#tree of light 54

[389]

‘TREE OF LIGHT 54′  Tatyana Murray Glass, Plexi, Led Lights, Wood; REFRACTED LIGHT 39 1.2H x 19 3/4L x 5 1/4D inches

#art #Tatyana Murray #tree #installation #contemporary #tree of light 54 #glass #plexi #led lights #wood #refraction #light #u #z #v

[prokopetz]

Your long and arduous journey has led you to this, the final confrontation. You thought you knew what to expect, but just as you struck the final blow, your ultimate foe's eyes gleamed with unnatural light as they proclaimed…

THIS ISN'T EVEN MY FINAL FORM

A game for 4–6 players

Introduction

This Isn't Even My Final Form is a GMless tactical minigame for 4–6 players. You'll take on the roles of a party of heroic adventurers nearing the end of a world-spanning quest to defeat a great evil, the Final Boss. Unfortunately for them, each time they think they've won, the Final Boss assumes a new, even more horrifying form, and the struggle begins anew. Is there any end to this conflict? There's only one way to find out!

What You'll Need

This Isn't Even My Final Form requires a dozen six-sided dice, as well as a way of keeping track of a few important numbers – a shared text document or some scrap paper will suffice.

Update 2023-10-30: Print-and-play card decks are available here:

http://penguinking.com/this-isnt-even-my-final-form/

Character Creation

Choose two of the following actions to be your Party Member's Class Actions: Strike, Heal, Buff, Debuff. If you'd rather determine this randomly, roll on the following table.

1. Strike, Heal 2. Strike, Buff 3. Strike, Debuff 4. Heal, Buff 5. Heal, Debuff 6. Buff, Debuff

Give your Party Member's Class a name which suits your Class Actions. Also give your Party Member a name; it is traditional but not obligatory for your Party Member's name to have exactly five letters.

Playing the Game

Play is divided into a series of Phases. During each Phase, one player takes on the role of the Final Boss. That player's Party Member does not participate in this Phase; they're trapped, lost, incapacitated, or otherwise separated from the party or unable to act for the duration of the Phase. All other players take on the roles of their Party Members.

The Final Boss player's first order of business is to describe what the current Phase looks like. The Final Boss player can roll 1–3 times on the following table (re-rolling duplicates) to decide on a theme, or use it as inspiration for their own theme. To use this table, roll a six-sided die twice, treating the first roll as the "tens" place and the second roll as the "ones" place, yielding a number in the range from 11 to 66.

11. Beasts 12. Bells 13. Blood 14. Bones 15. Chains 16. Chaos 21. Cubes 22. Eyes 23. Fire 24. Flowers 25. Food 26. Games 31. Gears 32. Glass 33. Gold 34. Hands 35. Holes 36. Ice 41. Iron 42. Light 43. Mazes 44. Meat 45. Mirrors 46. Music 51. Orbs 52. Order 53. Plague 54. Shadow 55. Slime 56. Space 61. Spikes 62. Teeth 63. Time 64. Trees 65. Weapons 66. Wings

Once the Phase has been defined, set the party's Momentum to zero. Momentum is a value which will increase or decrease over the course of the Phase; it has a minimum value of zero, and no particular upper limit.

Play proceeds in a series of rounds, as follows.

The Final Boss Attacks

The Final Boss always goes first in each round. Roll one die:

1–3: The Final Boss chooses one of the following actions. 4–5: The Final Boss chooses two of the following actions. You may not target the same Party Member twice; however, you may use the same action on two different Party Members if you wish. 6: The Final Boss does nothing this round. On its turn next round, it does not roll and instead uses its Ultimate Attack.

Wound: Inflict the Critical Condition on a single Party Member. If the chosen Party Member already has the Critical Condition, it's replaced with the Down Condition and the party loses one Momentum.

Imprecate: Inflict the Cursed Condition on a single Party Member.

Envenom: Inflict the Poisoned Condition on a single Party Member.

Bewilder: Inflict the Confused Condition on a single Party Member.

Counter: If you're targeted by the Strike or Debuff actions this round, after resolving that action, perform the Wound action on the Party Member who targeted you. You may counter any number of actions in this way.

Dispel: Remove the Buffed and Protected Conditions from any number of Party Members.

Enrage: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the better result on its next action. The party may cancel this benefit with a successful Debuff action; doing so removes the extra die instead of forcing the Final Boss to roll twice and take the lower result.

Ultimate Attack: This action can only be chosen by rolling a 6 during the previous round. When the Final Boss uses this action, choose Cursed, Poisoned, or Confused: you may perform the Wound action AND inflict the chosen Condition upon any number of Party Members, in that order. (i.e., Wound each targeted Party Member, THEN Curse/Confuse/Poison any who remain standing.)

The Final Boss player describes the outcome of the chosen action(s) in as much or as little detail as they like; control then passes to the other players.

The Party Acts

After the Final Boss has attacked, each Party Member who doesn't have the Down condition chooses one of the following actions, in any order the players wish. After choosing any action other than Defend, the player rolls their dice pool, which is a handful of six-sided dice constructed as follows:

Start with a number of dice equal to the party's current Momentum (initially zero, though it will grow over the course of the Phase)

Add one die if you're performing one of your Party Member's Class Actions

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Buffed Condition

Add one die if your Party Member currently has the Critical Condition

Roll all of the dice together, and find the highest result. Ties for the highest result have no special significance; for example, if you rolled four dice and got 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 5. If you'd ever end up with zero or fewer dice for any reason – either because your dice pool was empty to begin with, or because some effect obliged you to discard every die you rolled – you receive an automatic result of 1.

If an action requires you to target a specific Party Member or make other choices, you can wait and see the result of your roll before making those decisions.

Strike: You attack the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: Nothing happens – either the attack misses, or the Final Boss turns out to be immune to whatever you just did. 4–5: The attack strikes true. The party gains one Momentum. 6: Critical hit! The party gains two Momentum.

Special: If you roll triples or better (i.e., at least three of the same number) on a Strike action, the Final Boss' current Phase is defeated, and you move on to the next Phase. It doesn't matter what number comes up triples.

Heal: You attempt to restore the party's strength. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may remove the Critical Condition from a single Party Member. If no Party Member has the Critical Condition, nothing happens. 4–5: You may remove the Critical Condition from any number of party members OR you may remove the Down Condition from a single Party Member. 6: You may remove the Critical and Down Conditions from any number of party members.

Buff: You attempt to bolster a party member. Roll your dice pool:

1–3: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from a single Party Member. 4–5: You may grant the Buffed Condition to a single Party Member AND remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down from that Party Member, if they have one. 6: You may grant the Buffed Condition OR remove a Condition of your choice other than Critical or Down to any number of Party Members. You may choose a different option for each targeted Party Member.

Debuff: You attempt to weaken the Final Boss. Roll your dice pool:

1-3: Nothing happens – it turns out the Final Boss was immune to that effect. 4–5: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action. 6: The Final Boss rolls two dice and takes the lower result on its next action AND the party gains one Momentum.

Defend: You may grant the Protected condition to a Party Member of your choice. Do not roll.

Based on the outcome of your roll (if applicable), describe the outcome of your action in as much or as little detail as you wish.

Once each Party Member has acted, return to "The Final Boss Attacks" to begin the next round.

Ending the Phase

As noted above, rolling triples or better on a Strike action results in the immediate defeat of the current Phase. Alternatively, if all Party Members simultaneously have the Down Condition, the Final Boss player's Party Member suddenly breaks free or arrives on the scene and rescues everyone in a stunning deus ex machina; this also ends the Phase, but does not count as defeating it.

In either case, reset the party's momentum to zero, remove all Conditions, and move on to the next Phase. The role of the Final Boss passes to a different player, with preference given to those who haven't yet had a chance to be the Final Boss; the previous Final Boss player resumes playing their Party Member.

Continue until the party has defeated a number of Phases at least equal to the number of players, or until mutual agreement has been reached that all this has gone on quite long enough.

Conditions

Some actions can impose Conditions upon the individual Party Members. Conditions can be positive or negative, and last until specific conditions for their removal are met.

Buffed: Your strength has been boosted. When rolling your dice pool, you roll one extra die.

Confused: You've lost your wits. When the party acts, your action is determined by rolling a d6 – 1: Strike; 2: Heal; 3: Buff; 4: Debuff; 5: Defend; 6: do nothing this round AND remove this Condition. This Condition is also removed if you gain the Critical Condition while under its effects. You may choose targets normally if the rolled action requires them. Confused Party Members always act before their un-Confused peers; if there are multiple Confused Party Members, the Final Boss decides the order in which they act.

Critical: You are badly wounded. Desperation lends strength, and so this Condition adds one extra die to your dice pools; however, if you suffer the Critical Condition a second time, it becomes the Down Condition instead.

Cursed: You've been afflicted with misfortune. Discard your highest result after rolling your dice pool, but before applying your chosen action's effects. If there's a tie for the highest result, discard all of them; for example, if you roll four dice while Cursed and get 1, 3, 5 and 5, your result is 3. If the Condition causes you to discard your only set of triples of better on a Strike action, the Phase does not end.

Down: You are incapacitated by injury or foul enchantment. When the party acts, you may not choose an action; your action remains lost even if this Condition is removed before the end of the round. When you gain this Condition, remove all other Conditions, and the party loses one Momentum. (This is not in addition to the Momentum loss noted by effects which inflict this Condition – those are just reminders.) You may not gain other Conditions while this one persists.

Poisoned: You're afflicted by a poison, plague, or death-curse. If you have the Poisoned Condition after resolving your action for the round, you gain the Critical Condition. If you already have the Critical Condition, you instead gain the Down Condition, and the party loses one Momentum.

Protected: The next time you would gain any Condition other than Buffed, remove this Condition instead. You also remove this Condition if you take any action other than Defend on your turn.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #this isn't even my final form #game design #violence mention

[vechter]

the trees witness everything, victoria chang // batman: dark victory (1999) #13 // robin: year one (2000) #1 // light, sleeping at last // jla (1997) #69 // batman (2016) #130 // light, sleeping at last // batman (2016) #54 // moony moonless sky, fatima aamer bilal // jla (1997) #73 // batman (1940) #416 // robin (1993) #13 // checkmate (2006) #14 // the two times i loved you the most in a car, dorothea grossman // batman: gotham knights (2000) #21 // outsiders (2003) #49 // robin 80th anniversary 100-page super spectacular (2020) // robin in a cage, george ralston wyllie // poetry, richard siken

bruce & dick + (mis)communication

#dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #web weaving #robin #webweaving #nightwing #batman #batman and robin #dick & bruce: you'll never recover from that kind of devotion #today on things I have in common with bruce wayne we are both soooooo normal about dick grayson #bruce wayne the man that u are #also ending this with a robin in a cage is soooo fucked up of me #gotham is a cage and dick has always been a bird

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the something blue

lilac, chapter sixteen

a/n: i gotta admit, I felt pretty proud of myself back when i came up with the title for this chapter. really clicking into that big brain of mine, giving it multiple meanings

summary: Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, wedding, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 917

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

As you pulled open the zipper on your backpack that was momentarily resting on the wobbly porch bench, a small smile tugged at your lips as your gaze washed over the dancing figures distantly in the garden. Softly lit by the twinkle lights strung from the trees, you caught sight of Donna, in the middle of the grassy dancefloor, swaying closely with a man about a head shorter than her, the strong embrace she had around him smooshed his face far into her bosom. Twirling around, she caught the eye of both Otto and your father who were off to the side, dancing as if they were in Studio 54. 

Shifting the tupperware of cake under your arm, you fished out your phone from your bag’s front pocket and began to type out a message. 

Y/n: Finally done! Hope you’re not asleep yet because I am on my way!

And just a few short moments later, your phone plinged with a reply.

Frank: Don’t worry, sweetheart. I am wide awake.

Smiling softly to yourself, you tucked your phone away, nearly shoving it into the folded-up cotton of the underwear you’d rid yourself of just minutes earlier when you had dipped inside to grab your stuff from your room. 

Closing the front compartment, you slung the backpack over one shoulder and smoothed a hand down over the deep green velvet wrap dress that enveloped your curves, hugging you and cascading off like a waterfall. 

Casting one last glance over your shoulder at the celebrations still in full swing, you slowly made your way out front to where your car was parked among all of the guests’. 

With gravel crunching beneath your modest heels, you neared your vehicle, tugging your bag around to your front as your fingers fiddled after your keys. Halting just as you neared the door, you glanced down a moment before finally finding the keys at the very bottom of your bag. 

But just as you fished the jangly bundle out and moved to unlock your car, heavy pairs of footsteps rustled in the gravel behind you. 

Absentmindedly glancing over your shoulder, assuming that it was just a sleepy wedding guest ready to go home, you instead spotted two big, rough-looking individuals that you didn’t recollect from the day’s festivities. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, your words ended up muffled as they rushed and closed the gap between you, one of them clasping a palm over your lips, nicotine staining the harsh flesh and burning in your nostrils. 

The cake and the keys tumbled to the ground with your backpack soon following suit as they grabbed you, lifted you off your feet and hauled you towards a close by dark van you hadn’t even blinked at before. You tried to get free, kicking and screaming in their grasp, but all your struggles granted you was the loss of both of your shoes.  

As they threw you into the back of the vehicle, the tumble itself onto the cold metal floor left you breathless and aching, the alarmed words, “what are you–,” escaped your lips just before one of the men stepped in after you and the other slammed the door shut. Sitting down on the small bench on the side wall, his hands dipped into a duffle bag as you squeaked, “let me go!” 

Not even casting a glance off in your direction, he just conjured a roll of duct tape as you soon felt the van begin to drive off. 

Leaning in, the man captured your wrists and began to bind them up. 

“This must be a mistake, I-I think you’ve got the wrong person,” tears rolled down your cheeks as he moved to restrain your ankles, “i-if you just stop and drop me off, I promise I won’t go to the authorities,” you trembled like a leaf on the grimy floor, “please, just let me go!”

“Shut up, bitch,” he shot back coldly. 

Casting a glance over your shoulder at the small window that looked to the driver’s seat as well as the night’s swallowing darkness they speeded into, you tried to ask, “w-where are you taking me?”

“I said,” the man looming above you growled before he tore off another piece of tape and forced it over your lips, “shut up,” soon following it up with a dark cloth bag that he tugged over your head.

Disappearing into the void, you had no idea how long the bumpy car ride took. Could have been an hour, could have been a day. The time was impossible to decipher as all you could feel was the paralysing terror that ravaged every inch of your being. 

But at some point, the van did roll to a stop and you heard the doors again be ripped open. 

A shrill yelp muffled against the tape as you felt numerous rough hands grab a hold of you and haul you out. Your balance was non-existent as your bound feet met freezing concrete, the bruising grips being the only thing holding you upright.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light after they ripped the dark hood off, a few strands of your hair following with them in the action. 

You were in a parking garage of some sort, but that discovery wasn’t what made you nearly faint. It was the familiar, suit-clad man standing before you with his ring-adorned hands shoved casually into his pant pockets. 

“Hello, doll.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst

[humansofnewyork]

(44/54) "On my final morning in Iran I woke with the sun. I knelt to the ground and prayed. It was a six mile walk to the border. The road climbed through the mountains, the same mountains that ran through Nahavand. But in Nahavand the trees were green. Here there was no life. Ferdowsi once wrote: ‘You cannot escape what is written.’ I’ve always hated that quote. There’s always a choice to be made. Just do the next right thing. That’s what I’ve always believed. Do the next right thing, say the next true thing, and a path will open up. A way will appear. I thought that we could get there. I thought that we, as a people, were going to get there. Every day we would take a step closer: more jobs, more hospitals, more schools. If only we kept choosing the next right thing, we could get there. We could build a new Iran around us. In the end light would win, as Ferdowsi writes: ‘The universe bends toward goodness.’ But you must never underestimate the forces of darkness. They can be victorious for a long time. Years. Decades. Lifetimes. Ferdowsi worked for thirty-three years. Seven verses a day. In the name of the God of Soul and Wisdom. But when he finished no one cared. Iran had been invaded once again, this time by the Turks. No one took the time to read his words. He died a broken man. Nobody heard the story of his life. Nobody heard the story of his death. He wasn’t even given a proper burial. The local cleric wouldn’t allow him to be buried in an Islamic cemetery, so they buried him in his garden. But he died with hope. Because he knew. He knew that no matter how deep they are buried, some words have wings. At the end of Shahnameh, Ferdowsi wrote: “I shall not die. These seeds I’ve sown will save my name and memory from the grave.”

