that he’ll never stop.

“Karl, please ...“ you weep breathlessly, not even sure why or what you’re begging for anymore, if you’re begging for any reason other than that it feels so good to beg for something you’re definitely not going to get anyway.

Mercy, for instance.

He growls something at you, but you can’t parse it. You can barely hear him over the combined cacophony of his body ramming into yours, the blood churning in your ears like ocean waves, and the beleaguered wailing you’re trying to muffle with your face buried in the sheets. 

He locks his arm around your neck, scooping you upright with your back arched. He doesn’t miss a beat, still fucking you so deep that you can barely breathe.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Your hands reach up to claw uselessly at his brawny arm. His bicep and forearm squeezes your throat, and you’re mortified to hear a breathy little moan escape you at the sensation. 

“That’s right … Don’t be shy, sweetheart, I want to hear how much you love this … That’s it,” he growls, drinking in your sobs and curses like the brute that he is, “just like that. That’s it … That’s more like it …”

You reach both hands back and push at his hips, trying in vain to force him out or at least slow him down. He breaks his hold on your neck only to seize your wrists and hold them behind you. 

He drills into you harder, and a sound comes out of you that doesn’t even seem human. A keening, desperate sound wrung from a place deep entirely too deep inside, right in your guts where he’s hitting you.

That’s when you start to feel it. 

You don’t know what “it” is, but you feel it regardless.

Wait … What is … What’s … ?

Something is wrong. That spot he’s hitting inside you feels … volatile somehow. Like it could very well either break or perhaps break you if he keeps this up. Your thighs begin to wobble. Then the tremor begins to creep outward in both directions, taking over your whole body until you’re almost vibrating against him.

“Wai-Wait, wait, fuck, Karl,” you pant, feeling something strange building up alongside another impending orgasm, “Karl, stop, PLEASE -”

The renewed desperation in your voice spurs him on. You keep begging him to stop. He speeds up, digging deeper and deeper still like he’s trying to bring the thing - whatever it is - on faster.

You feel your spine turn molten hot, a column of fire running down to your tailbone. One final sob escapes you before you fall breathlessly silent. Your legs shake as you feel yourself seizing around him once again.

The climax overtakes your whole body as he’s still colliding into you, sending aftershocks through you that feel so good it’s almost painful. 

And as that internal valve releases, you feel fluid coming out of you.

A lot of fluid.

Like a geyser, each burst forced out by his thrusts. So much that it takes an effort for him just to stay inside you, the pressure built to a point where it does what your shoving couldn’t, very nearly forcing him to slip out entirely.

Still managing to stay buried to the hilt inside you, he finally lets your wrists go. You crumple to the bed, sniffling and shaking. You feel that fluid drenching your inner thighs. You hear the sound it makes as he finally pulls out of you, his skin unsticking from yours.

“... Holy shit, girl …“

The awe in his voice rings true through the haze of pleasure and mortification you’re lost in. If you weren’t half brain-dead, you would be leaping for joy that he doesn’t appear to be angry with you anymore. As it stands, you barely remember your own name, much less what the hell even just happened to you.

“Wh-What did … What did you do … ?” you stammer, disoriented and confused, fearing that he actually, factually fucked the piss out of you.

Karl laughs, the sound off-kilter and slightly out of breath.

“Me? Oh, no, little one, that was all you,“ he snickers, patting you on the hip. 

What the - ?

You sniff and realize he’s right. There’s a strong saline smell to it, identical to your slick.

You just ejaculated.

Before you can even begin to begin to wrap your head around this new development, you’re rolled onto your back. Karl holds your legs apart with barely any resistance from you aside from a bit of whining and more twitching.

“Look what a mess you’ve made,” he says. 

Oh, god. He sounds so proud.

Fresh tears well up in your eyes. You try to hold them back, try to tell yourself this isn’t anything to be ashamed or squeamish about. You try, but it’s all too much at once, and he’s … he’s looking at you. He’s seeing you like this, and it’s too much.

Apropos of nothing, your mind flashes back to the very first time you spoke directly with this man, the first time you stood in his presence and assured him of your capability, your eagerness to fulfill his purpose for you.

Now you’re on your back, wrung out and panting like what he’s ultimately revealed you to be - a horny little bitch in heat.

You try to blink the tears away, but he notices them before you can compose yourself. He arches over you, leaning down until you’re almost nose-to-nose, trading the same breath back and forth again as he looks you over.

A smile, almost boyishly smug, parts his mouth.

“ … First time, sweetheart?”

You close your eyes, knowing you can’t shut him out completely, but needing at least a reprieve from the sight of him gloating.   

“You’ve never done that before,“ he presses, “have you?“

You only have the wherewithal to sniffle and turn your head from side to side in response. He reaches down and pats you on the cheek - an affectionate gesture, to be sure, but he’s so heavy-handed, it feels like a slap.

“Oh, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? What else can you do, huh?”

He examines you avidly, running his fingers up and down your slit, smoothing his palms over your belly, your hips. Your neck and your back. He keeps on touching you. On and on, making you squirm against the sheets, against him.

He’s taking his time again, you realize - just like he was before you went for your nightgown. You hold still this time - not difficult since you once again can’t feel your legs - and let him play with your body. 

You feel him stretch out next to you, laying on his side. His arm snakes under your back and gathers you against him. You feel him wiping you between your legs with something - a rag?

You blink through the haze of tears and glance over at him with wide, helpless eyes. He’s ... tending to you? Is this an act of mercy? Could he be taking pity on you? Surely, your tears couldn’t have moved him, there’s no way, but ... He’s being so gentle.

“Shhhhh,” you hear him saying.

You feel his hand through the fabric, cupping your mound. You shudder, and he makes a distracted sound in the back of his throat. His hand doesn’t let up, no matter how much you fidget. Still gentle, but insistent.

“Please … d-don’t …”

“Hmm? What’s the matter?” He sounds so patient. Almost kind. And also blithely unaware that your sanity is hanging by a thread.

You shake your head meekly. Some small, anxious part of you fears this is a trick, or maybe even a trap. And even if it isn’t, you’re not too proud to admit that you’re scared to try “reasoning” with him again. 

You know, since it went so well the last time.

He kisses you on your temple. He kisses your cheek, then your ear. He makes little shushing sounds in your ear, the calming sounds one might make to a cornered animal. He strokes your hair. 

And he keeps his hand right where it is, no matter how much your hips shift and twitch.

Against whatever remains of your better judgment, you start to relax, going so far as to turn your head towards him, letting him pepper your lips with his kisses. Before you even realize it, you’ve started to kiss him back a little, unable to help yourself. Unable to tell yourself you’re just “playing along”.

“Go on,” he coaxes between kisses. “You can tell me … “

You feel his fingertips playing with your clit. You gasp. Your head falls back against the bed, pulling you away from his kiss. You shake your head again, harder this time, eyes squeezed shut as he keeps rubbing you, undeterred.

You flinch every time his fingers dip down towards your hole, your hips jerking when he gets too close. You’re not ready for him to penetrate you again. You’ll lose whatever is left of your mind if he keeps going.

“What is it?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, scared to say it, scared of his wrath. He kisses and coaxes you some more, his hand easing up just a little. You start to soften again. Eventually, he gets it out of you:

“I c-c-can’t … It’s too … sore,” you finally mumble, mortified at the almost childlike timbre of your voice. “I can’t take any more.”

With your eyes half-shut and the light so dim, you can’t see the look on his face.

But as it turns out, you don’t have to see it to know. You can feel his smile against your skin, in the way the scruff of his beard creases.

“I can’t anymore,“ you whine softly. “Please ...“

“Aww, sweetheart. That’s okay …” 

The arm he’s been holding you up with slides out from under your back abruptly. You collapse with a slight gasp. 

“... I believe in you.”

You blink up at him, watching him as he looms over you, speaking directly into your face and further blotting out what little light there is left.

“You’re gonna do just fine,” he assures you.

He laughs deep in his throat, breathing heavier through his nose as his fingers keep toying with your clit through the soaked bit of cloth in his hand. He licks up one of your tears.

“You should know better,” he says, watching your eyes widen, “than to sell yourself short like that, princess. I know you have it in you … You can’t hide that from me.”

The tears come in earnest now, quiet, trembling sobs hiccupping out of you as you try to speak. “I can’t ... !“

“You shouldn’t lie about these things. I know you can.”

It’s only when you feel him positioning himself between your legs again that you summon enough motor function to put your hands to his chest. You know you can’t stop him. You can’t even stall him, not really. 

So you try to negotiate.

“Karl ... Karl, listen to me, please, I ... I kn-know it’s probably not the same, but ... you could just use my m-mouth, you don’t have t -“

Moving too fast for you to ward him off, he shoves your hands aside. Your plea is cut short as he stretches something across your face - the rag? 

No. It’s not a rag at all. 

It’s what is left of your underwear, the torn scrap he used to tie your wrists a few minutes ago. You taste your slick as he shoves it between your teeth.

“Your mouth is the problem,” he says, shaking his head as you snivel up at him. “You’re thinking too hard again. Getting yourself all worked up ... Let’s fix that, huh?”

What is he … ?

You're not sure when exactly he got his hands back on your panties. 

You’re also not sure when he found the time to fashion them into a kind of gag - one that stretches tight between your lips and ties even tighter behind your head as he holds you down, fixing your jaw in place like a horse bit.

Once you're bound too tight to speak coherently, he pats you hard on the cheek. You peer up at him with a wordless moan, drooling over the bit wedged between your teeth. No matter how much you work your jaw, you can’t dislodge it.

“See, I knew it. It was all that talking making you nervous … Isn’t this better?“

You moan pitifully and search his eyes for the tenderness he displayed just a minute ago. 

Much to your surprise, it’s still there, but … you seem to have misjudged its intent. It’s in service to your heat, not your fear. Genuine in its conviction, but not exactly benevolent. 

He truly seems to believe he’s helping you.

His hands seem to be everywhere at once, anticipating your every effort to push him away, slip out from under him or curl up into a ball. Between all your struggling and his growing eagerness, you can’t catch all of what he says, but you can parse enough in fragments:

“... has to be this way, baby -”

“- for your own good -”

“- feel better after, trust me, you’ll -”

You feel his hips wedging easily between your thighs, unimpeded by your efforts to close them. You push at his chest, and he doesn’t even try to push them aside or pin them down, he’s so unmoved. He knows you can’t stop him.