 واپسین سپیده‌د‌مم در ایران بود. با خورشید برخاستم و نماز خواندم. تا مرز دو فرسنگ راه بود و راه مرزی از کوهستان زاگرُس می‌گذشت. همان رشته‌کوهی که از نهاوند هم می‌گذرد. ولی در نهاوند درختها سبز بودند. اینجا نشانی از زندگی ندیدم. مرز بسته و گذرگاه تهی بود. حس می‌کردم، مرگ پا به پای من می آید. فردوسی گفته بود: بکوشیم و از کوشش ما چه سود / کز آغاز بود آن چه بایست بود. همواره از این گفته بیزار بوده‌ام. همیشه انتخاب و گزینشی هست. هراندازه تاریک می‌نماید، کار نیکِ پیشِ رو را انجام دهیم بس است. این باور همیشگی من بوده است. اگر تنها نیک‌کردار باشیم و راستی‌ها را بازگوییم، راهی باز و گذرگاهی نمایان خواهد شد. فکر می‌کردم که می‌توانیم به آنجا برسیم. بر این باور بودم که ملت ما به آنجا خواهد رسید. هر روز یک گام و نزدیکتر خواهیم شد: پیشه‌های بیشتر، درمانگاه‌های بیشتر، آموزشگاه‌های بیشتر. اگرهمواره گزینه‌های نیکِ پیشِ رو را بر می‌گزیدیم به آنجا می‌رسیدیم، می‌توانستیم ایرانی نو پیرامون خود بسازیم. هنگامی که چشم‌اندازی بسیار تاریک هم روبه‌رویمان باشد، هنوز گزینه‌ای هست تا سرنوشت را خود ‌بنویسیم. همیشه گزینه‌ای هست. نیکی یا بدی. روشنایی یا تاریکی. فرهنگ ما نویدبخش پیروزی روشنایی بر تاریکی‌ست چنانکه فردوسی می‌سراید: که گیتی نگردد، مگر بر بهی / به ما بازگردد کلاه مهی. ولی هشیار باشیم، نیروی تاریکی را اندک نینگاریم! تاریکی می‌تواند زمانی دراز بپاید. سال‌ها، دهه‌ها و بیشتر. فردوسی، دلشکسته جهان را بدرود گفت. یگانه پسرش مُرده بود. ایران در نبردی دیگر شکست خورده بود. ترک‌ها اکنون کشور را زیر فرمان داشتند. سی‌وسه سال رنج او را در برآوردن آن کاخ بلند درنیافتند. گفتار نغزش ناخوانده ماند. مرد دینکار از خاکسپاری او در گورستان مسلمانان جلوگیری کرد. ناگزیر او را در باغ خانه‌اش به خاک سپردند. کسی داستان زندگی او را نشنید. کسی از مرگ‌اش آگاه نشد. بزرگمرد روزگاران این خُرسندی را داشت که سخنانش در گور نمی‌شوند، بال گشوده و پرواز می‌کنند. هرجا و هر اندازه ��اژگانش را در ژرفای خاک فرو برند، بال خواهند گشود و پرواز خواهند کرد. جاودان مردا، تو می‌دانستی و آنرا به زیبایی سرودی: نمیرم از این پس که من زنده‌ام / که تُخم سخن را پراکنده‌ام

[seoafin]

dog days are over | chapter five

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): mentions of virginity loss, threesomes, depression (the holy trinity lmfao), birth control, full on dissociative panic attack but not in detail, obligatory stsg warning. also cheating mention (but not really gojo is just jealous and geto likes the attention. they gaslight each other for fun btw) word count: ~9.2k

fic masterlist read on ao3

The nightmares start after Nagoya.

You wake up bleary eyed and distinctly worn out, with a heaviness in your chest that you carry with you. It only gets heavier.

The auxiliary manager you worked with promised to share any more relevant information with you about the case. You should have left it at that.

It becomes harder to stay uninvolved in your assignments, you're beginning to find, especially when innocent lives are taken.

You leave a piece of yourself behind every time a child cries.

You sit up from your bed and glance at the clock above the doorway. 11:54 AM. Light streams in from your windows, and you close your eyes in the temporary warmth before it fades, leaving your room cold. Outside, the trees are barren and the overcast is gray in preparation for the upcoming winter. It’s reaching that time of year you feel the most lethargic, where people and time pass by you in a blur. In the spring you’ll wake up fully, and it’ll the cold will have faded like a bad dream. 

It's almost Satoru's birthday.

It’s cold. You feel goosebumps form on your arms. It occurs to you that you may have forgotten to turn on the heat in your apartment. Central heat. A rare luxury in these types of apartments. But you don’t want to leave the warmth of your bed, so you lie back down and curl into your bed.

Just as you’re about to succumb back to temporary emptiness, the door to your bedroom is thrown open. You wince as the door slams into the wall, raising your head.

“Something happened,” Shoko says plainly, crossing her arms. “I hope you haven’t been hiding from me on purpose.” 

You don’t recall giving Shoko a key. But you must have, if she’s inside of your apartment. Guilt churns in your stomach. You’ve been avoiding not just her, but Satoru and Suguru. You’re unsure of how to act around them anymore. You don’t know how much you can tell her. How much you should.

Then she lightly frowns. “Why is it so cold in here?”

You sit up, worried the cold might be bothering her. “Let me turn on the heat.”

Before you can stand, she waves you off, taking off her coat and lazily throwing it on a nearby chair. “Forget that,” she sighs, walking over to your bed and motioning you over. “Move over.”

You wordlessly comply, scooting to the far end of the bed as she settles next to you, lifting the covers over her body. 

The two of you look at each other, at the opposite ends of your pillow, sharing your comforter. At the warmth of her body, you almost close your eyes. You think if you fell asleep now, no nightmares would come to you.

“Shoko,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

But you had. Days passed in a blur. You didn’t give much thought to it, devoting all your efforts to routine. Luckily, there were no assignments after Nagoya. This bitter winter is a slow season for curses. You went from your apartment to Tokyo University and back, buried yourself in your studies, and blocked out the world. You hadn’t meant to. You kept on telling yourself you’d reply to that text, that you’d show your face again, that you’d pretend everything was alright even though it wasn’t. Now you’ve caused Shoko undue worry.

She simply looks at you. “Something happened at the party, didn’t it?”

You think of Satoru. Then Suguru. It’s the most you’ve thought about them in weeks. You don’t want to think about them because the longer you do, the more your thoughts stray in ways it shouldn’t.

You pull your covers up to your chin, troubled, and your silence speaking volumes. She softens. 

“Never mind. I’m not here to force you to talk,” she pauses. “But if something happened. Something you didn’t want , then I want you to tell me.” She exhales. “Even if it’s Satoru and Suguru. Especially if it’s those two.”

It wasn’t…They didn’t…They…

You’re conflicted. “They wouldn’t…” you trail off weakly.

She looks at you blankly.

“It…”

You bury your face into your comforter. You don’t have the words to explain. It’s okay, you want to tell her. You’re more worried about Satoru and Suguru’s relationship than anything else. They’re arguing about something, you want to tell her, and engaging in acts with you you know they’ll regret. You’ve never cared much for what they do with you. You’d do anything, give them everything if they asked. If she asked. You lower the blanket.

She eyes you, suspicion lining her face. “Did they—”

“No,” you blurt out before she can finish. “Yes. Maybe.” You hesitate. “It wasn’t…”

Bad.

It feels like an admission of guilt. It felt so good it was horrible. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it. You shouldn’t have succumbed to the pleasure, not when the future of Satoru and Suguru’s relationship hung in the balance. It’s your fault, you think once again. The world is collapsing on top of you, and you can’t help but think it’s punishment for your existence. For taking more than you should have.

“Are you on birth control?”

You stare at her. “What?”

“Birth control,” she repeats, deathly serious. She rises from the bed. “I should get you started now—”

You reach for her delicate wrist, stopping her. “It’s not like that!” Your face warms with embarrassment. “I promise, it’s not like that.”

It's not that serious, you're sure. Even the thought gives you pause, makes you apprehensively embarrassed. It's not...like that. 

Luckily, it’s something you don’t have to worry or think about. 

“...If you say so.” She says, not believing you in the slightest. She retakes her position on the bed. “So,” she says after a pause. “Shirokami visited the infirmary.”

Right. You forgot Hideo had gone and introduced himself to Shoko.

Your stomach flutters, nervous. “Did you like him?”

“I did,” she replies. “He’s…” a thoughtful pause. “Nice. A country boy.” A wry smile. “Nothing like those two. At all. It’s refreshing, actually.”

Relief. You suppose he did grow up in the countryside, so it’s not too far off from the mark. As for being like Satoru or Suguru…

You resolve not to be hurt. The two of them are under no obligation to meet anyone. You won’t be hurt. 

“He made it seem like the two of you are close friends.”

You’re sure he’s just being polite. Hideo is nice like that. Nonetheless, it makes you a bit happy to hear you made an impression on him. That he thinks of you fondly. He considers you a friend. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.

The comforter is warm with the shared heat of your bodies. Sleep calls out to you.

“He…scares me a little,” you say quietly. Hideo reminds you of a part of your life you don’t like to revisit. He makes you feel like a child again, afraid to be alone. “There’s a lot I don’t like to remember…about…back then. But I’m glad I met him again.”

“I see,” she says, smiling. “Then me too. I’m glad the two of you found each other again.”

You blink drowsily, smiling back at her. Shoko’s face is the last thing you see before heaviness drags your eyelids to darkness.

—

When you wake up, you are pleasantly revitalized and a little more alert. Shoko is gone, but there’s takeout on your kitchen counter. You take a bite of the Vietnamese noodles and realize that your taste buds have somewhat returned. You eat the entire meal, full for the first time in what seems like months.

You reply to a text from Hideo about the crowd at Shibuya crossing, smiling at the litany of exclamation points accompanying by his texts. You realize Megumi texted you earlier, about when you’d be coming by again and another pang of guilt hits you. You’ve been neglecting the kids too, lately. You wouldn't survive Mimiko and Nanako's wide eyes, gazing up at you, pleading at you to stay with them.

It’s six now, and the sky is pitch black. You know for a fact that Suguru and Satoru won’t be at the apartment until later. Yaga-sensei had mentioned Gakuganji visiting Tokyo accompanied by several other clan members for some annual conference. You didn’t pay attention to the details.

You…could visit. Suguru would have already fed the kids by now. Maybe you could take Megumi and the girls out for dessert. Or order something to the apartment. You feel lighter at the thought. Spending time with the kids always made you feel better. It’s something you can do, as small as it is. Small things.

Small steps.

You change and you’re out the door shortly. It doesn’t take you long to reach the apartment, greet the doorman, and take the elevator up. You knock. A few minutes later, the door swings opens, revealing Megumi.

“Hi,” you say brightly. “Have you been well?”

“Fine.” He lets you in. “Don’t you have a key?”

You laugh, still a bit breathless from the cold as you hang your coat up. “It doesn’t feel right to use it. I’m still a guest after all.”

Megumi doesn’t respond to that as the two of you enter the living room. It’s unusually quiet. “Where are the girls?”

“Mimiko and Nanako are with their friends. Tsumiki stayed after school for club.”

Just a couple of years ago, the thought of Mimiko and Nanako willingly spending time out of the apartment would have been a surprise. The two of them had been so recalcitrant about attending school. Suguru wanted to keep them homeschooled while Satoru thought putting them in school would be the best way to ease them out of their shell. It had taken time and patience, with several bad days, but eventually the two warmed up to their teachers and fellow classmates, Nanako especially. And where Nanako went, Mimiko always followed.

Mimiko had flowered into a sociable butterfly following her reintegration into society. It makes you happy to know that the two are alright now, so readily available to spend time with their friends.

“Just me and you, huh.” Megumi wouldn’t leave you though. Not yet. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” he states. “Earlier. I was just finishing my homework.”

You glance at the kitchen counter, finding Megumi’s homework spread around. “You don’t usually do your homework outside your room.”

“It’s quiet with everyone gone,” he says bluntly. 

You smile, taking a seat as Megumi slides in next to you. He resumes his homework, and you let him carry on, helping him when he asks, simply content to watch. A few pauses during this science homework which you help him through easily. He glides through his English homework, and you feel unnaturally proud of him as you proofread his work.

It doesn’t take him long to finish. Soon, he’s gathering his homework up and packing it into his backpack.

“I was thinking,” you start. You hear the door open in the distance. It must be the girls. Perfect timing. “That we could all go out for—”

You turn, every hair on your body rising in panic.

“Sato—s’guru,” you blurt out, frozen. “What are you guys doing back so early?” Your question comes out more accusative than you intended. Of course they could come back as early as they wanted. It was their home after all. You were the interloper. 

It’s just..

You thought that you’d have a little longer!

The two of them look at you. You shift uncomfortably, gaze bouncing from them to the floor to the wall behind to anything else. You’re a little more aware of the heat of their gazes on you, pinning you to the spot. Your collar feels warm, nerves jumping beneath your skin.

“The meeting ended early,” Suguru says amicably, smiling at you in a way that would be reassuring at any other given moment. “Satoru didn’t want to stick around.”

Satoru is oddly quiet, gazing at you. Even with his sunglasses on, you feel the weight of it, that prickle that tells you he’s focusing his attention on you. Your bottom lip twinges. You are determined not to meet his gaze. Or hold Suguru’s for too long.

Satoru cocks his head to the side. “You staying over?”

You think it’s Satoru’s way of telling you to leave. That you’ve outstayed your welcome. Suguru is too nice to say it outright.

“No,” you say, voice thin, throat growing thick. “I’m leaving now.”

“Can we talk?” Suguru asks quietly after murmuring your name. He gazes at you.

That’s the last thing you want. To be alone with the two of them. You don’t want to hear what they have to say. You want to imagine things to be okay, just for a little longer. Until you can’t.

“I’m sorry!” You say suddenly, antsy, hit by a sudden need to justify your presence at their home. You hope Megumi forgives you for the lie you’re about to tell. You glance down at him. “I just came over because Megumi needed school supplies!”

There’s a long silence.

A shadow of a twitch of an eyebrow falls over Satoru's face. "Since when does Megumi need school supplies?”

Suguru watches you carefully. 

Your face burns in silent shame. You stare at the floor, feeling horrible. 

“Since today,” Megumi returns testily. “We’ll be going now.”

Satoru looks mortally offended.

Megumi takes your hand and walks you out while you can't bring yourself to lift your head.

Outside, you bury your face into your knees. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Just give me a few…”

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath while your heart races in your ears.

“Are Satoru and Suguru okay?” You suddenly ask Megumi, who stays silent next to you. “Any issues?”

“They’re the same as ever,” Megumi says tonelessly, but his face is softer in its worry.

You smile. “I’m fine,” you tell him reassuringly.

He's right. If anything, at least the two of them don’t seem to be fighting. Not like they were during the wedding. But you still don’t think you can go back in there, and now you’ve forced Megumi out of the apartment.

You feel a mixture of guilt and horrible, horrible dread slowly spreading through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t have come. You probably don’t want to be out this late—”

“I don’t mind,” Megumi says. “I was going to take a walk anyway.”

That brings a small smile to your face. “It’s a bit late to take a walk, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. You feel a bit better at the fact that he’s not bothered at your impromptu outing. Rising, you take his hand once more. “Then let’s walk.”

You and Megumi walk around the neighborhood. The streets are dark, illuminated by streetlights in the mostly residential area. Other than the occasional dog walking passerby, the two of you walk in comfortable silence. Until the two of you find yourself all the way in Shibuya with its bright lights and noise. It’s easy to get lost in the lights of Tokyo’s busy nightlife. Throngs of people pass you by as you meander, following the crowd, with no particular destination in mind.

The two of you stop by a 7-11 tucked a bit further away from the bustle. You buy yourself a strawberry daifuku and ask Megumi if he wants anything. He isn’t hungry, so you buy him green tea.

More aimless walking takes you to Sakuragaokachō, away from the crowd. Streetlights and dark buildings greet you, but something about the area looks familiar. Nudges at muscle memory, the nerves in your foot. If Megumi notices your pace pick up, he doesn’t say anything.

You make your way down the street and slowly approach.

It’s a small, odd shaped building. With a curved dome of a roof that makes it look like a half moon.

You stare. “I think I used to come here.”

You remember the pitch blackness of a room, the steady hum of the ac that had filled the room, and the slow blinking of the stars coming alight on the ceiling. You remember this building. 

The memory feels distorted. Incomplete. You feel like a clumsy child putting together a 500 piece puzzle, slotting pieces that don’t fit together. Your head hurts. 

There’s a sign taped to the window next to the entrance. You momentarily squint.

Closing for good. All bookings are final. 

Closing…for good…

Megumi calls your name.

“Sorry,” you blink it all away. “It’s nothing.”

“...Do you want to go in?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just…”

“It’s still open.”

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to force Megumi along with your whims even more than you already have tonight.

“I want to go in,” Megumi points inside. “We can buy tickets right now. It’s the last show”

He looks serious enough that you consider it, glancing at the building. If it were any other child but Megumi you might have worried that it would be boring. “Alright,” you say slowly, less troubled. “If you really don’t mind…”

He tugs you forward. The two of you enter the carpeted lobby and approach the usher who hands you two tickets without much fanfare and tells you that this is the last showing of the night. To your great relief, nothing looks familiar. It’s all different. It might not even be the planetarium you had regularly been taken to as a child.  

The two of you enter the dark room faintly lit by dim stars dotting the curved ceiling. There are three couples scattered across the room. You let Megumi pick your seats in the corner and slide in next to him on the reclining seats.

The seating is different. It used to be standard seating in rows. You think. You aren’t sure. Maybe you just aren’t remembering it right. You must not be remembering anything right, right now. You’re buffeted by a perturbed feeling that grows stronger with every passing second.

The room is enveloped in darkness. A recorded woman’s voice begins to play. One by one the zodiacs appear above you while the voice drones on about creation myths and history. Amanominakanushi, Takamimusubi, Kamimusubi.

Different constellations are projected onto the ceiling, constantly in motion, forming new shapes, fading in and out.

You used to come here. You were a child then. You aren’t a child anymore. Nothing is the same. You aren’t that naive child that had proclaimed this planetarium your favorite place in the world. You hadn’t cared about the planetarium as much as you loved being pressed against your warm father, and his steady hand on your head. Your mother’s hushed whispers pointing out more stars.

You suddenly can’t breathe. You are keenly aware of Megumi right next to you, the humming of the air condition in the background, the narrator on the speakers, and every single breath trapped in your chest. Your head spins.

You close your eyes, slowly fisting your knuckles until they’re tight, feeling your legs and arms go numb. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. Don’t bother Megumi. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

“—a’am”

“She’s occupied.”

Megumi’s curt voice.

When you open your eyes, the lights are on and you are on the floor, clutching your knees to your chest. You blink, readjusting to the light.

The attendant looks unsure. She looks barely out of high school. “The show’s over and we have to clean up so…”

“Right,” you say unsteadily, embarrassment slowly creeping in. You stand. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s alright…” She looks more relieved than bothered. “The exit’s to the right.”

You quickly gather Megumi and make a dash for the outside.

“Sorry,” you tell him breathlessly, once the two of you have made it far away enough that the embarrassment isn’t as painful. You squeeze your eyes shut, press your hands into your eyes, and take a big gulp of air. “Megumi,” you mumble. “I’m really embarrassed right now.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly.

There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach. You kneel down, meeting him at eye level, and manage your best smile. “Hey,” you say, cupping his face with your palm to even your gazes. You meet the dark purple of his eyes, the sincerity in their depths, and think that Megumi has all Fushiguro Toji’s roughness and grit, but none of his meanness. He couldn’t be more different than his father. Your Megumi is a good boy. “I’m alright. Thank you for spending the night with me.”

His gaze lowers. “Yeah.”

You stand back up, brushing your pants off. “I should take you back to Satoru and Suguru now…” You take out your phone to call a cab, but Megumi speaks up.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Your first thought, guiltily, is relief. You can’t send Megumi to the apartment himself so you resigned yourself to having to face Suguru and Satoru once more. You have a late morning tomorrow. It’s Saturday so Megumi doesn’t have school either. It’s the perfect opportunity. 

You smile. “Of course you can.”

——

You text Satoru and Suguru that the two of you have arrived home, shut your phone off, and find Megumi already tucked underneath the covers of your bed. Thankfully Megumi had left some of his clothes the last time he had visited. You watch him for another minute, the steady rise and fall of his body, and the smallness of him. For once, he looks his age. Just another sleeping child.

A couple of years and he’d be as tall as you. You doubt the two of you would be able to comfortably share a bed as the two of you do now. You observe him, adjusting his sheets, smoothing out his hair, until you join him in slumber.

——

You wake up with a start, a scream building in your throat. 

Megumi isn’t in bed. It’s still dark out. Fear grips your heart as you look around your room. Maybe your shuffling had woken him up and he had gone into your guest room to sleep. The thought makes you feel marginally better. But you also feel bad. You should’ve delivered him back to the apartment, swallowing down your discomfort in exchange for Megumi’s sleep.

“I got you water.”

You startle. It’s Megumi standing in the darkness of your doorway. You blink, adjusting to how the shadows meld into him, almost swallowing him whole.

Your throat happens to be parched. “Thank you,” you rasp out as Megumi presses the glass into your hand and climbs back into the bed. You drain the glass. “Did I wake you?”

Megumi’s silence tells you everything.

You sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s not usually this…” Bad. You figure it’s all the stress of your life. And then with Nagoya…

Megumi looks at you. “You were…” he trails off, pulling the covers up higher, up to his neck. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

You hope you haven’t been talking in your sleep.

Megumi falls asleep easily enough again, while you thread your fingers through his hair.

When sleep claims you once more, you hope for the forgiving light of the morning to come quickly.

You’re about to head home from the campus of jujustu tech when you catch a glimpse of blonde hair in your peripheral, turning the corner to the courtyard.

“Nanami!” You call out, and the figure stops.

Your kouhai turns to you as you approach, a respectful downtilt of his head. “Senpai.” 

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He looks as good as you can normally attribute to him. Straight laced and responsible. Nanami’s always had a maturity to him that you’ve always thought highly of. It’s been years since the two of you were in high school, but sometimes you can still see the slight sullen downturn of his lips when Satoru does something particularly annoying. Some things don’t change.

“How have you been?” Judging from the overnight duffel in his grip, he must have just gotten back from an assignment of his own.

“The same as always,” he responds. “Thank you for asking.” A sensible answer you’d expect from him. He pauses, looking you over, the tinted eyepiece over his eyes offering you nothing. His gaze doesn’t pity you. He doesn’t offer you condolences. It’s an understanding that makes every single troubling thought resurface.

Oh, you think.

“I heard,” he says quietly. About Nagoya.

Your smile turns tight. You force it wider. “It’s over now.” You don’t know what else to say.

“The children…”

It’s a rare moment when Nanami is at a loss for words. You hadn’t expected Nanami of all people to bring this up in conversation. You’re not as upset as you could be about it. Talking to Nanami is and always has been…surprisingly easy.

“An aunt volunteered to raise them.” You think of the shell shocked son and the blank eyed older daughter. Your mouth turns sour. You stare at your shoes. Hopefully, they’ll get settled in soon. You will yourself to say the words but nothing comes out. 

Nanami understands. “Ah. I see.”

The two of you stay silent.

“Nanami!” A voice exclaims loudly.

Satoru.

You don’t have time to react before Satoru is there, in front of you, loudly slapping Nanami on the back. You wince, both at the noise and Satoru’s sudden unwanted arrival. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were ignoring—”

Wordlessly, Nanami inclines his head to you once more, before turning on his heels and walking in the opposite direction of where he had been headed previously.

“He hasn’t changed one bit!” Satoru sighs. “Just when I thought the shared bonds of adulthood brought us closer…”

“...”

You wonder if you can slowly inch away.

He turns to you, as if sensing your intentions. You brace yourself for impact.

Satoru cocks his head to the side, studying you in silence, gaze shielded. You swallow, pulse starting up as you stare back at him.

“Seven tonight,” he finally says, to your great confusion. “Wear that…” he twirls a finger, “dress.”

A slow smile pulls at his lips. His fingers smooth out the collar of your dress shirt, and you swallow nervously when his fingers brush the heat of your neck. “Suguru barely got to see it, you know?”

Oh.

You hadn’t even thought about it since you shoved it back into your closet, hadn’t touched it. It felt wrong to throw it out. Shoko picked it out specially for you. Despite it all, you wanted to hang on to it.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back into the wall. He leans into you.

“Don’t be late!”

–

You hadn’t planned on wearing the dress. Then you looked up the restaurant on Google and nearly dropped your phone at the price range. 

-

After taking your jacket, the hostess brings you to one of the private rooms in the back before leaving with a bow. You hover at the shoji, feeling anxiety grip you tightly, knowing that Satoru and Suguru are already inside. You wonder if you have to. You could lie, make up some excuse about an emergency as (un)well as it would be received.

The door abruptly slides open before you can decide.

“There you are,” Satoru simply says.

You aren’t given time to do anything else but take off your shoes as Satoru takes you by the wrist with an ironclad grip and leads you to the opposite of the table where Suguru is already seated.

He smiles at you as you slowly lower yourself onto the tatami matting floor. Even now, you still find comfort in Suguru’s smiles. It feels wrong.

“Have you eaten?” He asks as Satoru settles down next to him. “The wagyu here is famous.”

“I’m fine,” you say tightly. Hunger is the last thing on your mind as Satoru and Suguru watch you. Suguru with a carefully crafted smile, and Satoru with an unreadable expression. You’re so nervous you might pass out.

You stare down at your lap.

You are saved from the silence when a waitress knocks and enters the room with a tablet in her hands. Satoru begins listing off an obscene amount of food with Suguru occasionally chiming in with one thing or another. Wagyu, house smoked salmon, lobster, a colorful variety of more seafood, and more. They must be hungry.

Satoru goes quiet. You realize the waitress is waiting for your order. You raise your gaze with a small, polite smile. Had there even been a menu? “I’m not hungr—”

“Double everything,” Satoru says.

You stare at him.

“Add hot chrysanthemum tea to that,” Suguru adds.

“And that,” Satoru completes. “Put it all on my card, would you?”

You’re taken aback. You look to the waitress, hoping she hasn’t put in the order yet. “A-Actually—”

“That’ll be all,” Suguru says smoothly. “Thank you.”

The waitress bows and slips out of the room before you have a chance to say anything else. You don’t have time to comprehend her disappearance and you’re left staring at the empty space she had previously occupied, mouth slightly agape. You turn back to them.

“I ate bef—”

“Then you can eat a little more,” Suguru replies easily. A winning smile playing on his lips. “Right?”

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze, but you feel it travel over you. “...”

When you chance a glimpse up, Satoru’s face is cradled in his palm. His gaze is centered a little lower than your face. You briefly wonder what he’s looking at when your hand automatically comes up to slap the memory of his teeth on your collarbone. The bruise is gone, but with Satoru looking at you like that you can’t be too sure.

The two of them share an infinitely amused glance.

Satoru opens his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out. You feel like it needs to be said before anything else. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “Already?”

“What are you apologizing for?” Suguru asks.

Your fists curl, anxious to be speaking everything to existence. You struggled between acknowledgement and the relief of denial. You didn’t want it to be true, but it still happened, hadn’t it? “Everything,” you say plainly. “I didn’t…I don’t want to come between the two of you…I think that the two of you should talk things out more instead of…”

You think of Suguru’s face between your thighs. Satoru’s lips on yours. Your face feels embarrassingly warm. You want to crawl into the nearest closet, shut the door, and burrow into the floor.

There’s a knock on your door. Your waitress places your drinks down and leaves once more. Glad to have something to occupy your hands, your hands circle around the tea mug. It’s hot enough to burn, but the prickling of pain in your hands oddly enough, grounds you.

“It’s okay to be mad,” you say quietly. You should’ve stopped things before they escalated. Instead you let yourself be caught up in everything. “If the two of you want to be mad at each other then I’d rather you be mad at m—”

“Just a second!” Satoru raises his hand.

“Y-yes?”

He proceeds. “We’re not mad at you.”

Satoru meets your wide gaze evenly. Disbelief. You look to Suguru. You need confirmation. 

“I was never mad,” he says, regarding you with concern. “More worried.” A wry smile. “You started avoiding us so suddenly…”

The revelation stuns you. They aren’t…mad? They don’t hate you? The two of them know everything. More disbelief. Relief wars with confusion. You don’t know what to think. You thought the worst, and maybe that was all your fault. You’ve always gotten too caught up in your head. It’s easy to spiral when you’re left alone with your thoughts. You don’t like being alone, the loneliness, but it’s your most familiar friend. 

“I thought the two of you hated me,” you admit, fingers clinging to the warmth of the tea in your hands in lieu of fidgeting. “I thought the two of you would never want to see me again…” It doesn’t feel real. They aren’t mad. They aren’t mad at you. You could cry from the relief.

You eye them warily. “Are you still fighting?”

It’s Suguru who answers you, expression soft. “You could say we’ve come to a compromise.”

You straighten, feeling lighter than you have in what seems to be ages. They’ve called you here to forget about everything. Everything is alright. Everything is going to go back to how it was. Well, not exactly. Satoru and Suguru may get married in the near or far future, and you'll naturally, slowly, take your leave from their everyday lives. But you’ll still be friends. Suguru will still look at you fondly. Satoru will still afford you the same considerations that everybody else thinks he lacks.

“I’m glad,” you say earnestly with a wide smile. “Then I’ll forget about everything. I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Everything is going to stay the same. You take immense comfort in that fact. Your nerves settle. You take a long sip of your tea.

The two of them share another look.

Suguru reaches out, his fingers brushing one of your hands that you laid palm down on the table sometime after Suguru told you he was never mad at you. His thumb sweeps over your wrist and you startle, pulse spiking. “Did it feel good?”

You blink. You don’t need to guess to know what he’s referring to. You glance from Suguru to Satoru and then back again, wordlessly opening and closing your mouth. You can’t escape from the question, or their combined scrutiny.

You press your legs together. “It…did…” There’s no need for you to have felt as if you shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but you still feel a pang of guilt. Satoru and Suguru aren’t mad at each other, or at you. They still love each other. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to stay the same.

“That’s good,” Suguru says warmly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” you reply, breathless and unsure. “Thank you.”

Satoru exhales with a laugh that shakes his shoulders. It’s not derisive like you expected. It’s fond and amused. “How about all three of us feel good?”

You blink.

The implications aren’t lost on you. You open your mouth and then close it. Maybe Satoru and Suguru’s odd actions towards you had nothing to do with their argument in the first place. Maybe you were overthinking it all from the start. It’s just sex.

If you could help them feel good, then you don’t mind. “Okay.”

The two of them stare at you.

You wonder why they look so...surprised. It’s not as if you’ve never seen an occasional third breach their bedroom. A man or woman you've never recognized. It’s just sex. It’s normal. You think that maybe, like you, they want the comfort of something familiar. And if anything, you are familiar. But—

You’ve never had sex before.

You hesitate, feeling oddly self conscious about it as your gaze drops back to your lap. You’ve entertained some thoughts about it all, but you always figured the ugly scar on your abdomen would be discomfiting to most. And explaining it…

“I’ve never been with anyone before. I hope that’s alright.” You fidget. “I’ll try my…” you reluctantly meet their gazes, ”best.”

There’s a brief silence.

“That was easy,” Satoru remarks, squinting at you as if you’ve been replaced by an identical lookalike. He glances at Suguru. “We should’ve just done this earlier.” His gaze joins yours once more. “That easy?”

Earlier…

You stare at them, almost dumbfounded.

The two of them should’ve just asked earlier, to save you the emotional turmoil if anything! 

It was only ever sex. It only is sex.

You hesitate. You don’t mind. You really don’t. It doesn't need to mean anything, especially with you. You prefer to look at it in simpler terms. Sex can be pleasurable, and with you, that’s all it would ever likely be. You doubt there are any other intentions involved.

Then you say, quietly, meaningfully, “I like…spending time with the two of you…”

A bark of laughter leaves Satoru’s mouth. “Well, we’re not exactly going to be watching movies —”

“You don’t need to,” Suguru suddenly says. “If you don’t want to, then you don’t need to.” He gives you a soft smile despite the sharp jab of his elbow into Satoru’s abdomen. Satoru hisses. Suguru doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t let this guy pressure you.” There’s a pause. “Everything would stay the same.”

Maybe a part of you had been waiting for those words. Everything would stay the same. Suguru always knows what to say, you think, because his words feel like a confirmation.

“Are you two alright with me?” You ask. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people…” who know what to do.

You are gripped with sudden anxiety and your stomach twists into knots. You don’t know what to do. You wouldn’t know how to make them feel good. You’ll be terrible and they’ll wish they never asked you in the first place. You swallow the knot in your throat. “I’m sure Sasaki-san would love—”

“No,” Suguru’s fingers momentarily tighten over your wrist. “Only you,” he says at the same time Satoru says, “Who the hell is Sasaki?”

You blink. “5’4, brown hair cut into a bob, hazel eyes. She was wearing a silver colored kimono…” You pause thoughtfully, recalling the shapes and patterns. “There was an embroidered crane on it.” Running down the side of her left leg. “She smelled like apple blossoms and had soft hands…” She smelled good. You remember that, along with the heat of her fingers when they brushed your own. You stare down at the hand that had touched her, momentarily lost in thought.

Satoru stares at you blankly while Suguru looks vaguely resigned.

You try again. “The matchmaking ceremony you ditched…?”

Satoru is characteristically unrepentant. “Which one?”

“...”

Suguru looks like he’s trying to stifle laughter.

All those poor girls…

“Masaru Sasaki,” Suguru murmurs. Satoru makes an annoyed face.

“ That girl. She was practically hanging off your arm—” Satoru bites the rest of his sentence off, blue eyes narrowing at Suguru. “You cheatin’ on me?”

Your palms immediately turn sweaty. It could be a joke. It could also not be. Sometimes, with Satoru (and even Suguru at times) it’s hard to tell.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Suguru replies blithely. “Maybe you’ve been neglecting me.”

You busy yourself with your lukewarm cup of tea, unsure of what to do. A second’s glance upwards and you’re met with an amused glint in Suguru’s eyes and a lazy grin curling at his lips.

If Suguru was lonely maybe that was why he sought you out in the first place. The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. You’re not one to comment on things that aren’t your business in the first place, but it seems more and more likely.  You knew their boundaries. They knew you’d never push for anything they don’t want. If Satoru doesn’t like Sasaki-san, maybe they compromised on you.

You think back to Suguru’s words. They’ve settled on a compromise. That’s what you are, a compromise. The thought consoles you. In the end, it’s nothing serious. Nothing you should have given more than a second’s consideration. It’s as insignificant as a loose lipped comment. The two of them will have stopped fighting now. You’re glad for it.

Satoru snorts. “Neglecting you right into her open arms,” a derisive twist of his lips, “or should I say le—” 

“She seems very nice!” You exclaim, sweating. “It’s not very nice of you to say things like that, Satoru.” You chide lightly, before you smile brightly at Suguru. “She’s very pretty.” You hope you come off encouragingly so that you can convey to Suguru that you are on his side. “She seems wonderful.” 

Suguru blankly smiles back.

Luckily you’re saved from having to salvage the conversation when there’s a knock at the door. Your waitress returns with a cart of food, quickly laying down platter after platter. It doesn’t stop until almost every open space on the long wooden table has been filled with seafood. You stare at it. The abundance of it all. Maybe Satoru shouldn’t have doubled everything…

Your tea is refilled as Suguru murmurs his thanks. When the waitress takes her leave you’re still staring at all the food, unsure of where to even start when Suguru sets a stacked plate down in front of you.

You stare at the colorful array of sashimi and uni and the perfectly cooked wagyu. Your stomach already hurts at the coming richness of the meal, but now that the load of potentially ending Satoru and Suguru’s relationship has been lifted off of your shoulders you’re a bit hungrier than you were when you arrived.