He sinks inside of you with a long groan, shuddering as you enfold him. He doesn’t stop pushing until he bottoms out inside you, crammed in as far as he can possibly go in this position.

“There we go,” he grunts, his teeth scraping your throat as you gasp. “We’re almost there …”

Your Lord begins to move, and you know he’s not lying. He drops his full weight behind each thrust, bouncing you underneath him. Rutting into you, slow and deep and relentless.

You can’t tell if you’re about to cum again, can never cum again or if you’re cumming right this second; you seem to have gone to a place beyond where such distinctions matter or can even be made. You’re a raw nerve, a cluster of pulsing sensation barely held together by flesh.

Every move he makes seems to spark and agitate you, igniting little chain reactions everywhere he touches. With no real build-up, it’s like starting right at the peak of climax and cruising at that same altitude. 

And all you can do is pray the fall doesn’t kill you.

The heft of his pelvis rubbing and rocking against your clit makes your cunt twitch and flex around him - something he’s sure to thank you for as he’s sucking on your ear.

You’re not sure when it happened exactly, because your sense of time has thoroughly splintered by this point, but you went from pushing at his chest to holding onto him for dear life, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

“Shit, here it comes,” he rasps. “You ready?”

Ready …?

“Shh, shh, yeah, you’re ready. Almost there, kid, just …”

It takes a minute for his words to sink in, for them to make sense. For you to understand.

Inside. He’s going to cum. He’s going to cum inside, inside me, oh, fuck, he’s -

And before you can even finish - or even start - coming to grips with that, the moment arrives, bearing down on you whether you’re ready or not.  

You feel him emptying himself inside of you, filling you to the brim as he growls obscenities against your throat in a tangled mix of English, German and wordless, lupine snarls. Your cunt seems to milk him, contracting and squeezing him like it wants to draw him in deeper than he can go and wants to drain him dry.

Your eyes become unfocused. Everything is getting hazy. You must jerk or otherwise twitch, because you hear him trying to settle you again.

“Aaaah … Don’t move, baby ... don’t move … Need to get it all inside, that’s it … Just like that ... Fuck ...”

You make a broken little sound against the bit wedged into your mouth, biting down on it as the tears keep pouring down your face.

“It’s like medicine … You gotta take it all …”

So you lie still and take your medicine - every thick, warm spurt of it. He rocks you back and forth some more, fucking it in deeper for good measure.

You feel it inside you and know that something has changed. Something too big, too profound for you to get a handle on in your fucked-out state.

You’ve had cum inside of you before. True, it’s been a while, and it wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence even then, but you remember what it feels like.

You remember what it’s supposed to feel like.

This … isn’t that.

A feeling of sticky warmth spreads through your torso and limbs, emanating from that place where his satisfaction is pooling inside you. It’s … rewriting something in there. Changing something. Something inside is different, like the feeling of soil after the rain has seeped into it.

Your mouth hangs open. That limp, almost boneless feeling in your body becomes amplified to a point where you feel strangely adrift; so untethered you might float away and so heavy you might sink. You feel your pussy twitching still even as he pulls out of you.

“There,” he pants, his labored breath gusting over your skin as he sits up. “There you go ...”

You feel nothing. You feel everything. There’s a profound ache, but somehow no pain. It makes no logical sense, but you’ve never felt clearer.

You try to say something, to tell him something of what you’re experiencing, to ask him what this could possibly be, but you can’t find the words. Apart from a faint gurgle, you can’t even make a sound. 

The last thing you feel before your senses finally overload is him unknotting the gag in your mouth.

The last thing you hear before before you sink into a sleep that feels more like a near-death stasis is his voice, rich and hypnotic and relaxed:

"... Good girl … We’ll do the rest next time …”

***

The second you wake back up, you know it isn’t the morning following your ordeal - it’s been longer. 

As for how much longer, you can’t say for certain yet, but there’s no denying that more than a night has passed.

The sheets you’re sleeping on are clean, for one thing; you can smell the washing powder.

Meaning that, while you were still unconscious, the bed had been stripped, the bedding laundered and then placed back on. 

You strain to remember anything in the black void of sleep, seem to dredge up the vaguest impression of being lifted and maneuvered at certain points before sinking immediately back into slumber.

The next clue is your hunger. You’re absolutely ravenous, having skipped god only knows how many meal times in your stupor. You’re not just craving breakfast when you wake up. You’re ready to empty the fridge at the first rumble of your stomach. 

You do notice you aren’t particularly dehydrated, so you must have had some water at some point.

Whatever the next hint might be will have to wait, as that rumbling is the only thing on your mind. You dress in a hurry, throwing on the first things you can get your hands on, and go in search of food, so determined to eat that you barely bat an eye at the fact that what you’re wearing is one of your Lord’s shirts, your unlaced boots and not a stitch more.

A few minutes later you’re parked in front of the fridge in the dining area, a pitcher of water and an almost comical amount of food piled in front of you on the table. 

Once you’ve eaten enough to stop shaking, you walk to the workshop. You feel somewhat bold doing this, creeping into your Lord’s inner sanctum in nothing but his shirt.

You look around to confirm: he’s not there. Then, heaving a sigh, you turn and take a look at the calendar tacked to the wall above his desk. You stare at it for a long time. As you let the truth sink in, two things become apparent:

First: It was Tuesday night when Karl fucked you, and the calendar says that today is Friday. 

So you’ve been unconscious for two days.

Second: This isn’t just any old Friday. This is the final Friday of the quarter. The agreed-upon day that the Lords gather for a family visit. Which explains why he’s nowhere in sight with no other scheduled obligations on his itinerary.

He’s with his family.

You close your eyes and exhale slowly, almost but not quite grateful that there’s another potential calamity to take your mind off of Tuesday night.

God help us. He’s with his family …

#smut #heisenberg #heisenberg smut #heisenberg x you #heisenberg x reader #daddy heisenberg #heisendaddy #lycanberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #lord heisenberg x reader #lord heisenberg x you #you smell like trouble #you smell like trouble series #yslt #black!reader

[mbslost]

I am glad that you continue your activities on the Internet. I respect you for your courage. It's terrible that people think it's acceptable to wish someone dead for words on the Internet that don't harm anyone. people who do this behave like children. Please take care of yourself

On my own, I would also like to note that it is strange for me to see Gato's accusations of racism due to the fact that she gave feedback to artists who depicted characters with lighter skin color than they should be. I'm white, so I can't say if the representatives of the POC consider this to be racism, but personally it looks strange and enough from my side… Exaggerated. this is not something that should cause people to be negative, it's just a feedback. it just looks like another "argument" and an attempt to justify hatred towards a person. Yes, it can be frustrating, but that doesn't make Gato a racist, as it seems to me. it is strange that the claims in this case are made to Gato, but not to the artists. you can correct me, because, again, I may be wrong. it seems to me that the situation could be different if people just talked to each other with words through their mouths, and did not accumulate resentment and did not dump it all on public display. this is sad, considering that the situation itself is an absurdity, brought to disgusting proportions by misunderstanding between people. I am horrified by the culture of cancellation over nothing. to be honest, because of this, I'm afraid to post something online, because I can't predict what kind of harmless actions I think I might be dubbed a racist, Nazi or something like that and cancel, although I despise harming anyone and try to express myself as much as possible correct as far as possible. I am glad that apologies have been made and accepted, but all the lost content cannot be restored. I hope that at least Gato is OK, this is the most important thing

sorry if some of the words sound strange or meaningless, I don't know English well and use a translator

dont apologise for broken english, i aint putting to much effort in it either😭

as for what you said yeah i totally agree since.. like in the last hours i just couldnt stop about this yk. why only gato is being so hated but not the people around her that did the messed up shit. (one of them even apologizing so yea). or people going around and saying that her diversity its almost nonexistent (thing i tried to prove wrong with my post about the poc characters in her work)

just like another user said, she could've chosen to not give them and ethnicity because people would acuse her of portraying that group as bad or whatever.

but oh well.. gotta hope everything will end on a positive note "3

also please, remember that there will always be people that will disagree with your opinion/points of view. if they start getting aggressive, block them and take a moment to relax. people could be such gross living being so yeah.. remember to take care of yourself :3

stay safe and drink plenty of water🫶

[mazikomo]

Okay, so we've seen modern! Silco's morning routines, and how he gets ready for the days with those. But how much more/less time does he take to get ready for a date?

Modern!Silco going on a date headcanons please 🙏

Somehow, the bullet points turned into a oneshot. Took two weeks since life and I'm illiterate but here you go!

Many thanks to my friend for betaing, proofing, and coming up with the most amazing nickname for Finn.

Look out world, it's a Wednesday night and Silco's got a hot date!

How's Seven Tonight?

AO3 link

Modern day Silco getting ready for a date. Jinx helps. 2,565 words SFW, slice of life

When Silco had purchased the Lexus, people thought he had chosen the leather interior for its style and as a status symbol of luxury. While that was partially true, the main reason was it proved much easier to clean when Jinx put her muddy cleats on the seats as she fell in her usual gargoyle position. 

“How was practice today?” Silco asked as she buckled herself in. 

“Great! Kiramman called me a freak earlier so while we were scrimmaging I elbowed her into the mud. Ooo, smoothie!” Her hand darted out to snatch the drink and she took a sip before Silco could stop her. “Blegh! What is this?” 

“Kale, avocado, and coconut milk. I have an event tonight and won’t be having dinner until late.”

“Gross.” She took another sip. 

“I was going to offer to pick you up something for dinner on the way home but if you’re content drinking my smoothie then—“ 

“McDonald’s! Quarter pounder with cheese, 20 chicken nuggets with spicy bbq dipping sauce, NOT the regular kind, medium fry, and a chocolate milkshake please!”  

Silco rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, “Why do I even bother asking?” then louder, “At least try and eat some fruit when you inevitably get hungry again for a second dinner.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jinx said around the straw in her mouth. “Where’s your event? Will Goldie Chomps be there? He got a new jacket by the way, you’ll never guess what color it is.” 

“How do you know that?” 

She shrugged, “Follow him on instagram.” 

“You follow Finn on instagram?” 

“I like to comment on his posts about how tacky his entire aesthetic is. Surprised he hasn’t blocked me yet.” Jinx shrugged. 

Silco opened his mouth to respond but decided against it, instead opting to answer her previous question. “It’s at Topside Grill.”

“Oh bougie! Bit romantic for a business dinner though.” 

“I’m well aware.” 