Satoru keeps on loading your plate with more and more food. You pick up your chopsticks, intent on slowly shaving down the precariously tilting seafood tower on your plate when he conversationally asks, “So how was Nagoya?” as he places a large piece of uni on your plate.

You think of a sobbing, blood stained child clutching his mother’s severed hand in his arms. Then you think of Megumi.

Your appetite dies, stomach curling inwards.

They don’t know, you think as you look at the both of them seated across from you, waiting for your response. It was classified as a grade 2 mission after all. Two worlds shattered, and it hadn’t even merited a full time auxiliary manager. It’s considered beneath them now, eliciting the same mundane response as Suguru asking Satoru to check the week’s weather so that he can put umbrellas in the kids’ backpacks. The other week Suguru captured a curse that could have easily leveled Tokyo with a crushing tsunami. Satoru had been away in Malaysia.

It was just another child alone in the world, another corpse, another casualty.

You stare at your cup of tea. You hear Nanami’s gentle, quiet murmur in your ears. I heard.

You wonder if this is something you should even bother them with. There are always more important things to worry about than one of your bad days. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. Not really. You don’t matter. You never have.

“It was fine,” you hear yourself say. It was horrible. You’ve been having nightmares again. It’s been a long time since an assignment hit you this hard. “Just another assignment.”

“Did something happen?” Satoru stares you down.

“Not much.” You reply easily, wondering when it had gotten so easy to lie to them. Just about the small things.

You silently pick at a piece of hamachi. It’s not your place to get involved. You can’t get involved in the tragedy of all the assignments that make you feel as if everything you’ve ever done is redundant, even if you can logically acknowledge you’re unlikely to make a real difference. Not on a real, tangible level. It still makes you feel horrible. 

You are suddenly, very, very tired.

“Are the kids home?” You want to see Megumi, wrap your arms around him, and squeeze him tightly just to reassure yourself he’s okay. You want him to never have to worry about jujustu society or the responsibility of being a jujustu sorcerer. You want him to be able to choose. It’s wishful thinking. It’s already late and the four of them should be getting ready for bed. You wish you could just hold Megumi, Tsumiki, and the twins. The four of them are so young, and already too old.

Suguru’s smile turns affectionate. “The twins are asleep by now. They had a late night yesterday. But Tsumiki’s probably still up doing her homework. I’m not sure about Megumi…”

“Probably sleeping,” you confirm. An early sleeper, and early riser. The boy had his habits.

“You wanna stop by?” Satoru asks casually.

You blink. You must be imagining the suggestion in his voice. 

“I was just wondering about the kids,” you rush out, embarrassed for having even thought it in the first place. Of course not. It’s not as if they were expecting anything from you right now. If anything, you should bring the night to a wrap so the two of them can get back home instead of having to entertain you. “It’s getting pretty late out though, isn’t it? Maybe we should call it a—”

“You haven’t touched your food,” Suguru lightly frowns and although his displeasure isn’t aimed at you, you still feel somewhat chastened. “Still not hungry?”

“A-ah…” You pick your chopsticks once again. “Thank you for the meal,” you murmur, taking a bite of the first thing your chopsticks come into contact with. Octopus. You realize that it might have been rude of you to not eat anything when they’ve so graciously invited you to an expensive restaurant like this. Now that you’ve taken a complimentary swallow, you look up at them expectantly. “I don’t want to keep you two—”

“Maybe we should order some drinks,” Suguru takes a couple of bites out of his own food. “Satoru needs something sugary or he’ll be too restless to sleep tonight.” He sighs forlornly, despite his lips pulling into a teasing smile. “When he gets in a mood, he likes to push me around in bed.”

You blink.

Suguru looks at him, fond. “He’s a horrible sleeper.”

Satoru huffs. “And you love me for it.” A thoughtful pause. “I could use a drink.”

“Great.” Suguru presses the button on the table. It doesn’t take a full minute until your waitress appears in the room. “Your most sugary nonalcoholic drink and a cup of sugar. I’ll take a bottle of your most expensive Junmai Daiginjo. Two cups.”

You open your mouth to object, but Suguru beats you. There’s a concerned look on his face. “Is there something wrong with the food? I thought you would have at least finished your plate…”

Your waitress almost imperceptibly freezes, the smile high on her face. You look to her in a panic. “It’s delicious!” You look to Suguru and say once again, “It’s delicious!”

Satoru looks a few seconds away from breaking into loud laughter. He succumbs, snickering into his elbow.

Suguru breaks into a smile. “I’m glad. You’ll eat some more, won’t you?” Then to the waitress, he says, “Two cups.”

The waitress hightails it out of the room after a bow. You stare at your plate in silence as Suguru and Satoru have a pleasant conversation about how although Satoru hates going to the Zenin compound, he had found something interesting there the last time he visited (two weeks ago). Your ears perk when Suguru says heavenly restriction.  

You take another bite of the food on your plate, intent on finishing half of it before your waitress comes back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable.

This time, your drinks are delivered by a waiter. You feel bad for your waitress who had probably asked to be transferred to a different room. Suguru pours you a cup as Satoru takes a long sip of what looks like a strawberry cream float. It looks like something out of an amusement park cafe, but Satoru looks satisfied.

You’re about to ask about the heavenly restriction, when Satoru eyes you.

“I should feed you,” he announces.

You stare at him. “What?”

He stands up abruptly. You watch as he makes his way to your side of the table in three long steps, and plops down next to you. He takes a large piece of uni and holds it up to your lips. 

“Open up!” He says cheerily.

You do not open up.

He’s making fun of you, you’re sure of it. “You don’t need to feed me,” you say pointedly. You look to Suguru for help, but you only get a grin in response.

“Indulge him,” it almost sounds sympathetic. “He’s in a mood.”

Up close, his eyes are piercingly determined. You relent, opening your mouth as Satoru places the uni in your mouth.

“Now be good and finish your food,” he says smugly. “Or you can finish the rest on my lap.” 

You stare at him in unabashed horror.

"At least try to look somewhat interested," Satoru deadpans.

Suguru snorts.

Under the threat of Satoru’s continued intervention, you slowly make your way through your plate as Suguru refills your cup. Time passes in a blur. Satoru is warm next to you, shoulder pressed to yours, and you resist the urge to lean on his shoulder. It’s almost reflexive, to sink into him. The two of them quietly talk about a child called Zenin Maki. You force your shoulders straight while their voices drift in and out, feeling your eyelids slowly dragging shut.

You blink when Suguru says your name. The two of them are looking at you.

“Sleepy?” Suguru inquires.

You slowly nod. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I should go.” You gather your things, but when you rifle through your bag to find your keys you realize they aren’t there. You pat your pockets, search your bag once more, and still. “My keys…”

Satoru lifts a finger to your face, the ring of your keys looped around his index. You reach out to grab it but Satoru lifts it away. You’re confused. Those are your keys. You reach for them again, but Satoru swiftly moves away. You’re debating on stopping him with your cursed technique. Infinity isn’t on, you can tell.

“Satoru—”

“How about a kiss first?” He murmurs, leaning in, lips hovering close.

Your bottom lip throbs, as if remembering the shape of Satoru’s teeth and the way it had drawn blood.

…

…

…

You’re already putting on your shoes. Satoru must have sneaked a few sips of Suguru’s alcohol. He’s drunk.

“I’ll stay somewhere else tonight,” you say quickly. Shoko would probably still be up. If not, there were always hotels around. In the morning you’d ask your building��s super to open your door. You have a spare key inside.

Satoru sputters. “Hold on!”

Suguru laughs, long and loud. You relish the sound, despite your back being turned against him. He says your name.

You pause, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. To give him the benefit of doubt if anything. Suguru pats the floor next to him.

You eye him. Suguru’s expression is full of innocuous intent.

“At least let me look at you before you leave,” Suguru sighs out. “Before you leave us again.”

Suguru looks sad. It makes you feel…kinda bad. You have been busy lately, haven’t you? (Avoiding the two of them.) You don’t like it either. You’re glad this dinner has resolved most of your worries. You crawl to him, intending to say your goodbyes to his face, but Suguru takes your hand.

You aren’t sure how you end up on his lap. You really aren’t. You were on the floor and now you aren’t, and Suguru’s chest pressed to your back. You open your mouth and then figuring against it, you close your mouth. You opt for staring down at your own lap and trying to stay still enough to rival a statue. 

Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist. “Much better,” he murmurs, playing with the hem of your dress that reaches down to your ankles. “I like this color,” he says conversationally, as if your mind isn’t white blanket quiet in your panic. “Did Shoko get this for you?” His lips brush your ear.

You nearly bolt but Suguru’s arms hold you down.

“Pfft.”

You give Satoru a wide eyed look pleading for help from where he’s made himself comfortable on the floor in front of you, lying on his side, head propped up to the side by a hand. 

…You hadn’t expected Satoru to help.

You really didn’t.

You feel your will to flee slowly drain out of you. Prey resigning itself to be dinner.  

“Shoko…picked it out.”

“She likes dressing you,” Suguru says with a small laugh, releasing your hem and hiking your skirt up high enough for his hand to slide up your thigh in a caressing gesture. “How about you give Satoru and I a turn next?”

You blankly burn a hole into your lap, deathly mortified. “That’s…” a little embarrassing, you think. Why would they ever want to do that? Satoru is looking so intently at you that he could be jealous, and you think you might be sick. After all that talk about Suguru feeling neglected…

“Like…another dress?”

Suguru hums.

“...Shoes?”

Suguru laughs. You can feel his smile. "Among other things."

“S-Suguru,” you start, putting your hand over his arms locked around you. “I should really get going…”

He sighs, and you can feel it in his chest. “Right. Of course.”

You wait for him to loosen his arms, to free you, but he doesn’t move.

“...Suguru—”

“Kiss tax!” Satoru interrupts, suddenly in front of you. He’s insistent, leaning into you once again with a hand on your thigh, except you have nowhere to back away but into Suguru. “Just one and you’ll be on your way!”

This is humiliating. You want to die.

Satoru’s face hovers closer and closer. Without thinking you intercept his lips with a hand, muffling his mouth.

“We shouldn’t,” you blurt out. “Not in public.”

Satoru doesn’t deign you with a response. Instead his gaze exaggeratedly sweeps the room, as if to emphasize the lack of other people. 

Someone could come in. Anyone could see. They don’t want to be accidentally seen with… you. “Nobody can know.” Then for good measure you say it again. “Nobody can know.”

Satoru isn’t happy. You can tell by the press of his lips. Suguru’s gaze bears into the top of your head. But you’re worried about their prospects. About everything they might regret. It’s best to keep this a secret. They’ll thank you for it later, you’re sure.

“Who car—”

“Please.”

Satoru momentarily glances upwards. He’s still unhappy. “Fine. Right Suguru?”

“That’s right,” you hear him say from behind you. His tone is carefully measured. You don’t want to look at him, and you can’t discern his feelings either. “A secret.”

You exhale. “Thank you.”

After a second of agonizing hesitation, you lean forward and press a small, short kiss to Satoru’s waiting lips. When you pull back, you shyly say, “kiss tax paid.”

“That was nothing,” Satoru says immediately. “Ten more.”

You frown.

“You forgot someone.” Suguru’s voice is light, almost chiding.

You didn’t forget. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this. You turn your head to the side and lean in. Suguru meets you halfway, lips soft on your own. Almost immediately, Suguru’s arms go lax, as a hand comes up to cup your face, thumb running along your cheek.

It lasts a second longer than Satoru’s kiss, which is already enough to get him whining about timing the length of your kisses which means more kissing.

All that matters is that you’re finally free. You jump to your feet, swipe your shoes, and run out the door without a second thought.

#geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ddao #m.jjk

[roanniom]

Feeling festive so: Steve being an absolute dork (and a little bit of a horndog) about mistletoe kisses 🫠 Steve making stupid jokes about “unwrapping his present” while reaching to take off your matching Christmas pjs that he pretends to hate 🫠 Steve and you being more than fashionably late to the holiday party because you just looked to good in your green velvet dress 🫠 I’m sad now

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Stevie, Baby 🎶

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, strip tease, dry humping, PIV / unprotected sex

“I won’t wear them,” he says definitively.

“But Steeeevie,” you whine, twirling around so he can see the garish green and red button down sleep shirt and matching pants that you were wearing from all angles. “Why not?!”

Steve frowns at the matching pjs in his hand.

“It’s just so…so…dorky,” he finishes weakly.

“So you think your girlfriend is dorky?” you ask, hands on your hips. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Right now? Yes. Yes, very much.”

You stare at him really hard for a minute, before the Christmas album that’s on in the background clicks to the next song and you get an idea.

“Santa, baby. Just slip a sable under the tree, for me,” you sing along to the music, swaying back and forth, emphasizing the swing of your hips. Steve’s eyes widen for a second before his brow furrows skeptically, arms crossing over his chest.

“Is this supposed to be less dorky?” he asks over your singing.

“Been an awful good girl,” you continue the lyric, unbuttoning the first few buttons on your pj top to reveal the bright red lace bra underneath, pushing your tits together just right.

Steve’s jaw drops on the floor.

“I’m sorry, what?” he breathes, hands unconsciously reaching out for you, but you step back out of his reach, climbing up to stand on the couch, your back to him .

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight.” You slide the pj top off your shoulders to hang in the crooks of your elbows, exposing the straps of your bra and your bare back beneath. You wink at him over your shoulder and are pleased to find him staring at you dumbfounded.

“Santa, baby. A ‘54 convertible, too, light blue.” You mime turning a steering wheel back and forth, swiveling back and forth at your hips. “I’ll wait up for you, dear.” You beckon him forward with a crook of your finger and Steve steps up to you, a slow smirk beginning to form as his facial expression makes it clear that you’ve gotten your point across. You hook your finger under his chin to force him to look away from your swaying tits and up at your face. “Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight.”

“Okay fine. So dorky isn’t the word I’d use to describe you,” he says begrudgingly as you step down from the couch and around him. You ignore his words and brush his hands off when he tries to grab at your waist. He huffs in frustration and follows you to the doorway of your shared bedroom.

“Think of all, the fun I missed,” you sing, draping yourself dramatically and sensually against the door frame. Steve joins you on the threshold and leans against the opposite side of the frame, folding his arms and humoring you with a long suffering smile.

“Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed.” You slink up to him and walk your fingers up from his chest to his lips. They part automatically and you feel him take in a sharp breath.

“Next year I could be just as good,” you sing, getting up on your tippy toes and pulling him down to you, bringing your lips close together. Just as he slides his eyes shut in expectation of the kiss, lips puckering just slightly, you pull away, leaving him leaning to chase you.

“Hey!” Steve pouts, watching you saunter to the bed.

“If you check off my Christmas list,” you giggle along to the lyrics. You hold your hands out to him and he takes them, letting you pull him over to stand in front of the bed.

“Santa, baby. I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot,” you shake your head teasingly, pushing him down on the mattress. Steve bounces and sits up straight to watch you.

“Jesus…” he mutters. But he can’t keep pretending to be annoyed when you stand in front of him, pulling the pj top fully off and moving it across your chest as if it were a feather boa in a cabaret show.

“Been an angel all year,” you sing, tossing the shirt to drape over Steve’s face. He pulls it off and can no longer suppress a grin.

“Not sure ‘Angel’ is what I’d call you but ok…”

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight,” you step between Steve’s legs where he sits up on the bed and run your hands through his fluffy hair.

“Alright fine I get the point,” Steve begins but you go right into the next verse.

“Santa, honey. One little thing I really need.” You grab the pj top from where it was laying on the bed beside him and put it behind his neck, holding onto it on both sides. “The deed to a platinum mine.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve mumbles, rolling his eyes. They widen, however, when you use the top to pull his face into your red lace-clad breasts.

“Santa, baby. So hurry down the chimney tonight,” you sing out, dropping down to straddle his lap.

You’re immediately met with the feeling of Steve’s obvious erection beneath you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shrugs as if to say ‘what do you expect.’ You begin gyrating your hips, making him groan.

“Santa, cutie,” you coo along to the music. Steve’s hands grip your hips, wrinkling the fabric of the cheesy pj pants he’d criticized. “And fill my stocking with the duplex and checks.”

Steve wrenches you closer and mouths at your throat.

“I’ll fill your stocking alright,” he says against your skin. You squeal with a laugh, pushing at him to give you space to continue singing, bouncing in his lap with more fervor.

“Sign your x on the line,” you sing, breathless now. Steve groans as the friction becomes even better.

“C’mon baby…”

“Santa, cutie. And hurry down the chimney tonight.” You suck a mark into his neck, fingers gripping his hair, during the instrumental break between verses.

“Christ…” Steve breathes, bucking his hips up into yours.

“Come and trim my Christmas tree,” you sing, finding it harder to stay on tempo as you begin grinding faster, chasing the delicious feeling of rubbing your aching clothed clit against his erection. “With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s.”

“How long is this fucking song?!” Steve cries out, scooting back further up the bed and yanking you along with him. You laugh but keep singing.

“I really do believe in you.” You push Steve down so that his back presses against the mattress and crawl on top of him, grinding down.

“Fuck.”

“Let’s see if you believe in me.” You slide your hand down the length of his chest, abdomen, and then close it over the bulge in his sweatpants which presses between your thighs.

“Okay! Okay, fuck!” Steve cries out. His hands grip your waist with bruising strength. “I’ll wear the fucking pjs.”

“You will?” you ask brightly, missing the next verse for the first time since the song began. Steve looks up at with his tousled hair and flush-splotched skin.

“Can I fuck you first and then wear them at least?” he negotiates. You laugh and climb off of him, much to his dismay. “Wait wait wait. Or I can fuck you with them on, whatever you want! Christ.”