Jinx paused in her slurping, “Why would you want a romantic place for a business dinn—ohmygoddoyouhaveadate??” She almost spilled the smoothie as she whipped around in the seat with wide eyes.

It was Silco’s turn to shrug. 

“Who is it? Is it someone I know? How attractive are they? What’re they like? Can I come?”

“That is none of your business and no, you may not come.”

Jinx pouted, “Will you at least tell me how it goes after?” 

“Only if you eat some fruit while I’m gone.” 

“Deal!” 

After getting Jinx’s food, where she had to lean almost completely over Silco to shout her order into the speaker box, they made it home. 

Jinx shot out of the car with her McDonald’s in hand. “I’m gonna take a shower!” The screen door slammed behind her before she even finished speaking. 

Silco rolled his eyes in amusement as he grabbed his bag from the backseat and popped the trunk. He hefted Jinx’s backpack onto his shoulder and carefully lifted her soccer bag. With the muddy bag held away from himself, he climbed the few stairs into the house and deposited Jinx’s things besides the door. She was his daughter and he loved her but her soccer bag could be classified as a biohazard. 

He went through his usual motions when he got home from work; put the keys on the side table, hung up his coat, and deposited his travel mug into the sink. As he climbed the stairs to his own room, he couldn’t help the small smile one his face as he loosened his tie. It really had been awhile since he had been on a date and he was looking forward to tonight. He didn’t have to pick them up until seven and it was currently five thirty. Plenty of time to enjoy a cigar and reset his mind from work.

In his closet, he placed the tie back on the rack and unbuttoned his waistcoat as well as the dress shirt underneath it. The shirt was tossed into the hamper tucked away in the corner, the waistcoat went back onto a hanger. It was still clean enough. Socks came off next, then he did the balancing act of standing on one foot while trying to work the tight pant leg over the ankle of the other. Those also get folded and put back onto a hanger. 

Left only in a tank undershirt and boxer briefs, he surveyed his options. He picked out a pair of black, slim straight cut pants to put on and a clean pair of socks with sea creatures patterning them. Finally, he shrugged on a robe, grabbed a cigar from the humidor box on the shelf, and headed out onto the balcony of his bedroom.

Cutter and lighter living in the pocket of the robe, he prepared the cigar and with a few careful puffs, brought it to life. Distantly, he could hear something being sung off key by Jinx from her open bathroom window. Probably one of those Billie Eyelash or Dodo Cat songs. 

Silco leaned on the railing as his mind drifted back to the events of this morning. Technically, he had known them for years but tonight would be the first time he would actually have the chance to get to know them past brief pleasantries. They both parked in the same deck downtown and most days their timing lined up so they ended up walking together to their respective buildings. Today was one of those days. 

“Hold the elevator please!” 

Silco looked up and saw his morning companion briskly walking towards him, or, as fast as one could walk with two cups of coffee in their hands. He held his arm over the doors until they made it inside. 

“Thanks,” they panted. “Here, this is for you.”

Silco stared blankly at the cup of coffee being held out to him until his morning brain caught up enough to take it from them. 

“The local place ‘round the corner from me has a new brew, I thought you might like it.” They explained as he took a small sip. It wasn’t terrible. 

“Thank you?” he paused, “I’ll have to repay the favor sometime.”

They shrugged, “You could buy me dinner sometime.” 

“How’s seven tonight?'' The words were out of Silco’s mouth before he even realized, surprising not only him, but his companion as well judging by how they spluttered their coffee. 

By the time the elevator opened he had a phone number scrawled on the side of his coffee cup and a date for tonight. 

He was surprised at how drawn he was to them. Over the years tight, polite smiles had evolved into what he supposed could be called an acquaintanceship. They never asked invasive questions. They complimented his appearance or outfit some days, and gave wishes for holidays. All of this became normal and eventually, he found himself doing the same. 

The heat of the cigar reaching his fingers shook him from his thoughts. He took one final puff then snubbed it out and went back inside. As he hung the robe on the back of the closet door, he decided to brush his teeth first. Jinx frequently, and a bit too cheerfully, pointed out how terrible his smokers' breath was and that wasn’t the kind of impression he wanted to make on a first date. 

As was habit ever since he was young, he viscously scrubbed at his teeth with an arm braced on the counter. Froth gathered at the corners of his mouth and ran down the handle of the toothbrush over his fingers. He nearly hacked up a lung as he did the back of his tongue and roof of his mouth. Silco never did like anything about the process but such was the price to pay with his chosen vices. 

Self torture completed, he wiped his mouth and rinsed his hand and assessed his hair in the mirror. It wasn’t in the perfect condition it had been in when he left for work this morning, but that was to be expected. He unscrewed the cap of the pomade and worked a small amount of the product between his hands before running it through his hair to tame down any errant strands. Satisfied, he rinsed his hands again when something prickled at his senses. 

“Can I help you?”

“Are you going to redo your eyebrow?” Jinx asked from her position leaned against the door frame. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, no.” 

“Well you should.” 

Silco shook the excess water off his hands and reached into the cabinet then wordlessly handed Jinx a bottle of mineral water and a clean cloth. She stepped into the bathroom and wet the cloth as he sat on the lid of the toilet and held his face up for her. 

“May I ask why my eyebrow is in need of redoing?” 

“You do it all pointy and sharp,” she explained as if it was obvious, “It’s fine for work but you don’t need your date to be scared off before you even get into the restaurant. You need to look approachable, not intimidating.” Silco didn’t respond and sat still as she set to work. 

Jinx gently wiped the cloth across his brow, humming in thought before she dragged it down the entire left side of his face. 

“I thought you were only redoing my eyebrow?” 

“Your whole face needs done.” 

Silco gave her a look but the annoyance didn’t hold much weight when half his face was smeared. 

“You’re all angles! I’m just going to smooth your natural contours a bit. You’ll hardly even notice.” 

He let out a breath but still held his face out for her. He watched Jinx’s eyes dart from side to side of his face as she compared his natural brow to the one she was crafting. He closed his good eye and let her work, occasionally tilted his head when directed but otherwise stayed still. The level of focus she exhibited was equivalent to when she was tinkering with one of her gadgets or deep in one of her paintings which he supposed was almost what she was doing now. She really was quite talented. 

“Done!” Jinx stepped away and watched as Silco stood and leaned over the counter to get closer to the mirror. 

What he saw surprised him. Jinx was right, despite the flurry of brushes he had felt across his face, he could hardly tell she’d done anything. He still looked like himself, just a little bit… softer. Sharp angles had been smoothed down and even his damaged eye didn’t hold its usual intensity. He never really thought of makeup as more than a tool to cover his scarring. But Jinx reminded him that, when in skilled hands, it could be much more.

He caught movement out of the corner of his vision as Jinx shifted from foot to foot. 

“Well?” she asked nervously. 

Once again, Silco reached into the cabinet, “Just needs a final touch.” he said as he handed her the setting spray and sat down again. Seeing Jinx’s bright smile warmed his heart. He closed his eye while she covered the other with her hand and misted his face with the spray, waving her hands afterwards to dry it. 

“There,” Silco said, “now it’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Yep! If your date doesn’t immediately swoon head over heels then they’re blind. Nugget time now!” she declared. 

Silco let out an amused breath as he put the makeup supplies away and heard Jinx thunder down the stairs. He strode back into his closet and plucked a maroon dress shirt that he had mentally picked out earlier from a hanger. Reminding himself that he was getting dressed for a date and not work, he only loosely tucked the shirt in and left the top three buttons undone. He pondered the entire back wall of the closet that held his shoe collection before selecting a plain black pair of dress shoes that had a gold bar across the top of each. They were an older pair and slightly worn but still in fine condition and matched the more casual look he was going for. As was good practice, he matched his belt to them. 

From a side shelf he chose a thin, twisted golden chain and a plain watch. Nimble fingers quickly clasped the chain around his neck, it came to rest just below the hollow of his throat. He fastened the simple black leather band of the watch around his left wrist with the golden clock face on the outside of his arm—he never understood people who wore it on the inside— and turned towards the full length mirror for a final once over. 

With hands on his hips, he ran a critical eye over himself. He was by no means nervous, not that he would even admit it if he was, but there was a slight flutter in his stomach as the upcoming event fully sank in. He was going on a date with someone who’s company he actually enjoyed. It was certainly not how he thought he’d be spending his evening when he woke up this morning. However, life had taught him well to go after the things he wanted and it seemed even his morning brain knew this when it acted on its own accord and suddenly asked them out. He really did want to know them better. Maybe he’d even end the night with a chaste kiss if all went well.  

As a last minute thought, he neatly rolled up his sleeves to below his elbows. A small spritz of cologne to his neck and wrists and he was done. Satisfied, he grabbed his wallet and phone—snapping a quick selfie in the mirror just because—and pocketed the items as he lightly jogged down the stairs.

Jinx was sitting on the kitchen counter, a habit he had given up on breaking years ago, eating her nuggets when he stepped in. He opened his hands and arched a newly crafted brow in silent question. 

“Not bad old man, I could smell ya before I saw ya, but not bad.” Jinx appraised with food in her mouth. “Nice touch with the chain.” 

“Glad I meet your standards.” he said amused, “I don’t know how long I’ll be out but call if there’s an emergency—and no, running out of Mountain Dew is not an emergency.” He cut her off as she opened her mouth to ask that or an equally inane question. “If I don’t answer right away, call Sevika.” That earned him an eye roll. 

“Bye! Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t doooo!” She teased. 

“You’re fifteen, you shouldn’t be doing anything.” He deadpanned. 

This time the eye roll was much more exasperated. “Okay, okay, try not to make too much noise when you get home please.” 

“I’m sure you’ll still be up regardless but I will do my best.” He was already expecting to be bombarded with questions before he even got one foot back inside the door. 

Silco grabbed his keys off the entryway table and paused as he remembered the muddy cleat prints on the passenger seat. He set them back down and moved his hand over to the other set of keys on the table. 

It had been awhile since he had taken the Electra out. 

headcanon requests open! The mentioned morning routine's can be read here and weekend edition here

#everybody's crazy bout a sharp dressed man playing in the background #Silco #Silco Arcane #arcane #Silco headcanons #headcanons #my writing #you know his sentimental ass kept that coffee cup too #super detail heavy but it's a hc piece so idc #modern silco

[age-of-greta]

The Lovers

The Lovers represent relationships and choices. Its appearance in a spread indicates some decision about an existing relationship, a temptation of the heart, or a choice of potential partners. Often an aspect of the querent's life will have to be sacrificed; a bachelor's lifestyle may be sacrificed and a relationship gaine, or one potential partner may be chosen while another is turned down. Whatever the choice, it should not be made lightly, as the ramifications will be lasting.

Author’s Note: hello again everyone! This story will contain two time jumps, then and today. This is my first fic and I have proofread, but typos happen!! I still plan on posting this weekly. enjoy!!

Pairings: Jake x reader & Sam x reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Explicit sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex, cursing, alcohol consumption

Word count: 3.2k

PART 2:

THEN

“Lana fuck him. It’s okay he’s such a loser anyway.” You say to your best friend while sipping from your mimosa glass. You were still reeling from the events of last night. You were hungover, but that’s why you were at brunch. You had so much fun last night, but were a little sour that you had to leave Sam without getting contact information. You two had just clicked and gotten along so well, which was rare for you.

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m done with it and I’m embarrassed. Let’s change the subject. Where is your top from?” Lana asks while sipping her coffee. You look down at your top. It’s a simple black tank top, you have it on with a neutral tartan skirt, black sheer tights, and black calf high boots.

“H&M. Same with these little gold necklaces, hoops, and my sunnies.” You say motioning to everything you’re wearing. It was warm out this morning which is why you insisted on sitting outside in the large circle booth. It was just you and Lana but the owner always made sure you were taken care of even if it was very crowded like it happened to be this Sunday.

“So cute. But seriously I feel bad dragging you away from those guys last night. You were having such a fun time and I ruined it.” Lana stated with a frown.

You waved your hand at her. “Eh nonsense. Everything happens for a reason.”

“No shit!” You hear a familiar voice call from a distance. You whip your head around and see Sam and the guys walking over to you from the outside of the restaurant.

“Sorority girl! What are the odds huh?” Sam says to you with a smile.

You take off your sunglasses and smile back. “Sam, are you following me or something?”

“Nothing like that, actually it’s just fate. But we were trying to eat here and the line is crazy.” Sam says pointing towards the front.

You motion towards the booth. “Go to the front and tell them you're with me and come join us. We have room.”

“Is this another president perk thing?” He laughs out as he starts walking towards the front with the rest following him.

You laugh and look at Lana who says, “Everything happens for a reason huh?”

**

They make it to your booth and Lana scoots closer to you with Danny beside her. Sam scoots in on the other side of you with Josh beside him, and Jake pulls up a chair sitting directly across from you. The server brings everyone out a fresh round of mimosas and you thank her.

“How are you drinking more after last night?” Sam says laughing.

“My philosophy is you can’t get a hangover if you continue to drink.” You say taking a sip out of your glass.

This garners a snicker from Jake. “I say the same thing.” He says looking at you.

“Well cheers to that.” You say reaching over and clinking glasses with Jake.

“So” Danny starts. “What do you both do?”

“I’m a receptionist at a dental office in Buckhead.” Lana replies smiling at Danny.

“Oh nice. I could totally see that you two are receptionists.” Sam says, taking a swig of his drink.

“No y/n isn’t a receptionist. She’s a lawyer.” Lana replies to Sam.

“Not yet. I’m a law student, and I work at my uncle’s firm in Midtown.” You say back.

“Smart girl.” Jake says nonchalantly from across the table.

“Receptionists are lovely too.” Josh adds smiling at Lana.

Lana giggles. “Thank you, but it’s not a forever job. I’m studying to be a hygienist. But it’s not as cool as when y/n graduates she will be taking over her uncle’s firm as he retires. She never brags about it, but I think that’s badass.”

“Okay enough about me and the benefits of nepotism.” You laugh. “What do you guys do?”

“Badass indeed.” Sam replies. “We are all in a band actually. That’s why we are in Atlanta right now. We are promoting the release of our EP.”

You smile at him. “That’s so cool. Congratulations guys. Who does what?”

“Sam plays the bass, Danny plays the drums, Jake plays guitar, and I play the vocals.” Josh says to you.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Vocals are not an instrument. But sorority girl you should come see us play. We have a small show tomorrow night at the Fox. We can leave you a VIP ticket at the box office. To repay you for getting me into the bar and well also brunch.”

“I guess I could swing by after work.” You say.

Sam swings his arm over your shoulder. “Now we’re talking. Prepare to have your mind blown.”

**

After everyone ordered their food, ate, and drank a few more mimosas it was about time to head out. The restaurant closed at 2 and things were starting to wind down.

“How do we get a check?” Danny asks you.

You smile at him. “No check. My uncle and I bailed the owner out of some major legal trouble. So he always takes care of us. I do tip though.” You say as you open your purse and pull out $50 in cash. You see Jake reach into his pocket and match your tip.

“Okay then. Shall we go?” Jake asks, looking around at the group. Everyone nods and starts to head out.

When you make it outside Lana quickly says her goodbyes and you see her ex pull up right down the road. God bless what are you going to do with her.

“Do you need an Uber or anything?” Sam asks, trying to figure out your next move.

“No, I'm walking back to my apartment. I live right around the corner. It’s only a 15 minute walk.” You say patting his shoulder.

“Well we will walk you there.” Josh states pulling a vape out of his pocket. “I’ve seen enough tv to know you don’t let a pretty girl walk alone.”

Danny nods at this.

You laugh at him. “I’m fine. I’ve lived here for years with no problem. Plus I have a taser in my purse.”

“No no no we are totally walking you. Also I want to see a sorority girl’s apartment. How someone lives says so much about them.” Sam says nudging your arm.

“Okay fine.” You agree. “But fair warning for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

You knew your apartment wasn’t a mess. In fact you deep cleaned it yesterday before you went out and you were pretty sure you turned on your pumpkin vanilla bourbon wax melt before you left this morning. But it was always fun to pretend your place was messy when it really wasn’t. Sam stuck by you on the walk there. You two were leading the pack with Josh close on your heels, interjecting in your conversation sporadically about the best cocktails with breakfast. Jake and Danny were in the back talking over different chords for something new they were working on. When you finally made it to your building door you scanned your key to get in and headed straight for the elevator. Once off on your floor you all walked to your apartment which was the last on the left. You stepped inside and were greeted with the scent of your wax melt. Your apartment was very cozy and very you. You walked into your living room and placed your purse on the rack by the door. Your living room was a decent size. You had a beige sectional that was pretty big, adorned with colorful tufted pillows and throw blankets. There was a coffee table in the center under your colorful rug with two books on it. One being the entire discography of Creedence Clearwater Revival and the other a book full of pop art. There was a disco ball planter on top with a succulent inside. You loved the retro vibes of your apartment and figured the guys would as well.

“Wow this is really something sorority girl.” Sam says, starting to look around.

“It smells good as hell in here.” Josh states before sitting on your couch.

Danny joins him, but Jake heads straight for your record player to the right of your couch. You watch as he slides his finger over your rather large collection. Your mother was a collector of vintage vinyl and she gave you crates full. You had also secured some on your own and knew many places in Atlanta to find the rarest deals. You had a record already on your player, but couldn’t remember what you had chosen. It was something you put on last night drunkenly so you could take off your makeup and jam before passing out.

“Cream.” Jake said, holding up the vinyl sleeve. “They’re one of my favorites.” He said looking at you.

You smiled at him, it was very rare to find people in your generation who appreciated good music. “Mine too. Disraeli Gears is probably one of the best albums of all time.” You said motioning to the vinyl in his hand.

“No argument from me there. This is an impressive little set up you’ve got here. Great taste.” Jake said as he continued to poke around your vinyl.

Your heart smiled. That was one of the best compliments you could think of.

“These posters are pretty sick sorority girl. Who knew what was hiding in here? I thought we would walk into a basic apartment, but I stand corrected.” Sam said as he marveled at your gallery wall behind your couch.

You had various band posters framed as well as vintage and colorful posters you had thrifted. The rest of your apartment consisted of a kitchen with green cabinets and lots of plants. A small dining area which was essentially just a breakfast nook. A closet with your washer and dryer. Then two bedrooms. One was your master bedroom, which was just as colorful as your living room. It had a small on-suite. Then the guest bedroom which had a more boho style and your main bathroom that was next door. You wanted two bedrooms in case you had company stay over or family visit, which in the city was not cheap, but you deemed it worth the expense.

“Can I get you guys something to drink? I have water, tea, coffee, or juice? But I also have a whole bar cart, and I make a hell of a martini.” You say pointing at your bar cart.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say pour up the martinis!” Josh says excitedly. You shuffle to the kitchen to grab your martini glasses and hear Jake start playing Cream on your record player.

“Need any help?” Sam asks, walking up to you.

“Nope martinis are my specialty. Go sit.” You say as you shew him away.

Once you get out all of the ingredients you pop your head out of the kitchen and ask, “How dirty do we like our martinis?”

“Absolutely filthy.” Jake replies looking at you with a smirk.

**

After two rounds of martinis the boys decided they should head out. They had to be back at the label later in the afternoon to discuss the EP launch. For the past hour you had all sat on your couch and discussed music and pop culture. You found that you had so much in common with them, especially Jake who couldn’t stop smiling at you. He would flash his eyes between your lips and your eyes every time you spoke to him, which made you feel a little more heated than you cared to admit. Before they had left you swapped contact information with Sam so you could plan something tomorrow after the concert. They were leaving on Tuesday to head back to Michigan which made you sad, as you had truly started to bond with all of them. But you decided to push that in the back of your head and prepare for work and classes tomorrow. You only had one and a half semesters left of law school and you couldn’t lose that focus. You cleaned up the glasses and got out your books, but the only thing on your mind is what you were going to wear to their concert.

TODAY:

You had gotten back to Nashville pretty late. Jake carried your bags upstairs to his room while you got some water in the kitchen. Jake and Danny were upstairs, while Josh and Sam were downstairs. You loved their house, it was huge. The living room and kitchen were open concept, but there was another sitting room too. They also had their own studio, a fire pit outside, and a small pool.

“I’m still salty about our little competition.” Sam says huffing and standing next to you.

You laugh at him. “Oh no did I bruise Sammy’s ego a little bit.” You say in a baby voice.

He just looks at you and pouts out his bottom lip.

You pat his head. “There there poor baby Sammy, it will be alright.”

“You’ve got such a smart mouth on you.” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

“I am a lawyer Sam, it’s kind of my job. Plus you know you love my incredible wit.”

He sighs at that and looks at you. “Yeah I kinda do.”