You slide the pj pants and your underwear down in one fluid motion before climbing back on top of Steve, maintaining eye contact as you work the waistband of his sweatpants down. Exposing his hard cock to the air and your hungry gaze.

“Oh Stevie…” you hum as you slide your wet cunt up and down the underside of his length. “You can wear the pjs afterwards.” After unhooking your bra and tossing it away, you lean down to bring your lips to his ear just as you snake a hand between you to line his tip up with your entrance. “But I’ll be the one fucking you, Stevie baby.”

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington discourse

[caught-on-tape-fest]

Caught On Tape: A Carry On Podfest Masterlist

Caught On Tape is a podfic festival for fanfic related to Rainbow Rowell's Simon Snow Trilogy and Fangirl that runs October 29th to November 11th, 2023.

Listed below are all of the podfics posted so far for the fest! (You can find them on AO3 in our collection too.) Thank you so much to all of the wonderful creators who have participated and to the writers who volunteered their works to be podficced.

Rated G

[Podfic] Figure It Out (length: 3:22) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @wellbelesbian

[Podfic] The Plum Tree (length: 6:21) read by @fatalfangirl, written by @otherpeoplesheartachept-2

[Podfic] Threads of Fate by Aristocratic_Otter (length 1:51:59) read by @caethes, written by @aristocratic-otter

Rated T

[Podfic] The Rise and Fall of Simon Snow Squeaksbury (length: 19:15) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep

[Podfic] namesakes (length: 6:34) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @tea-brigade

[Podfic] Crisp and Sweet (length: 22:00) read by @bookish-bogwitch, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] We Still Bloom (length 1:45:00) read by @hushed-chorus, written by @artsyunderstudy

[Podfic] A Prickly Disposition (length 11:56) read by @fatalfangirl, written by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[Podfic] A Restless Mind (Chapter 2 added) (length Ch 1 35:21, Ch 2 45:21) read by @cottagepodfics, written by @whatevertheweather

[Podfic] Worst Disney Princess Ever (length 54:28) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @hushed-chorus

[Podfic] Return to Sender (length 40:08) read by @spiri-a, writtenby @tea-brigade

[Podfic] Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (length 25:48) read by RattleandHum, written by @artsyunderstudy

[Podfic] Raining Cats and Dogs (Without the Cats) (length 32:23) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @whatevertheweather

[Podfic] This Is What We'll Tell Them (length 13:55) read by @captain-aralias, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] The Sound of Silence (length 49:00) read by @spiri-a, written by @captain-aralias

[Podfic] Petrichor (length 34:26) read by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, written by @martsonmars

[Podfic] Tuesday (length 6:51) read by @freclface, written by @sillyunicorn

[Podfic] Light Me Up (length 37:28) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] "Bro. You can just sleep with me." (length 7:13) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] Bestie Status Achieved (length 12:14) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] Who Cooks For You? (length 8:16) read by @karry-on, written by @sillyunicorn

[Podfic] 5 times agatha wellbelove should have realised she was a lesbian, and 1 time she did (length 14:35) read by @karry-on, written by @wellbelesbian

[Podfic] Flowers, Cake, and Filthy DMs (length 11:24) read by @iamamythologicalcreature, written by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[Podfic] Is This the Real Life? (length 42:52) read by @petrodobreva and @ivelovedhimthroughworse, written by @captain-aralias

[Podfic] Icarus (length 3:02) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] The Selkie and his Boy (length 2:07:00 spread over six chapters) read by @spiri-a, written by @hushed-chorus

[Podfic] Wielded by the Righteous by Maanorchidee (length 12:32) read by pectinouscube, written by @forabeatofadrum

Rated M

[Podfic] Sleeper Agents (length 13:31) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin

[Podfic] Shiver (length 43:48) read by theimpossibledemon, written by @captain-araliasand @facewithoutheart

[Podfic] Hold You Close Just Like a Photograph (length 20:05) read by @captain-aralias, written by @skeedelvee

Rated E

[Podfic] The Worst Chosen Ones (The "Let It Snow" Remix) (length 39:19) read by @bookish-bogwitch, written by @captain-aralias

[Podfic] Playing the Field (length 45:56) read by @cutestkilla, written by @fatalfangirl

#caught on tape fest 2023 #masterlist #carry on podfic #snowbaz podfic #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz fanfiction

[mylostloversbookmarks]

Happy Anniversary Baby

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader, Sarah Miller

Pairing - Joel x You

Summary - You and Joel have been together for a year! You surprise him and Sarah with breakfast and plan what to do for the day!

Word Count - 2.3K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Fluff, I mean alllll the fluffy good feelings, Joel being a sweetheart!

A/N - No Outbreak! This is my first try at writing something happy and fluffy!

Feedback is always appreciated!!

I am really happy with this one and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

Divider credit to @saradika

The sun had just begun to rise, casting a soft golden glow across the room. As the first rays of light filter through the window, the warmth of the sun’s rays dance across the walls and illuminate the bedroom with soft, pretty patterns as they move through the branches of the trees outside. The room is filled with the sound of birds singing, their cheerful melodies wafting through the slightly open window.

You begin to stir, becoming aware of the warm weight of Joel’s arm draped across your waist. You could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you stole to sleep in one of the first nights you stayed with him. His fingers curled loosely around your hip. He is still snoring lightly, and the sound of a comforting rumble fills your ears.

As you turned to face him, you could see the lines on his face softened by sleep. The sunlight casts a warm glow across his face, making him look almost angelic in the morning light. You watch him for a moment, feeling a sense of contentment wash through you.

You love waking up next to Joel, feeling the safety and security of his presence; his arm around your waist is like a shield, protecting you from the world outside. Even in his sleep, he is a reassuring presence, a reminder that you are not alone and that you never will be again.

You shift slightly, Joel tightens his grip on your waist unconsciously, and he murmurs something in his sleep that you can’t quite make out. The sound was so soft and intimate that it made your heart stutter. Feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks, you can’t help but stare at him, willing your mind to capture this memory forever.

You close your eyes and breathe in the scent of his skin; he smells faintly of body wash, and it’s intoxicating. You press a sweet kiss to his forehead and glance at the clock on the nightstand. The time was 7:54 a.m. You're careful not to wake him. Slipping out of bed as gently as you can manage with his arm still wrapped around you like a vine

The warm summer air in the room greets you as you leave the comfort of his bed. Throwing your robe around your body and tying it in a loose bow, you tip-toe across the room and wiggle your feet into your slippers. As you pad down the hallway to the stairs, you find yourself grinning, excited to get started on the surprise breakfast.

Over the last year, you found yourself staying with Joel and Sarah more often than not; you formed something akin to a routine. Weekday mornings were rushed with cups of coffee for you and Joel and a bowl of cereal and OJ for Sarah, and on the weekends, the three of you usually slept through breakfast, just about making it in time for brunch.

Today is different; today is special. You have been with Joel for an entire year, and as cliché as it sounds, it has been the happiest and most fulfilling year of your life so far. You wanted to make a real effort to show both Joel and Sarah how much you love and appreciate them, and a home-cooked breakfast was the perfect way to start.

You pop on a pot of fresh coffee and start to set the table, getting that out of the way first, worrying that the smell of bacon cooking will draw the father and daughter downstairs too soon. Placing a pitcher of fresh orange juice in the middle of the table, you set about getting the ingredients you need out of their various homes in the kitchen.

You decided yesterday that you would go all out for this breakfast. You start by preparing the pancake batter, knowing that Joel isn’t a big fan of them but that they are Sarah’s favourite.

You chopped up some fresh strawberries and blueberries for the top of them, squeezing just a sprinkle of lemon juice over the fruit so they wouldn’t lose their vibrant colour. You set the bowls of pancake mix and fruit to the side to get started on the main event.

You had made the mix for the biscuits the night before, when Joel had headed for his shower after coming home from work particularly dusty, giving you time to pop the dough in the fridge before he returned. You open the fridge and gather the rest of the ingredients you need: eggs, bacon, and sausage. You set the biscuit dough on the windowsill so the morning sun could warm them before you popped them into the oven.

Making quick work of the bacon and sausage, you set it on the lowest shelf of the oven, which was perfectly raising the biscuits, to keep warm. You pour Sarah’s pancakes into one pan and crack the eggs into another, the picture of a professional multi-tasker.

When the pancakes and eggs were almost finished, you kneeled to check on the rest of the breakfast, and, happy with the progress the biscuits were making, you turned the oven off. Your knees were cracking and creaking as you stood straight.

"When did I get old?" You asked yourself under your breath.

"I would say a few years back at least," a sweet voice mumbles through a yawn behind you.

You turn, place one hand on your hip, and cock an eyebrow to the ceiling. Sarah is standing at the breakfast bar, one elbow leaning on the counter, the other rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning to you too, young lady," you emphasise with an over-dramatic curtsey; the gesture makes Sarah throw her head back and a loud giggle burst from her lips.

You turn back to the stove as Sarah looks around in surprise, the bout of laughter waking her fully.

"You made pancakes?" She exclaims, her voice rising in pitch with excitement.

"I certainly did! I thought I could treat you and your dad to a homecooked breakfast for a change." You laugh at the gleam in the girls' eyes.

"What're all the giggles about, ladies?" Joel asks, his voice thick and gruff with sleep. You would only be lying to yourself if you said his voice in the mornings didn’t do things for you.

"Oh, you know, just Sarah, laughing at the fact that I'm an old woman." You laugh and smile fondly at her.

"Damn, if you're old, what does that make me?" Joel asks, scratching his head and causing the hairs to stick in every direction. You need to force your eyes off him as Sarah replies with a matter-of-fact

"That would make you a fossil, Dad," she deadpanned, and you couldn’t stop the snort before it was out of your mouth. Turning back to the stove for a second time to hide your laughter.

"Oh, is that right, kiddo? I'm still young enough to run laps around you!" He laughs along with the pair of you, mussing his daughter's wild hair affectionately before coming to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

"Happy anniversary, baby," he says softly into your ear; it’s almost a coo. It makes your heart flutter and your knees weak.

"Happy anniversary, Joel," you say lovingly, turning in his embrace to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his perfect lips.

"Ewww, Y/N, are you guys going to be like this all day?" Sarah asks, making gag noises behind you and Joel.

"That’s right, sooorrrry. I forgot old people aren’t allowed to be in loooove." You respond with a sing song, laughing and sticking your tongue out at her.

"No oldies, you can be in love all you like; honestly, I even encourage it, but can you do it somewhere else?" Sarah laughs with you, and you promise to keep the PDA to a minimum.

Joel releases you from his hold and takes in the sight of his kitchen for the first time this morning. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the air, making his mouth water.

"Y/N, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble, baby," he says as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone.

"It’s no trouble at all; I wanted to treat you both!" You lean lazily into his touch, your grin feeling like it would split your face straight down the middle.

"Well, it smells amazing; thank you, Darlin." He smiles back, the dimple that you love so much standing out on his right cheek. You lean onto your tiptoes and place a quick kiss on it, then usher them both to take their places at the table.

As you sit at the breakfast table with Joel and Sarah, you allow your mind to drift back over the last year of your life. You think about the day you met Joel and how nervous you had been as you waited for him to arrive at the coffee shop.

You remembered how he had walked in, his eyes locking onto yours with a warm smile, and how the nerves had melted away in an instant. You’d spent hours talking and laughing, and you felt a sense of ease and comfort you had never experienced before. You didn’t have to be anyone else but yourself, and you didn’t have to hide around him.

As you thought about the months that followed, you were overwhelmed by the feelings of awe and gratitude that washed over you. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have found him and his beautiful daughter. They had become your family and your home.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you think about how you never thought you would know happiness again. Everyone in the past had always made you pretend or had moulded you into someone they wanted you to be, but Joel and Sarah had changed everything. They have and will continue to show you that it is possible to find love and joy again, even in the darkest times.

After you had all eaten what felt like your body weight in pancakes, bacon, eggs, and biscuits, the three of you sat around the table, sipping coffee and orange juice, and discussing the plan for the day. Sarah gave an enormous stretch and sat forward in her chair. Elbows propped on the table, she looks at Joel, then at you, and back again, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"I think I want to spend the day with you guys," she said. "But I'm going to stay at Uncle Tommy’s tonight."

Joel and you exchange a knowing look, and you can’t help but blush at the look he is giving you. Sarah is clearly trying to be tactful by giving you and Joel some privacy on your first anniversary, which, while you were grateful for it, you never wanted her to feel like she had to leave her own home.

"Hey birdie, you don’t have to; we can have a movie night if you like." You smile at her, brushing a stray hair out of her face. Joel's head whipped from his daughter's face to yours so quickly that he looked like a cartoon. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you.

"The hell she doesn’t; you’ll have a great time with Uncle Tommy, won’t you, baby girl?" The look in his eyes was one of pleading with his daughter—the biggest puppy dog eyes you had ever seen him manage. You had to cover your mouth to stifle another laugh.

"Really smooth there, Romeo," she laughs at her father, "but I could honestly think of nothing worse than the chance of overhearing you pensioners tonight, plus I already made plans to have a movie night with Uncle Tommy," she said, leaving no room for argument.

"Well, ignoring the old jab, I think that is very thoughtful of you, little bird," you say sincerely, and the smile that breaks across Sarah’s face is blinding. Obviously, she is very pleased with herself. Joel stands to start clearing the table.

"Thanks, baby girl," he murmurs softly and places a kiss on the crown of her head.

"So, what do my girls want to do today?" He asked over his shoulder as he scrubbed the few remaining dishes in the sink.

"It’s meant to be a beautiful day; we could go to the beach. Or maybe a hike?" You suggest, raising an eyebrow in question to Sarah, who is very deep in thought, weighing each option carefully.

"Let’s hit the trailhead, and if it gets too hot, we can swim in the river. The beach is probably going to be busy today if the weather is nice." She stated, ever so practical this little girl.  

"Sounds like a plan," Joel said as he finished drying the last of the dishes. "Wanna go and pack up your stuff? We roll out in 20 minutes! 20 minutes you hear? I want to get there and get set up before the crowds roll in!" Joel’s Dad mode was well and truly activated at the thought of planning an impromptu hike in 95-degree heat.

"You know we are going for the day, right? Like not a fortnight trip, Joel?" You question him, giggling at his serious expression, the crease between his brows as prominent as ever. You lean forward and place a kiss there, the crease immediately relaxing under your lips.

"20 minutes! The same goes for you, miss!" He says sternly as he winks at you and swats your behind as you dance away from him still laughing. Sending a wink over your shoulder at him on your way out the door.

Oh, how he loves to watch your hips sway... 

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel and sarah #Joel and Sarah Miller #joel x you #joel x reader #joel x female reader #joel x y/n #joel x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 06: start

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: did I make up a whole storyline with an antagonist and stuff... Yeah, so here we go oh and btw I'm already working on other drabbles/one shots so expect more to come as soon as I'm back from France

CW/TW: mentions of smoking, guilt, death, loss, violence, injuries, trauma

wordcount: 2k

prev | masterlist | next

The last days were rather silent. You asked Price if there would be any missions ahead and he denied. That’s why you explained your current situation (without heavy detail of course) and asked for a few days off, to sort thing out with yourself. You could still hear his “Of course kid, I’m proud of you for trying so hard.” echoing through your head. Price was like a father figure and would do literally everything that all of you were comfortable. As you left his office, he only placed a hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes with a soft smile, “You’re not alone. Don’t forget that.”

So, you stuffed a few things in a backpack, told Beth that you would be gone for a few days, took your bike out of the base’s garage and went off. You were literally only driving the landside to lend your mind some peace. And it did wonders to your soul, what totally didn’t help was the fact that you lost one of your biggest treasures. On the first day out, you casually grabbed into your pocket to grab the wooden box, but you only found one made of paper. It was one of the spare boxes of fags your carried in like every jacket you owned. This was usual because the brand you smoked wasn’t really common around the UK. It was a European brand, so you had a few boxes in stock, just in case.

But your usual wooden box was missing and with that was her lighter, and much more important his dog tag. It took you some time to calm yourself again, especially after a rampage where you literally punched a tree until your knuckles started bleeding. ‘C’mon…it must be at the base. I had it before I left. So, it still must be there.’, your thoughts running through to keep you calm. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you really would have lost it. But it can’t be. You would never lose it.

That was like two days ago. Your mind wandered around everything that happened since first the call with Laswell. It was still weird to be on a new team, but you enjoyed it and maybe everyone around you were right.  Maybe you should let things for once just happen and find a solution as soon as one was needed. This way, maybe you could bring yourself to an easier way of living. Maybe you could simply start over.

Sitting in the grass on a hill that gave you a beautiful view over a little village you just passed. A fag in your hand and your thoughts with you team. Thinking about every single one and how you already missed them around. The permanent chatting and teasing from Gaz and Soap. The proud comments from Price. The pure presence from Ghost. It would be a lie to say you didn’t like them. You felt comfortable around them, and you swore to yourself, that as soon as you’re back, you would show them in your own way.

Your mind also brought back another face, a face you never would forget. He was younger than you, the youngest on the team to clarify, his black curls always hanging into his face and clinging to his forehead as soon as he started sweating. Those green eyes that could easily wash away your pain, and this god damn smile that light up every room. You sat down and pulled your phone out. You hesitant opened his chat. Your eyes laying onto the last bubbles in your conversation.

[Droplet] 01:36

Voice message

[You] 01:50

You battered?