“Hey. You ready for bed?” Jake says, snaking his arm around your waist. “I’ve got your bags semi-unpacked.”

“Yeah I’m pretty tired I should probably call it a night. Goodnight Samuel.” You say grabbing your water and waving him off. He soft smiles and waves back at you.

“I’ll be right there I’m going to run some notes into the studio to Josh and Danny.” Jake says as he sends you upstairs.

You get into Jake’s room and strip down. You need a shower after the warm day and tight clothing. After rinsing off you do some light skincare and brush your teeth. You wrap yourself in a towel and saunder back into the room. You see Jake in bed reading a book. He has stripped away his clothes from the day and is laying there in navy sweatpants. He looks up at you and smiles.

“Ready for bed lover?” He says smirking at you.

“Oh Jake.” You sigh. “We aren’t going to bed.” You say and drop your towel to the floor. Jake’s eyes rake over your body and he slowly sets his book down on his nightstand.

“Goddamn. Get over here.” Jake says patting the bed and sitting up. You walk over to him and crawl into bed, he already has his hands on your hips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. How much I’ve missed this.” He says looking you up and down.

“Oh yeah?” You reply innocently. “Well why don’t you show me just how much you missed me.” You say in a sultry voice.

Immediately Jake crashes his lips to yours. His hand finds your face and he rubs his thumb over your jaw. You put your hands around his neck and pull him a little closer. His other hand is rubbing all over your back and it feels euphoric to be touched like this by him again. You’re already so wet with just the thought of him touching you there, but you know Jake and he will want to take his time with you. But tonight you’re far too needy for any slow burn. You move your hand down to his sweatpants and start palming over him, already so hard for you. This elicits a small moan that Jake lets out in your mouth. That right there makes butterflies pound in your chest. Jake lays you back and moves his hand down to your lower half. He takes his calloused fingers and starts rubbing light circles on your clit. You inhale sharply at the pleasurable contact. Jake moves his mouth to your breasts, licking and kissing every inch of them. You moan out and whisper curse words. Jake takes and pushes a finger inside of you and it feels so fucking good.

“Damn baby you’re so wet already. You’re such a dirty girl.” Jake coos while fucking you with his fingers.

“Fuck.” you moan out “Jake I want you to fuck me right now please.” You plead out to him.

“Patience, babygirl. I want to make you feel good. I’m going to fuck you, but first you’re going to cum on my fingers.”

Jake adds in another finger and his thumb is swirling around on your clit. You screw your eyes shut and prepare for your impending orgasm.

“Come on baby, give it to me. You’re so pretty when you cum for me.” Jake praises, and that’s all it takes until you’re gripping the sheets and moaning his name. When you open your eyes and start breathing again Jake is smiling at you. He puts his fingers in his mouth and says, “Mhm. So sweet baby. Go ahead and turn over for me angel.”

You do as you’re told and prepare for Jake to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. You feel him tease his head at your entrance and you let out a moan.

“This is the best view I have seen in a long time, baby you’re so perfect.” Jake says then he slowly pumps into you.

You inhale a moan and then scoot yourself back to push him deeper. He lets out a small gasp then starts to pump more frequently into you. His hand finds under your chin and he pulls you up so you’re flushed against his back. He lightly squeezes at your throat and you’re beginning to come unraveled all over again. Jake knows exactly how you like it and he’s giving it to you.

“You feel so good, you fuck me so good Jakey.” You praise him.

He moans out a little and then grits his teeth.

“If you keep talking to me like that angel I won’t be able to last much longer. Touch yourself.” He says back to you.

You do as he says and reach your fingers down and start swirling your clit. Jake picks up his pace and squeezes a little tighter on your throat. You start to grip around him more and he knows you’re close.

“Jake I’m going to cum-“ you moan out.

“I know baby cum for me again. I want to hear those pretty sounds and then I’m going to fill you up.”

“Fuck” is all you let out before you clench your eyes and start fluttering around him. You moan loud and Jake is now pounding you from behind chasing his high. He pulls your chin up higher and sloppily kisses your face. He whispers sweet praises into your ear and then you feel him release inside of you. When you both have come back down to Earth he pulls out of you and kisses your shoulder.

“Stay right there lover, I'll be right back.” He says as he shuffles to the bathroom to get a towel. Jake cleans you up and helps you to the bathroom. When you both get back in bed all you can do is smile at each other. He pulls you into his arms and kisses you sweetly on your forehead. Jake turns on Netflix and plays a show about pirates while you drift off asleep in his arms. This had been a perfect start to a long weekend.

• thanks for reading!!! the next chapter will be much longer :)

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #the lovers

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Soft Wilderness and Enchanting Words Event (Prologue)

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

The scenery outside the window gradually recedes from the mask of the reinforced concretes of the city as the unfolding countryside wilderness spreads out like a picture scroll.

I’ve been seeking inspiration for my show on the theme of “Small Town Miracles.” At the moment, I’m traveling to the neighboring small town along with Victor.

This town, once on the verge of bankruptcy, has attracted a large number of tourists in the last few years with a combination of special projects such as animal husbandry and tourism, and thus “has risen from the dead.”

The speed of the sightseeing train is not fast. I lean over the window and stick my hand out slightly, feeling the breeze gently passing through my fingers.

MC: So pleasant... Victor, do you wanna give it a try too?

I turn my head to call out to Victor. He leans back in his seat, casting his gaze over.

Victor: A certain someone was sound asleep just a moment ago. Now she’s in surprisingly good spirits.

MC: That’s because leaning on you makes me feel so comfortable~

Victor: You’re really good at finding justifications.

Victor pinches the space between his eyebrows and continues to look at the thick meeting files in his hands.

Seeing the weariness charging in his eyes, I can’t restrain myself from shifting a little closer to him.

MC: Is this meeting quite tricky?

Victor: It’s all right.

MC: Can you be a little specific?

Victor: What do you want to know?

MC: I wanna know if you’re going to spend the next few days fighting the battle of words during the day and burning the midnight oil.

Blinking, I come clean with the thoughts in my mind. While I’m at it, I pick up the milk on the table and hand it to him.

Victor’s originally knitted brows relax slightly as he takes a light sip from the straw in my hand.

Victor: Don’t worry. I won’t.

Victor: However...

He pauses.

Victor: How come you just “coincidentally” picked the same place as me for the on-site investigation of this project?

Victor deliberately accentuates the word “coincidentally,” as though he’s already seen through the situation long ago.

MC: Of course, it was a coincidence. Hahaha!

I sheepishly divert the subject with a peal of loud laughter, inwardly slandering in my heart. That odious Goldman has betrayed me again!

MC: I’ve chosen this small town after doing a lot of homework. It regained its life by relying on the pastures.

MC: Doesn’t it fit in with the theme of “Small Town Miracles”!

Victor: That justifies it just a little.

Victor: So, did you know that my meetings this time are fully close-packed?

Victor plays it down as he tosses me this message. But for me, it’s akin to a “bolt from the blue.”

MC: So that means... we can’t see each other during this period!

Victor: You can put it like that.

MC: Oh, come on...

I slump back against the backrest, my head drooping low dejectedly. The wonderful vacation that I’ve planned with utmost care is shattered in an instant.

Victor smiles in a good mood, as though my disappointment was already well within his expectation.

He pulls a blank sheet of paper from under the thick pile of documents and places it in front of me.

Victor: Although we won’t be able to see each other for a few days, I can promise you a few of your demands in advance.

Victor: The time limit is the period of this trip.

Pleasantly surprised, my spirits reignite. I open my mouth, trying to sound out.

MC: Really! I can write anything I want?

Victor: Writing “finish the meetings in one day” isn’t allowed.

MC: ...who said I was going to write this! Humph, see how I give you challenging tasks!

Having my little thoughts seen through like this, my cheeks become slightly hot. However, I mustn’t waste this great opportunity. With this thought in mind, I write down a few “tasks” after conscientious pondering.

—

TO-DO LIST (For Victor, From MC):

Take more pictures when you have the time.

Take notes of good restaurants.

Don’t stay up late working.

Bring back souvenirs for MC.

Spend a wonderful vacation with MC at the ranch.

[Players can check all of the tasks, or just check the ones they wish]~

—

Victor looks carefully at my to-do list and releases a soft chuckle.

Victor: A certain someone’s tasks, rather, are more like a holiday checklist.

Victor: As for giving me a truly challenging task...

Victor: You should’ve written, “Don’t worry about me, you dummy.”

—

☘️ [Day 1]: Decorating The Room

—

#i’m just gonna repeat myself for the millionth time – they are at home ANYWHERE LOL #cause their home is each other. it’s always the small and intricate details 🥺❤️ #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love victor #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

[everystephoftheway]

camp cloudtop: chapter four

this chapter’s a bit longer than the others but i hope you all like it! there’s only a read more because of the length of the post, not any content warnings or anything like that.

This can be found on ao3 as well.  

“Vax? Vax.” It wasn’t until his sister landed an unnecessarily hard punch to his shoulder that he fell out of his trance, eyes moving away from Keyleth and her lunch mates to his own group of three. 

“Hm?”

“If you’re going to stare at least try being less obvious about it.” 

“I’m not staring.”

“Sure you’re not.” 

“Even I can tell,” Percy said, raising his fork before eating the bite of mashed potatoes on it. 

“Would you two shut up?”

“Listen, it’s cute,” Vex said, folding her arms on the table. “But don’t fall for your junior counselor, alright? It never ends well.”

“Excuse me?” Percy looks at her, both blushing and eyebrows furrowed like he’d been offended.

“What we’re doing, darling, is not the same as what Vax would do. We’re having fun. All he knows how to do is fall in love.” 

Percy’s blush grew brighter, and, while he seemed to chuckle it off, that offended look in his eyes didn’t fully fall away. 

“I’m not falling in love; I barely even know her.” Vax’s voice was low, a brow arched in annoyance. “But if we’re supposed to be a team for the next several months she should feel welcome. Wasn’t the whole point of today supposed to be about getting to know your partner?” 

“You have the whole rest of the day to do that, brother. It was just lunch. Relax. Besides, based on what I can tell we are much more fun.” 

Vax simply rolled his eyes at his sister’s attitude, finding them falling once again on that long red hair a few tables down. 

Scanlan came to collect the group once lunch was over, leading them through the halls toward the back of the building where two sets of locker rooms resided. As they walked, Vax made a point to speed up his gait, finding himself next to the now alone Keyleth, Kash and Zahra having gone with their half to the auditorium.

“I saw you made some new friends at lunch,” he looked up at her with a soft smile, no hint of the pang of jealousy he felt in his chest.

“Oh. Yeah.” She brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “We just started talking in line. Kash said he knew you?”

“He’s an old acquaintance of mine and my sister’s.”

“Yeah.” Vax could see by the way Keyleth pursed her bottom lip that she was contemplating what to say next, but instead she said nothing at all, and he didn’t press. 

Once they made it to the locker room, their group was split in half once again. Keyleth, Vax, Vex, and Percy were all chosen for the half sent into the locker rooms. 

“Get your one-piece, two-pieces on–sorry, no no pieces; that’s for after hours–and meet out by the poolside in ten minutes!” Scanlan strummed his lute for no apparent reason, and then went off with the half heading to the grass field. 

After the allotted ten minutes, everyone was out by the pool as instructed. The pool was wide and twenty-five meters long, allowing for several lanes for laps as well as a decent free swim space. The whole fenced area around the pool was paved, chairs and chaises scattered around its edges along with a few umbrellas every third chair or so. Vax had on a black–of course–pair of swim trunks, while Percy wore a t-shirt along with his dark navy swim trunks. 

“It’s a task, being this pale,” he said when he saw Vax snickering.

Vex came out in a cheeky two piece, the straps of her top making several criss-crosses along her back. Keyleth wore a simple green one-piece, hands clasped in front of her chest again. 

“Alright, my turtle doves!” Gilmore came sauntering out in a purple speedo of his own, a red lifeguard tube held in one arm. “Make two teams!”

Vex immediately looked toward her brother, and he at her, but after a moment of thought he flicked his head toward Percy before turning to Keyleth.. “Come on, partner. Same team?”

She genuinely looked surprised, but was quick to relax into a soft smile. “Yeah, sure. Um, isn’t your sister going to want to be on your team too?”

Vax waved a hand. “If anything, she’ll relish being against me. Siblings love a little competition.” 

He could see the way Keyleth lingered on his sister, and, to her credit, Vex’s occasional gruff glances in their direction weren’t helping. He would have to talk to her later, see what got her pants in a twist. 

“Keyleth, I swear,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, and he could feel her tense underneath it, so he immediately pulled back. His voice stayed calm and, hopefully, reassuring. “I swear, my sister means no harm. She’s just a bit skeptical of new people. Well, maybe not a bit.” 

A whistle blew and everyone turned to look at Gilmore as he explained the rules. There were six people per team, and each member was to swim to the other side of the pool and back. Each team lined up behind a diving board at the deep end of the pool; Vax found himself parallel with a gray-skinned half giant, bald headed and smiley. 

“Well, that’s just not fair,” he muttered.

Behind him stood Keyleth, who was last in line, just as Vex was on her team. The amount of self control it took to not audibly groan was nearly unattainable, but he managed. Instead, he turned over his shoulder and gave Keyleth a confident smile. “You’re going to crush this.” 

Keyleth gave a little thumbs up. “I’ll do my best.” 

Gilmore’s whistle blew and the first swimmers were off, water splashing into the air as they kicked their way across the pool. The teams traded the lead over and over again, and while Vax had the advantage when he dove into the water he was quickly overtaken by the goliath and unable to take back the lead. As he swam his return lap, feet kicking and arms swinging as fast and hard as he could, Vax could see Keyleth step up to the board, bright hair now pushed back behind her ears. His hand slapped the wall and he just turned around, chest heaving from the exertion, to see Keyleth take off, his sister a full body length ahead.

“Come on, Keyleth!”

His sister was a strong woman, and her swimming skills only proved as such. She kept a consistent pace, though as Vax got out of the pool and stood with the rest of their team he had to admit Keyleth wasn’t doing too bad. 

By the time Vex reached the wall she only had a half a body length lead, and Vax’s eyes darted between the two women. Keyleth pushed off the opposite wall, and as she started to press forward he noticed a shift in the water. Underneath all the splashing and movement, Vax just managed to see tendrils of the water curl around Keyleth’s ankles and press against the bottom of her feet. She started to gain speed, still kicking as if she were doing it all herself. Vax couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across his cheeks.

“Let’s go, Keyleth, you’re almost there!” 

Everyone was cheering and shouting as Keyleth reached Vex and just as quickly surpassed her, slapping the wall with her hand seconds before her opponent. Their team roared with excitement, high-fiving and whooping. Vax leaned down at the edge of the pool, offering his hands to Keyleth to help her out. 

“You were incredible.”

She was breathing heavily, though not as heavy as one might have imagined after such a surge. “Oh, it was nothing. I just…did my best.” She reached for his hands and Vax tugged gently to help her up where the rest of their team greeted her with more high-fives.

“Seriously.” He tilted his chin, offering a glance that gave a hint that he saw what he saw. “Incredible.” 

Keyleth’s eyes went just a little wide before she did her very best to school her features, shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s just a game.” She glanced over at the other team, surely checking to see if Vex was shooting daggers–and he knew she was–and it took actual effort to follow suit, his eyes not wanting to turn away from the woman in front of him. 

Gilmore’s whistle shrieked through the air. “Well done, everyone! Ready for round two?”

#critical role #critical role fic #vaxleth fic #vaxleth #vaxleth au #vox machina fic #tlovm fic #my fic #camp cloudtop #we're getting close to camp actually starting i promise! #cr fic

[kokushibouthings]

Only for my mission.

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

Content: Degrading kink(?) scaramouche smut, F!reader, scaramouche slightly taller lmfa- bathroom sex, hardcore? I guess

Side note: Give me ideas for my next post..Please. And I know that the title might remind u of sxf 😭

Perspectives might change from "I" to "you"

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

"Hmph. Are we gonna do the task for the mission or what?" Scaramouche said with a snappy voice, "Can't we just find a random kid and adopt them??" "I already told you. We CAN'T do that." "Ugh why did I even... Let's just do it later" "And who gave you the right to issue your own decisions now?? I'm the one who's managing you." Same old scara, bossy, frustratingly annoying, short tempered, bitch. "..." I turn to him silent, "Good girl. We need to hurry up anyway, if we delay you'll be responsible if something bad happens." "Ugghh..... Fine. But what even is this ’’mission’ for?" Walking towards him again while continuing the convo, "That's the thing I don't fucking know." "Well how about we take a bath together?" "..." I walk past him, feeling his gaze turn back to me. "So we're gonna do it in the fucking bathroom?" "I don't know. maybe? You're the one who's doing the decisions...aren't you scara?" I enter the bathroom leaving the door open for him to enter, I take off my clothing off

Entering the shower, Finally feeling warmth after so long... Snezhnaya really is such a cold place. I hear scara getting in the shower, "...Hi." He says awkwardly...— "Where's the soap?" "I'm using it." "Give me i–" He interrupts you boldly "I'll do it for you." You suddenly feel his long slim fingers coated with soap rubbing against your body up and down..expect he keeps avoiding your core "I need some soap down there too you know...?" He paused for a second from your words before saying "whatever." He takes his hands away to coat it again with soap before going back to your body... not even a single second have you actually even looked at each other face front. A few seconds later you can feel his hands back on you, going down to your core

His fingers returning up and down against your clit making you feel...awkwardly good. "Mmh...–" Your hands grip on to him from behind "What?" "N...–othing." His fingers keep going slightly deeper into your slit (slit thing not ur vagi)

"I think I might-" He immediately stops before you continued that sentence "Why did-" interrupting you again with warm water being poured on you, "I'm not continuing with the feeling of soap in you, dumbass. Now turn back around and put ur hands on the wall." "oh uhh..."

A few seconds later, "like this??" "Spread your pussy open." "Ugh jeez your so demanding..." Not like you really had a choice and did it... "Oh and, you can't cum early or I'll do even worse things to you." Hearing his word shocked and confused...– bitch what "Huh wh–" He just shoved it in interrupting you for like the 5th time "Hmm? Did you...any by chance just cum already?" "N...–no"

You feel one of his fingers touching your clit simultaneously while he fucks you like crazily fast, "Hmmp.." You can hear his heavy breathing and slight moaning while your walls are tightening up on him, "Fucking hell your so tight." "O–..oh sc—CaRa~ ah...ummmh." Sounds of plapping fill the small space you both are in accompanied with moaning, "You know you're even fucking lucky you were..– mmh. Chosen to do this.. w–with me." "Y–esS!" It was odd of you to actually even agree with him but you were focused on how good you were feeling from him fucking you mercilessly abusing your core, "I–I nee..mmp– d to cu–uMm~" "a little more..." He keeps hitting your G-spot so much your not even sure if you can hold it for a little bit more...but I guess you will. "Im cu...–umMing!" Both of you cumming..him letting a load out into your core. Your mind was going blank and so confused with what's happening

He grabs ur arms forcing you down to his cock, "Suck it, Its my turn and I'm tired." He goes up against the glass "mmh.." You stare at his thing

"I guess I don't have a choice..." You place it in your mouth for probably another round again.

.

.

.

That's it

It went on for hours till he eventually had his fill and you were unconscious and he had to clean you up and put you to bed

Bye

#scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #female reader

[jcmarchi]

Botany Manor Review - In Bloom - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/botany-manor-review-in-bloom-game-informer/

Botany Manor Review - In Bloom - Game Informer

I’ve never had much of a green thumb. For years, I largely believed growing a plant required little more than burying a seed in the dirt, pouring water, and letting the sun handle the heavy lifting. Botany Manor asks players to perform those crucial first steps before challenging them to deduce the additional methods necessary to make their seedlings blossom. As I explored the beautiful grounds of a mysterious manor in search of answers, clever puzzle-solving and a serene atmosphere made these scientific exploits a delight.  

Botany Manor unfolds in Victorian England circa 1890, with players controlling passionate botanist Arabella Green. She returns home to a massive 16th-century manor after a lengthy absence to finish her botany book, which requires discovering the methods to grow various flowers. A colorful, inviting presentation, combined with a relaxing ambient soundtrack with sparse, playful melodies, makes this process a joy.

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Getting these exotic plants to grow, such as a flower that only blooms during lightning storms or one that requires extreme heat to sprout, involves exploring rooms to find telltale clues to success. One flower may only grow in a specific temperature based on its native location; finding this info requires reading a letter from a friend tipping off the seeds’ origin while cross-referencing a chart that lists the temperatures of various regions. Nearly everything you see matters, be it a seemingly irrelevant nursery rhyme or devices like a camera or a Morse code telegraph, and connecting the dots is an entertaining exercise of creative and critical thinking. Unlocking more sections of the manor by finding keys comes at a good pace, as you don’t linger in areas for too long but stay long enough to get an intimate sense of their layout. 