[Droplet] 01:51

Nope… just in case yk

[You] 01:52

Stfu…

[You] 01:54

Love ya too

Your finger pressed the little button on the voice message and brought the phone up to your ear. “Hey dove… I know it’s late, or maybe early. Dunno…but I know we’re heading out in a few and being on separated team this time... well… I wanted to reach out beforehand. “, tears started to form in your eyes. Another drag from the fag. It was the first time after the incident where you could bring yourself to listen to his voice again. “I know everything’s gonna be fine, as always. Just wanted to say that I’m happy to know you at my side. love….”, the record got disturbed as you could feel your phone vibrating. Price’s name appeared on the screen. You took a deep breath before picking up. “Sorry to disturb you. It’s urgent.”- “Already on my way.”, with that you hung up, rubbed your tears away, closed your leather jacket, and swung yourself back onto your bike.

You arrived sometime later back at the base and headed directly to Price’s office and knocked. Your helmet still in your hands. “Come in.”, you greeted him with a soft smile while walking up to his desk. You had an odd feeling in your stomach. Price looked at you and as soon as he saw your eyes his own were filled with concern. “We talk about it later.”, it was more a warning than a question, he signaled you to take a seat, so you did. “We got hints about a convoy going off tomorrow. There are two men, men we follow for some...”  - “Cold or warm?”, you interrupted your captain. “Cold. I’m gonna send you out with the team to the east side.”, he slipped a file over.  You opened it and scanned over the data. “We really tried to avoid getting you involved but...”, you interrupted him again, “It’s okay Cap. I’m part of the team, and the job comes first.”, you smiled softly at him.

He smiled at you before turning around. “Want some tea?”, he placed a mug in front of you and poured some Earl Grey into it before you could even answer. “Thanks.”, you slowly opened your jacket and took the cup into your hands. “Were you, were you successful?”, he raised a brow while sipping on his own tea. “Kinda.” – “So, what’s still left on the plate?” – “I had a bad start I suppose…”, you sighed, but your face grew into a confused expression as soon as you saw him grinning into his tea. “Y’know, none of them is good with human relationship stuff either. We’re all a bunch of social awkwards.”, he laughed and looked back at you. “There’s a reason I wanted you on the team in the first place.” – “Enlighten me.” – “Never saw someone that would fit in with us that perfectly. Besides your experience and skill of course. Just…”, he paused for a bit and looked you directly in your eyes. “Just let us be part of that pretty head of yours.” The last comment took you aback, a warmth growing on your face, and you nodded slightly. “I try…”, was your answer.

You stayed a bit longer in his office, chatting away about everything the team had to endure and why you were a perfect addition. You really understood how he saw the 141 as his self-founded family, and now you were part of it. You reassured him that you would try your best and that you would try to start over again with every single one before heading to your room. You would need to leave very early to be punctual for the convoy. So, now it was time for some proper rest. You put your stuff neatly away, but you couldn’t go to bet directly. You at least needed to look for your missing piece, but you couldn’t find it. Defeated you crawled into the bed and got some sleep before your alarm woke you up on the next day.

After the usual (but so unusual quiet) preparations, you found yourself in a provisional base surrounded by a few other units, Gaz standing next to you. Soap and Ghost on the other side. Price in front of the table hovering over a few maps showing the routes the convoy will take. “Any more questions?”, all of you shook their head. You haven’t really spoken to one of your colleagues on the way here. Of course, you needed to sort thing with them out, and you really needed to apologize to Soap, but all that had to wait for after mission. Now, you shoved all that aside to remain professional. Today was essential. “We gonna split up in three teams. I’ll head out with some of the others, taking care of the guard vehicles. Gaz, Ghost, I want you to take care of the nearby target Camilo.”, the two men nodded, and Gaz took one of the cases with the essentials for the operation. “Soap, Skadi, I want you both at the north convoy, taking care of Popow.”, Soap took the other one of the cases.

Suddenly everyone around got all nervous and started running around. A higher up soldier came to your table. “Targets were already spotted taking off.” – “Bloody hell. We should have at least 30 minutes before heading out.”, Price hissed annoyed. Gaz turned to the map and then to you and the Scot. “You’ll never make it in time.” Soap stepped forward to take a closer look at the surroundings. Ghost took in the map as well, “Every drivable street would take you too long.” Your eyes took in all of the possibilities and spotted a motocross bike.

You walked over to the other soldier who discussed something with Price about your target. “Can we burrow that?”, you pointed it in the direction of the bike and looked at the upper rank. “That would be the fastest way”, you added. Sure, there would be no back up, but it would be the only chance right now.  The upper rank nodded, and you turned on your heel and patted Soap on his upper arm. “We can make it. C’mon Johnny.”, without even giving it another thought, you went ahead to the bike and kick-started it. The Scot looked totally confused at his teammates, who mirrored his look, but he shook all his thoughts aside before running after you and taking the place behind you. Wrapping one arm around your waist and the other clung to the case. 

The drive was horrific. Any shortcut you could find, you would take. Soap cling onto your waist for the love of his own life. Literally pressing his head into your shoulder and praying that you’d arrive soon. On a nearby hill next to the road, your bike came to a stop. “You okay?”, you asked while Soap jumped from the bike and adjusted himself. “Yer Brits drive like yer not afraid to die, eh?”, his statement earned him a small laugh from you, what shocked him first. Yes, he saw you smiling, especially teasingly, but a pure laugh from your lips. It was his personal mission to hear this more often from now on. “Cap. We’re here. How much time left?”, you pushed the button on your comms while unpacking the sniper rifle from the case.  “Holy shit, how did you make that?”, Gaz’ voice was filled with cheer surprise. “4 minutes till target is in reach.”, Price voice said softly, but you could hear the proud-dad tone below.

This mission went on with none of further problems. Soap went on to the street to take care of the driver and the guards which surrounded Popow, while you worked yourself to the main course from a distance. Always checking in on the Scot to make sure he’s okay. In one moment, you had decided if you cover Soap or shoot Popow, even if it hurt yourself, you knew how important that was, so you decided for the best. “Popow down. Copy that.”, you said through your comms. Your glance went through the scope over the field to make sure nobody was left before you started running over to Soap. “Status?”, you walked over to him, the rifle strapped onto your back. “Just a graze.”, he answered and hold a computer case in his hands. “Let me have a look.”, you crouched down at his side to look at his thigh that was bleeding in this moment. “Nothing too bad, won’t need stitches, but proper cleaning.”, you smiled at him while standing up again. The Scot looked back at you while holding his thigh, “So, where is that god damn safehouse?”

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub @illuminwtesz @kaelaiscool @killergoddess97

#simon ghost riley #cod mw ghost #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #slow burn #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #strangers to lovers #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #konig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #kyle gaz garrick #john price #task force 141 #cod 141 #ghost angst #ghost x y/n

[theprongspotter]

24 Prompts til Christmas: Day 12

“Santa Baby” (Nobleflower)

Alice and Narcissa are pressed against each other on the couch and quiet Christmas songs play in the background. Narcissa is sipping on Merlot as she reads a book. Alice is playing with her girlfriend’s hair, braiding a piece of it.

Santa Baby starts playing through the speakers and Alice gasps, hopping up from the couch. She runs over to the speaker and turns it up. She then turns back to Narcissa, who has put her book down and is giving Alice her full attention.

“Been an awful good girl,” Alice sings to her girlfriend. She wiggles her eyebrows as she makes eye contact, eliciting a laugh from the girl. Narcissa is smiling and shaking her head. “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

She makes a begging motion with her hands and exaggerates big, pleading puppy eyes. “Santa baby, a 54 convertible too, light blue.” She continues to sing to Narcissa before the other woman finally sets her wine down and gets off the couch.

Narcissa sways her hips. “Come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at Tiffanys.” She gently pushes Alice back onto the couch. “I really do believe in you, let’s see if you believe in me.”

“Curse you Blacks and your slutty waists,” Alice says, pulling Narcissa down onto her lap. She tucks a strand of hair behind her girlfriend’s ear and finally brings her in for a kiss.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders incorrect quotes #incorrect marauders quotes #dead gay wizards from the 70s #dead gay wizards #gay dead wizards #alice loves narcissa #narcissa loves alice #narcissa x alice #alice x narcissa #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #alice fortescue #alice longbottom #nobleflower #nobleflower microfic #24 prompts til christmas 2023 #24 prompts til christmas

[eb0ny-raven]

Spencer Reid & Reader // 900 words

~ While driving together, Spencer Reid comforts his coworker’s intrusive thoughts in his typical Reid-y way.

~ Can be read as Platonic or Romantic, but written with platonic in mind.

“Are you alright?” Doctor Reid pulled his eyes away from the file open in his hand and looked over to you. You almost didn’t notice his look, as your own eyes were too busy scanning the road in front of you, and you nearly missed his question too.

As your eyes flitted from car to car, the rational part of your brain tried to keep you focused on the road, but it was fighting a losing battle. You could feel your thoughts get a bit lost. Every shadow from trees was a pedestrian in the road, you misjudged car parts for roadkill, and every bump in the road gave you the overwhelming feeling of getting into a crash. Every turn felt like it was going to send you into a tailspin.

“Yeah.” You said shortly. Reid furrowed his eyebrows.

“The wheel isn’t going to go anywhere.” He added a bit of a lift to his voice and you looked down at your hands. They gripped the steering wheel of the SUV, whitening your knuckles, and you also felt their involuntary shaking.

“I know.” You kept your responses short. You noticed this but too much brain power was being used to try to keep the car on the road. You ticked your head back and felt your neck crack slightly.

“You’re shaking.” He closed the folder and slipped it on the dashboard.

“Yeah.” I drifted around in the lane, micro-adjusting the steering wheel unnecessarily. We drove toward a stoplight, and it turned yellow, surprising me. I came to a clunky stop which lurched both Reid and I forward. “Sorry,” I apologized, “I have my license, promise.” I lightheartedly smiled at Spencer in the passenger seat. He stared back at me straight-faced and I could feel his eyes searching my face.

“What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want him to find the reason stupid, even though I knew he’d be fine about it.

“Oh, nothing.” A pedestrian in the crosswalk waved at me and I struggled to hold in my impulse control.

“I can tell you’re lying, y/n, seriously. Also the light is green.” I groaned and accelerated before any angry driver behind me decided to let me know.

“I’ll be fine. What’s the exit?” I changed the subject as I pulled onto a cloverleaf to enter the freeway. My brain immediately clouded with all the new cars around me, and now at higher speeds, I could feel every bump and vibration.

“Exit 54.”

My head ticked forward this time and my hands started to feel very lightweight.

“Great.” If Reid was categorizing my movements, I wouldn’t have seen anything. With the incessant hum of the car worming its way through my head, I scanned the upcoming direction signs and flicked on my blinker to switch to the rightmost lane. The car lurched a bit, moved right, then wobbled in the lane before settling much too far on one side.

Jesus, it’s like you just got your permit or something.

I exited on 54, but it felt too soon. Reid directed me left at another stoplight, then had me pull into an empty parking lot. I put the vehicle and park and cocked my head at Reid.

“I’ll drive.” He said simply. Thank you. I blessed Spencer in my head. Normally I would have protested, but I felt far too much fear to even think about pulling out of the parking lot.

He was out of the car and beside the driver's side door before I had even opened it. I got out, Spencer got it, shifted the seat and mirrors, then put the car in reverse when I managed myself into the passenger seat.

“You know, intrusive thoughts are a very common occurrence-“ He pulled out of the lot and started back on course, “-about 96 percent of the population admit to having them.”

It didn’t immediately register in my head he was talking to me, I just stared through the windshield and slowly opened and closed my hands into fists. My wrists jerked a little for a moment, then I just played with my hands.

“The most common ones tend to be about doing something illegal, like theft or vandalism, thoughts of violence like murder or suicide, or unwanted sexual imagery. They can vary from just a thought crossing your mind to being a very debilitating mental affect. And while intrusive thoughts can be indicative of an underlying mental health condition like OCD and other anxiety disorders, it’s actually quite normal and not at all a reflection of a person's character or moral standing.”

His voice rambled very evenly, but his inflections felt more empathetic than usual. I sighed and looked at him. His eyes were on the road, but I saw him smirk when he glanced over.

“Professionals aren’t always sure why a person experiences intrusive thoughts, but I tend to think of it as a by-product of our internal defense system. A lot of times the unwelcome thought has no connection to the action a person is taking, but in stressful situations it can be the brain's coping mechanism.”

I laugh.

“Why are you telling me all this, Spencer?” I know why he’s telling me, he probably knows me better than I know myself.

“So next time you can just tell me you don’t want to drive.”

My hands still feel clammy, and small anxious ticks still take over my movements, but I nod.

“Will do.” After a beat of silence he looks over at me.

“I’m being serious.” He looks at me through his curly brown bangs.

“So am I. Thank you. Now eyes back on the road.”

#criminal minds #Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #platonic #gn reader

[pleistocene-pride]

The western capercaillie (Tetrao urogallus), also known as the Eurasian capercaillie, wood grouse, heather cock, cock-of-the-woods, or simply capercaillie is a species in the grouse family which is endemic to the taiga and boreal forest of Northern Eurasia, from Scotland in the west to Russia in the east. They are typically diurnal ground dwelling birds which while capable of flight, are fairly clumsy in the air due to there short rounded wings. While taking off they produce a sudden thundering noise that deters predators. At night they rest in the horizontal branches of tree stands or within thick ground cover such as bushes and sedges, emerging during the day to feed upon seeds, buds, leaves, berries, insects, grasses, and conifer needles. Capercaillies are themselves eaten by wolves, lynx, foxes, eagles, martens, bears, boar, goshawks, and owls. With females reaching around 21- 25 inches (54- 64 cms) long & 3.5 to 5.8lbs (1.5 to 2.5kg) in weight while the male can reach 29 to 40 inches (74 -100cms) long and 9lbs to upwards of 15lbs (4 to 7kg) in weight, the western capercaillie is one of the most size sexually dimorphic living bird species, only exceeded by the larger types of bustards and a select few members of the pheasant family. The females upper parts are brown with black and silver barring; on the underside they are more light and buffish yellow. While the males are dark grey to dark brown, with the breast feathers being dark metallic green. The belly and undertail coverts vary from black to white. Both sexes have a white spot on the wing bow. They have feathered legs, and their toe rows of small, elongated horn tacks provide a snowshoe effect enabling them to traverse thick snow with ease. The breeding season begins in March or April and lasts until May or June. Three-quarters of this long courting season is mere territorial competition between neighboring cocks or cocks on the same courting ground. Towards the end of the courting season the hens arrive on the courting grounds, at which time the dominate cock or cocks flies to an open space nearby and continuously displays. If impressed one or more hens will approach and be mounted. Females will lay 3 to 12 eggs over a 10 day period, which she will incubate for 26 -28 days until hatching. The young will remain with there mother for around 3 months, Under ideal conditions a western capercaillie may live upwards of 18 years.

#pleistocene #pleistocene pride #pliestocene pride #pliestocene #cenozoic #capercaillie #western capercaillie #wood grouse #eurasian capercaillie #bird #birds

[kyopmi]

♡ — 10:54 p.m.

“tetsu.”

“yes, my sweetie-pie honeybunch darling?”

you shoot kuroo tetsurou a look that makes him laugh and he can’t help but give the tip of your nose an affectionate squish with his index finger. “what’s up, kitten?”

“i had a lovely dream last night,” you say, nestling into the blankets you’re sharing with your husband. you’re lying side-by-side on the bed — your head on the pillow and blanket tucked up to your chin while kuroo’s sitting up with his back against the headboard, the blanket covering his lower half.

“what’s it about?” kuroo asks. his eyes return to the ipad on his lap, mindlessly scrolling through his work emails, but his attention is kept fully on your words.

“i dreamt we moved into a house together, far away from the city,” you recount your dream, eyes gazing up at nothing in particular in the ceiling.

kuroo steals a quick glance at you. “yeah? what does it look like, the house?” he pries.

you take a moment to visualize your dream again before answering him. “it’s not too big or too small,” you explain, “from the outside it looks like a pentagon, like a regular house, with lot of windows so there’s a lot of sunlight.”

when you go in, you can immediately see the living room. the floors are large, light grey tiles. the style is very minimalist. there’s a simple coffee table, a couch, and a television. a bunch of plants and flowers too. there’s not much decor besides that, i think.”

he hums in acknowledgement, wordlessly encouraging you to go on. one of his hands have wandered to your side of the bed and is toying with a strand of your hair as he listens to you, his work long forgotten.

“our bedroom has a large window, too. we have the same bed we’re using now. there’s a fluffy rug, and lots of shelves and a big closet. i bet we won’t have to fight for closet space anymore.”

kuroo chuckles at your comment. “well, i can’t fold my suits, they’ll wrinkle!” he playfully argues.

you roll your eyes. “but you have like, five of the same suits, anyway,” you mutter with a small pout that elicits another laugh from the man next to you.

“they are not the same!” he defends, lightly pinching your cheek as some form of punishment. “what else was in your dream?”

“mm, i don’t remember much else. there’s a huge field next to the house, just grass and flowers and trees. with a lot of sheep grazing in it. the whole area is just… really peaceful,” you sigh thoughtfully.

kuroo’s eyes soften at your words as he recognizes the longing in your eyes. he knows it’s been a longtime dream of yours to move away from the city and settle down someplace where it’s nice and peaceful, where neither of you have to worry about work meetings or deadlines or horrible traffic. he knows because you’ve told him about it ever since you dated way back in high school, and you haven’t stopped fantasizing about it even now, ten years later, when you’re happily married and living together in the middle of tokyo. he knows sometimes you wonder if that’s all it’ll ever be — a fantasy that will live only in the back of your mind, never to become a reality.

kuroo sets his ipad down on the nightstand and switches off the lamp before leaning down and planting a tender kiss on your forehead, fingers gently carding through your hair. he pulls back only far enough so that the tips of your noses are still touching and you can feel his breath tickle your skin as you look into his eyes, filled with adoration and resolve that sends a chill down your spine.