Increasingly elaborate exercises – such as using seeds to lure birds, opening a hidden medieval chamber, and scaling a supposedly haunted tower to open windows to create specific air currents – make each puzzle fresh and unique. I always looked forward to seeing what activities the next plant would bring, and none of them felt like duds. Whenever I got stuck (which wasn’t often), the answer was always right in front of me. I just needed to re-frame my interpretation of the information given, which led to exciting logical and imaginative epiphanies. I excitedly exclaimed, “Oh!” when I made a breakthrough several times. The reward of watching a plant grow into a parade of lilypads or snaking vines of bioluminescent bulbs is a treat. 

I like that a flower’s page displays the requisite number of clues needed to solve it, which helps keep thoughts organized since you can simultaneously chip away at multiple flowers. By slotting all of the correct pieces of evidence, the game notifies players they have everything necessary to deduce the solution, cutting down guesswork. My only gripe is that you can’t inspect these clues in the menu. If you need to reexamine something, you must return to its location. While the menu thankfully displays the location of each clue, and unlocking shortcuts helps expedite trips through the manor, there can be an inconvenient amount of running around to simply re-check the wording of a document or stare at a painting again. 

Scouring documents and keepsakes also reveals an overarching story of Arabella’s struggle to obtain knowledge and recognition for her chosen field in the male-dominated academic society of the time. Without uttering a word of dialogue, Botany Manor does a good job fleshing out Arabella’s personality and persistence, adding context and stakes to everything you do. The puzzles are entertaining enough, but knowing each breakthrough helps Arabella push against that glass ceiling makes them all the sweeter.

Botany Manor is a blissful, smart, and creatively conceived puzzle adventure. It’s just challenging enough to be engaging without veering into stressful territory, and its whimsical elements add fun, fantastical touches. I don’t think it made me better at gardening, but unearthing its appeal was satisfying.

#2024 #air #ambient #atmosphere #birds #book #chart #code #cutting #Developer #devices #displays #Exercise #exploits #flowers #game #gardening #glass #green #Heat #it #layout #LED #lists #lure #menu #One #PC #personality #Pieces

[araragomennnn]

more than a crush

pairing: tsukishima x gn! reader

genre: FLUFF!!

warnings: swearing only

author's note: I needed to write something to get my gears turning before I start posting regularly again and for some reason I have not posted anything about this fine ass man yet??? I haven't seen many soft tsukki fics so writing this was a necessity.

Tsukishima’s heart was racing, looking anywhere but in your direction when you sat at your desk, finding a white envelope.

Stupid, embarrassing almost.

Since when did tsukishima write romantic poetry? Or even poetry for that matter.

And since when did he go from being careful and calculated to writing sappy poems at 3 am

for you?

It could be worse, he told himself, he could have chosen a pink envelope instead of a white one taking this situation to a whole new level of disgusting.

Like the colour of the envelope changes the fact that he wrote a lovesick poem for you at 3 am in the morning.

He valiantly controlled the urge to turn on his heels and make a run for it when you picked up the envelope, eying it suspiciously like any normal person would.

He thinks his soul left his body when he watched you open the envelope from the corner of his eye.

“Oh my god is that a love letter?” a friend of yours asked, chirping behind you.

“Yeah, but it’s not signed though”

Leave it to tsukishima to lose his shit over an unsigned love letter.

This was the perfect solution to the massive problem at hand.

The problem being his feelings towards you.

Being the rational person he was,

Every problem had a solution, right?

Wrong.

The love letter that was supposed to diffuse his feelings for you backfired completely when he saw the way you smiled reading the poem he put hours into.

When warmth blossomed in his chest instead of cold indifference,

He knew he was fucked.

Tsukishima had always been popular with girls, not that he cared though.

But he couldn’t help but wonder how you weren’t even the slightest bit swayed by him or when he received gifts and boxes of chocolates from all of the girls in his class on valentines day and yet not a single one from you.

So, of course, he came to the perfectly logical conclusion that what he was feeling wasn’t something ridiculous like a crush or unrealistic like love because god forbid something like that plagues him but was actually just plain old curiosity. idiot.

However, his heart skipping a beat every time you smiled and the giddy feeling he was encompassed with every time you spoke to him clearly said otherwise.

I’m not interested in dating he told Yamaguchi

I couldn’t really care less he said.

Oh if only he could have seen himself now.

Hands dusty with flour as he kneaded dough.

Why was he kneading dough you may ask?

He volunteered to partner with you for extra credit in home economics.

Extra credit that he didn’t need.

He has not the slightest clue as to what possessed him to do something like this because he absolutely detested unnecessary work

but he did

and now here he is kneading dough in your kitchen while you prepare the frosting for the strawberry shortcakes you were making.

But what perplexed him the most was not his sudden eagerness to work his Saturday away but the feeling of contentment and almost excitement replacing his standard irritation in a situation like this.

It was the fact that he didn't mind this, that he liked it which confused him the most.

Catching himself staring at you with doe eyes as you battled with your share of dough way too many times for it to be shrugged off as just curiosity.

“Here let me help” you offered, glancing at his unattended blob of dough that he hadn’t made much progress with because he was too busy staring at you.

“Oh um it’s alright”

“shh move over”

“Really its fi-”

You didn’t give him time to finish as you ducked under his arms such that you were encased between them, your back resting his torso and head against his chest as you placed your hands on what was basically some wet flour.

Tsukishima swears he’s forgotten how to breathe,

A full-blown crimson blush erupted across his cheeks, his golden orbs blown wide.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, mustering the power to not stutter.

You turned, looking at him like he asked the most blatant question ever, quirking a brow “kneading dough, obviously” you said gesturing towards it.

He fiercely debated in his head whether he should stay like this with you or move away just in case he was making you uncomfortable and also because he was afraid that you may hear how loud his heart was beating.

Deciding against moving away, he joined in on the kneading.

Safe to say the dough got extremely over kneaded to the point you had to throw it away and make a fresh batch.

------

Sometimes, tsukishima thinks the sun was made just for you, with the way its rays fell ever so gently against your skin illuminating you as if you were a god.

But that was not the only thing he was focusing on, his chest felt fuzzy and his heartbeat raised as your hand took his, leading him to the infirmary when he hurt his hand during a practice match.

His skin was on fire where your hand met his as you tended to it, concern evident in your eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

“You need to tape your fingers tsukishima, it’s really bad this time” you said, a frown on your face.

He knows he shouldn’t be this hopelessly giddy considering you’re this upset with him, he knows his chest shouldn’t be feeling this warm and head this fuzzy but with your hand in his, in this quiet room away from everyone the penny finally drops.

His fingers curl into yours as a warm smile adorns his features “call me kei”

Shit, this might just be more than a crush.

general taglist: @bokee-hinataa-bokee , @tsumomii

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #hq tsukishima #tsukishima drabbles #tsukishima #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima smut #tsukishma fluff #tsukishma x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukki #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu crack #haikyuu #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: August 8th

Well, doing big posts all together worked for a while but lately I’ve been putting it off because it takes a long time to get them done. I think I’m gonna try switching back to answering asks whenever I can fit it in and posting them one at a time instead of waiting until I’ve filled out one of these major collections.

But for now, here’s more ask answers! Thank you for the questions and for all the kind words along with them ^^.

Hello!! I'm here to ask if its possible to get  the game and its dlcs on steam and play it on android?

I’m afraid not. Steam doesn’t have Android builds on their own site and Steam is not cool with keys for other sites being given out for Steam purchases, so you don’t get the Itch version from buying on Steam.

Hello! Sorry to bother you but, I had a question, if we buy the Game on itchio do we get steam keys or would we need to purchase it twice? 

You would have to buy it twice if you want it in both places, I’m sorry. To repeat myself a little, Steam doesn’t like the key trading thing. Itch may support giving keys for another site, but the reverse isn’t doable with Steam and Steam doesn’t even really want you to get a Steam key for buying somewhere else either. So we just don’t mess around with that.

hey, sorry if this is frequently asked, but is step 4 free dlc or paid for? some of your sources are contradicting each other. 

It’s free! There’s a paid wedding DLC, but Step 4 itself is entirely unpaid.

Hello! I just had a quick question, for the Baxter and Derek DLC's will we be able to confess our feelings to them or let them confess to MC? or will it only be one way? (they confess to MC)

Both type of options will be available!

Hey there! I wanted to ask whether or not the Derek DLC is still on track to be released in August since on the steam discussion board it says it will be released mid 2021. I totally understand if it isn't, I'm just really looking forward to it! If you answer then ty! And keep up the amazing work :D 

It’s not, aha. Unfortunately, 2021 wasn’t easier than 2020 as we hoped so things are still slower than planned. It’ll come out late 2021 or early 2022.

Hi! Firstly I just want to say that I LOVE Our Life. I have played a bit of similar games but this one instantly wins for the best one! Everything about it is amazing! I just wanted to ask if Derek would ever lose feelings for MC, like if they make the deal and then MC gets with Cove would he move on? and even if you don't, after "losing contact" would his feeling fade or would he still like MC? 

If you don’t really keep in touch with him and clearly move on with your life, Derek will too and he’ll be over it. But if you are still close as best as you can be, he’ll still think the MC is special. Though, he’ll always support your relationship with someone else if that’s what’ll make you happy.

Hello! Sorry if you've answered this before but: 'How's Lee related to us? Though which momma? And does she share our player-chosen last names? Also, do you know if Noelani took Pam's last name or did it happen the other way round? 

She’s related to Pamela and Pamela’s last name is the one they use, so the MC has the same last name as Lee.

Will we be able to choose which (they or he) we tend to call Qiu by more often, or will it randomly change depending on the moment? 

Qiu knows which pronoun they’re comfortable with at a time and you’ll call them what they’re happy with. And it doesn’t change between lines, it takes multiple scenes or even full Steps for it to switch. So for extended periods Qiu will be totally a guy or fully agender.

Will Step 4 of OL2 have moments?

It’ll be an epilogue like it is in OL1, so it won’t have a bunch of different Moments.

Hello! Just a quick question, is Sunset bird from OL1 based on a real location? If so what's it called? I wanna visit it +_+

ps i love your games so much <3

It isn’t based on one specific town you can go to, but there are a lot of little coastal towns in Cali that have a similar vibe!

Heyaaa ( I hope you're all well ), umm… it might seem kinda stupid to ask but did Patreon members can have a key for the dlc's ( all the steps-released dlc ) even if they became a member this month or later ? (me? saying this cuz it's my case? maybe ;-;), and once again thanks for absolutely all the amazing works on all the games ! u-u 

You wouldn’t get the DLCs for backing there. The Patreon is for extra bonus content/early access, rather than being a storefront to purchase the normal DLCs. Rarely we give them out as a side gift, but it hardly happens and if what you want is the DLCs it’s best to ignore the Patreon and  buy keys for those directly from Itch or Steam. I’m sorry for the confusion.

Hey y'all, love what youre doing w/Terry. Trans rep outside of player customization is so rare and important to see more of so thank you so much. I do have a question and its that does he have a canon sexuality? I know Miranda was said to be straight ace but I dont believe anything was stated for Terry probably because he wasnt revealed to be a guy which changes things. Im also curious if well get answers on how long hes liked Miranda since he may have liked her in step 3 before she liked him 

Terry likes women and Randy likes men! And he did like Miranda back in Step 3.

Will the Wedding Dlc release at the same time as Step 4? 

They’ll come out separately with Step 4 releasing first.

I really love Our Life so much! I've spent over 20hours playing it even though I only got it a week ago! I was wondering if I could make a fangame for Our Life with a different love interest but same plot. Next-door neighbors romance, multiple steps, etc? I'll probably make it on Google Slides though- 

Sure! I hope you have fun with it and I’m glad you love the game.

How does Cove feel about poly relationships? 

He’s got nothing against them for the people they work for, but he’s 100% monogamous and would only be comfortable with a partner who was willing to be monogamous with him.

Idk if this has been answered before but will Step 4 include the option to advance your feelings towards Cove? 

Yep, you’ll be able to determine your feelings and what your relationship is.

In step 4 will there be a chosen to say we live with Cove even as just friends? 

Yeah, you can choose to live with Cove and that can be done when you’re friends.

I just played the game with the MC and Cove being best friends and omg it’s still so damn cute like the wholesomeness of it all is too much for my heart I swear ^.^  Now with that all said I was wondering can we still marry Cove? if we only love him as a friend like let’s say we’ve made deal with him similar to the one we can make with Derek because let’s real no one could compete with what the MC and Cove have even if they aren’t in love. 

It’s great to hear you enjoyed the friendship story! You can live with Cove, but you can’t marry him platonically. Cove has familial affection for the MC if they’re best-est friends. He wouldn’t think to marry someone he loves like family and even grew up with as though they truly were siblings.

Are you still going to be making a DLC for XOBD? :] 

Yes! We’re slowing adding voiced lines and fixing errors.

It makes me laugh that Shiloh's last name is Fields because that's what I put as my last name! So in Our Life when he talked about "Ms. Fields" picking him up I was extremely confused, lol. That dude mimics personalities so much that he stole my surname!

Oh, wow, that’s a very funny coincidence, haha.

hi !! i cant seem to be able to get the scene where mc is able to propose to cove despite being at the 'love' stage and telling him i'd want to get married, are there any other details that im missing out on? the options just dont appear at the end... 

Maybe you missed telling Cove you were in love with him even if you mentioned wanting to get married or you might’ve accidentally said earlier in the game that you don’t want to progress your relationship further with Cove. We haven’t removed them, so you can get the scene again. It’s just kind of easy to miss since there’s multiple requirements. You can read a little guide in the FAQ.

wait what di you need to do to be able to propose to cove? I've been trying but haven't had much luck 

You can check out the FAQ linked above!

does cove only develop a crush on the mc if the mc is also at crush/in love with him? 

Technically, yes. We treat the non-romantic relationship options as truly non-romantic since we don’t want to bait and switch people. But there’s nothing wrong with headcanoning that Cove does have feelings developing for the MC even before the MC has.

Is there a way to make/allow Lee and Baxter to date?

No, they just don’t have enough time together.

We also got a group of asks related to Tamarack in OL2, but I’m afraid the way they talked about people with larger bodies made me not want to post their words, even if the person didn’t say they’re trying to be hurtful. I will separate out the core question and answer it though, so people can know that info.

Does Tamarack lose weight in later Steps?

No, she doesn’t. As for the other questions included, to be honest, I don’t have to explain/defend having romance options of different sizes. I’m sorry if you’re dealing with unhappiness that’s connected to body image, if that’s where the negative emotions are coming from, but even so I can’t meet you on that level and pretend it’s a problem that needs an answer. A girl who simply isn’t thin being a main love interest is just not an unreasonable concept. Also, Tamarack isn’t a lesbian. Yes, she can date a female MC, but that doesn’t undo her actual sexuality, so I’m not sure where that one part at the end was coming from.

I wonder... can we "fight" with Qiu over leader status? 👀

Not really, haha. No matter how cool your MC is, they’re never gonna replace Qiu for the other kids around. So you can either partner up with him, follow him too, or not be a part of all that group politics stuff.

So when I play the game, sometimes I mentally call Cove “Covie/Covey” and that made me wonder, how does Cove feel about being nicknamed? Not like Romeo/Space Cadet/etc. but like pet names relating to his actual name

It’d depend on his age, personality, and your relationship with him! When he’s younger he’d probably be embarrassed, when he was grown he’d probably be more casual or happy about it.

will you be able to date baxter in step 3 while at crush with cove (but not dating him ofc) sorry if this has been asked already. i really love baxters step 4 design btw!! 

Yeah, you can be crushing on Cove and date Baxter if you weren’t already dating Cove. You just can’t be truly in love with Cove and then switch to Baxter.

I just got my friend into our life, and they adore shiloh and derek sooo will there be more of them in the second game? 

I’m afraid not. But you can see plenty more of Shiloh in XOXO Droplets/XOXO Blood Droplets, haha.

I see you haven't gotten any xoxo droplets asks recently but I'm still obsessed with these boys!! I was just wondering if Nate would curse under any circumstance? 

Yeah, Nate does use certain swear words (damn, hell, bastard) on very rare occasions.

Hi there! I have a question about the wedding dlc. Will we be able to plan a honeymoon during the planning stages of it or would it be something that Cove and the mc would rather plan later on? Thank you! Absolutly love the game by the way, definitely one of my favorite games! 

The focus will be on the wedding day itself. The topic of the honeymoon might come up a bit, but there won’t be any choosing of the exact location and such.

Hi! I have two questions and it's completely understandable if you only answer one/neither and I'm sorry if you've already answered either before! First, is there a set year in which OL:B&A takes place (ex: Step 1 being set in 2010 & Step 2 being set in 2016, etc.) or is it simply up to interpretation? Second, have you guys thought about doing a coming-of-age game where the MC has a tough home life or upbringing? (like one of their parents is an addict, a parent being transphobic whilst the player has the option to be trans, or having friends that are influencing them to do drugs, etc.) That's all! Thanks for making beautiful games. <3 

There is a set timeline!

Step 1: 2006 Step 2: 2011 Step 3: 2016 Step 4: 2021 

And we don’t currently plan on making a game like that. The Our Life series exists to be a safer environment for people to play around in and if we did do a brand new series that was harsher edged it’d be something more fantastical and/or plot-driven instead of a different type of modern day slice-of-life growing up story. I’m sorry.

i don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but do you have a guess on when phase 4 will come out? as well as ol2? i’m so excited for both of them, the inclusivity in this game is amazing, you guys should be really proud of it! 

Step 4 will be coming out very soon! OL2 is gonna take until 2023 to be anywhere near completion. But we might episodically release the Steps one at a time as they get done instead of waiting for three to be finished before launch like we did with the first game.

Hello, I was curious if there was an official or unofficial discord server for the game? 

We do have a discord! You can join by clicking this link HERE.

how long do you plan to keep ol's patreon running? 

Hopefully for at least a few more years.

Are you considering ever making merch? 

Yeah, but I don’t know when it’ll happen or what exactly we’ll make, aha. It’s something we want do, just nothing is set.

hi! i just found out about your game a couple of days ago on tiktok (so sorry if you’ve already answered this question) and i was wondering if y’all are ever planning to release it on iOS? 

I have no idea. It’s hard for a small group to get Apple approval and I honestly can’t say if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe someday, though!

Hi, I love the art style of Our life and I would like to know if the artist has a Twitter? Also, could it be possible to fund more CGs for the game from him/her? So many times, I wish there was one like when the cutscene of the sunshower. 

That’s nice of you to offer. He doesn’t have a Twitter, at least not one that’s public enough to be shared with me. And I’m afraid not. The issue is that the CGs take huge amounts of time rather than there not being a budget for it. He’s gotta make CGs for Step 4, the DLCs, and new character sprites, too. There isn’t space in the schedule for even more. Sorry for that.

Hi, how are you?!

Are you planning on accepting new writers or is it always the same people who write your stories??

Thanks!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be getting new writers, but we will be hiring a new team of writers for Our Life: Now & Forever eventually!

perhaps this counts as nsfw and I'm sure it has been answered before but what does Cove prefer, chests/boobs or butts? or perhaps both :3c thank you for this wonderful game (and the patreon bonus moment, it was worth all the waiting and more ♥) 

He’s a “chests of all shapes and sizes” kind of guy, haha.

i was wondering- did any of the writers actually grow up by the beach? as someone who's lived in a beach town all their life it really did feel nostalgic to play through our life 1 

I was born and raised in Cali! Though, not right by the beach. We still had to make trips out, but the setting is based on my own childhood memories of small beach towns we went through.

In Derek’s upcoming DLC, will we be able to reference the pact we made as teens? (love olba and xod/xobd so much btw you’re literally amazing) 

Yep, you will be able to talk about that!

Oh, sorry about the Cole being secretly L ask, then!

If you wanted context: Death Note is about this one guy who finds a notebook that kills anyone who you write the name of in there. The guy eventually develops a God Complex and starts mass killing criminals and stuff. L is the one trying to find out who is killing all these people.

Me and my sister first joked about it because I couldn't remember how to translate a word about the way Cove was sitting, so I just did the pose, and it looked a lot like how L himself sits! Then we just snowballed from there, with more and more nonsense connections.

That’s okay! Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I didn’t know what you meant.

#our life #ask #gb patch #gb patch games