“one day, baby,” he murmurs quietly, “one day, we’ll get there.”

he seals his vow with a kiss on your lips and he joins you under the blankets, wrapping his arms around your figure and pulling you close to him, his warm, familiar presence quickly lulling you to sleep.

because kuroo also knows he’ll never stop trying his best until your dreams come true.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #&works

[gerbiloftriumph]

Floating Castle Liveblog (third read)

In 2020, I read the first king's quest adaptation novel. Again. Because 2020 was awful.

August 22, 2020 –

page 0

I'm not going to read this aga--oh wait no who am I kidding I'm trapped at work for another four hours and it's *not* a good day and I just want my tea drinking wizard tree and frog prince and mcguffin king and headless ghosts and the soft delights of smarmy sassy villains. (also the kq series is the only series i have easy access to rn so shhh)

page 3

"Castles do not fly." The title of the book says otherwise, sir.

page 10

Gotta admit, Telgrin's perpetual single thundercloud over his castle still gives me ridiculous amounts of joy. I'm sitting here grinning honestly for the first time all day. I love my melodramatic sassmaster.

page 14

I comment on it every single time I read this (yes this IS the third time I've read this in three years, leave me alone), but I seriously love watching Graham being an actual king. I love adventures, and I love royals, and I love adventuring royals, but I also really like the sturdy basis of kindness and clarity Graham just has as a leader. It's really pleasant.

page 20

IT HIM. Heeeeeeere's Telgrin! Do you think Telgrin spent hours shuffling around trying to perfect that gliding walk? Stars, I hope he did. I mean in any other villain it would just be natural but with my emo goth drama king who tries too hard, everything is carefully plotted for maximum visual aesthetic.

page 22

Totally seriously, though, the contrast between Graham's tightly contained fury and balance of how he's been treating the assembly and Telgin's wide swept theatrics and overblown personality is SO good. This sort of subtle contrast really does raise this book from generic game adaptation to surprisingly pleasant fantasy. It's still genre light, but it has confidence and solid bone work.

page 23

"The news reached me that you were gathering all your knights here today, Graham, so it seemed a convenient time." Because Telgrin won't do anything without an audience to oooh and ahhh over his antics.

page 30

"Everything seemed muted, vague, unreal." Oh, did you mean my life right now? No? Close enough.

page 33

"and a small pear." Yes, a crucial thing to make sure you pack on your voyage. Good call.

page 38

TREE WIZARD oh stars my whole heart is happyyyyy. What a mood improvement.

page 40

"So, that castle belongs to this guy named Telgrin." "Oh yeah, Telgrin. He's evil. Don't mess with him." "You know him?" "I know his reputation." Stars, Telgrin would be SO PLEASED to know his reputation precedes him now. I hope he started some of those rumors himself.

page 40

I still can't handle the density of this conversation. "Telgrin is a stealer of souls." "A stealer of souls? What's that?" Alexander. Alexander, pleaaaase think about what you just said. Please. I love you, but seriously.

page 45

Even when you are a tree wizard, that is, a wizard slowly and literally turning into a tree, it's still important that you get your morning cup of tea. Morowyn knows it. So should you.

page 47

In other words, Alexander, you're just a glorified babysitter. You could have asked Big Knight Brian Blessed to be your partner in crime on this heist and gotten a better result. (i'm kidding of course I love Cyril to absolute pieces, look at this farmboy wizard lad he's so squishy and blond and round and I love him.)

page 54

heist heist heist heIST let's plan a HEIST.

page 58

The moat monsters also have a taste for the finer things in life. Like feather-capped adventurers. Castle Daventry is literally the most perfect fantasy castle there is. It even has a hoard of moat monsters. Like, you can't get more Fantasy Castle than this place. Telgrin only wishes his castle was that cool. He just has to make do with personal thunderclouds.

page 63

A small thing, but I super love Mills's emphasis on color. From the rain slanting golden in the yellow torchlight, to the hills here slowly changing from an angry maroon to a deep indigo with a band of yellow slowly disappearing as the sun sets...it's heavily visual, like he's literally painting a screen from the games, and I find it rather peaceful, somehow.

page 64

Literally just the ringwraith scene from Fellowship of the Ring, but with King's Quest protagonists instead of Frodo and friends. The audacity of this book. I love it.

page 69

Mills was absolutely just rereading Fellowship of the Ring when he was asked to write this book. It's not even subtle at this point. .........and I super love every single reference with all my silly fantasy heart.

page 89

I can't think of a single other fantasy in which the protagonist lassos a kelpie and attempts to ride it. I can't imagine why not. It's a flawless plan.

page 96

I feel like that's just magic homemade whiskey. Getting the prince drunk might not be in everyone's best interest.

page 97

Alexander, you gotta stop calling people "ho." You're gonna offend someone. (I'm kidding, of course. "Ho there" is as traditionally delightful as "Who goes there," and highly welcome to behold.)

page 99

platform boots

page 100

I'm sorry, I know I commented on this when I read this last year, but...again. Telgrin has One Single Lone Stupid Thundercloud, which "hovered over a high central tower. From time to time, this cloud would light with an internal fire, and a low, menacing rumble would break across the land." It's like the Winnie the Pooh raincloud, with ambient sound effects. The audacious aesthetic of this guy is a DELIGHT to behold.

page 107

Aaah yes the Road to El Dorado sequence. Truly, this book is nothing but the best hits of adventure tropes crammed into a book 300 pages long.

page 108

Does this mean that Telgrin has also been to Narnia? Oh dear.

page 112

Again. "The cloud." Not many clouds. Just the one. A single, lone, silly, thundercloud.

August 24, 2020 –

page 114

Wait, what came first, this book or the Muppet Christmas Carol movie? Because all I can picture is Scrooge's Statler-shaped Muppet door knocker, but with extra teeth, shrieking.

page 117

Is Alexander is the only person in the series to ever have a proper sword fight? I mean, not counting....uhhhh is it Owen in KQ8? (Super didn't play KQ8, everyone said it wasn't worth the effort.)

page 123

Like, I gotta say: binding souls to armor, cool. Great scheme, very evil. Making it so that just knocking the helmet off releases the soul into the night forever? ...nooooot the most ideal.

page 126

You know in Princess Bride, when Westley tries to wrestle Fezzik, and just kinda runs at him and squeezes him and absolutely nothing happens? Alexander, right here, vs the black knight.

page 131

A barikar is not a real fantasy monster--the only google result that comes up is that, yes, Telgrin owns one. But it's a huge rabbit with a rat nose, dog fangs, fish scales instead of fur, and human like hands with claws. It sees about as well as a human, but it can hear well, thanks to the rabbit ears. It's absolutely ridiculous. I love it. I wonder if I can convince my dm to make it a fight in our campaign.

page 133

My sweet babiiiiies. Alexander making Cyril stand behind him to protect him and Cyril absolutely refusing and taking the front anyway. I love these kids. I say, fully recognizing that they're semi-close to my age and know how to handle swords and magic.

page 133

Oh, no, excuse me, the Bariker doesn't have rabbit ears--it has bat ears. Which just kind of further emphasizes how much I want this thing in a campaign. It's so ridiculous.

page 139

Where was he? Yes. Who was this beside him? Yes. How long had he been asleep? No way of knowing. Alexander, those are not answers to questions, except maybe the last one. You've answered nothing. Alexander, please.

page 141

headless ghost headless ghost headless ghoooost i can't stop smiling he's holding it like a football it's amazing

August 25, 2020 –

page 142

Lydia's mom caught Anime Mom Protagonist Disease. It's a tragic illness. No hope of recovery.

page 142

"Owen took a brief pause, while Alexander reflected on the fact that he was getting used to carrying on a conversation with a beheaded man. It was starting to seem almost normal. Almost." How is this a real book. I love this book.

page 143

tragic telgrin backsto--oh wait it's not tragic at all he's just always been a brat.

page 144

"Somehow a beheaded man on his feet was infinitely more alarming than a beheaded man quietly seated." o rly?

page 145

Look, it is a *little* creepy that he would install magic mirrors of spying in his daughter's bedroom without her knowledge, but considering Owen admitted to teaching Telgrin everything he knows, including presumably soul torturing magic, we can kind of assume Owen isn't actually that good a guy after all.

page 149

Glowing moss in fantasy must be the most useful plant ever cultivated.

page 155

Obviously, there's nothing wrong with describing Alexander's haunches, but it's also just a little weird. It's not...a word I hear often, especially in reference to humans.

page 156

I like a good wizard who knows that a cup of tea soothes most ills. A man after my own heart.

page 156

"After allowing himself to wallow in depression for a short while, he pushed his mood aside with a firm effort, squared, his shoulders, and said, 'Well, the sooner we get going, the sooner you'll get your bath and your tea.'" Ah, yes, of course, just push aside your wallowing. Why didn't I realize it was that easy?

page 158

"A few wary, rather mincing steps, brought him to the vestibule." Alexander, your author is making fun of you. Just a bit.

page 161

The book is very, very clear that it's just Graham's face floating in the soul-capture orb. The book is very, very wrong. It's a tiny Graham floating around in there. Like, full body, but like two inches high. This is fact, and better than a disembodied Wizard of Oz-style face. I'm just letting you all know that the book is misprinted. Every copy. It's a full body'd Graham. Just smol.

page 162

YEAH BOI PUNCH AN UNDEAD KNIGHT...oh no, your arm, why did you just literally punch a suit of armor, you donut, you know better than that

August 26, 2020 –

page 167

To be fair, the door is now open. As is the floor, and the wall, and...well, the room, to the sky. Definitely very open.

August 27, 2020 –

page 169

It's turned into Dragon's Lair instead of King's Quest, for this scene. Super into it. Wouldn't want to play it as a video game, though--the amounts of game overs....

August 31, 2020 –

page 169

"But this insignificant event raised within him an unexpected fury. He cursed the poor root to withering, black perdition, cursed it deeply and sincerely, cursed it with all his soul." Gods, Alexander, I get it. Man, do I ever get it. I'm so tired.

page 177

"This was it, the nadir. It could not get any worse than this." You sure about that, kid? I think we've got one more scrape at the bottom of the barrel we can squeeze into."

page 181

Alexander is thiiiiiiiis close to snapping. Kid, I understand you. Critically and crucially, I understand.

page 183

FROG PRINCE. I told you there was one more level we could reach. The royal family gets transformed into animals rather frequently. At least this time he's not a snail, poor kid.

page 183

"With a sense of profound shock, he realized that he had been transformed into a frog--a rather large and handsome frog, it's true, but still a frog." You can't make this stuff up. This book is perfect. The ideal. The author is calling Alexander a handsome frog. He's a frog, but a good looking one. I can't handle this.

page 185

"Did you speak, Sir Frog?" "That's Prince Frog, to you." Alexander, be nice. Don't pull rank. I don't think you have rank to pull anymore. Smelly swamp rank, at best.

page 186

I like to think that was just Alexander swearing, but it was masked as a ribbit.

page 187

To be fully fair, Alex, you do kind of need him to reattach Graham's soul, so maybe it's for the best that he doesn't go far.

page 189

If I were a soul-armor, and this frog decided to enter the castle, to be honest, I think I would probably just let it. Because it's a frog.

page 194

There's fanart of this scene too because it's hilarious. She kisses a frog, he becomes a man hanging half over the rim of a fountain, and all she can say is "Goodness! But...you're beautiful." Ridiculous.

page 194

HA and then she tries to recover saying, "I haven't seen that many men in my life. Hardly any, actually. I'm sure that you're really very ordinary." Kid. Please, stop insulting him, you're going to make him sad(der than he already is)

page 198

It's at this point that Alexander just sort of gives in to the sass and the snark and starts leaning into the nonsense. "Creature?" "She's not entirely human." "Uh, in what way is she not human?" "To begin with, she has two heads, no hair, only three fingers on each hand, and is fully seven feet tall." "You're right. That doesn't sound entirely human." Pleeaaaaase this book is a deliiight.

page 200

That twilight area between wakefulness and sleep, with thoughts centered on nothing at all? my brain, today. fully. I've got nothing left to offer anyone, except not-very-funny remarks on this book.

page 202

Nothing Telgrin does is ever common. Overblown and ludicrous, maybe, but never ever common.

September 1, 2020 –

page 209

When the two headed guard calls to the intruding man like a person tempting a kitty cat. "Come here, man, pspspsps. Man, man, maaaan." Instead of catnip, she can bring tacos.

page 211

Again, I just gotta let you all know that the books have been misprinted. It's not a disembodied head floating in the orb, even if it's probably supposed to be an Owen's decapitated head parallel, because that's dumb. It's a tiny two-inch tall Graham floating in the orb, not just his face. I don't know how all the copies got misprinted like that, but they did. It's really a tiny Graham. Cute. Okay? Okay. Onward.

page 212

I love One Stubborn King.

page 216

I can't actually make snide jokes about the text when I'm actually just outright enjoying it. The sheer blissy silly triumph of Telgrin, the stubbornness and sharp agony of my dear sweet Graham, Alexander standing there ruminating on what loyalty means--this is exactly my flavor of fantasy jam.

September 17, 2020 –

page 225

I still kind of sort of love that Telgrin apparently decided that the best way to use the magic staff was to make it respond to wishes. "I wish for a giant fireball." And thus, one appears. It just...speaks to some strange childishness that I find totally hilarious in this big bad villain.

page 230

Again, the book is misprinted. I'm not about these weird Wizard of Oz style floating faces. They're weird. It's a fully bodied apparition of Telgrin yelling at Alexander, hands on hips, just as it's a tiny full bodied shape of Graham in the orb. My version is better.

page 231

"I could kill you now, if I wanted." "I don't think so," Alexander said defiantly. "Is *everyone* in Daventry this obstinate?" Sir. My dude. My man. Palberto. You messed with the wrong royal family, and they come from knight stock, not actually blue blood at all. They're going to *wreck* you.

page 232

"I'll live, I think." Alexander, your ability to comfort others leaves a little bit to be desired.

page 234

I'm not actually kidding. If Mills hadn't read Fellowship of the Ring at least a week or two before writing this, I will eat my whole entire adventuring cap. That's the Watcher in the Water, as there was literally lembas bread earlier and a ringwraith before that. Fantasy tropes or not, this is just sneaking Tolkien references in because Mills is a fanboy (I mean, obviously: he's writing company-approved fanfic).

page 237

Again, Alexander, realize this: Telgrin learned everything he knows from Owen. One might assume, especially knowing how dark those mirrors felt, that Owen himself is *not actually a very good guy.*

page 241

It's kind of like cheerfully presenting Sweeney Todd with his shaving tools. "At last, I am complete again!" Not.....super great, I feel.

page 242

I love that it's not actually magic keeping the castle moored, but a big ol' safety pin. That's not even actually much of an exaggeration. "At the bottom of that well you will find a large golden pin embedded in the paving stone. You are to remove this pin. It may not be easy, but you must do it. It will set the castle free from the moorings of the earth."

page 248

The fact that Telgrin now has to wear an eyepatch is great enough. The fact that he took the time to make sure it perched on "his bald head at a jaunty angle" is almost too much to bear. I hope he stood in front of his cracked and smoking mirror adjusting it just so before coming down for this final confrontation.

page 248

"I'll probably never see out of this eye again, I hope you're happy with yourself." "I mean...you *were* trying to kill me." "Irrelevant." Boys, please, there are serious issues at hand.

page 250

"All I've ever asked in return is that you marry me, and that you not burden me with your opinions." Telgrin, the ultimate flirt. Magnificent.

page 251

Telgrin's snarky sassy meltdown is the greatest. "She's now willing to marry me, merely to save your worthless life! Willingly! Well, I won't have it, I tell you. She shall marry me unwillingly, or not at all!" Telgrin, you are absolutely bonkers and you're my favorite villain in any piece of media ever, full stop. The sheer ridiculousness of *you* with your wish-magic and bloviating and grandiose posturing....divine.

page 253

Telgrin's pasty complexion is enough to "make a marble statue appear dark by comparison." If this were a modern AU, Telgrin would be that emo kid hunched over twitter mansplaining at everyone, while listening to the rainy mood app constantly. He's an absolute delight from start to finish, especially because he *is* a threat and he *could* win if he wasn't so obsessed with the *aesthetic* and the need to show off.

page 255

Ahh one of my favorite lines in the whole book: "It's blame-everything-on-Telgrin time, is it?" What villain talks like this?? Who does this?!! No one but Telgrin, author Craig Mills, and this goofy novelisation of the very sassy, very cliche, very delightful, King's Quest series. Fantasy tropes, sass, snark, and everything. This book is nothing but pure sugared joy for me.

page 266

No more than two feet of earth held the entire castle in place, and now they're floating away again like the house in Up. Delightful.

page 270

Telgrin, you can't behead someone who has already been beheaded. Be sensible.

page 273

"Can you think of any way for us to get down from [this steadily rising floating castle]?" "I could attempt to fly you down!" All in all, Alexander thought he would rather just jump. Boys, please.

page 288

A Valanice story, I think, would have been very welcome. I'm glad for the trilogy we got, but I really would have enjoyed an official novel from her perspective. This lonely image of her standing alone before the throne, with her husband dying in the next room and her son gone for at least a week to face an unknown villain alone, while her kingdom is ravaged by evil knights....it feels worth exploring.

page 291

I absolutely one thousand million percent love this strobing effect of two Grahams floating together, his transparent and delicate soul settling down into his body again. It's delightful.

page 292

Pleaaase Graham, say "A heart is a heavy burden." I know this book came out like a decade before the Howl's Moving Castle (the movie at least, I don't know the book's publication date), but pleaaaase. I know you won't, but I want you to.

page 293

SHRIEKING. I don't ever ship things, but this is my otp for liiiiiife look at these two precious beans together I'm just THRILLED the smile on my face is enormous ahhhh Valanice and Graham have hardly anything going for them in the original games since they hardly ever interact on screen but this book and this scene is just DELIGHTFUL.

September 17, 2020 – Finished Reading

Again, five stars out of five stars

#king's quest novels #king's quest #kings quest #cyril (king's quest) #alexander (king's quest) #theoretically i'm reading it for a 4th time this year but i haven't actually gone past page six so that's it for liveblogs of book one #for now anyway #maybe i'll add book 2 and book 3 too #i haven't read them nearly as many times they've never captured my attention like this one did #but they are still fun and it might be good to have everything contained here anyway

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 72. brb x oc

a/n: after some anxiety i finished it. so i hope you guys like it...i really did.

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, dad-honorary grandpa- grandaughter being cute combo

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/

25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

/65/66/67/68/69/70/71

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @dhwanishah09 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23

-

Nicole was very talkative, he could see her babbling happily on the backseat, he wasn’t sure if she was trying to sing along to the music playing on the radio or just was figuring out how fun it was to speak. She waved her arms up and down, kicking her legs on the seat, even getting louder every now and again all the while shaking a rubber chicken - yes, the ones that scream every time you squeeze, another lovely gift from Hangman - that just warbled out almost in panic of losing its plastic life.

Rooster smiled when Nicole’s little feet started tapping the end of the carrier, hitting the sturdy plastic and immediately making his daughter look towards it in surprise. She did again, then again, then kept doing so because the noise was really fun, “Birdie,” he calls, thankful they were at a stop sign, “Easy on the hitting, cutie, you’ll end up hurting yourself.” it was cushioned, there was no way she would get hurt but he was a bit of a worrywart when it came to Nicole.

He didn’t know how but Beatrice was the calmest of the two, yes she had her anxious moments, but she had…the right times to get worried. Rooster,however, was worried pretty much all the time when it came to Nikki.

Like right now, she was four months old, it wasn’t like she was going to break the seat or anything like that,or really hurt herself when all she’s doing is tapping her light yellow shoes with chickens - again, all his friends were out to bully him by giving his daughter chicken themed stuff - on the sides against the seat. Nothing more nothing less.

He gives another look toward Nicole, her brown hair pulled up into low pigtails that move every time she turns her head, her big light eyes covered by the round lilac sunglasses that Evelyn got her, “Ah!!” she gestures to the window and Rooster leans down to see what she’s looking at.

“That’s a tree,baby.” he says gently, “I don’t know what kind.”

“Ah!”

“Yes,I know, it’s really big.”

Nicole bounced on the seat, making a grabby motion towards the tree and then waving her chicken at it - cue to more desperate gasping sounds from the plastic animal - “Not yet, Birdie. When you get older I’m going to teach you how to climb them.” he looks back up and drives off, still keeping Nicole in his sights by checking the rearview mirror every now and again.

He sighs, knowing that Mav was literally just a few meters away. His uncle was a good man, he was a good guy, but the moment he mentioned Nicole was coming with he basically forced Rooster to speed it up so he could see her, “Your grandpa Mav is kinda crazy, don’t let him influence you.” Beatrice’s voice appeared in his head, repeating the ‘she’s four months old,Roos.’ “Because even if you are a baby, he’s going to say something that you’ll undoubtedly remember.”

Was he speaking from experience?

Maybe.

He still knew how to mimic cows in the middle of the night but refused to do it again…especially since his mother hated it. Bradley sighed, seeing his uncle already in the distance, hands on his hips, sunglasses on and that very Maverick smile on his face. The one that said ‘this is going to be fun but mainly for me’.

As Rooster rolled to a park,Maverick approached the passenger door where Nicole was and his daughter immediately reacted upon seeing her honorary grandpa. She squealed, shaking her noisy chicken and stretching her little arm to the window, “Oh my God,Nikki!” Maverick slowly disappeared from her view, “Nikki! I’m melting! Noooo!!” Nicole lifted her head when Pete disappeared, a confused noise leaving her throat as she tried to find him again.

When he jumped up from the floor right back on the window,Nicole jumped but then immediately started laughing, “Oh, aren’t you just so brave?” Bradley unlocked the passenger door to let his uncle open it, and Pete kept talking to Nicole, “Hi sweet thing! Hi! Let’s get you out of there-”

“I can do it,Mav-”

“Nonsense.” he says, letting Nicole loose and slipping his hands under her armpits, “I got it. Hi precious!” his voice got higher as he held the baby close to his chest. Bradley just watched from the rear view mirror with a slight frown, then sighed as he left the car himself after grabbing the baby bag Beatrice prepared for him. He saw his uncle bouncing Nicole in his arms and gasping with amazement when she offered him her chicken, “Oh, for me? Oh you shouldn’t have.” 

Bradley had to admit…it was wholesome. His uncle was always the type of guy who’d have this vibe with babies…at least it’s what his mother used to say back when he was younger. Maverick was the one who’d sometimes pick him up and he’d immediately stop crying, just for his father to look confused and betrayed. “So,Mav, before anything-” his uncle is already walking away with a babbling Nicole, so he had to step up, “Mav,we have to place Nicole in a safe place.”

“Mhm.”

“Nowhere near tools, boxes or anything sharp.”

Maverick smiled at Nikki, opening and closing his hand like it was an alligator and going ‘nom nom nom’ on his granddaughter/grand-niece’s tummy, making the baby girl squeal and try to grab his hand, “Of course, nothing sharp.”

“...are you even listening to me?”

Maverick stopped walking, sighed and turned around, giving his nephew a look through his sunglasses, “Bradley…what do you think I’m going to do? Teach Nikki how to change a tire at the ripe age of four months? Relax.” he looks back down at the smiling baby girl, “You are worrying too much.”

“Well, excuse me for worrying about my baby.” he mumbled, entering Maverick’s garage to see the bike leaning against the wall, but his uncle just stopped when they reached the old fucking sofa, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to put her down.”

“What? She’s not sitting there!” He turned around to grab the seat from the car, “I’ll be right back-” but his daughter squealed, this time not as happy as before. He turns around to see Nicole’s little arm reaching for him, her light eyes glinting with tears and her face turning red, “Oh no, no no, sweetie I’m just going to get your seat-” a louder cry this time, followed by his uncle’s amused smirk, “Honey, no…”

Maverick let Rooster pick Nicole up and hold her against him, kissing her cheek and rocking her in his arms,”I’m not going nowhere, pretty thing.I swear,okay?” Nicole just hugged his neck, “Oh baby, daddy doesn’t want you sitting on the couch…it’s icky.”

Seeing his almost forty years old nephew say the word icky was hilarious.

But he didn’t laugh…maybe he snorted quietly and tried to cover it as a cough.

His nephew just kept shushing and calming Nicole down, his little daughter lifting her head and babbling - almost ordering to - to his face, then slapping her small hand on his mustache, “I could be wrong,” Mav says, “But I think she wants you to stay where you are.”

Bradley groans, kissing Nicole’s tiny palm and then nuzzling her neck with a heavy sigh escaping him, “Fine, but  we are covering this couch, Nicole isn’t going to sit down on it without proper coverage.”

“There must be something around here-”

“Something clean Mav.”

Maverick chuckles while shaking his head, then lifts his hands up, “Alright, alright,” he thinks about it for a second, “Oh I know.”

Bradley just follows his uncle with his eyes until he disappears from view, all the while cooing and nuzzling Nicole, kissing her red cheeks and letting her hold him a little while longer. He looks up when Pete returns, holding his jacket up, “...wait, you serious?”

“It’s clean.”

“It’s your jacket.”

Maverick lowers the piece of clothing with a frown, “The hell is that supposed to mean?” He ignores his nephew’s confused stare, flaps the jacket - the colorful patches immediately catching Nicole’s attention- and places its interior down on the couch, even tucking in the corners so it wouldn’t sleep. “There, all done.”

“Mm.”

“Come on,Rooster.” he gestures to the couch, “Put her here, she’ll be fine.”

Bradley hesitates, looking from the couch to Nicole then vice-versa, his daughter’s eyes were wide and locked on the many patches that adorned her grandfather’s jacket, colorful and bright with the most varied symbols. She waves her fist and then looks up at her father, “Aa!” more shaking, “Buh!”

Rooster blinks but he sighs again, seeing there was no way that he could hold her for longer now, “Alright.” he gets closer to the touch and gently,gently,lowers Nicole on top of the jacket. Her little chicken was forgotten the second she sat down and her hands immediately reached for the patches, rubbing her palms against the embroideries with an amused sound leaving her lips, “...okay,maybe it’s not so bad.”

“I know it’s not.”

Rooster’s shifty glare only made this situation funnier,”But the bike has to be aligned,” he holds both hands up, “With the couch. So I can see her.”

Maverick stands beside his nephew, the constant babbling from Nicole and the sounds from the outside adding into the strange scenario, “Alright.”

“And no music, because I have to hear her too.”

“...you’ll be facing her,Rooster.”

“But what if she cries and I have to turn around?”

“I’ll be right here ready to act,” Pete says in one breath, almost as if he’s tired of this conversation already, “Just relax. Look at her, she’s having fun!”

Rooster looks at Nicole with his brows furrowed, his daughter was going ‘ba ba ba’ while slapping every patch she could see, little pigtails moving as she giggles with pure amusement. “Okay…fine. But I choose the song.”

“You always do.” Mav is already walking away from the young Bradshaw, putting his sunglasses away, “Can you grab the tools for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” he moves to the tool box but his eyes keep returning to Nicole, almost fearing that the millisecond he doesn’t have her in his vision something would happen. But his daughter is just too busy trying to talk to the patches to pay attention to him. Her sunglasses however were sliding down her nose, so Rooster decided that first and foremost he should get that done.

“Nikki,” more babbling, “Look at me,Birdie.” he coos, his daughter only looking up when his face is close to hers, a gurgled laugh leaving her lips, “Hi, pretty thing. Can I take your sunglasses off? Before they fall and break and you could hurt yourself?” he could swear he heard Mav’s amused chuckle away from him, “Thank you, precious. Now I can see those pretty eyes too.”

Nicole’s light green eyes met his brown ones and her gummy smile was enough to make his heart melt, “Now,you’ll be nice and stay here,okay?” she babbles again, touching his cheeks with her small hands, mouth moving forward to press what could be considered a kiss to his chin but it was like she was trying to bite it.

He’ll take it.

“Ahem.” Maverick’s voice interrupts the adorable moment, “I need help? If you could do that,I’d appreciate it,Rooster.”

Bradley groans, giving Nicole a gentle look, “I’ll be over there, Birdie.” he coos, kissing her button nose and only stepping away when her little hands let go of his face. He shrugs off his outer shirt so only his tight white tee is shown, folding it in his hands…and placing it close to Nicole almost as if it was a wall. 

He hears Pete rolling the bike to align with the couch just like he requested and finally grabs the tool box, “I placed her bottles in the fridge.” Mav mutters, jutting his thumb over his shoulder to the old fridge he somehow kept in there, a miracle that thing still worked, “And the bag is on a chair, not on the ground. So it’s not…icky.”

“...it sounds weird when you say it.”

Pete laughs, dropping his head forward for a minute, “Imagine how I feel. Anyway, go set the song,” he points to the radio, “I’ll prepare everything.”

-

Desert loving in your eyes all the way

If I listen to your lies, would you say

I'm a man (a man) without conviction

I'm a man (a man) who doesn't know

“I’m surprised you chose Culture Club.”

“I’m surprised you have that in your playlist,Mav.”

Pete looks up from the bike’s chain, arching his brows, “Listen, Boy George is a great singer. Not my fault it’s so catchy.”

“Uhuh,”

“Anyway,how’s our little hummingbird?”

Bradley looks to where Nicole is still sitting, still amused by the several patches, she hadn’t complained yet nor seemed upset to be there, “She’s fine.” cue to his daughter giggling because of nothing, making him smile in return.

Pete looks up from the bike, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, “She seems to be having fun.” he says, a crooked smile on his face, “How’s Bea?”

“Fine, she’s meeting the new bartender today.” he explains, grunting as he lifts the bike for Pete to shine a light under it, “And helping them, because Penny needs the help.”

“She does and I told her to stop being so stubborn about it.” Pete says, moving the flashlight around, “There’s something under here- I told her she needed to stop thinking she can handle it when the girls aren’t there.”

“Amazing she didn’t kick you out.” Bradley jokes, gently placing the bike down and crouching next to his uncle so they rummage through the toolbox until he found what Pete was about to ask for, “Is it going to be okay?” he nods to the motorcycle, “Or is it time to let the old lady go?”

“Let her go? Please,Rooster.” Mav snorts, twirling the smaller wrench around his finger “This lady still has a long time to go.”

Rooster hummed, almost not believing him and turned his eyes back to Nicole. This time she was no longer patting the jacket, but was nibbling her fist, with her focus on him. He checks his watch, “It’s time for Nikki to eat.” he mutters, groaning as he stands to his feet, looking down at his dirty hands with a frown, “I’m going to wash my hands, keep an eye on her.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Bradley walks past the couch, leaning down to kiss her head, “One second, honey. Daddy needs to wash his hands.” Nicole replies with a quiet ‘ah’, turning her head to keep her within her vision and Rooster was glad that the couch looked at the old fridge so Nicole wouldn’t lose him at all. He washed his hands in the sink, doing a double take when he saw the microwave on the wall, “Oh God, you didn’t throw this shit?”

“Why would I?” comes Mav’s voice, “It’s still useful, there’s only a few scratches on it.”

“It looks like it’s been to war, Mav.” he says, opening the fridge, “Why don’t you just use the portable stove?” that also had seen better times but at least looked clean, so he could use it to heat up Nicole’s milk since microwaves aren’t recommended.

“Because.” and no other explanation was given, making Rooster roll his eyes as he turns on the stove and places the heating mug on top - it was the one thing he got from home because he just felt it’d be cleaner - with the bottle inside.

“At least this area is clean.” Bradley mutters, looking around for a little bit until his eyes stop at a picture hanging on the wall. He tilts his head, furrowing his brows as he takes a closer look, “...what picture is this?”

“Say what?”

“The one with you and my parents and myself…I’ve never seen this one.”

Silence followed, Boy George’s voice fading into the next song that ironically or not was Forever Young by Rod Stewart and Rooster had to look back to check if Mav was okay. He had his back turned to him, ribs expanding as he inhaled shakily, “...New Years.”

“What?”

“It was the New Years.” he says, “You just turned one and your parents didn’t want you to be scared because of the fireworks…so when your dad asked me to join I suggested we watch it from the beach, away from the noise and everything. Your family was there too.”

Rooster looks back at the picture, plucking it from the tape that glued it to the wall. It was indeed him, smaller with huge colorful glasses over his eyes with his dad holding him up as he and Mav sat on beach chairs. His mother was leaning against his dad’s knee, smiling at the camera as he saw his maternal aunt in the background walking by. “I…had no idea you had this one.”

“Do you want it back?”

The tone of his voice made Bradley frown, it was the same tone he had after he…accusingly so, told him there was no one waiting for him back when he saw him again. “...no,Mav, you can keep this one.” he says and he hopes he sounds better than before, he hopes his uncle knows there’s no ill feelings between them now. He sets the photo down and turns off the fire after a while, dripping some of the milk on the back of his hand to check the temperature. 

“Your father gave it to me.”

“The picture?”

Pete nods, standing to his full height as Bradley walks to the couch to pick Nicole up, smiling down at her, “I didn’t…really celebrate a lot of holidays anymore.” his uncle laughs almost uncomfortably, “And then your parents showed up, God. They dragged me everywhere.”

“Well you are pocket sized-”

“Hey.” Pete points at Rooster, a warning that only made his nephew chuckle, “You are lucky Nicole is there, because I’d beat you up,kid.”

“If you reach me.” 

“Hey.”

The two men shared a laugh, with Maverick sighing and sitting down next to Rooster as he fed Nicole. His daughter had her eyes partially open and her little hand was fisting his shirt as her head rested on the crook of his elbow, “Ah,” Maverick smirks, “I see she got that from you too.” Bradley just gave him a confused look so his uncle gestured to the bottle that was now half full, “You drank fast,Rooster. I don’t know if you were in a hurry or hungry…or both.” Pete looked down at Nicole,whose eyes immediately opened to look up at him, “She’s so alert too,hi honey.”

Bradley smiles proudly at his daughter, his huge hand appearing bigger around Nicole’s little frame, “She is very alert, very brave too isn’t that right, Birdie?” he coos down at her, sighing against the couch, “...she’s so cute.”

“That she is.” his uncle agrees, then he tilts his head, “...she must’ve gotten it from her mother.”

His nephew just glares at him, lifting the almost empty bottle so Nicole got the last drops of it, “I’ll ignore that.” and once the bottle was finally empty, he quickly wipes Nicole’s lips as she wriggles a bit in his arms, “Okay, okay, easy there- she gets excited because we hug her after she eats.” and he places her on his shoulder, kissing her cheek and patting her back, “...can you get the cloth inside the bag?”

“Sure,” Maverick says, standing to his feet and then pausing and looking over at him one more time, “You forgot about it before didn’t you?” a grimace and a nod, “...yeah,so did your dad once.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader