#when will I learn a proper time to post a gif set? never

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

💗 koobi cuties for @raplinenthusiasts (cr. 0613data)

#when will I learn a proper time to post a gif set? never #userbangtan #usersky #annietrack #heyryen #usermaggie #useremmeline #userkelli #usersolis #trackofthesoul #tuserandi #userpat #is that u pat 🧍‍♀️ #mine! #cyphernet #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #jungkookedit #hoseokedit #btsedit #love you julia 💗💗💗💗💗

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew. 

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most. 

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic. 

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now. 

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind. 

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that. 

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first. 

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems . 

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it. 

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning. 

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.  

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty.  You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that. 

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested. 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate. 

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say. 

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

< Previous Weekly Writing Challenge Fic My masterlist

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems x reader

[dernier-mystere]

Even the Coldest Nights can't stop the Warmth of The Heart | Lyney x gn!reader

summary: reader who is set as traveller, has a commission set in Dragonspine, due to the odd nature of the request whilst in Fontaine, y/n asks Lyney to accompany them, where they experience a few new things. Just some fluff with slight Angst as requested! pairing: Lyney x reader warnings: N/A word count: 3010 a/n: It's the first proper time I've posted a fic here! I might upload it on my Ao3! Let me know if you guys enjoy this, and I may do more :) Anyway, this is my post for Genshin Impact Secret Santa for @meidnightrain! This is also the first time I wrote something for Lyney! Hope you enjoy it! Thank you @2023gisecretsanta for the opportunity! Merry Christmas Everyone! Happy 2024 as well!

"Aah… Achoo!"

Lyney slowly rubbed at his nose with his sleeve, he rarely had been out in such cold weather, but that didn't stop him from helping his 'friend'.

"Phew… I've heard some say that when you sneeze, it means that someone's thinking about you." He smoothly said as he pushed himself up to match the pace of his companion who was trudging their way through the harsh mountainous terrain with great ease which impressed him, he ruled that it must not have been their first time here. The magician smiled as he finally caught their gaze, twirling his top hat between his index and middle finger as he continued speaking, the hat soon landing on y/n's head as he placed it on.

"Is it Lynette?" He hummed, tapping his finger against his chin, despite gazing into the distance, his violet gaze was focused on Y/N, his smile soon turning into a flirtatious grin. "I wonder? Or… is it you?" He chuckled as Y/N panicked, almost losing their footing on the snow-covered ground, yet Lyney was a step quicker as he managed to grab onto Y/N's arm with ease as he laughed softly. The sound of his laugh was practically music to Y/N's ears as they felt their cheeks heat up, but it could've also been the harsh weather…

"Thanks…" Y/N softly said as they adjusted their balance on the ground, "Sometimes the ground is quite unstable on these mountains… I remember when the ground nearly fell under me when I was travelling up here with Albedo…" They admitted with a heavy sigh and a slouch, their H/C blowing in the icy winds.

Lyney gave a small chuckle at the thought of it happening, though a part of him did wonder who was this 'Albedo', he never classed himself as a possessive individual… but he saw Y/N to be just as important to him as Lynette was… being in the House of the Hearth meant he had to keep the ones closest to him safe and out of any trouble, as well as making sure they wouldn't leave him behind. "Really now, luckily for you, my dearest Y/N, I have been trying out this new trick as of recently, maybe you might be the perfect assistant in this if you were ever to fall~" He winked, and poked out his tongue to them.

"A new trick? about falling?" They asked softly, holding Lyney's top hat onto their head so it wouldn't blow off in the wind, it also provided some head protection from the snow. Y/N couldn't dare look Lyney in the eyes right now, especially paired with that playful grin of his, it made their chest fill with warmth and their heart race, Y/N swore they could almost keep warm from just his smiles and words alone.

"Of course! What magician would I be if I let my beloved fall into the icy depths of… What was it, Dragonspine?" He asked with the same flirtatious smile, watching Y/N nod at the unique name he continued, "What a unique name, may I ask how it acquired such a name?" He asked, his gaze glistening with curiosity as Y/N continued to push through the cold winds. "It's quite a story… a great dragon was defeated here and their corruption that lingered in their blood poisoned the land…" Y/N explained, their footsteps falling to a stop as they extended their hand out over the large cliff face to the large spines sticking out of the ground, "I was surprised to learn that those are its ribs and then you know if you follow them along, it makes the rest of the dragon's body."

"I see, my that sure is a fascinating tal-" He felt another sneeze consume him, cutting off his words as he sneezed once more, maybe he should have taken Father's stories into account whenever she headed to Snezhnaya… a thicker cloak would've been much more protective against the cold wind and atmosphere compared to the fur-lined cloak he opted to bring when Y/N had asked him to come along… Lynette would've lectured him for this as well, however, she and Freminet were both accompanying father with a request… and how could he say no to Y/N's humble request when they have come all the way to just find him, paired with their adorable pleading face…

"My apologies, as I was trying to say," He wiped his nose once more, "A truly fascinating tale, if only I could summon a dragon out of my hat, that surely would be a unique show in Fontaine! I am sure the audience would've been blown away with such a creature!" He gave a hearty chuckle as he explained the scene in his mind. The whole idea also made Y/N giggle, finding his idea almost ridiculous, there was no way that any space he held his shows would be able to hold a large dragon, maybe in the Opera Epiclese… but even that would be quite the stretch. Or maybe he could summon Neuvillette from his hat, he was considered a dragon… though Y/N was sure that the Chief Justice wouldn't exactly appreciate being pulled out from a hat.

Y/N glanced over at Lyney as he sneezed yet again, no doubtly chilled to the bone from the weather, Fontaine never had such weather like this… Y/N slowly removed their thick cloak and placed it around Lyney's shoulders, making the magician perk up, "Ah, dearest Y/N I am fine! You should keep this for yourself! I wouldn't want you to freeze out here." He mumbled, a slight blush on his cheeks as he for once, refused to look into the traveller's glistening E/C eyes.

"I have been up here a few times now, I am practically used to it."

"Still… it is quite dangerous."

"Call it a trade for your magician hat!" They smiled with a giggle, "Come on, there is a small cave nearby, we can try to make a fire and keep warm before treading up further to fetch those beacons, who even decides putting these up here is a good idea…" They whined, as Y/N planted their heels of their boots into the snow, and quickly hiked up the remaining snow-covered steps to locate the cave.

Lyney blinked for a few seconds, his mind trying to process the whole ordeal, or maybe he was just entranced by Y/n's beautiful smile… it was simply dazzling… it made them glow brighter than any star that danced in the night sky. He placed a hand to his chest for a moment, his eyes held such a display of emotions, affection, awe amongst many more… He truly was a magician who had fallen under a spell of something truly magical. He quickly eased his breathing and closed his mouth which was slightly agape the whole time, finally concluding his feelings. He quickly pushed himself up the stairs to catch up, clutching the cloak Y/N had wrapped around him closely as he finally made it up the stairs.

"What took you so long, Lyney…"

"My apologies, I was just… reminiscing. Father often spoke of Snezhnaya being cold like this… Now I can't get over just how cold it must be down there." He smiled despite lying in the situation, "Father always mentioned wearing thick layers of clothing when going down there, I should've followed his words to a T." He chuckled as a particularly cold gust of wind blew through his ash blond strands, making his hair a slight mess.

Y/N laughed at his appearance, snow stuck in some parts of his hair that was now messed up from the wind, and his face scrunched up due to the cold, he was adorable to look at, almost like a cat.

"Don't laugh at me… that was not a funny trick of the wind!" He exclaimed playfully as he too started laughing as he shook his head to get rid of the snow in his hair, not before gathering a small chunk and flicking at Y/N with an innocent smile, "My, looks like the snow got you too." He winked as he continued to laugh, making Y/N gasp as they wiped off the snow that lingered on their cheek.

The pair sat around the makeshift fire they had managed to build together in a small cave, it offered them protection from the cold winds and also warmed up their bodies. "It has been a while since I got time to myself like this. Enjoying the thrills of adventure and just bonding with friends in a whole new place. I see why Father didn't mind when I had asked." Lyney hummed, leaning back onto his arms that were placed behind him as he enjoyed the warm embrace of the fire, as his gaze lingered outside of the cave.

Y/N calmly gazed at him, it was almost like he seemed a little troubled as he spoke, as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn't want to say it. His purple eyes soon locked onto Y/N's as he tilted his head, "Something the matter traveller? Ah, would you like to see a trick?" He hummed with another smile as he closed his eyes. Y/N shook their head as they continued to look at Lyney, "You seem like the one who is troubled… You can tell me you know." Y/N mumbled silently, their soft voice laced with concern that made Lyney give them a true smile of his own.

He chuckled softly, "Ah traveller, only you can seem to read the true me huh? No matter how I try to hide, you are truly… something special." He spoke honestly, his head drooping slightly as his gaze returned outside once more, fingers gently brushing over the small stick of food that he held over the fire. "I am not too sure honestly, maybe I am worried about Lynette, or it could be that… I am just conflicted with emotions. I never particularly ever speak about myself let alone about… personal stuff. Hard to say." He spoke, Y/N could tell he still had some hesitation in his words, but for once he seemed genuine. "Well, you're always with Lynette, and being so far away from Fontaine… I can understand." Y/N commented, looking down at their skewer, yes, they too knew the burden of being so far away from their twin sibling all too well, though they had no real clue where their sibling was.

Lyney turned to Y/N once more, hearing the heavyweight in their tone, he was met with a small look of disappointment and sadness lingering in their eyes. He couldn't help but feel bad, he was lucky that he knew where Lynette was and that she was okay… Y/N however, had no idea where their sibling was. The Magician slowly moved closer to Y/N, shuffling close enough to the point their arms were touching. "I am sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to remind you of your own sibling… I at least can rest at ease that both Father and Freminet are with Lynette…" He slowly trailed off as he continued to gaze at Y/N with great concern, unsure whether to continue speaking or not. He was a magician, after all, he used his tricks and verbal magic to get closer to people… Yet, he struggled with trying to comfort others who seemed to be suffering.

His thoughts were cut off when he felt Y/N rest their head against his shoulder, their arms slowly wrapping around his own as they continued to look outside as he had previously. "It's okay… it wasn't your fault, Lyney… I just…" they slowly trailed off as they hugged his arm more firmly, pressing their cheek against his warm shoulder, "I just wish, I knew where they were… the last time I saw them, it was…a mess…" Y/N's voice fell to a low whisper as they talked about their brother, Lyney could hear their longingness to find their brother, all the hurt and suffering Y/N must have gone through, for their sibling to fall right through their fingers.

He slowly rested his head against Y/N's own, slowly nuzzling his cheek against their soft H/C coloured hair, "I am sorry to hear that…" He whispered against Y/N's hair, "I am sure… as twins, they too would want to know you're alright too… I am sure of it… Just like how Lynette would be concerned about me too, but… I am sure she knows I will be fine if I am with you." He whispered affectionately as he tried his hand at comforting Y/N, soon placing a lingering kiss on the top of their head.

Y/N smiled softly as they slowly snuggled closer to the magician as he spoke words as soft as clouds appeared, he had a charm with his words yet they felt truly genuine when he talked to them. Y/N felt Lyney move his arm out of their grasp, before wrapping it delicately around their shoulders and pulling them closer to his frame, allowing Y/N to rest their head against his chest. "You think so?" they asked softly as they nuzzled closely to him, enjoying the lingering warmth that came off of him.

"Of course, you know I could never lie when I gaze into your mesmerising eyes, Y/N, even if I tried." He chuckled softly, as he lifted his head of their own to give them a toothy smile. Y/N playfully rolled their eyes at his little attempts of trying to be smooth, "I can't with your lines, I am trying to have a serious moment here!" they chuckled before nudging Lyney in the ribs.

"Oh come now, my beloved. You know it is not my fault that you know how to truly cast a magical spell over this magician." He continued to smile as he nudged Y/N back, and both soon laughed together. "Say… Y/N, how about a small trick?" He asked fondly, gently moving himself to be in front of their gaze, yet he remained close enough for Y/N to keep leaning their head against him. "As long as you don't summon a dragon from your hat…" Y/N tried to force an annoyed tone, yet their voice crumbled into a playful laugh. Lyney shook his head, "If only! Feast your gaze amongst my hands." He said confidently as he moved his arm off Y/N whom they almost whined at. He quickly withdrew a set of cards from his vest, before effortlessly shuffling them between his hands with a hum, "Keep your eyes on them, mon amour." Lyney then flicked the cards out in his hands, allowing Y/N to select a card.

Y/N slowly moved their head off of his chest to gaze at the cards, "Um… this one?" They pointed at one, to which Lyney picked it up to show it to the traveller, "Remember this card, or else something bad may happen." He winked as he shuffled it back into his hands. Nine of hearts… Nine of hearts… Y/N whispered in their head as they resumed to resting their head against Lyney's chest. "Mon amour, is this your card?" He asked with a playful smirk, Y/N blinked as they gazed at the card he held up, "No…" they replied, as he held up a completely different card, "Mhmn, keep watching." He quickly flicked the card around revealing the card of nine hearts behind the previous card. "Wha- How?" Y/N perked up as Lyney smiled brightly, "My dear, you know a magician never reveals his secrets, but… may this magician hold your attention a little longer?" He asked, yet there was a slight hesitation in his voice as he leaned a little closer.

"Of course," They whispered, the heaviness was gone and instead placed with awe and curiosity. He nodded as he smiled once more, he slowly put the rest of his card deck away and continued to hold the card you had chosen. He slowly ripped it in half, before leaning close to Y/N as they were watching the card in his hands, tenderly brushing his lips over their slightly reddened cheek. Before Y/N could fully process the brush of lips on their cheek, Lyney had pulled back and twirled the two pieces in his hands as he took off his hat and dropped the card pieces into it, giving it a shake and emptying the hat to reveal nothing inside. Before placing his hand into it once more and withdrawing a lovely red scarf from his hat, which he wrapped around Y/N's neck, making sure they were comfortable.

"Just a small gift from Lynette." He smirked a little, as Y/N was now flustered bright red from the kiss that seemed to still linger on their cheek. "You! You can't just do that!" They huffed, rubbing their hand on their cheek as Lyney simply laughed, "Come now, it's a treat to see your lovely blushed cheeks, you can't blame me for wanting to see it for myself." He purred, his smirk becoming a gentle smile.

"I hate you…" Y/N murmured as they hid their face into his cloak that he had wrapped around both of their shoulders to help keep them warm, yet they couldn't stop the smile that pulled at the corner of their lips, as Lyney returned to wrapping his arm around their shoulders once more.

"If that was from Lynette… then what do you plan to give me?"

"Ah, that would ruin the surprise, Mon Amour, for now, how about we enjoy the warmth of the fire." He hummed with a cheeky smile, gently tapping on Y/N's nose.

Even the Coldest Nights can't stop the Warmth of The Heart.

a/n: PHEW, so honestly, I legit forgot about the Secret Santa omg, BUT I remembered in the nick of time! I have decided to upload this a little early (I mean it's literally like 3 hours till the 24th for me, but I may be busy for Christmas! I hope you enjoyed this gift, Meidnightrain!

Thank you so much for reading and I hoped you all enjoyed this! Please support my account by either liking or reposting! It is much appreciated, and if you'd like to see more of my fanfiction works, please let me know or drop in a request! I can mainly do Genshin Impact and Honkai Star Rail Characters fairly well! or just ask me for other anime characters! Thank you again! and-

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Find me on other platforms: Twitter: @DernierMystere Insta: @Dernier_Mystere Ao3: Dernier_Mystere https://dernier-mystere.carrd.co/

Jingyi over and out!

#lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #x reader #fanfic #secret santa #gixrsecretsanta2023

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter Four.

—> Chapter three

CW: Slightly suggestive. Hangover.

A/N: I posted the wrong chapter by accident🤦🏼‍♀️my bad. This chapter is a little short but I promise, it’ll get juicy soon :3

I wake up the next morning to find Amelia already gone and a little note laying on my bedside table, scrawled in her writing.

“Early shift at work, gotta go. Love you x”

The second I make any attempt to sit up out of bed, my head begins pounding, a cruel reminder of the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Yet another stupid decision that’ll make me waste another day lazing around and not doing anything productive. I somehow manage to stumble out of bed and into my bathroom. Because i’m an idiot, I slept in my makeup, breaking one of the most important rules I ever set for myself; never ever sleep in makeup. Crumbs of mascara descend down my dehydrated cheeks, lipstick clinging to the dry parts of my lips.

I wash away the remnants, praying that a bit of cold water and soap will help me to feel a bit more like a human being, rather than a zombie. It does, but not by much. The next thing on my list is to eat something, a proper meal, rather than just bits and pieces of random things laying around my cupboards. I usually opt for what known as ‘girl dinner’, a random assortment of little snacks. My go-to has been pickles with some tortilla chips, and apple slices with peanut butter. Instead of my usual ‘girl dinner’, I make myself a small bowl of pasta with some leftover sauce I have. Carbs will soak up the alcohol, I think.

Once I have something substantial in my stomach, the hangover is slowly starting to fade. It’s still there, but it’s gone from unbearable to just unpleasant. My head still hurts, but the spinning has subsided, luckily. I open my curtains and the windows, letting in some air to rid the smell of wine and takeaway food from my flat. It doesn’t take me long to clear up, putting the empty bottles and packages into the bin and the dirty clothes into the laundry. Now, my flat actually looks somewhat homely, rather than a biohazard. Look at me go, I think.

It’s well into the day, almost 3pm when I decide to reward myself with some well-earned phone time of scrolling on the same three apps for longer than i’d like to. I get into position on the couch, legs sprawled out and open tik-tok, scrolling endlessly on silly videos of cats that warm my heart and stupid memes. I make a mental note to look into getting a cat after I’ve learned to take care of myself. Id love a cat right now, but the poor thing wouldn’t last long. I can’t even look after myself most of the time, let alone another living thing.

The ‘ding’ of the washing machine interrupts my phone time and forces me to get my arse up and finish my chores. I drag the wet clothes out and carry them over to the dryer, turning it on and letting it run. After that, I scoop up the warm, dry clothes off the floor and carry them into my bedroom to fold and put away, like the responsible, functioning adult i’m pretending to be. I’m stopped in my tracks when I plop down on my bed and see a suit jacket hanging up on the drawer of my dresser.

Price’s jacket. Shit, his text.

The laundry gets completely forgotten and I pull up his message from last night.

Unknown: Lovely seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

My brain begins spinning again as I try to formulate some sort of answer that will make me seem like a normal human being. It takes me a good few minutes of typing and then deleting, but I get there in the end.

Me: I apologise for my rant, I was a bit of a mess. Let me know when you’re free and we can arrange getting your jacket back to you. P.s. the party wasn’t that bad.

I hit send on the message and eagerly await his response, like a teenager with a crush. Fucking stupid, I think. The first time a man has shown me attention in a few weeks and here I am, waiting with baited breath for him to-

Unknown: I told you, dove, no apologies. There’s fire in you, I like that. And as for the jacket, there’s no rush. Hope your head isn’t too sore today. -JP

I giggle like a schoolgirl as soon as I read his text. My brain is screaming because the handsome man with the broad shoulders is texting me, but I take a deep breath to calm the giddiness. He hasn’t exactly left it open-ended so I decide not to reply and wait for him to text next, not wanting to get too ahead of myself, only to be let down because I jumped to conclusions.

I finish the rest of my chores, his texts pinging in my brain. I start to imagine what it’d sound like in his voice as i’m doing the dishes from tonight’s dinner. I imagine his deep, rumbly voice, the voice that makes my fucking bones tingle and brain shake in my skull. I imagine pressing my face against his neck as he talks, feeling the vibrations against my lips. I imagine his voice calling me that stupid nickname, ‘Dove’. I’ve never been called that before, by anyone else, but it’s fast becoming my favourite nickname. It’s better than ‘hot tits’, anyway, the name my ex-boyfriend used to call me when he’d try to be smooth. When I think about it, my ex is nothing compared to Price. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t have the same attitude he does. He doesn’t exude masculinity and confidence the way he does.

For fuck sake, I’ve only met the man once and here I am fantasising about him while I pretend to watch yet another rerun of gilmore girls, my attention on him rather than the screen.

I know i’m getting ahead of myself, getting too excited, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in a long time, I let myself indulge in the thoughts and fantasies about the handsome man i’ve only met once. The thoughts continue well into the night, from when I curl up on the couch, to when I settle into bed, hand between my thighs and mind full of his voice. My sticky skin shines with sweat and my moans echo off the walls of my bedroom. I’d normally worry about being heard by the neighbours, but my mind is too full of Price to give a shit.

tags: @izziyuwh @a66-1 @jenniferpendragon @girl-of-multi-fandoms

#call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #plus sized reader #fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #captain john price #captain price

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day One point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C word count: 3.4k summary: Din Djarin eats bread. warnings: Mando'a and English cursing, gluten

You Were Marked: Masterlist

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As Din stepped into Marathel’s home, he took the opportunity to examine the structure while her back was turned.  It wasn’t so much a house as it was a raised platform with an open framework of posts and long slim beams supporting a flat roof.  The roof was heavily thatched with layers of braided leaves and flat grasses.   One corner was supported by a large tree, which had branches that reached under the roof.  Under this tree was a tall wooden upright frame that was heavily laced with string and fiber – some kind of loom, he supposed.  There was a long table with benches.  Opposite the loom was a sleeping pad that was partially surrounded by panels of hanging fabric.  Another corner of the structure was built out over a stream that partially flowed underneath the platform, and there was a simple pulley system for Marathel to collect water.  The back of the structure was dominated by a large clay box that was constructed around a fire, which contained a large metal grate that held cooking pots.  On either side of the fireplace were long counters with shelves, tightly packed with a variety of baskets.  Din’s eyes grazed along the top of the counter, littered with open jars and small clay pots, and there, next to the dry sink, lay a large round loaf of crusty bread.  

Bread.  Osik, bread.  Bread was hard to come by when criss-crossing the galaxy, eating travel rations on the run.  Bread that he had managed to get a hold of was hard and dry or too mealy to enjoy.  Never, ever had he had bread right out of an oven, and proper bread was so rare to him that he could count on one hand how many times he had eaten any.  Food at the covert was institutional and practical. Food was for strength, for energy.  Since becoming an adult, Din had discovered that that was not always precisely so.  His helmet only allowed the slightest of aromas to get through, but the hints of herbs that he could get were tantalizing.  

Marathel had dished up a bowl of the stew that stood on the hob, and she mashed the contents into a puree with a spoon.  She then picked up the loaf of bread, tore off a hunk, exposing the fluffy center that made Din’s mouth water.  She spread a soft cheese on the bread, deftly tore it into child-sized chunks, and placed the food on the table.  “Sit,” she said.  Din sat. Grogu immediately reached for the bowl, but Din moved it into a better position, set Grogu on his thigh, and began spoon-feeding the stew into the ungrateful maw. Marathel had her back turned again, putting herbs into mugs and filling the mugs with hot water from the reservoir, and Din briefly wondered if he’d have enough time to slip a bit of bread under his helmet before she turned around again.  Before he could, though, Marathel sat opposite him, sliding a steaming mug over to him.  “Does he approve?”  

“He does.”  

“Good.” She sipped her tea.  “He is a charming creature.”  

“He does have that effect on people.”  Din was about to let Grogu sip from the mug of tea when Marathel said, “Oh no, the tea is for you.  The tea is … a …. digestive?  Good for stomachs.  Too strong for little ones, unless they are ill.”  

Din slid the mug out of reach.  “Grogu needs no help in that department.”  

Marathel chuckled.  “I understand.  I helped with the little ones at the Hold.”  

“The Hold?”  

She gestured vaguely.  “Up there, where the others are.”  

“Why is it that you’re down here, all alone?”  

Marathel hid her face for a moment in her mug.  “The Dahlrhddwhyrs – the Dahls – of course.”  

“Why are they so important?”  

She shrugged and kept her eyes on the tabletop. “I don’t know.  Status, maybe?  The Ancient Ones had use for them, but I don't know what that was.  There are things known in the Oldtalk, but girls don’t learn those things.  The men and the boys who have changed learn that in the Round Building.  The girls only learn what Oldtalk and Newtalk is needed from the Diwhyns.” 

“Diwhyns?” 

“The … older women.  The mothers.  I’m sorry, you speak Newtalk …I will try to keep up.”  Marathel took another long sip of her tea. “But you were asking about the Dahls.  The Elders want them, but you can’t just take a Dahl.  You have to care for them while still in the egg.  When they hatch, you have to be there … that way …” She scowled, looking for the right words.  “They become yours, you become theirs?” 

“They bond?” 

“Yes!  Bond.  That is the word. I take them the eggs each season, but they will not bond with The Elders.”  Marathel slipped her hands into her sleeves and swallowed while she stared at the tabletop. She finally lifted her eyes to look at Din’s helmet. It was then that she noticed that he was not looking at her but seemed to be focused on something just behind her.  She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes fell on the bread.  “You are hungry, then?” 

“No.  I will eat later.” 

“If you want bread, you may have bread.  Or stew.  I have plenty.”  She got up and pulled another bowl from the shelf.   

“I cannot.” 

“You cannot?” 

“I may not eat before others.” 

Marathel’s brow furrowed.  “I don’t understand.” 

“I may not remove my helmet before any other living thing.” 

She contemplated this for a moment.  “You require … privacy, then?”  Din did not answer.  “This is easily fixed.”  She pulled out another one of her ubiquitous baskets and removed a stack of folded dark-colored fabric. 

Din stood.  “I do not wish you any trouble.” 

“It is no trouble.  You are hungry but may not eat before me.  I understand.  Let me fix something.  In the meantime, I expect Grogu will need the necessary?” 

“The necessary?” 

“Babies fill, babies must empty, yes?”  Marathel pointed towards the corner just past her sleeping pad.  “Hop down there and go about ten meters around that rock outcrop.  Look to your left, you will find it.  Go on, then.” 

Grogu was indeed squirming, so Din followed her directions and found a latrine just as she said.  It was little more than a wooden box with a hole in it, but the rock outcrop gave some privacy, along with a weatherproof curtain that was tied to an adjacent tree.  There was even a covered bucket of clean cloths.  All the comforts of home.  Din took care of Grogu, took a constitutional himself, and then headed back to Marathels’ hut.  On the way, he washed his hands and Grogu’s in the cold stream that flowed under the platform.  Upon climbing back up into her home, he saw that Marathel had constructed a fabric cubicle opposite her sleeping pad.  The fabric seemed opaque enough to serve the purpose.  Marathel was standing on her loom stool, stretched tall to clip the panel at the top, when she overreached and began to lose her balance.  Din quickly crossed the platform and put a hand on her waist to balance her, but Marathel yelped with surprise and overcorrected, causing Din to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.  She looked down at him with wide eyes, eyes that Din finally saw were the same liquid silver color as her hair, framed by pale lashes.  Marathel jumped down and smoothed her tunic where he had touched her.  Gesturing to the curtained area, she said, “This will work?” 

Din nodded.  “Yes.  It will suffice.” 

“Good.  Wash your hands, I will fix you a plate.” 

Din again followed her directions; it seemed that she would brook no quarter if he protested that he ate with his gloves on. He turned his shoulders away from her to remove his gloves, and he began to pour out warm water from the reservoir when she slid an open jar towards him.  “Soap,” she said simply while she filled a larger bowl with the stew and slathered an enormous hunk of bread with the soft cheese.   She placed the food on the stool and carried it into the fabric cubicle.  Din quickly washed both his hands and Grogu’s for good measure.  Marathel turned to him and said, “Please eat.  If it pleases you, I could take Grogu out with me.  We will leave you alone, but we will stay in the yard, so you can see us.  He could help me gather.” 

“That is fine.” 

 Grogu was already reaching for her, so she plucked him out of Din’s arms with a smile and settled him on her hip with practiced ease.  She grabbed a large woven bag and walked down the steps of the platform.  “Come Grogu, you are a strapping lad!  Let’s see what we can find.” 

Din entered the curtained space.  The fabric seemed opaque enough, but he could still see both Marathel and Grogu in the sunlit yard.  He picked up the food and sat on the stool.  He lifted the helmet from his head, closing his eyes, breathing in the clean air of this planet.  All at once he was pleasantly assaulted with smells: the aroma of the meat stew, the cleanliness of the fabric panels, the herbs in the cheese.  Taking a bit of the stew, the meat melted in his mouth, the vegetables were flavorful.  Din had intended to eat all the stew before biting into the bread, but he couldn’t wait anymore.  His teeth bit through the crunchy, flaky crust into the soft center that had the perfect texture of porgsdown, and the sharpness of the cheese and the headiness of the herbs made him wonder what in blue fuck he had been eating his entire life if he had to travel beyond the edge of nowhere and meet possibly the strangest person in his life in order to find this, and as he chewed all these marvelous things together he believed that he would gladly face off against a Krayt Dragon armed with nothing but his middle finger if he could be eating this bread while he did so.  He opened his eyes, breathing deeply though his nose, and the wind brought a fragrance that was sea salt and the wildflowers that blossomed in this woman’s yard.  She kept her back to him – as she promised – as she knelt with Grogu in front of a bunch of berry bushes, showing him what to pick.  He happily started pulling berries off for her and placing them carefully in her sack.  He ate a few, of course, but spit them out.  Din heard her laugh as she said, “Yes, dream berries taste bad to children, which is a good thing.  Show me how many you can pick!”  Grogu did pick for a while, but then he was distracted by a flying insect, which he chased around the yard.  Marathel continued with her picking but kept Grogu in her sights at all times.  As Grogu contemplated some sort of crawly critter on the ground, she came over and they both poked at it for a while until it rolled up and rolled away.  Laughing, they began to play some sort of chasing game, while Din ate the best bread he had ever tasted, and – though he would never admit it — quietly laughed too as he watched the tall woman and the tiny green creature gambol about the yard. 

The shadows in the yard were beginning to deepen by the time Din actually finished his meal. He had chewed each morsel of bread until they were liquified, and he had even picked up crumbs from the floor and ate them too, before he would admit that he was actually finished eating. By this time the running game had ended between Marathel and Grogu, and they sat on the steps with a bowl between them. Marathel was snapping beans into pieces and tossing them into the bowl; Grogu snapped the beans with much less skill and was preferring to chew on the pieces instead of putting them in the bowl. “Stop it, Grogu,” said Marathel, with a mock-stern look on her face. Noticing that Din had moved outside the cubicle, she smiled and asked, “All done?” 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

“It is no bother.” She stood and collected the bowl and plate from him, moving back to the kitchen to place them in the dry sink. Din moved off the steps and began to strap the jet pack back onto his back. Marathel came forward to the top of the steps, directly above him. “Are you leaving?”  

“Yes. We are thankful for your hospitality.” 

Marathel looked dismayed. “But …. why leave?” 

Din clicked the strap that held his blaster. “We are here for a bounty, and it would appear … we are not here at the right time. The bounty calls for you to deliver eggs. I take it there are no eggs at the moment?” 

 Marathel nodded, her eyes downcast. She slid her hands back into her sleeves. “It is not quite the season. But it is soon.” 

“How long?” 

Marathel's hands were so deep into her sleeves that they were almost rubbing her shoulders. Biting her lip, she walked back to her loom and pulled out a long chain of yarn through which she had woven short lengths of colored yarn in a complicated pattern. She counted out sections of patterns, and then looked out over the landscape for a long while. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, and then she moved back to the yard, looking into the sky. The moon was rising. She contemplated the moon. Finally, she moved closer to Din, with her eyes still downcast. Her hands went back into her sleeves – some sort of nervous gesture, he thought – and she finally said, “There will be eggs in four or five days. You will not have long to wait, Bounty Hunter.” 

Din nodded. “Four or five days.” 

Marathel shrugged. “Perhaps a bit more, perhaps a bit less.”  

Din went back to replacing his vambraces. “Come, Grogu, we will return to the ship.” 

Marathel quickly turned away to grab the bowl off the step. “Or you could stay here.” 

Din looked up. “Here?” 

Still back-to, Marathel gestured to the curtains she had hung. “You will have privacy. You will have meals. Would that not …. be all right?” 

Din tilted his head and considered her spine. She obviously was not a flight risk, which was why he contemplated just staying on the ship for the next few days. It would cost him too much in fuel to leave and come back. He was concerned about trying to take the bounty without contacting this Bishop person, whoever he was, but Din was also concerned that The Bishop and the Hold would continue to be closed off to him. This was all a mystery, a puzzle, an enigma …. an enigma wrapped in a mystery who kept her hands covered and her head down and her back to him while she held a bowl of beans. Din looked down to see Grogu wrap his arms around her ankle and look back at him with his huge eyes, pleading. Din took a breath and softly muttered, “Haar’chak.” Louder, he said, “If we will not be trouble, we will stay.” 

Marathel turned, Grogu still wrapped around her ankle, with a look that was somehow both relief and dread. “There is no trouble.” She tried to move back to the kitchen, but Grogu hampered her. She looked down at her ankle and chuckled. “I appear to have grown a Grogu. Let go, child, let’s get you and your father settled.” She pulled out yet another basket and unfurled another sleeping pad and collected blankets. She then lightly kicked the empty basket towards Din. “For your weapons. You may keep them in there. You may not wear them in my house. But you may keep the basket where you will sleep.” Marathel then set up the sleeping pad with blankets with her usual efficiency. Din removed his weapons again, placing them in the large basket, wondering what in Dha'tra he was getting himself into. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains around her sleeping pad so they were also closed. She turned back to Din. “My space, your space, yes? Privacy for both.” Din nodded. She clasped her hands together. “Very good. Now I will make us more tea, we will sit, and I will tell Grogu the story of Luad Dycwnigen.” 

Within minutes, Din found himself sitting on Marathel’s front steps, a mug of tea at his hip. She knew he obviously wasn’t going to drink any in front of her, which was why she had graciously placed a saucer on top of the mug to keep it warm. Meanwhile, she was pointing at the moon, which now had fully risen, telling Grogu how the Luad Dycwingen had left the ground to live in the sky, where the Dahlrhddwhyrs could not catch him. Unfortunately, he had to live on the moon upside down because he had jumped too far. Din gazed at the moon as well, and asked, “What am I supposed to be seeing?” 

“His shape. It’s that long, dark section there.” 

“It would help if I knew what a Luad Dycwingen was.” 

Marathel's brow furrowed. “He was a small, furry animal. Long strong legs, fluffy tail. Long ears that stand up and are almost transparent.” 

“That sounds like a rabbit.” 

Marathel shrugged. “Could be.” 

Din considered the moon again. “I guess. If I squint.” 

Marathel chuckled. “If your rabbits are the same as my dycwingens, they are good eating as well.” At this point, Grogu yawned hugely. “Ah yes, the wings of sleep are finally wrapping around the little one.” She pushed herself up and picked up her empty mug. Din stood as well. Marathel deftly handed off the child to Din and said, “My bed is calling for me as well. Have a good sleep, Bounty Hunter.” She went to the kitchen, quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, and stepped into her curtained room. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that Din was watching her. She stared for a moment and disappeared behind the fabric. 

Din stood where he was for a short while, listening. He finally heard the rustle of her laying down and then all was silence. He sat back down, Grogu nestled in his arms, asleep. Din reached for the mug of tea, slightly lifted his helmet, and sipped. It was still warm. It tasted different than the digestive tea she had given him earlier. It was a lighter flavor with a more calming effect – something sleepier, perhaps. He quietly sighed and stared into the stars, thinking about the oddity of a mark who welcomed him into her home and fed him before he turned her in. 

Marathel, meanwhile, had curled onto her side and pressed her clasped fists into her mouth to keep from screaming. The Bishop, The Bishop was going to drag her back into that Hold, all for those damned Dahls and their damned eggs, but it wasn’t about them at all, it was about how The Bishop was never denied, NEVER, and now The Bishop had sent this man who wore more metal than she had ever seen in one place, who wore a helmet covering his eyes, to drag her back into that Hold and through the doors of the Round Building, and she was so, so, afraid.  

Tears escaped her shut eyes, and she bit her thumb to keep her from breathing too loud because she knew that the metal man could hear her, the metal man was here to end her days away from the pain of the Hold, so she tried to shift her thoughts away from her fear and thought about the child, the little green child who made the metal man soft somehow.  

She didn’t have the words, she was dumb, she knew hardly anything, but she knew what was coming in the next few days and she knew she couldn’t escape it ... and yet, there was always a kernel of a dream in the deepest part of her soul, and she let the sweetness of the little green child be part of that dream. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin series #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fluff

[sammyam12345678]

Elsabela: Perfect Song

CW: Drugs, Ice, Lana Del Rey, Plants

Good morning, afternoon, or evening to anyone reading my post! Thank you for taking the time out of your day or night to read my post.

While I was doing my homework, I was listening to Lana Del Rey. I would not consider myself a Lana stan, but I do enjoy quite a few of her songs, especially ones from her Ultraviolence album.

While I was listening to Lana Del Rey's 2014 song "Brooklyn Baby", I thought that it would be the perfect song for an Elsabela fanfiction. For textual evidence, I have quoted some lyrics below:

First, "They think I don't understand The freedom land of the seventies"

Both Elsa and Isabela wear costumes inspired by 1970s fashion movement, specifically punk and boho.

In addition, both of them crave freedom and self-expression.

Next, "I think I'm too cool to know ya You say I'm like the ice, I freeze"

Yes, I am stating the obvious.

Third, "They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read"

As they sing about in "Let it Go", "Show Yourself", and "What Else Can I Do", people have seen them solely as beautiful, perfect "proper ladies", when they are actually more than perfect princesses.

Fourth, "But I'm free, ooh-ooh I'm free"

Similar to my third point, both ladies crave freedom.

Fifth, "I'm talking about my generation Talking about that newer nation"

Both of them at least influence major social change in their respective hometowns.

Sixth, "And if you don't like it, you can beat it Beat it, baby You never liked the way I said it If you don't get it, then forget it 'Cause I don't have to f*ck*n' explain it"

While I don't think either of them would be that rude to someone, they both have dealt with people, especially parents/grandparents not understanding them or allowing them to express their true selves.

Second to last, "I've got [flowers] in my hair I get h*gh on hydroponic w**d"

After "What Else Can I Do", Isabela realizes that she can make more than decorative flowers, likely including "medicinal herbs". In addition, I am sure she is interested in learning new gardening techniques.

Last, "Yeah, my [girl]friend's pretty cool But [she]'s not as cool as me"(Lana Del Rey, Barrie-James O'Neill)

They are both cool ladies, especially in the eyes of their younger sisters.

Ironically, according to Matthew Jacobs for Huffington Post, Lana Del Rey's song "Brooklyn Baby" is a piece of satire about 2010s-era New York City hipsters and hipster culture. (Jacobs). To state the obvious, Isabela and Elsa are not 2010s-era NYC hipsters, at least in canon and the majority of fanfictions, as their stories are set in small towns in the 19th/20th century, and they are not pretentious or elitist about their personal tastes, which people think of hipsters being.

Overall, the song encapsulates their relationship and personal lives well.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day or night to read my post. Have a good day or night!

#elsabela #lana del rey #brooklyn baby #songfic #encanto #disney princess #frozen #frozen ii #isabela madrigal #encanto isabela #elsa of arendelle

[bikwin5]

"ELLY'S ADVENTURE" notes and retrospective

It's been almost a month since I released "ELLY'S ADVENTURE," my first finished game in quite a while. I kind of dropped it without any context so I want to talk about it a bit. This is going to be a long post.

If you haven't played it then GO DO THAT CLICK ON THIS NOW!!!!! Just now I uploaded a recent 1.2 version that fixes a couple more bugs. I highly recommend you read this after at least beating the main game.

THE ORIGINAL

The first thing I want to reveal about Elly's is that the characters and setting did not begin with this project. How scandalous!!! They were actually conceived for a different project that I started thinking of as early as the end of 2015. This was also a game maker project, but it was much larger in scope than what Elly's Adventure became. It was going to be a "METROID MANIA" type game that many indie devs love to make.

The characters themselves didn't change that much in terms of roles. Elly was still the protagonist with Natalie as a supporting role, and I even had the idea of a hard mode where you play as Natalie back then. The plot was that there was like a magical item that got stolen and Elly and Natalie accidentally end up in a situation where they get recruited by the military and sent to take it back from a factory being used as a front for a base of very evil operations. The tone was still kind of funny but a little more serious than Elly's Adventure.

These are the earliest digital drawings of Elly and Natalie from 2015 and they look like FUCKING DOGSHIT!!!!!! SOmehow worse than I remember. I'm glad I learned to draw a bit better if nothing else.

Chandra was also a part of this project but she was not the main villain, rather she would have been the main henchman you fight multiple times throughout the course of the game, getting new attacks each time. She was to work under a character who I called MINERVA, THE CYBER-QUEEN who was to be the main antagonist. Chandra was more of a funny character who displayed moments of incompetence while the Cyber-Queen was more serious. I never really settled on a finalized design for the queen and I didn't even really like her that much in retrospect so Chandra ended up being the main antagonist of Elly's Adventure due to its more lighthearted nature. The enemies were also always meant to be weird round robots with green eyes, and I reused some designs for Elly's Adventure.

Old sprite sheets of Elly and the enemies. Was never really satisfied with Elly's animations.

Yulie was also part of the original project but she was to not make any physical appearances. Rather she was to give hints and bits of lore from pieces of her writing you would find around the factory, from a time when she worked there and slowly discovered that something sinister was going on. Surprisingly Yulie was never actually intended to be Elly's mom from the start until I started thinking of her being a support character in Elly's Adventure and I was like wait why should she be helping these kids... well her and elly both have blonde hair so she's her mom now LOL

This project never had a proper name, I think I also considered calling it Elly's Adventure but I didn't want to exclude Natalie from it so I was thinking of names like "Sky Diamonds" but it doesn't take place in the sky so that's stupid. I got as far as laying out the whole game and getting basic controls and some of the opening area down but that was about it. Truthfully I was never really satisfied with how it controlled or the art direction I was going with and making a metroid type game that lasted several hours felt so daunting I didn't really want to work on it anymore after a point.

Here are some old gifs of what it looked like. The main gameplay idea was that Elly was going to have a propulsion as a double jump that could be upgraded, sort of like the booster 2.0 from Cave Story. That idea ended up working its way into Adventure as a powerup. There was to be other mechanics like shot upgrades and secondary items that would do fun things but I never got around to that.

THE INSPIRATIONS

Now that I've spent long enough talking about Elly origins I can get to the actual game that, if you are reading this, most likely played. While it uses the same characters and setting as the last project, Elly's Adventure has a much smaller scope and style of gameplay. I am not a huge fan of the word "inspiration" something about it pisses me off. But with everything there was stuff that Elly's was inspired by.

First off only the most keen of observers may have realized that Elly's Adventure very much emulates the look and feel of titles played on a certain handheld system. It is the GAME BOY and it's one of the greatest things ever made. It has TI-84 ass graphics and sold a hundred million. I think the Game Boy might be the most rudimentary electronic game device to ever be so popular and I love it for that.

What's really ironic is that I actually did not have a Game Boy growing up YES that's right my first system was the Game Boy Advance. I know it's backwards compatible but I didn't know that as a kid and the only way I knew about games was either seeing them directly in the store or the sears catalog. And I loved Yoshi so much that I wanted a GBA specifically for the Super Mario Advance games with Yoshi in them. I enjoyed my Yoshi's Island port very much. So any original Game Boy title I've played I was either a teen or older since that was when I discovered the magic of emulation.

Anyway this is getting too anecdotal so I should start talking about the specific games that actually did inspire Elly's: Mole Mania and Link's Awakening.

MOLE MANIA is a puzzle game released by Nintendo in 1996. No one bought it because the Game Boy was dying and Pokemon had yet to breathe life into it again. People like to call it "Miyamoto's forgotten masterpiece" and then not say anything else about it. But it is legitimately a very good puzzle game that manages to do so much with so little and it's surprisingly difficult too. Each level is a series of one screen puzzles where the mole has to get the big ball into the goal, like this:

I got this from a youtude video so it has the cool Super Game Boy border. Anyway Muddy Mole can go underground to get to places and push and pull the ball around and all sorts of stuff. It's all designed in a very competent and concise way and I love everything about it except for the bonus stages and final boss. It feels unique among Nintendo games because it feels like they almost never do pure puzzle games that aren't some sort of falling block variant.

Of course Elly's is not a puzzle game so you might be wondering why I'm even bringing this one up. I felt compelled enough by the concise puzzle design that I wanted to make a Game Boy styled thing myself, something that I was considering for a while. I thought the idea of moving from screen to screen and clearing everything out would be fun. So I ended up digging up the handful of characters I had hardly thought about in years and set out to make a game with them.

Funny enough, even back in the day I was considering making a Game Boy styled game with Elly as a sidescroller. The idea was that it would have been a primer before jumping into a big game. It would have been something really short, like only 20 minutes, and the only characters would have been Elly and the Queen. But I didn't really get into it, not even writing down any ideas. So I suppose I was itching to do something with the GB style all along.

LINK'S AWAKENING is a much less obscure Game Boy game, and is probably the most well cherished GB title ever that isn't Pokemon. I went and played it shortly after Mole Mania because I wanted ideas for Elly, which was to be a small funny game of action. It wasn't purely for research, I just realized it was one of the few Zelda titles I hadn't played yet and I figured now would be a good time.

Of course it's a very good game. It uses the Game Boy's capabilities to its fullest and the color version enhances it even more. The overworld is made to feel bigger than it really is and the dungeons are honestly a lot more elegant that what Link to the Past had to offer. But mainly the thing I took away from this was level design stuff that could translate to Elly's well. I think STAGE 10 with the waterfalls was a good example of stuff I took away from this. A lot of the background graphics were also inspired by Zelda, such as the cliffs and castle walls.

did you know between DX and the remake its impossible to find any good screenshots of the original GB link's awakening... anyway just imagine this screenshot in monochrome and that's pretty much everything the desert stages were referenced from.

The Kirby series ended up being another source of inspiration, despite not taking many gameplay influences but rather style influences. Kirby is a funny little guy with awesome power and Elly could be considered similar, maybe even a ripoff if you think about it. I took a lot of ideas from the GB games in particular but moreso the spinoffs than anything. I think Kirby's Block Ball is a neat little title that's probably the best you can get with Game Boy breakout. Stuff like the structure of the game and the concept of an Extra Game were also taken from Kirby.

There are a couple of other minor GB titles that served as inspiration. Painter Momopie is a Japan-exclusive game about a little witch that has to paint floors. It's not an amazing game but it's cute and small. Elly's sprite, which was the first thing I drew for the game, was in fact based off of Momopie, and that's how I set the graphical style in motion.

There's also a game called Out of Gas which has these full screen cutscenes with fucked up looking people in it, which I tweeted about once.

I don't remember how I found out about it. This pic stands out to me a lot because there is not a single other game on the Game Boy that looks like this. This was dated May 10th and the notepad file where I started writing ideas for Elly's Adventure was also May 10th. So it's very much possible that this somehow ended up pushing me to make the entire game LOL

Moving on to Elly's Adventure

As implied by the last section Elly's Adventure started development around May of last year. This was probably my fastest turnaround from concept to development ever for a game idea. Somehow I still have the first things I wrote in the notepad file here unchanged:

There is a LOT more to the file than this but also I want to show that my process of making big projects is stupid as shit. Just take a big notepad file and start putting things in it until it gets so big I have to make a separate one. It's not the best but it works for a one person team.

You might also notice I intended the game to be about 30 minutes long, which did not happen as now it's more than twice that length. This is something called "scope creep" and it happens with every video game ever made by an ambitious indie dev. Honestly not sure how I intended "20-25 stages" to only take 30 minutes. Regardless scoping as small as I did I expected this project to take maybe a year and it ended up only taking a year and five months!!!!! I probably could have done it sooner if other projects and real life things like moving didn't get in the way.

Regardless it was relatively smooth to get Elly's Adventure off the ground. Since earlier last year I was already playing around with making a prototype of a different top down game that was puzzle based (don't count on me picking it up again) it wasn't too hard to do something similar on a smaller screen size, with already existing characters. I had some ideas that I scrapped early on like a score counter and a timer and decided to make Elly's a simple action game where you are simply focused on destroying everything you see.

This video is the earliest footage of Elly's after only a couple of weeks. The music was added by me, it wasn't in the game yet.

There's only one other bit of gameplay that's different than usual and that's the bonus stages, those were added fairly late in devlopment. I had the idea because I realized that a handful of Yulie locations was a pretty slow way of gaining 1ups by itself. I kind of forget they're in the game until I play it myself.

Truthfully I made Elly's as small as I did because I really did want to have a whole game out there that felt complete and polished. My Kirby games of the past might be funny but they're derivative works and VERY unpolished. With Elly's I wanted to give myself as much time as possible to refine a smaller game and I think based on reception it turned out alright.

THE DEVELOPMENT

Elly's Adventure was made in Game Maker Studio 2, a platform that I used because I had prior experience. Is it the best platform for making games? Honestly not sure. It's ok but it's obviously built off of an old codebase, much to its detriment. But I think Game Maker is very good at making 2D games that you can compartmentalize into a series of rooms, and Elly's was perfect for that. So I ended up doing that instead of learning GB studio or something because I didn't want to deal with actual GB limitations.

The development timeline of Elly's Adventure I ended up splitting into three phases. The first phase was to send the game to a couple of friends in secret and see what they think, purely as a proof of concept. The only feedback I was looking for was confirmation it was a good idea for a game. This was about three months in development and it had stages 1-10 without the stage 10 boss or the bonus stages, something I hadn't even conceived of yet. I got enough feedback that I knew I wanted to continue with the project.

The second phase was the longest, spanning like nine more months. This was the bulk of creating the game's content, as well as stuff like me moving that got in the way. I was more open about the game at the end of this phase and I sent it to a number of friends who are listed as "Generous Playtesters" in the credits. Special thanks to them, again, for doing this. I had more people than I expected willing to give me feedback for free. It took them a while, I think because I ended up sending it out the same time that fucking Zelda came out.

The "demo" I sent out was in fact the full game in a less polished state. All 20 stages, the intro and ending, and even a less refined options menu was all in. I did this because I really wanted the whole game to be polished as much as possible, especially since the last big game I put out (PEKSCTG2) was a hellscape tested only by me. Most reception was actually pretty positive and I think the thing I ended up changing the most apart from bug fixes were the bosses. I think all of them had a bit of rework to adjust their difficulty. This build actually did not include the Extra Game you get from finishing the main story, so all those stages actually are an untested hellscape. Have fun!

The third phase went from May to now, taking longer than I expected. Pikmin 4 coming out in that time didn't help either. When making the extra game it turns out making 20 harder versions of the existing stages takes a while!!! It was that + refining pretty much everything else and getting it ready for release. Speaking of level design here is a little snippet of the MS Paint type stuff I did for that:

Later I would put the actual sprites in instead of these shitty placeholders. Note that some rooms are not the same as they are in the finished game, I made some changes on the fly. That's kind of a fun thing of working by yourself, you don't have to like tell a separate design person to do something if you want changes.

Sometimes I see sentiment that making a project is easiest at the start and really hard in the middle but for me it's the opposite, at least with game dev. Getting something off the ground beyond just an idea is hard but making the content is honestly pretty smooth sailing. Then you have the end where the last bit of the game is most of the work. It's a bit painful having to comb through such a big project multiple times to make sure everything is there and running. Despite this project taking way longer than expected I'm still glad to finally get something done and out there.

THE GWAPHICS

If there is something between 2015 and now I have done a lot it's drawing. I'm not exactly an accomplished artist but I think a lot of my stuff has improved in past years. Or at least that's what they say. Taste is subjective after all.

However I didn't do very much pixel art for a while. Especially not anything with a palette as limited as the Game Boy. So making all the graphics for Elly's was something of an exercise in trying to figure out how this pixle art shit works all over again.

Almost everything in Elly's is drawn by me. A few images are actual things shrunken and convered to 4 colors but otherwise it's all me. And as it turns out drawing all the assets for you own game takes a long freakin time even when they're this simple!!!! While no one sprite took very long apart from bigger ones like bosses it all adds up to a lot of hours.

Not all of those hours are on Elly's but still. I think doing the tilesets took up a lot of time, in particular the playroom area because I was insistent on including a bunch of funny easter eggs and references. I can't explain all of them here because it would take much too long, but let it be known that this thing before the third boss is called "The Fumpship" and has like 3 layers of inside joke to it.

As for the character designs they were simple enough that transcribing them into Game Boy sprite form was actually pretty simple. Elly and Natalie in particular I had to remove the symbols on their clothes since it wouldn't translate in sprites.

You already saw this at the start of the post. These are character sketches I did around the start of development. Note that Natalie's outfit color is different, later I made it lighter to make her more distinguishable from Elly in-game. There are very few "concept art" things for Elly's, most of it I started with doing the sprites.

As for the enemy sprites since the ones I already had (see sprite sheet 10 pages above) already worked pretty well in this setting so I used that as a base for other enemies. The "Big Boy" enemies in particular took a while to figure out their sprites but I do like how they turned out. My favourite enemies are the exploding dolls, so much that I even used them as the game's icon.

THE COADS

This section is very technical and vague so you can skip it if you want. I'm something of a programmer... I think. I don't talk about it that much. A lot of what I know is not exactly suited for game dev BUT I did have a lot of residual Game Maker Language knowledge from my past projects. And there was a lot to learn too, since this was my first time using GMS2 in particular.

Truthfully since Elly's is kind of simple there wasn't THAT much that was that difficult programming-wise... I think the hardest shit for me is doing collisions and stuff. Collisions for Elly weren't too bad but for certain enemies like the grinders it was a pain in the ASS!!!!! That's why getting any game off the ground is hard for me, trying to make the groundwork for everything is daunting because I'll worry if it's good enough to accomodate the rest of development.

I think a lot of the challenge was not from getting things to work but rather having everything neat and organized. When you're making a game there is a lot of stuff to keep track of and even sometimes with the way I organized things I get lost in the game maker asset browser. I also made sure to comment things a lot... If you ever decompile the game i'm sorry if my comments are weird and embarassing.

The reason why I'm even bringing this aspect up is because in my past projects, particularly Pik's Epic Kirby Sprite Comics 2 I didn't know SHIT about programming nicely or efficiently and a lot of it was brute force via if statements. I did not want that!!! So with Elly's I made it so that adding new things like powerups and enemies was as easy as possible and I think that ended up making the project bearable.

This was also my first time making certain things like an options menu which was kind of strange and daunting as Game Maker does not have anything build in for menus. You just kind of have to do it from scratch. I was really insistent on having remappable controls in particular because I feel like that's essential for PC games these days. Also I enjoyed making the map system a lot, which was something I only added late in development. It uses a very hacky method of finding hard-coded arrays for each stage and drawing boxes for them but it works.

THE BOSSES

I think bosses in video games are a very novel thing on how inefficient they are for such a capital-driven industry. You have these things that take up a lot of effort and development time and are usually a small part of gameplay but they get made anyway because they look cool and also maybe you can use them as marketing or something. Maybe "boss fights" can be viewed as a disruption of power making its way into the hands of the workers? Ok I'm just talking out of my ass here.

There are not a lot of bosses in Elly's and they don't last very long but I wanted to discuss them anyway because there are some fun things to say about them. The first thing is that I wasn't even sure if Elly's was going to have more than one boss at first. Then I came up with the idea for the first boss (Death Orb) and started getting ideas from there. Fun fact, the Death Orb is named and modeled after the enemy (obstacle?) from Warframe:

I honestly thought it was really obvious but no one, not even my Warframe-playing friends seemed to notice. Anyway I just wanted a very simple boss that doesn't move with one attack. For a long time it didn't have the beeping sounds that telegraph its moves and therefore was very difficult to avoid the second phase without getting hit at least once! It was a bit bulb shit once I realized so I did that.

The second boss is a fish and funny enough, the only surviving boss idea from the original project. The major bosses were planned to be massive weapons named "______ Guardian" and the fish is loosely based off of an underwater boss idea I had back then. Of course the current day Water Guardian fight is not anything like that, and instead likes to flop around. Fun fact, the boss was a lighter grey color for most of development until I decided to make it dark so the weak point was more visible. I also changed the second phase movement late in development so it would flop less, making the grenade powerup feel more useful against it. The way it acts in Extra Game is a lot closer to how it originally was.

The third boss is a hat and is largely based off of "WIZ" from Kirby and the Amazing Mirror. Wiz is just a clone of Paint Roller from Kirby's Adventure but I thought the design was neat enough I even based the intro animation off of it. I also really wanted to tie into the toy theme and the doll enemies so I figured why not a funny magician doll? This boss used to always spawn in the middle after a cycle but then people would spawncamp it so I made it appear in multiple spots instead.

^^^WIZ

The Pillar Knight boss is honestly not that hard for how late it is in the game but I made it to just be a surprise at the end of a boss rush. I don't have that much to say about it really, I based the name and greatshield off of the Tower Knight from Demon's Souls. The big stomp it does in the second phase used to summon a single bouncy and nothing else but that was kind of pathetic so I changed it to falling rubble instead.

The "Antlion" final boss was actually a boss idea I had early on, possibly for the second or third worlds. It's kind of similar to the "head and hands" type bosses you see in so many Nintendo games. It was moreso going to be based off of the "Giant Enemy Spider" from Jerma's car game video. Then I figured that having the biggest boss for last would be a good idea. Funny enough this was the boss I received the least feedback on, most people seemed to like it. It was also a bit of a pain to test because I had to ensure that all 5 powerups would be viable, but I'm pretty satisfied with the end result. The second phase where Chandra shows up in a pod is very much based off of Eggman fights from Sonic, I'm sure you can tell. Something about seeing a little round flying thing is very satisfying.

THE SOUNDS

The sounds and music in Elly's are not mine. It's why I released it for free on itch instead of bothing to publish it on Steam or anything. Why am I even writing about this? I think that there is some fun to be had from digging through existing sound or music libraries and picking the best ones.

The style of Elly's is very upbeat happy scrimblo type game as you can tell, so I went out of my way to pick songs that fit that. The first levels having Mole Mania's first world music is pretty emblematic of what I wanted. I wanted to pick songs that were not necessarily obscure but not too well known so I made an effort specifically to avoid Mario, Zelda, Pokemon. Then I broke the rule because I liked the Link's Awakening nightmare battle enough and that's not exactly a super recognizable iconic song. I think the style of the music is not always consistent, as you can tell with the Belmont's Revenge music in later levels, but I tried to keep to songs that I felt fit the game well enough.

The sounds were taken from various Kirby games mostly because those are the easiest to rip, as those games have individual sound tests. With everything being kind of Kirby inspired I also thought it was the best decision. I think if maybe I were to ever do a Steam release I would hire some bastard to do a GB soundtrack and play around with making sounds myself but I DIDNT FEEL LIKE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE LAST PART

There is so much more I could say about the old project and the finer details of development but I think this post is already long enough.

Elly's is not something that I think is ever going to go viral. It did get more attention than I expected for the first few days but it's petered out by now. Elly's is not meant to be anything groundbreaking or revolutionary. It's not going to turn heads all over the world. It's not going to make me the new Tony Box and that's OK. I wanted Elly's to evoke the sort of feeling of finding a weird cartridge in a Gamestop bargain bin of the past or maybe a thrift store of the present. The feeling of digging through an archive of every Game Boy ROM ever and finding something refreshingly decent after playing 10 crunchy janky sidescrollers in a row.

QUICK LAST MINUTE EDIT: Apparently Elly's Adventure was featured on a Hungarian news site??? Not what I expected but I'm still honored to be mentioned by a publication.

I don't really know what's next for game dev from me. I am not interested in breaking into the industry, I just do this for fun. I've considered doing more things with Elly, which may or may not be in the same style. I've also considered ideas with other characters, and even using things that aren't Game Maker. Maybe in another 8 years there will be something. Keep an eye out!

Overall I am satisfied with Elly's Adventure. I mostly enjoyed making it. I don't know if I would call it my magnum opus. It doesn't have the same sort of unfiltered eccentricity of my Kirby things and it's hardly character or story driven enough to leave much of a lasting discussion. To be honest I liked making a game with no dialogue because in the cases where I do have a more character driven game idea I think about the funny dialogue more than I do the actual game. Regardless I think we can all agree that Elly's Adventure is, and always will be, a small funny game of action.

if you bothered to scroll to the end of this post here is a FUN GAME TIP: on stage 1 from the starting position go one screen right and investigate the rightmost flower on that screen. this can be helpful for those wishing to see the 1CC screen.

#gamedev #elly's adventure

[rallamajoop]

Twist my arm, why don’t you? XD Well, I did tell you guys to ask!

What the hell, let’s open this one by sharing a few pics from a Sims household created by a good friend of mine, made up of Heisenberg (mad scientist), Mia (secret agent) and Ethan (just really wants to be a dad). The three of them immediately became the most delightful sims-land trainwreck imaginable.

Their neighbourhood is full of werewolves, because you can do that in the Sims. Ethan’s apparently made friends with some of them. But because this is Sims-land, when he and Mia tried to have a romantic dinner together, it ended with Ethan passed out on the kitchen floor while Mia set herself on fire, with Heisenberg running in in his underwear with some passing hippie, and being no help whatsoever. Aren’t Sims wonderful?

Beyond the land of the Sims, though… I mean, let’s be honest, my desire for mithanberg comes from how I ship both Ethan/Heisenberg and Ethan/Mia, and refuse to choose between them. I could see it working either as a proper OT3, or a poly arrangement where Ethan’s involved with both of them, but Mia and Heisenberg aren’t involved with each other (on which note, I also ship the hell out of Mia/Zoe, so Mia is not missing out here).

For the few really mithanberg-ish things I’ve ever posted so far, Follow Me Home is headed for the former category, whereas that other one is more likely headed for the latter. Going for the proper-OT3 option does come with the extra hurdle of trying to figure out how Mia/Heisenberg would work when they’ve never even met in canon, but I am fully up for the challenge.

But there’s way more to this ship for me than just the convenience of ‘why not both’. Seriously, wintersberg fic is missing out on so much by writing Mia off so quickly.

For one, Ethan’s somewhat-complicated relationship with Mia is the best evidence you could ask for that Ethan might actually be up for getting involved with someone as fucked up as Heisenberg (or even Chris, if you’re more into winterfield). Mia has canonically lied to Ethan, (accidentally) drawn him into mortal danger, and (while possessed) sliced off his hand with a chainsaw. Ethan’s still with her in RE8, so clearly he’s willing to forgive.

Fig 1: Apparently not a dealbreaker!

Heisenberg, meanwhile, opens their relationship by stabbing Ethan with a fucking spear-headed fencepost, chains him up, drags him off be put on trial, and ‘rescues’ him only by throwing him into a gauntlet of lycans and spike traps. He later sends Ethan through the second gauntlet that is the Stronghold, before finally trying to make a deal with him. When Ethan refuses, Heisenberg throws him to a chainsaw-propeller-faced monstrosity made of engine parts sewed onto a corpse.

Fig 2: Also not a dealbreaker?

I will make some excuses for Heisenberg, given that he’s been trapped in a repressive cult for decades and seems to have internalised a lot of bullshit about the strong destroying the weak, but holy shit is this guy red flag city (and I love it). And that’s not even touching on all the violent bullshit Chris pulls in this game. You may also note that neither Heisenberg or Chris have Mia’s convenient mind-control or replaced-by-a-shapeshifter excuse for their worst behaviour.

Ethan asks for none of the madness all these maniacs have injected into his life, but goddamn, does he learn to roll with it and come back swinging. Whether or not you assume Ethan ever found out the truth about Mia’s past, she offers us some solid proof that Ethan’s ‘type’ does not exclude covert special agents with a talent for violence, who’ve spent years working full-time for evil bioweapons manufacturers. Ethan may not be ready to admit to himself that he’s got a thing for dangerous people, and Mia may be a lot better at pretending to be normal than Heisenberg, but the fact Ethan’s still with her could say a lot.

Basically, if you wanna ship Ethan with either of these other guys, Mia Winters is the best ally you could ask for!

There are other problems with writing off Mia too quickly so you can ship Ethan with someone else, one being that it makes Ethan look like, well, kind of a psychopath. Fic after fic presents him as the kind of guy who can witness the mother of his child being brutally murdered in front of him, and within a matter of hours, he’s apparently realised he was never that happy with her anyway, so it’s just fine if he’s fucking some other dude. The fact the ‘Mia’ people are so quick to dismiss as an abusive bitch wasn’t even the real Mia apparently doesn’t necessitate any sort or reexamination. It’s basically a meme at this point.

Thing is, even if his relationship with the real Mia was unhealthy, you just aren’t going to make a guy like Ethan process that within hours of watching her fucking assassination. Try and make him face it, and you’ll push him straight into defensiveness. Even at the best of times, Ethan’s just not the kind of guy who could leave the mother of his child without a fuckload of heartache and a few rounds of ‘what does this say about me’ at the very least (and Mia loves Ethan far too much to leave him, except in a misguided attempt to protect him). Even if you're writing an AU where Mia really does die (rather than just suffering the usual round of character assassination), at least let that poor boy ANGST about it! C’mon, people – that’s the juicy stuff!

Of course, the real problem fans are grappling with here is that in the current fandom climate, the idea that Ethan would willingly hook up with a guy who stabbed him in the gut that morning is still somehow more palatable than having to consider that Ethan might be capable of being (gasp!) less than completely faithful to a partner who doesn’t deserve it. So it’s not enough that he thinks Mia’s dead, she’s also got to be a horrible person and a complete non-entity who can be forgotten as quickly as we’ve brought her up, just to get her out of the way – as if that somehow makes Ethan look better.

People are so eager to get rid of Mia that I have legit read multiple different fics where, even after being mysteriously reborn post-game via horrific mould-magic, somehow one of the very first things Ethan wants to talk about afterwards is divorcing his wife. Can we not even give the poor guy a single scene to have a proper existential crisis over not being human anymore before finding a woman to blame for all his problems?

Fig 3: Ethan's actual thoughts on his wife right before his death

On the greater subject of that whole inconvenient marriage poor Ethan's saddled with, I can only say ‒ again ‒ c’mon, people, that’s the juicy stuff! A good story needs conflict, and Ethan having had this weird hook-up with/confusing attraction to an incredibly creepy guy in the middle of an incredibly confusing day and while he thought his wife was dead, only to later discover that she’s alive? GOLD.

You don’t even necessarily have to wrap it all back around to a happy OT3 scenario. An Ethan who's struggling with Mia’s (actual) death, or even the realisation that he truly can’t deal with all her lies, all while telling himself Heisenberg’s just a rebound fling that doesn’t mean anything – that’s all the angst and pathos and opportunities for filthy smut you could ever ask for! Lean into it! Heck, the Duke tells Ethan outright that he can’t go back to his old life anymore – you could have Ethan decide his own status as a mould-creature makes him too dangerous to go back to Mia and Rose. More angst, more drama, more actual material for narrative conflict!

tl;dr: Write Mia off in a sentence, and not only have you made Ethan look like an asshole, you’ve made your story boring. And thus (thank you for bearing with me) ends my tangent about The State of Wintersberg Fandom, and why Mia deserves more love (from Ethan at least, even if the author can't completely bring themselves to join in).

Getting back to the real topic here: if you are up for letting your resolution involve an OT3 scenario, you’ve got some great options to play with.

Mia bossing the other two around is certainly an angle you could go for, but I think I’d prefer watching Mia and Heisenberg working together to drive Ethan out of his mind (not that options like these are ever mutually exclusive, mind!) But I’m broadly more interested in how you get these three together than what it would look like once they get there. In other words, it’s time to talk Mia and Heisenberg.

As I touched on above, these two do have more in common than it might look at a glance. They’ve both been infected by the mould, they’ve both spent years (or even decades) trapped in dysfunctional, cult-like, mould-controlled families, and had to bottle themselves up and hide behind a persona while working for truly terrible people. They’ve both done some truly terrible stuff themselves, probably watched even worse happen to other innocent people, and presumably internalised some pretty awful excuses for themselves along the way. They’re also both madly in love with Ethan (what, is anyone into wintersberg going to argue with me on that one?) In short, there is no lack of stuff for these two to bond over and find common ground.

I can’t see Mia being too hard to convince if Ethan does want to try an open relationship either. Heck, the first thing we ever see from Mia involves sending Ethan a message where she tries to let him go, because she doesn’t think she’s making it back alive. Her guilt throughout RE7 is palpable, and how much she loves Ethan is the same. I don’t think it’s any stretch to say Mia would be willing to contemplate almost anything if it would make Ethan happy (and frankly, she’s pulled enough shit herself in this relationship that she doesn’t get to get judgy anyhow).

That said, I do think she’d have reasonable concerns about Ethan’s new boyfriend being someone like Heisenberg, but then, he’s hardly any more dangerous than what Mia’s brought to the table herself. If anything, your bigger obstacle would be convincing Ethan that he’s sure enough about whatever’s going on with Heisenberg to admit it at all. But then, I don’t think getting Mia and Heisenberg involved with each other too would be too difficult either.

It doesn’t hurt that Mia has a lot of the same characteristics that probably draw Heisenberg to Ethan: a badass survivor, tough and determined enough to be a little sassy even in the face of danger, but still very vulnerably human underneath. That vulnerable side of Mia is a very important part of her to me – it’s the main aspect in play in the longest thing I’ve (yet) posted with any Mia/Heisenberg interaction, where she’s locked up in Miranda’s lab, and has no good reason to trust him. There’s nothing openly shippy going on in that story, though Heisenberg makes no bones about what he wants with her husband. I’m not sure exactly where things are headed in that universe, but you know there’s drama coming on in that front.

The main point there is that Mia’s not too badass to be intimated by Heisenberg, especially when she’s got her back up against the wall. Take them out of the village, though, and I can see Mia being a much tougher nut to crack.

Which is mostly my way of leading into mentioning that the longest thing I’ve written between them that I haven’t posted yet basically flips the previous scenario: instead of Heisenberg coming to tell Mia he’s after her husband, now it’s Mia coming to tell him she knows what he’s after, and he's about to receive some serious grilling about his intentions. What I realised in writing it was that somewhere in the middle of this conversation, Heisenberg goes from seeing Mia as an obstacle between him and Ethan to seeing her as a potential bonus. He’s impressed with her gall and starting to look at her in a whole new light. This is one ficbit that's definitely going places ‒ only problem being the usual one: I’ve still got to write the rest of the damn fic to get to that scene. (I’m working on it! But you know how it goes.)

That isn’t the only way I can see you getting the three of them together, of course. One interesting alternate possibility might be to suggest that Mia and Heisenberg have met before. Mia seems to have met Miranda (they’ve been photographed together, at least), and it’s not completely beyond the realms of possibility that Miranda might have brought along an ‘assistant’ (slash-bodyguard-slash-whatever else she thinks he’s useful for). And if she’s going to bring any of her ‘children’, Heisenberg is by far the best qualified to pass as normal, hilarious as that should be.

I don’t imagine either Heisenberg of Mia would be eager to admit any of their personal reservations about their respective ‘bosses’ to each other, meeting under circumstances like that. But the possibilities are intriguing nonetheless.

For complete AU territory, however, I don’t think you could find a better start point for an Ethan/Mia/Heisenberg scenario than to introduce Heisenberg as Mia’s ex. He’d be back in her life for Reasons, and Ethan would naturally be more than a little threatened by this huge, hot guy with history with his wife, little realising that Heisenberg’s as interested in Ethan as he is in rekindling anything with her.

Or for doing the whole thing on easy-mode, suppose Mia and Ethan have always been in an open relationship from the start – or that they’ve already had that conversation because Mia’s also in love with Zoe (I meant it when I said I ship them too!) Doesn’t mean there’s no angst or drama potential for Ethan getting involved with Heisenberg: he’s still going to be questioning what’s wrong with him that this guy is turning his crank, or whether it’s remotely appropriate for him to be seeing someone new while he’s got a six-month-old daughter at home. But if nothing else, I can promise you that having a third person around to babysit while Ethan’s ‘busy’ could only do good things for his sex life at this point. ;D

So, yeah – those would be My Thoughts On Mithanberg in a nutshell (or possibly more of a nut bowl, I can never resist the urge turn out a full essay on this stuff). If you’ve got any interest in writing mithanberg yourself, please do consider all these ideas free to a good home! Treating Mia better makes Ethan/Heisenberg better for me, and all those possibilities are right there to explore.

But to finish, have some more random Sims!

There are many more of these if anyone wants to see them, though most are less G-rated ‒ the friend running this household has installed ALL of the porn mods to enhance this little trainwreck.

(Also, before I'm done, just throwing a quick tag at @macgyvertape, since I had to screenshot their ask rather than reply 'officially' so I could reply to the both of them at once.)

#mithanberg #wintersberg #mithan #Ethan Winters #Karl Heisenberg #Mia Winters #Resident Evil Village #asks #meta #LetThatBoyAngst! #Mia Winters week

[hannigramtropefest]

Hannigram Tropefest 2022 Masterlist

Thanks to everyone who took part in this year’s Hannigram Tropefest. For our first round, we had an amazing selection of fanfics and artistic creations. You can find all of our fics in our Hannigram Tropefest 2022 collection on AO3, but for all fic and art links, please see below.

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‘I shouldn’t feel lonely when you’re gone'

Author: Angelic_Disaster

Artist: Vampyrzky

Rating: Explicit

Length: 28,859 words

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter (Mentions of Past Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter)

Warnings: Choose to not use archive warnings

Tropes: Amnesia, Will’s Aftershave, Chicken Soup

The heart monitor connected to Hannibal makes a sudden, unrhythmical beep the moment Will enters through the door.

“You must forgive me for my bluntness, but are we in a romantic relationship?” Hannibal asks and Will isn’t exactly sure how to answer that. He can’t technically say no, but honestly, bloody courtship may be a more proper name for it.

While Hannibal suffers from a case of amnesia, Will puts a stop to the honey-trap plan to take care of him.    

Link to fic

Link to art

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Trope: Wrong Number (Hannigram)

Author: TigerPrawn

Artist: Ani Louhetar

Rating: Explicit

Length: 5,680 words

Ships: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

Warnings: No Archive Warnings

Tropes: Wrong number, A/B/O, different first meeting

Summary:

Omegas only go into heat if they meet a compatible alpha, but with both alphas and omegas being so rare it is an infrequent occurrence. One that Will Graham had certainly never anticipated happening to him.

Link to fic

Link to art

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Dinner Is Best Served By Tour Bus

Author: TheSilverQueen

Artist: hit_the_books

Rating: T

Length: 6,146

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Nonconsensual Vampire Turning

Tropes: Alternate Universe - Vampires, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper

Summary:

When Alana cajoles Will into taking an actual, real vacation, he decides to go to Florence and do touristy things, like eat good food and go on tours and be spontaneous. All good things, except for the fact that his spontaneous decision to go on a tour in the catacombs brings him face to face with very hungry vampires who think he is dinner.

“I believe you all were promised an experience of a lifetime,” says the definitely-not-a-statue man on the throne. “And we do plan to deliver. For the feast of a Council is, I’m told, quite the sight to behold. Sadly, none of us are vegetarians.”

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You Were Made for Me

Author: hisvoicebrokemyheart

Artist: pensulliwen

Rating: General

Length: 3,272 words

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, (past Will Graham/Original Characters), (past Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter mentioned), (past Hannibal Lecter/Bedelia duMaurier mentioned)

Warnings: brief mention of canon typical gore

Tropes: soulmates/soul bond, bathing, Hannibal is the Devil

Summary:

Will never thought he would be cut out for a soul bond — people were averse to his touch, he was too cold. Then he met Hannibal Lecter, and Will learned what warmth was for the first time. Their relationship was one that flayed themselves open to one another, but it seems that Hannibal has one last secret to reveal.

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Forgive Me Father, For I Wish To Sin

Author: ImpalaAngel

Artist: hughmikkelsen

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Cannibalism, Religious Trauma, Canon-compliant levels of violence

Tropes used: Priest!Hannibal, Priest!Will, Cannibalism, First Time, Gone Fishing, Hannibal is The Devil, How much whiskey can Will have before his ankles are in the air, Murder Family, Post-Fall Europe, Shattered Teacup, Voyeurism.

Ships: Hannibal/Will

Word Count: 105,635 words

Summary:

Think “Seven,” but sexy. Will and Hannibal find themselves on a yacht and sail to Italy to become priests of a local small town church with a history of corruption. They meet an enigmatic young woman and all three set out on a journey of self discovery: she by using her power for good, and they by realising the depths with which love can go. Of course, Italy is not without its own mysteries as Hannibal and Will kill and fuck their way from pride to sloth, their past catches up to them. Just how did they end up with Dr. DuMaurier’s leg on a table? And of course, they tie up a few red loose ends.

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it takes one to know one

Author: Biv_w

Artist: ScarletMothlet

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3,085 words

Ships: Hannibal/Will

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Tropes: Drawing Will Graham, Hannibal is The Chesapeake Reaper, Hannibal’s Mind Palace, Skin Hunger, Sailing the Atlantic, Murder Husbands, Hannibal and his Uncanny Strength of Smell, Fluff.

Summary:

Hannibal sees a new face in prison and feels far more than intrigued.

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The Blood of the Son

Author: bittercigs_ (twitter)

Artist: i-call-me-clarence (tumblr)

Rating: Teen

Length: 4,911 words

Ships: Gen

Warnings: Religious Imagery & Symbolism; Mild Depictions of Violence

Tropes: New Orleans Police Detective!Will Graham, Priest!Hannibal, Casefic

Summary:

One of the best in the NOPD, Detective Will Graham struggles to solve a string of recent murders, leading him to temporarily turn back to the religion he’d previously abandoned.

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The Lamb of God

Author: LAfterDark30

Artist: i-call-me-clarence

Rating: Explicit

Length: 12,632

Ships: Hannibal/Will

Warnings: some pretty blasphemous uses of the Bible and Catholic history, Chilton has a BAD time, character death (none of the mains), graphic artsy violence, manipulative Hannibal, alcoholism in appearance only, betrayal, choking, of the non-sexy kind, dead dove, for the choking, anal sex, Bottom Will, Top Hannibal

Tropes: Soulmates, Priest Will, Demon Hannibal

Summary:

In a world where meeting your soul mate makes their name appear on your skin, Hannibal lived free of that nonsense. As a demon without a soul, he spent his time torturing exorcists and taunting the Church until he heard of the Church’s prized exorcist Father Will Graham, the “lamb of God,” and the idea for his ultimate masterpiece of terror took shape.

Step 1: Get close to Father Graham. Step 2: Cultivate his darkness. Step 3: Turn him against his beloved Church.

He just had to ignore Father Graham’s name appearing as a soul mark on his skin.

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The Dispersal Method

Author: victorine

Artist: hit_the_books

Rating: Explicit

Length: 16,906

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: no archive warnings apply, sex pollen, dubious consent (mutual as both are exposed to pollen), consensual choking (brief), unrecommended lube alternatives

Tropes:

sex pollen, honeypot Will, crime-scene sex, sex in the Bentley, “Is Hannibal in love with me?”, secret surprise trope (no spoilers)

Summary:

It’s a normal fall day in the forest for Will Graham. Dead body in front of him, cannibal psychiatrist behind him, the usual. Then Will brushes against the wrong flower, and suddenly neither he nor Hannibal can keep their hands off each other. Now Will must navigate his way out of the crime scene and Jack’s scrutiny while also trying not to jump Hannibal’s bones at every opportunity.

Well, one out of three ain’t bad.

Set nebulously in s2, post-Will’s release from the BSHCI. Will’s a conflicted honeypot, Hannibal’s a (not-so) secretly-besotted asshole, and nobody has brought enough lube.

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Mozzie’s Mass in C Minor

Author: @sihaya74 (AO3 MadhouseMuse)

Artist: @MissLunaKitty (AO3 MargotBloom)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 7,395 words

Ships: Hannigram

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tropes: Post-Fall Cuba, Murder Husbands, Cannibalism, Will the Boat Mechanic, Night at the Symphony.

Summary:

After a few years laying low in Cuba, Hannibal and Will attend the national symphony in Havana. There, they have a fateful meeting with an American politician on vacation. You know what happens. :) THIS PROJECT IS DEDICATED TO OUR HERO AND OUR FANDOM KING - BRYAN FULLER, WITH MUCH LOVE FROM LUNA AND SIHAYA.

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the price of anything

Author name: neila777

Artist name: G0UGER

Rating: Gen

Length: 9,101

Ships: Hannibal/Will

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tropes used: Magic AU, Hannibal cooks for Will, Chicken Soup

Summary:

There’s magic here. Not just magic, but powerful magic. Dangerous magic. It’s woven through the walls and lights and air, shifting and settling as Hannibal moves through the space.

A door at the back of the store opens suddenly and in walks a man carrying a pile of books that he sets on the glass counter. His face is framed by dark brown curls as he leans over the volumes, peering over his glasses. To Hannibal, the image of it feels like something one would see in a painting — a carefully sculpted subject posed to catch the light just right as he’s absorbed his work.

Or: Hannibal stumbles into Will’s magic shop and the two are instantly drawn to each other, but they’ll have to face their secrets as they grow closer together.

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Contempt of Courtly Love

Author: Sergeant_Sawyer

Artist: scarletmothlet

Rating: Teen

Word count: 3,100

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Major character death, spoilers

Tropes: Murder husbands, ficlet collection

Summary:

8 ways in which Will and Hannibal’s relationship does (or doesn’t) correlate with principles of Courtly Love.

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The Boogeyman

Author:  Call_Me_Clarence

Artist: hit_the_books

Rating: Mature

Length: 20,636

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Blood and gore, Implied bottom Will, Implied top Hannibal, Brainwashing of a minor, No underage sex, Kidnapping of an underage victim, Capture bonding (Not between Will and Hannibal), Domestic violence (Not between Will and Hannibal), Alcohol use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol abuse/Alcoholism, Murder, Sexual content, Frottage, Frottage for a case, First Kiss, Hannibal is still a serial killer but blink and you’ll miss the hints

Tropes: Bestfriend Bev, There was only one bed, Snuggling for warmth, Encephalitis Will, Case fic

Summary:

Will and Hannibal head to Minnesota to solve the case of The Boogeyman, a serial killer who hides under victims’ beds and waits for them to fall asleep before attacking.  There’s only one hotel room available, and even worse, only the one bed. As they get closer to the killer they find themselves getting closer to each other.

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a siphon; to pass through

Author: chaparral_crown

Artist: merrythoughts

Rating: Mature

Length: 71,226

Ships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Medical Trauma, Chronic Illness, Blood and Gore

Tropes: Sick Fic, Vampires, Meet Cute

Summary:

For approximately ten minutes, Will entertains the possibility that the whole evening before had been a very vivid dream, not because he is particularly doubtful of his memory, but because Doctor Lecter - Hannibal - doesn’t leave any evidence of his visit, no matter where Will’s keen eyes look for it. And he does look for it. — Will Graham’s encephalitis comes from an unexpected source - late onset type 1 diabetes. Between the betrayal of his body, and the strange doctor that he meets on an arrest, he’s not so sure he’s not experiencing a relapse, or if the dead have actually risen to clear out his cabinet of liquor and blood sugar.

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Fever

Author: Hannibalsimago

Artist: Sarah the Artiste

Rating: Mature

Length: 15,972

Ships: Hannibal/Will, Hannigram

Warnings: sickfic; Comfort/Angst, no other major warnings from AO3

Tropes: Domestic AU, Chicken Soup, Sickfic

Summary:

After the Fall, Will and Hannibal have settled into an asexual, monogomous, altogether ordinary domestic life together. For Hannibal it’s easy. He’s vowed to accept any restrictions that Will sets in place, just so he can share a lifetime with him.

And as for Will, he is resolutely determined not to change anything about what their lives are like now. Their past was full of unsaid feelings and buried emotions. So much deception and pain inflicted upon each other. Will has no desire to go back to that hurtful chaos. This way is better, he tells himself. After all, why mess up something that’s working? He doesn’t have to unpack any painful memories, deal with past sorrows. Life is good.  

That is, until Hannibal becomes gravely ill and Will is faced with hard truths.

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I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to swing

Author: obfuscatedheart

Artist: Ani Louhetar

Rating: Explicit

Length: ~20,000

Ships: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, A/B/O typical sexism, Alpha!Hannibal, Omega!Will

Tropes: Royalty AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega society

Summary:

Will is set to inherit his father’s throne that is until he presents as an omega. He knows that he will be married off to someone who will take over the throne. A potential match is Mason Verger, who is violently anti omegas. Rather than be bonded to Mason Verger he instigates a war. To help his father to win the war he goes to a neighboring kingdom to ask for help. Along the way he meets the mysterious alpha Hannibal in the woods. Is he worth risking everything for?

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Open Your Wild Eye

Author: ChibiTabatha

Artist: Tulip

Rating: Explicit

Length: 34,988

Ships: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Will Graham & Beverly Katz

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bottom Will, Violence, Murder, Minor Character Death, Animal Illness, Minor Frederick Chilton/Will Graham

Summary:

Will is a struggling college student, his job cuts his hours again and Bev suggests that he becomes a sugar baby. After the first date was a flop, he gives Hannibal Lecter a chance. The man isn’t put off by his abrasive personality and they grow closer together.

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And that’s it!

If you’d like to see the AO3 Collection head on over to the Hannigram Tropefest 2022 Collection.

~ hit_the_books

#hannigram #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanart #nbc hannibal #hannibal/will #Will/Hannibal #Hannigram Tropefest 2022 #Hannigram Tropefest

[writergirl3]

⭐️FIC TEASER⭐️ 'Your Choice' ; Aaron T/Z x Fem!Reader

So, I got this ask a couple months back and feel bad that I never got back into writing the fic I'd started.

But, in seeing as the manga previews have revived us remaining 4 Townies, I thought I'd post the least shitty scrap of writing I have for this.

This is NOT a poly fic, to be clear. In a nutshell, you're Jesse's little sister (sorry nb/masc readers), and the Aarons each fall for you. The story will have two alternate endings, so you can choose who you end up with. Sound good?

If enough people like this, I'll revise it so it's g/n, but this is what I got so far. Let's get into it!

GIF by lagorditadeturningred

June 2002

“I’m just gonna say it- this is dumb.”

Robaire being wrong is a rarity not witnessed by many, and this fact still rings true as he and Tae stare up at their identically-named bandmates.

While the two Aarons were usually the poster boys of solid friendship, things between the pair had begun to go sour in recent months. Little banter-fuelled competitions had grown more serious. Irritable grumbles from Z towards his energetic friend had turned personal. And T’s fun-filled pranks had bordered on full-blown altercations.

What fuels this fire, you ask? 

Well, in truth, it’s you.

Ever since your initial encounter with your brother’s bandmates back in ‘99, the Aarons have never been able to shake off their own feelings towards you. 

Pretty much ever since they set eyes on you, you had captured their hearts. They had both been taken by your own distinctive beauty at first. But since learning more about you as a person, their affection towards you has become an all-encompassing sort. 

Like stars mapping out the night sky, moments with you clustered into constellations in each of the Aarons’ minds day and night. And, it was these memories that made them fall for you.

Like when you and T pranked Jesse, jumping out to scare him when he was throwing clay on his wheel (it went EVERYWHERE). 

Or when you ran into Z late one August evening and he taught you the ‘proper’ way to shoot hoops. 

Then, there was the time when you all blasted Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel at 2am and danced like crazy. 

Little things like this had been eating the Aarons up over the past three years, and they were both down bad. The thing is, they know that they share this commonality.

The problem that now presents itself is the rivalry that ensued between the once-friends. What had begun as a shared crush is now a full-on contention to win your heart. Only Tae and Robaire know, and while they try and keep the peace, it’s becoming harder to keep the group dynamic strong. 

It’s this feud that’s brought all of the 4 Town members, excluding Jesse, to this particular situation. T had suggested that the Aarons settle their dispute once and for all by seeing who could dangle from a basketball hoop for the longest. Whoever lost their grip first had to give you up, and the winner got to take you out.

Robaire looks up at the young men, trying to ignore the faint stench of sweat permeating the air. He stands on Z’s hoop to weigh it down, while Tae does the same for T’s.

“Shut up, R-Ro…” Z tries, and fails, to hide the struggle in his voice, his grip on the metal ring faltering.

“I think this is so cute! It’s like that scene in The Notebook-”

“-Don’t encourage them, Tae!”

“Alright, sorry, sorry…”

T and Z glare at each other, unaffected by their bandmates' conversation back on the ground. T smirks, knowing his words can get into Z’s head, easy. “I hope you got plans tonight, when I take Y/N out. Wouldn’t want you to spend it crying to Titanic.”

Z eyes the younger brunette with eyes that could rival a full-blown wildfire. “You takin’ her some place where pigs fly and unicorns shit rainbows?”

“I love unicorns!”

The three guys all deadpan Tae, who chuckles uncertainly and begins looking inanely up at the sky in the hopes of sighting some rare bird.

“How do you know Y/N even likes either of you dummies?” Robaire sighs, rubbing his temples. 

“She told me!”

“Shut up, T, no she didn’t!”

T huffs, readjusted his grip on the hoop, “Okay, maybe not. But at least I talk to her! All you do is stare at her like a dog or some shit!”

Widening his eyes in a dopey, lovestruck caricature, T impersonates Z mercilessly. If the latter didn’t have a face like thunder, Tae Young would have collapsed in a fit of uncontrollable giggles then and there.

“And how are you gonna impress her? With toilet humour and pranks?” Z spits, wishing he hadn’t made any reference to the bathroom. He’s been supporting his own weight for almost fifteen minutes now, and with the thought now in his head, he needs to pee.

In fact, he almost did just that when he, and the other boys, were startled by a familiar voice.

Well, yours, to be precise.

“What are you both doing?”

“Y/N!” the Aarons call in unison, your sudden appearance surprising them both. With a thud, they both fall to the ground in a heap.

“It’s a tie!” Tae shouts excitedly.

“A tie?” you question, quickening your approach to the scene.

Robaire and the Aarons look at Tae desperately, and he thinks on his feet. “I, uh- a Thai Silver Pheasant! Up there!”

Pointing upwards, Tae diverts your attention just long enough for the other boys to collect themselves. You frown, puzzled by what Tae is talking about. “Really?”

“Yeah! Did you miss it? Oh well, there’s always next time!” Tae rambles nervously before hastily pacing over to the house.

“Okay then…” you chuckle to yourself, before the sound of a wince takes your attention and you remember your brother’s bandmates. “You two okay?”

“I, er, I’m-”

“-Yeah, we’re good! All good!” T interrupts Z. You extend a hand out to T and he takes it with a blush and a jittery ‘thank you’.

Turning your attention to Z, your eyes widen at the small trail of blood trickling down one of his short-clad legs. “Z! You're bleeding!”

Rushing over to him, you sling your backpack onto the ground and rummage for a tissue or something to dab at the cut with with. He eyes you in a daze, slightly overwhelmed by your concern for him. When you retrieve a pack of tissues from the front pocket of your bag, you begin dabbing the graze carefully.

“T-thanks, Y/N…” Z utters sheepishly, embarrassed by your attention. You offer him a warm smile that makes his grazed knee, and the other one, weak.

T lets out a little huff of jealous annoyance, wanting your attention and care. When Jesse asks for help with unloading the suitcases from his van, though, T jumps at the chance to impress you with his strength and runs off.

You chuckle at the curly-haired boy before helping Robaire get Z to his feet. With one arm around his waist and the other holding his arm around your shoulder, Z can’t help but blush furiously as he hobbles towards the house with your help.

“T! Take them one at a time, you’ve already fallen once this morning!”

Jesse’s paternal instructions fall on deaf ears as T zooms past, gripping three suitcases somewhat-capably. He hides any struggle on his part well with the cheeky grin he flashes you on as he passes.

⭐️

So, what did y'all think? Should I keep plugging away at this and turn it into a full story?

#4 town #4*town #4town #4 town Aaron t #4*town Aaron t #4town Aaron t #4 town Aaron t x reader #4*town Aaron t x reader #4town Aaron t x reader #4 town Aaron z #4*town Aaron z #4town Aaron z #4 town Aaron z x reader #4*town Aaron z x reader #4town Aaron z x reader #4 town x reader #4*town x reader #4town x reader

[notyour-valentine]

I really like the way you write Tommy and Charlotte. Could you do something like that for John and someone like that for your celebration (obvs not another Crawley but a lady reader) Thank you!

John Shelby x aristocratic!Reader ~ Headcanon

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: mention of WWI and death (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

It is the spring of 1912, which means the London social season is in full swing. All the aristocratic families leave their large estates all over the country and commence on their annual pilgrimage to their city palaces, at least all family members over eighteen years old, which means the younger ones are left behind. 

Left all alone with a few cousins (if you are lucky) or just a governess (if you are unlucky)

So when you hear rumours from the maids that a few travellers are organising a fair not too far from your family’s stately home it is too great a chance to pass up. 

You beg your favourite maid and call in a few favours like borrowing a set of clothes from the kitchen maid whom you gave the weekend of, since even if you are not of age yet, your wishes overrule the decree of the butler (at least when presented to the cook) and sneak out with your favourite and equally giddy cousin under the guise of attending a charity function. 

It is the most brilliant thing you have ever seen with painted wagons, open fires, children of all ages running wild, with music, drinking, and dancing without evening clothes, dance shoes or even a set floor

Before long you are asked to dance too- by a young man with freckles, long blond hair and a blinding smile who introduces himself as John. 

He doesn’t ask you formally, the way a gentleman should, but rather threw you a grin and only asked “Want me to give you a whirl?”

It was an offer a lady ought to decline but too good to pass up

You are shy at first, since this dance doesn’t resemble and waltz, foxtrott or polka you had ever learned, and what little similarities it had to ghillies balls weren’t sufficient, but he calmed your nerves with a loud, cheerful laugh

“You got two functioning feet- that’s all you need.”

And it was - it is a fast dance, reckless even, with more skips than proper steps. It tangles your hair and twists your (or rather the kitchen maid’s) skirts but you had never known fun like it. 

It leaves you with a flushed face and breathless, but beaming from ear to ear. 

Afterwards, he leads you back to his family, where you find a cup of beer in your hand before long. You’ve never had it before, just wine and champagne, but you try your best to play the bitter taste off, even if you are not too sure you succeeded. 

Since you can’t be caught out, you do your best to imitate the servants’ accents, but you aren’t sure if you are getting away with it. If John notices, he doesn’t show, but you don’t miss the piercing gaze of his dark haired brother. 

You dance and dance until John grins at you differently

“I’m going to try something now.”, he announced and before you know it, he is kissing you - and not just kissing you, but kissing you on the lips, in front of everyone, one hand on your back, the other on your cheek. 

It is your first kiss, and you don’t really know what to do. It is wrong, you know it is, but it just feels so right and so you kiss him back, shy at first, trying to find the proper way of doing it. 

When it is time to leave, he asks if you will be back tomorrow

You know you can’t - there is tea with a great-aunt tomorrow, but you can’t tell him that. So you tell him you will be back and kiss him before leaving once more. 

It should only have been an adventure but the memories linger longer than they should have. 

In 1913, it is your social season and so you cannot return to the fair, the same in 1914. It is also the season you get engaged. He is a nice young man, rich, and from a family similar to yours. 

You like him, you really do. He is kind and gentle and a great friend, but whenever he kisses you, you close your eyes and imagine his hair is blonde, not brown, that his eyes are blue instead of grey. 

In 1916, he is called up too, as a cavalry officer to go to France. You weep as he leaves, because he is a good man and a good friend, and you cry even more when news comes that he fell. You cry for him, for his parents, for yourself and your future, but above all you cry for your little boy, after all, your little Johnnie would have to grow up without a father now. 

Bonus fact:

He is the only thing you cling to during those years of darkness, and only at the behest of your cousin you start to come out again, three years after the end of the war. You have always liked horses, and so you agree to join her and her husband in the owner’s enclosure at Epsom.

Thank you for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked what I wrote.

Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!

If you want to participate in my celebration, click here!

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #valentinesheadcanons #john shelby #peaky blinders #join me for a drink #john shelby headcanon #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader

[ascendthisday]

Rn'R Pretty Bad Boys

gif by veilofmegiddo

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin

Word Count: 3,000~

Info: BDSM, Smut, Sadism, Masochism, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Orgasm Denial, Circa 2012

Summary: Sometimes, what happened in the 80's can't stay in the 80's, especially if you happen to be Axl Rose and Izzy Stradlin.

Authors Note: HIII okay sorry for not posting yesterday, i forgot💀💀 but im getting there, i swear!!! this takes place circa 2012 so be warned it is not like... uber coke twink izzaxl but instead.. them being just cute old men in love ! enjoy!!!

     Many claim Guns N’ Roses would be nothing without Izzy Stradlin. They say that Appetite for Destruction would have never happened had Jeffrey Dean Isbell not come into the picture. But, truth is, sometimes Izzy wanted to be nothing more than, well, nothing. He wanted to be treated like he had lost all of his credibility. The guitarist adored that feeling of being unworthy of his fame. Of basic respect. He wanted the dirtiest and nastiest treatment he could pay for. The power of being famous required so much control that sometimes, he just wanted to lose all of it. He wanted to be not anything more than putty in someone's warm palm. Preferably, that someone would be a busty hot woman. Or, when he was at his most desperate, one of his dear bandmates. Most of the time, he got the latter. Hey! All of them looked like hot chicks anyways! It’s not that gay. The reason he found himself in the control of his coworkers so often was that paying for a hooker- a dominatrix, as he’s learned they’re called, is embarrassing. Especially when you’re a Guns N’ Roses superstar. 

     This is exactly how he ended up at the hands of the perpetually sadistic Axl Rose. He thought he was getting too old for this shit, it was 2012 for God’s sake! He is fifty damn years old! Axl is- what, forty-nine? Izzy shouldn’t remember that. He shouldn’t have known that the man's birthday was only a few days away. A month and twenty-nine days away from Izzy’s own. How the fuck did he know that? They’ve barely talked in the last decade. Most of their conversations were about the handful of reunion gigs he was doing with Guns N’ Roses, but occasionally they’d stray into that thick sexual tension they held between each other. Casual emails would drift into long letters about their previous sexual escapades and some things that they dreamt about doing in the future. Izzy would carefully pluck out words to describe those endearingly painful moments of pleasure and Axl would obsess over every little detail until he could try to possibly put together a lustful, yet less fancy reply.

     They did their best to plan out a proper session while on tour, but it was hard. The bus was too risky; too public and honestly he didn’t want to expose such strangers that made up the band's current line-up. The green rooms were too hectic- even if Axl demanded an excess of space in the venue, techs still rushed from room to room to chirp out information and fix any sort of last-minute hiccups. Hotels were almost perfect, but even then, alone time was hard to find. Since when the fuck was Axl hanging out with dudes who liked to have ‘night-time chats’? Fuckin’ gaylords, amirite? Alas, they made it work. Axl, being the absolute caveman that he is, simply stuck a sock on his hotel room’s door knob and ignored every knock that smashed against the wood. Occasionally, one of his co-workers would slam a fist on the door and whoop out a cheer on how ‘Grandpas finally getting some!’ or something along those lines. Axl would only snort as he continued to set up the room for Izzy. He might be a little bit cruel sexually, but he only wanted the absolute best for the man outside of his sex life. Despite the way he would make him writhe and sob, he still pampered him the moment the cuffs came off. 

     So, there he was. Izzy Stradlin, gagged, bound, and butt-naked on Axl’s plush mattress. Intricate blue knots traced over his pale skin and pulled his long arms behind his back. Two big loops wrapped around each of his upper arms, almost framing the tattoos on the outer muscle of his arms, ever so slightly above and below his triceps. Those loops braided into complex knots that danced down his forearms and around his wrists. He couldn’t move much of his arms outside of a small shoulder shimmy and the slight flick of his wrists. Just how he liked it. He couldn’t believe Axl still remembered that. Izzy would have made a snarky comment about how the man must have never stopped thinking about him, but the shiny gag lodged between his puffy lips made that damn near impossible. The occasional grunt would slip past his common sense and echo around the rubber and Axl would give him a harsh glare as he gave a particularly hard tug to the ropes he was still working around Izzy's legs. They both knew this game all too well. You behave; use your manners and you get a reward. If you couldn’t? You paid the price. 

     Since when the hell had Axl gotten so good at tying knots? Izzy had no clue. He certainly wasn’t a boy scout- especially not when they had been at the peak of their relationship. Izzy used to be able to wiggle out of his poorly tied knots made of cotton scarves in seconds, that’s why they had made the switch to steel handcuffs so early on. Axl had stolen the initial cuffs they used from one of the many police escapades he had found himself in, and Izzy never could never quite figure out how he managed to do it. He never found a good excuse as to why his wrists were perpetually covered in thin purple bruises, instead, he found himself draped in too many damn bracelets to play guitar with. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the beads scatter around on stage during soundcheck, or worse, the live show. Those live incidents made Axl the maddest. Yet, it made their playdates even funnier for both of them. Izzy got ruined; berated, and Axl got to release his frustrations. 

     “Feel good, pretty boy?” The ginger teasingly questioned as he finished off the final knot in the tail-like pattern that cascaded down Izzy’s legs, his tone was sardonic but somehow loving at the same time. The older man gave him a hard nod. Such a sweet nickname made him nervous, honestly. Axl rarely played nice. Hell, even outside of the bedroom he was somewhat of an ass. Maybe that was what made him so loveable. “Ya feel as pretty as you look? You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, man. Pisses me off that you haven’t quite wilted yet.” Axl’s tone was gruff.

     It was true, Izzy was damn near as gorgeous as he was when they first met. His hair, which was once a black box-dyed shaggy mess of bangs that fell over his eyes, was a lot shorter. More manly, but just as stylish. It had faded back into a more deep brown color, almost. Axl found it almost funny, the Izzy he knew would have never settled with having his natural hair color show, not even at the roots. Yet, here he was. Mahogany with thin silvery grey hairs that danced throughout it. A handful of soft wrinkles bit at his features, that was the only noticeable difference in Izzy outside of the hair. Fuckin’ crows feet. That’s all he got in his old age. It almost made Axl angry. He was so different, physically and emotionally, and all that changed for the guitarist was his hair and a few wrinkles. He was envious but so glad at the same time. Izzy deserved it. He was a way better person in general. He deserved to stay pretty.

     He trailed his fingertips along Izzy’s bound legs and smirked to himself at the smooth sensation of hairless skin that graced his senses. Of fucking course he shaved. He was always so oddly hairless. It didn’t come naturally, he knew that. On many nights in the early 80s, he had stayed up late in their shared hotel room and watched him perch with one leg drawn up to his chin as he shaved off his body hair. Rarely was he caught with stubble. It was the little details that made him so gorgeously put together. 

     Axl’s fingers danced over the soft blue rope that kept Izzy restrained, stopping just next to his cock. He drew small circles around his pubic mound, which was just as smooth as the rest of him, and grinned as a soft sigh slipped around Izzy’s gag. He quivered at the sensation. The guitarist hadn’t been touched in so long. He craved touch, craved the pain that followed any slight graze of his skin upon Axl’s. He couldn’t have asked for a better thing to happen to him. Digging his short nails into his soft flesh, Axl let a full grin slide onto his features. A sharp inhale puffed up Izzy’s bare chest. He drew a line from Izzy’s hip area to the base of his cock. Then, he drew that blunt line all the way from the very bottom of his balls to the soft area of flesh just below the head of his cock. He lightened the sharp draw of his nails as he drew vague shapes on the tip, smearing precum across the angry red tip. The shiny liquid made a sheen on his cock that Axl pumped down his shaft with a few quick vertical movements of his fist. A soft moan slipped through Izzy’s lips and slammed against the rubber in his mouth. It wasn’t very loud, especially not with the general deafening efforts of the gag, but Axl always heard his noises. Even the tiniest little ones that Izzy wasn’t even aware of. 

     “Oh! I got you a gift, honey!” He grinned. The sarcasm in the pet name was by no means lost on Izzy, yet it still gave him a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Axl rose from the mattress. Immediately, Izzy yearned for that slight bit of contact that Axl had given him. He wanted to fuck something- a hand, a chick, whatever! just give him something! Axl’s obnoxious wallet chain jingled against the pockets of his studded Affliction jeans as he strode toward his duffle bag of belongings. Axl looked good, and Izzy couldn’t lie about that if he wanted to. He had gained a couple of pounds, sure, but he wore it well. His hair was shorter, too. A bob almost, but he could pull off just about anything in Izzy’s eyes. He hated to admit it, but he loved a lot of things about the arrogant man. But, he would never tell him. As previously mentioned, Axl was arrogant as all hell and would never let him live it down if he said something vaguely nice about him. He wasn’t a fan of the handlebar mustache, though. That was a weird choice, but he could live with it. Or, he could talk Axl into shaving it off if he was lucky and played his cards right. Izzy was a sly fox, he knew he could do it. It was only a matter of when and how. As Axl rummaged through his bag, purposefully drawing out the suspense in the room as he pretended to be unable to find his surprise, Izzy got a nice solid look at his ass. 

     God, did he have one hell of an ass. 

     Axl sauntered back toward him with one hand stealthily tucked behind his back. The other man contemplated straining to possibly see whatever he could have, but decided against it. The mattress dipped as he sat on his knees next to Izzy's pelvis. Then, Axl dramatically unfolded his right hand from his back and exposed his surprise. A thin plastic purple vibrator sat between his thumb and forefinger. Izzy’s face scrunched up as his brows furrowed. He would have frowned had his mouth not been held open. His cheeks flushed as he came to realize exactly how his night would pan out. Knowing Axl, this could go one of two ways. He would either have a surplus of orgasms drawn out of Izzy to the point where the older man would be writhing around in overstimulating pain or he wouldn’t let him come at all. He would carry out their games into the next night- week, whatever he felt like. Truly, it didn’t actually matter if Izzy obeyed his rules. Instead, it was all wholeheartedly based on what mood Axl was in! If he was having a bad day, Izzy would have a bad orgasm! Luckily, the singer seemed to be happier than normal. He was almost bouncy in his mannerisms. The click of a switch and the following buzz of the vibrator snapped Izzy out of his thoughts. He quivered as Axl pushed the plastic close to his skin. It didn’t touch him quite yet, but he could imagine that soft tingle spread across his thighs. 

     Then, he made contact. Izzy locked up. He almost convulsed at the intensity in which he shivered. How could something so tiny make him feel so much? A lithe moan slithered through the gag. Axl trailed the vibrations up his thighs and across his pelvic bones. He tensed the muscles in his thighs. Flexed his toes. Bucked his hips. Anything he could do, he did it. Izzy had given up on wiggling his fingers. His arms were already numb and tingling. Maybe it was because he was laying on them, maybe it was because he was tied up that tight. Everything was so tingly. Axl teased the tip of the vibrator along his pubic mound, grinning at the shaky breaths that Izzy took as he tried to calm himself. Then, he slid the plastic across his balls. He chuckled as he watched Izzy’s control quickly slip away from him. It was hard to play it cool like this. Before Axl could bring the toy up toward his tip, Axl gave him mercy. He dropped the shaking plastic on the mattress and leaned toward Izzy’s upper body. After crawling up the mattress, he cradled his head in his palm. His fingers plucked away at the buckle in the back of the guitarist's head. Axl slid the gag out of his mouth and chuckled as he wiped away spare strands of spit away from his mouth. Drool had begun to leak from his lips, anyways. Izzy beamed at him. It was a broken grin, a depraved grin really, but a grin nonetheless. Axl returned the slight smile. 

     “Make those noises for me, pretty boy. I wanna hear ‘em.” He snickered as he scooted back down the bed. He picked up the wriggling toy once more. Softly, he assaulted the man's senses once more. Izzy damn near screamed as he placed it directly on his tip. It was like he had lost all of his common sense. He shook and wiggled so much that a thin sheen of sweat pooled on his skin. “Stay still, bitch.” Axl hissed and pinched one of his nipples between his fingers. Hard. “Fuck! Sorry- I’m sorry!” He sobbed back dry tears as he tried to stop his spasms. He nodded at him and let go of his ever-so-sensitive nipples. Eventually, his frantic moments subsided. Sharp breaths and a perpetual buzz filled the room. Izzy could feel himself growing closer to his peak by the second. He didn’t normally come so fast, but life gets lonely. He needed this. “Axl- Ax, man. Close-“ He babbled, unknowingly pulling at the sheet with his numb fingers. Izzy tried to focus on something other than his impending orgasm, like the color of the blue ropes and the smell in the air. Columbia blue and sex. That came to him too easily. He needed something hard- like math. But, those thoughts were lost on him. “You come when I say you get to. Patience is a motherfucking virtue.”  Axl sneered back at him. Well. Someone’s mood has flip-flopped. Wild how he could change like that. That’s probably why Izzy likes him and his sadistic tendencies so much. 

     He held steady with the vibrations on Izzy’s cock. Izzy writhed, releasing soft moans. Desperately, he tried to keep himself from squirming. He wanted to be good enough to come. Izzy did his best to hold back his orgasm, and he did! It was impossible to hold back his arousal, though. The aggressive leak of precum that Axl worked up and down his cock with the toy made the signer beam. He may be a sadistic, arrogant asshole, but he liked to have proof that he could make people feel good when he wanted to. Maybe that’s what made him so perfect. Soon enough, he was back to babbling incoherent begging noises. “So- so close, Axl. Please.” He hissed. Axl just stared back at him. A soft snort escaped him. 

     “Nope.” He grinned and popped the p. 

     “Fuck! Fuck you- cocksucking whore!” Izzy rambled. In an instant, he gasped at himself. He didn’t know why such a combination of words slipped out of him. Axl wasn’t a cocksucker, nor was he a whore. The singer pulled away from him immediately. It was like he had been burned. Izzy gave him a scared, sorrowful look. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t even know-“ He panickedly babbled his words, struggling against his bonds with the means to take Axl’s hands in his own and try to explain himself. Axl didn’t speak. He just wiped his hands on his studded jeans and stood up. The vibrator was dropped next to Izzy’s legs but didn’t get turned off. It just sat there in their silence. Axl spun on his heel and walked toward the door. Before he could leave he uttered one sentence. “Figure it out yourself, then. Bitch” He scoffed and opened the door. Maybe he was crazy, but he certainly opened it aggressively wide. He may have even let it stay open for longer than needed as he walked out into the hall. He closed it behind him, but not all the way. It was still open by just the tiniest bit. Just enough to let the artificial hallway light stream into the slightly dim room. Just him, his tied-up body, and a vibrator that was on the bed beside him. He wanted to sob. This hurt. But, it hurt so good. He could hear Axl deliver a few sharp knocks to the door across the hallway. Then, he could hear his faint voice. 

     “Heya, Richard. Wanna have that chat or whatever?” 

     Damn you, William Bruce Rose Jr. 

#rpf #rock rpf #izzaxl #izzy stradlin #axl gnr #axl rose #izzy gnr #w axl rose #fanfic #fiction #gnr smut #smut #gnr fic #cross posted on ao3 #richard fortus (mentioned) #HOW DO I TAG ON HERE!!!! WHAT IS THE FIC PROTOCOL!!!

[deepspacedukat]

Begin Again - Part 1

Happy New Year! Here we are again. Yet another multi-chapter fic about a side character who didn’t get enough love. Enjoy!!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

Part 2 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: There might be smuttier stuff if later chapters, but this is gonna be a slow burn.]

Warnings: Mentions of Koss’s previous marriage to T’Pol, their subsequent annulment, and the aftermath for Koss.

~*~

Koss tried to work hard enough that this day would pass by him largely unnoticed. He tried to bury himself in the minutiae of dimensions and angles, balustrades and balconies to the exclusion of all outside thought. The project was one he’d been making decent progress on already, but today it took a leap forward. Seldom did Koss push himself like this, but today was an exception.

He didn’t want to leave himself time to dwell on the fact that this was the anniversary of his marriage’s annulment becoming official. The second anniversary, if he was going to be precise about it – and Koss was always precise. That’s how he’d gotten so far in the field of architecture: determination and precision.

He worked until his eyes nearly began to cross, giving in to his exhaustion only when he saw that the glow of the setting suns had given way to the silky blackness of the night. His actions may not have been logical, but they were necessary. Koss hadn’t been in love with T’Pol, but he had felt that a state of...contentment was possible between the two of them given time.

He could see no reason for her to select a Human in his place.

Glancing at the time, Koss sighed and packed away his materials and data PADDs into their proper places. From the window of his study, he looked up at the stars, wondering if he was ever going to be able to move past the shame of his rejection...of not being enough.

“Illogical,” he huffed under his breath. Of course he would move past it. Life required that he do so. He would focus on his work, and eventually he would find a suitable mate. One who could look past the shame of his annulment. Granted, that event would make him appear less desirable, but he would eventually find someone who would accept him despite his deficiencies.

As Koss turned away from the window, he caught sight of the little blue obelisk that adorned one of his bookshelves. The trinket had been a gift from his most trusted mentor, Tovan. He’d been the one to mold Koss’s talents and help him turn them into a worthwhile skill.

The hum of disapproval that came from Tovan made Koss second-guess his work. Skimming over his calculations in his mind, he wondered where his mistake had been.

“The foundation.” The answer was given before Koss could even ask the older man where he’d gone wrong. “The house is adequate, but you have not taken into account the porous nature of the rock on the building site. Lack of consideration for such conditions would render this building uninhabitable over time should the rock crack.”

Koss mentally berated himself for overlooking such an obvious flaw. That was a mistake he expected of a first-year apprentice, not someone with such extensive training as his own.

“Remind me, what is to be done when one makes a mistake?” Tovan set the plan aside and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“Revision and reconfiguration. I will begin again prior to the point at which I erred and correct the problem,” Koss had answered dutifully, and with a nod of approval, Tovan left him to correct his mistake.

Staring into the facets of the obelisk, it occurred to Koss that the only way to proceed with his current situation would be to begin again. That was the only logical course of action. T’Pol was content with Commander Tucker. He would certainly never wish her ill. Therefore, he would have to learn to be content being by himself until such a time as he was in a position to remedy that.

By the time Koss had gotten into his sleeping clothes for the night, he couldn’t bring himself to meditate. He would wake all the earlier the next morning and meditate then as compensation. Just this once he would allow himself to indulge his exhaustion. Climbing into his bed, he tried to clear his mind and relax. The sooner he could put this day behind him, the better.

--

Koss was awakened by a loud crash from the back of his property. Blearily, he stumbled out of bed and went to his window to see the gate wide open. His sehlat, I’Tol, was nowhere to be seen. Wrapping a robe around himself and putting on his slippers, Koss made his way outside to search for his wayward pet. Since he’d begun taking care of I’Tol, the beast had escaped only twice. Mischief seemed to be the only logic his sehlat understood.

“I’Tol, ha-kel!” He called as he stepped past the open gate at the side of his property. He listened for an answering call, but instead Koss became aware of a sound he had never heard before. A woman was speaking somewhere on the property beside his. Her voice was familiar, but her words sounded...strange. What was going on? Walking quickly across the barren dirt between his house and the next, Koss saw that the open yard was occupied.

A sehlat - unmistakably Koss’s sehlat - was sniffing around a woman who seemed to be confused, but not alarmed, by the animal’s presence. Speaking in a playful, high-pitched voice, the woman had apparently relaxed I’Tol sufficiently that she was no longer in danger. The sehlat flopped to the ground and rolled over, showing his belly to her and stunning Koss entirely.

I’Tol never behaved so cordially to others. For him to show such submission to a woman he wasn’t familiar with - a Human woman, no less - was totally unprecedented. The way she smiled as she stroked his soft fur stirred a memory.

Koss knew her. She had been a member of Captain Archer’s crew – an Ensign, if he remembered correctly. She’d smiled at him in a similar manner when she thanked him for his help.

“Are you alright?” He called out, but when she glanced over he knew what her answer would be before she even spoke.

“I’m fine. This big guy just decided to pay me a visit. I guess I smelled like a good breakfast dish to him, but he seems calmer now,” she said as she did a double take. “Koss? Is that you?”

“Yes. My apologies for I’Tol’s intrusion. His mischief does not usually include attempted assault,” he replied taking a few steps closer. Something else occurred to him. “What are you doing here?”

“I just moved in here, actually.” Koss was going to have a Human as his neighbor? The Ensign moved away from his mellowed pet and over to him. “I haven’t seen you since the incident with the Kir’Shara and the High Command. How’ve you been?”

“I...don’t understand.”

“There weren’t any consequences for you helping us, were there?” Koss couldn’t hide his surprise. She had been concerned for him? But that day two years ago had only been the first time they’d met. He had wondered about her own safety, of course, but that was because she’d shared in the danger T’Pol had been facing. He hadn’t expected any sort of reciprocation from her in that regard. What logic had caused her concern?

If he was entirely honest with himself, he hadn’t expected to see her again.

“No. No, I was not adversely affected by the events of that day. Did you suffer any lasting effects from your injuries?” He was unprepared for the amount of relief that washed over him when she shook her head. At least his meager attempts to treat her wounds had been successful to some small extent. “Good. Forgive me, I shall return I’Tol to my home now and leave you in peace.”

“Oh. Well it’s great to see you again! Once I’ve settled in a bit, why don’t you come over for dinner? We are neighbors, after all, and I do owe you. We could get to know each other better,” she suggested, and Koss blinked.

“That would be agreeable. When you are sufficiently...‘settled,’ I shall accept your invitation. I’Tol, ha-kel!” He ordered, and his sehlat gave the Ensign’s hand a final nuzzle before trotting back toward home. Koss gave her a polite nod and did the same. 

It was only when he’d returned to his room and looked in a mirror that he saw the chaotic state of his hair. He blushed to the tips of his ears when he realized the Ensign had seen him in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead.

Koss let out a heavy sigh and shook those thoughts away. He was in desperate need of meditation if something so trivial was bothering him.

~*~*~

Vulcan words:

ha-kel = home

#deepspacedukat fic #koss x reader #Koss the Vulcan Architect

[vroyales]

is that JONATHAN DAVISS? oh, no, that’s ELIJAH DYERS, a TWENTY-SIX year old up-and-coming AUTHOR who uses HE/HIM pronouns. they currently live in SANTA MONEDA in VALPARAÍSO, and the character they identify with most is EDWARD CULLEN from TWILIGHT.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ basics.

full name: elijah dyers .

nickname(s): eli .

age: twenty - six .

zodiac: taurus .

birthdate: 14th of april , 1997 .

ethnicity: african-american .

gender: cis male .

pronouns: he / him .

orientation: heterosexual / heteroromantic .

occupation: struggling author .

language(s) spoken: english , italian, (learning) spanish .

other character inspirations: bella swan (twilight), sasuke uchiha (naruto) .

aesthetics: low light from a desk lamp in a dark room, the warm breeze on a summer evening, late-night conversations, an old bookshelf with a large collection of hardcover novels, the soft crinkle you hear when you play an old vinyl, the blur of nighttime streetlights as you drive by, impossible speed and strength, ice-cold skin, color-changing eyes, speaking like one is from a different time .

most replayed song: supermassive black hole by muse .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ personality.

can be a bit broody. tries to be a lot more mysterious than he actually is. takes a while to warm up to people but once he does, he cares for them deeply. tends to keep to himself unless you're one of the very few he fully opens up to. one of those "i got hurt so now i don't believe in love" types. introverted; infinitely prefers one-on-one time over group settings. while he can be quite serious, he does enjoy letting loose every so often, and has a quick wit sometimes. loves creative writing when he's not on a deadline. unironically obsessed with the twilight series.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ background.

elijah was born into a wealthy family as the eldest of three children in burbank, california. his father was a successful film director and his mother was the heir to a multi-million dollar shoe company, meaning a lot of their time was spent at work. elijah was never really great at taking care of his siblings ( he wasn't the best cook for example, but that's why they had nannies ), but he would always make sure they did their homework and went to bed on time. he would often tell them bedtime stories, usually improvising as he tucked them in for the night. it became a habit for him, and they began requesting his stories on a nightly basis. as they grew up, they eventually got too old for these stories, but elijah never stopped coming up with them. he'd often jot these ideas down in one of numerous notebooks he had in hopes to one day write a proper book out of them. he was sent to study abroad in milan, italy, when he was around high school age. his mother insisted it would be good for him to get "worldly" exposure, though he suspected it was because she wanted to be able to visit him and see the fashion capitol of the world. it wasn't all bad though, as it was here that he met the love of his life, sariyah carter. in all honesty, once he adapted to the move, it felt like elijah's life couldn't get any better. he was dating the girl of his dreams, excelling in school ( especially in his literature classes ), and was on track to getting accepted to a renowned university. his future looked so incredibly bright. he was eager for his life, looking forward to everything that was to come... until it all changed. he was nearing the end of university at this point, eager for his life post-education. he was about to graduate and had been planning on proposing to sariyah... but she broke things off. it felt, sudden. it left him confused, heartbroken; he felt like a shell. his once bright and uplifting demeanor changed, and he became a lot more serious. a lot more somber. he couldn't bear seeing his now-ex around campus or the city and decided to move back to california. at least now he could focus on his writing and nothing else. a couple years post-university, things were looking a little bit brighter for him again. he used his heartache as inspiration for a coming-of-age young adult novel revolving around heartbreak, growing up, and self-discovery. little did he know that his book would blow up, becoming one of the highest-rated and highest-selling books of 2021. there was a hiccup, however: his publisher made a mistake and published the novel as a semi-nonfiction piece. which, sure, technically it was, but he didn't want his readers to know that. he just wanted to write a story that would resonate with the public. but now he had to go along with this narrative that he was, in fact, the main protagonist in the story and that the events were all based on real experiences. he was stressed out. he'd never traveled anywhere other than, well, italy and california. he hadn't even been to another state or another italian city. and what made matters worse was that his publisher was demanding a sequel, a part-two to the acclaimed debut of this young writer. in a state of stress, panic, and general curiosity, elijah decided to spin a globe and travel to wherever his finger landed. that way he'd be able to actually get some life and travel experience and make this impending sequel a bit more realistic. a bit more relatable. he spun a globe, closed his eyes, and his finger landed on valparaíso.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ headcanons.

he genuinely loves the twilight series; the books and movies. he admits they're corny, but argues that that's what makes them so good.

he swims! his favorite stroke is butterfly, though he's a lot better at freestyle. he really only swims to keep in shape.

he can play guitar and bass, but his favorite instrument is the drums. he wishes he learned that instead.

besides the artists on the twilight soundtrack, he's also a massive jean dawson and paris texas fan. if you ask him about either artist, he'll spam you with recommended songs. he even has a jean dawson-inspired tattoo.

his spanish is elementary at best, so he leans on apps like duolingo to learn now that he's in chile. he enjoys the challenge, though he admittedly is embarrassed of his accent.

a dream of his is to see his works transfer to different mediums, whether it's a film or broadway adaptation.

his breakup with sariyah sent him into a depressive spiral like bella in the second twilight movie. idk i just needed to put that out there.

he's not necessarily secretive about who his family is, but he doesn't boast about it either. he tries to avoid any family-related questions as he doesn't want to be accused of being a nepo baby. he is! but he doesn't wanna talk about it.

he's not a good cook. he can cook to feed himself, but he always manages to mess something up. his cooking isn't inedible, but if he can avoid the headache and order out, he will.

likes anime and superhero movies. his all-time favorite anime is naruto shippuden ( he grew up with naruto, can you blame him? ) and his favorite superhero is spiderman. he did in fact cry on his first watch of marvel's infinity war.

while he does warm up to people, he definitely prefers his solitude. he likes keeping to himself. that does not mean he isn't open to friendships though!

he loves concerts. it's one of the few places he'll willingly go that involves crowds and groups. his love language is inviting you to attend any concert with him.

he credits both the twilight book series and the percy jackson book series as his inspirations to become an author.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ wanted connections.

welcome to forks valpo ( 2/∞ ) : since elijah moved to valpo relatively recently, he's in desperate need of familiar faces to feel more acquainted with the area. this is open to any general friendship dynamics, whether it's casual friends, close friends, friendly neighbors, etc.

the cullens ( 0/3 ) : in a similar vein as the above plot, but this one is specifically for friends that elijah is closest with. people he would consider a second family. people he'd go play baseball with during a thunderstorm, y'know?

eyes on fire ( 0/∞ ) : elijah does tend to be difficult to get to know, especially with all the walls he has up. it would make sense for him to rub people the wrong way. this one is open to any sort of non-friendly dynamics!

decode ( 1/1 ) : elijah's ex, the one he was convinced he would spend the rest of his life with. things were ended and it left him blindsided. he used his feelings as inspiration for his first book, and while trying to find inspiration for the sequel, he bumps into said ex in the last place he imagined.

#valpohqintro #꒰ intro ꒱ elijah

[forever-fixating]

Thanking to @priincebutt for the tag! This is a WIP-ask-me-anything game where I list what projects I’ve got lined up and open my asks for questions. Enjoy!

1) Titanic AU- A young man talks with an elderly Beatrice and learns of her story of sailing on the ill-fated voyage of the RMS Titanic and of the romance between her brother Henry and the charming American Alex. (Wonky summary, but I haven’t had the time with LotM to write a proper one. And before you ask, NO, I will not reveal if the boys survive. 😉)

2) A Tournament for His Heart- Lightly inspired by A Knight’s Tale (just wanted an excuse to write about lords and ladies and jousting), Prince Henry is offered as the prize in the jousting during a tournament celebrating his brother’s recent marriage. His childhood sweetheart Prince Alex is one of the competitors for his hand. But Queen Mary will not at nothing to keep Alex and Henry apart, even at the expense of her grandson’s safety and happiness. Will they be able to fight the odds and have their happily ever after? Stay tuned! (A tease is posted for this. Search “A Tournament for His Heart” in my tags.)

3) Practical Magic AU- To be a child of the 90s is to love this movie. Henry and Bea are siblings bound by a family curse that dooms the ones they love to an early grave. Can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart? Will Henry and Bea defeat the curse that has plagued their family for generations? Will Henry get the brown-eyed boy he wished for as a child? Read to find out! (Eight-ish parts, it’s looking like? First part tentatively scheduled to be posted on Ostara because I’m pagan as fuck.)

4) Please Don’t Say You Love Me- When Henry has his first heartbreak, he leaves England for the Southern comfort of his Granny Bea in his dad’s hometown of Hot Springs, Arkansas. There, he finds more than he was looking for in a queer community where he’s able to explore and accept his sexuality as he never had before and an infuriating server/bartender/barista who challenges him at every turn. Can he set aside his heartbreak and allows himself to be truly loved for the first time? (My passionate passion project. I won’t post it until it’s done, but I’ve been slowly tinkering on it. I am beyond excited for this story and can only hope I can do its themes and my interpretations of these characters I love justice.)

My asks are open, so if any of the summaries intrigued you, please shoot me a message! You’ll find an eager recipient, I promise!

#tagging game #tag games #red white and royal blue fan fiction #red white and royal blue #a tournament for his heart #please don’t say you love me #Firstprince

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Happy Christmas, Mr. Holmes

a Sherlock Holmes x OFC fic

summary: Christmas comes to Baker Street, in a form Sherlock Holmes had never envsioned. There is a sweetness in seeing the holiday through someone else’s eyes, and there are lessons in holiday spirit and the nature of giving–as well as how Love makes the season even brighter–to be learned. Part of a continuing romantic series, this is the tale of Sherlock & Tessa’s first Christmas together. It just proved too irresistable for me not to tell! Takes place in an AU, post Season Two--in which Sherlock didn't take The Fall. And John hasn't met Mary yet.

rating: general audience; chapter 2 of 4

Chapter Two: Deck the Halls

(the following Saturday)

Passing through the door of 221 Baker Street, Sherlock didn’t need employ his commanding powers of deduction to determine that Mrs. Hudson had started her holiday baking.  The air was redolent of sugar and spice, vanilla and cocoa and cinnamon, and his mouth began to water in anticipation of the sweet treats in store.  Earlier than usual, he realized, wondering what had prompted the change in her accustomed pattern—normally, her culinary frenzy was reserved for the last week leading up to Christmas.  No matter, though; it would be just as much a pleasure to enjoy her cookies, cakes and tarts now, as on Christmas Eve.

He’d left the flat early that morning, on pretext of investigating a lead on a case, waving off John’s offer of help in the matter, and taking time only to down a quick cup of coffee and a day-old Chelsea bun before embarking.  There had been a lead of sorts to follow, though not the kind John would have expected, and Sherlock had very satisfactorily concluded that part of the business at hand. It would still be a couple of weeks until the outcome of his efforts reached fruition.

He’d been about to climb the stairs, when the door to Mrs. Hudson’s flat swung open, allowing the aromas of good baking to flood the little anteroom that sat outside 221A proper, to reveal Tessa clad in a flour-dusted apron, oven mitts on hands, and holding a baking sheet covered in fresh gingerbread men.  Sherlock couldn’t decide in the moment which was more irresistible—his perennial favorite, gingerbread, or the sight of his Tessa fully attired in the trappings of domesticity.  Fortunately she didn’t make him choose.  “Darling,” she exclaimed, beaming with delight, “your timing couldn’t be better!”  She quickly crossed to his side, stood on tip toes, and kissed his cheek.  “Cookie?” she asked, surely already knowing he couldn’t say no.

“This is my last batch for now,” she told him. “Just let me set these on the rack to cool, and I’ll join you upstairs.  Sherlock nodded, nibbling on his gingerbread, before proceeding up the stairs.

Reaching the lower landing, he heard the strains of Christmas carols coming from the front room of the flat, giving him pause before he climbed the rest of the way.  That had to be Tessa’s doing as well, he deduced, for John knew how he felt about giving in to such trite holiday conventions.  Sherlock decided not to fault her in this, but at some point he knew he would have to make his strong opinion known regarding the saccharine rituals of Christmas—and knowing her penchant for the sentimental, sooner than later would be called for, as she was likely to get as carried away with them, as he was to detest them.

Ah, but it turned out he was already too late with that resolution.  Standing at the threshold of the front room, he saw that Christmas had exploded in his absence.  Sherlock sighed deeply, rolling his eyes, knowing there would be no putting this unwanted present back into its packaging.  Tessa came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.  “John thinks you will find it a terrible bore,” her tone indicating that she expected better of Sherlock, and would settle for no less, “but I insisted we absolutely had to wait for you before we decorated the tree.”  She gently prompted him forward, and before he could protest, she was sliding his coat off, to hang it on its accustomed hook on the back of the door.  Sherlock remained still, gaping at the profusion of red, green, and gold that dominated his view, trying his best not to sneer too loudly.  The battle is surely lost, he thought; Tessa is enjoying this far too thoroughly. 

Mrs. Hudson was sitting on the sofa, sorting through a box of ancient looking ornaments, dusting them lightly before laying them upon the coffee table, with frequent pauses to drink what appeared to be steaming, mulled cider.  Surely spiked, and certainly leaving her with a very rosy disposition, he concluded.  He looked over a John, who stood beside the fresh Douglas fir standing to the left of their hearth; the doctor turned from stringing lights upon the boughs to grin at Sherlock in clear recognition—and hilarity—over what he knew Sherlock had to be thinking.  John lifted his own mug of cider in an ironic toast, “Cheers, Sherlock!”  John’s amusement over his friend’s inconvenience was unmistakable, “You’re just in time; now the party can really get started.” 

In addition to the tree, there were strings of colored lights hanging around the window frames, with garlands of evergreens and strands of holly strategically placed.  Most people would find the decorations a modest nod to the season, but Sherlock found them too excessive for his tastes.  He realized John was taking full advantage of the opportunity Tessa presented—for in past Christmases, Sherlock had allowed very little in the way of holiday decorations in their flat, forbidding any sort of tree as a waste of time and space, and reserving the playing of Christmas music to the eve and day alone. 

Tessa was quick to bring him a hot mug of cider, taking his hand to pull him further into the room.  “We wanted to surprise you,” she told him guilessly, “we’ve been planning this all week.” 

Her eyes shone so brightly, so happily, that Sherlock swallowed back the sarcasm that normally would have dripped in his response, “And surprised me you have.”  He took a bracing swallow of his cider. 

Now that he thought about it, he’d caught John and Tessa several times over the previous days, heads close together, sometimes laughing lightly, and swift to move apart when they caught him watching them.  He had actually assumed they were discussing the topic of Christmas presents—presents for him specifically—over which he would have no objections in the least.  Blinded by his ever-so-slight weakness in the face of the bounties of Christmas, he’d left himself wide open for their cunning ploy.

Sherlock approached the tree in silence, knowing the three waited upon his reaction before continuing their jovial proceedings.  “As trees go, I suppose it will do,” he sniffed, “but I expect you will keep it well hydrated, John.  We’ll not have needles scattered about the flat well into spring.”

“As opposed to finding fresh body parts in the fridge or microwave?”  John chuckled.

“Those items serve a useful purpose, John.”  Sherlock’s tone was light enough to make clear he had accepted the inevitability of the tree, “I see no practical reason for this silly spectacle.”

Mrs. Hudson broke her silence, tsking at them “Come on now, boys.  Play nice.”  She rose and crossed her way to the kitchen to refill her cup.  “It’s about time we had a proper tree up here.”

Tessa was at his side again, eager to sooth any ruffled feathers.  “It’s not entirely Christmas without one.”  She was pouting slightly in her usual way, for she knew it was often enough the thing required to finally win him around.  Sherlock could only give her his resigned smile, knowing for certain that she’d likely find a pleasant way to show her gratitude later on.  Her suit fully won, she circled his neck with her arms, kissing him squarely on the mouth, and then taking a moment to brush his lower lip with her thumb to wipe away the stain of her lipstick.  Tessa’s voice was low enough for his ears alone, “I swear you won’t regret this, my darling.  We’ll make it a Christmas to remember.”  Her eyes, lingering on his, gave him the sweetest of promises, before she joined Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen.

At this point Sherlock noticed—to his minor chagrin—that several pieces of his equipment, normally stored upon the kitchen table, had been shunted aside, in favor of several types of biscuits cooling on trays and racks.  The two women were gathering up the confections into plastic containers, talking quietly as they did so.  Apparently Tessa had commandeered both downstairs and upstairs kitchens for a serious baking project; there looked to be a good ten dozen cookies in a variety of flavors.  Additionally, he observed a large pan filled with what appeared to be chocolate fudge laced with bits of candy cane, and a smaller pan that looked to contain some sort of salted variety of fudge.

Sherlock found it a little disconcerting—his kitchen so completely out of its usual order--for when he’d left that morning, Tessa had been snugged down under the covers, with no indication of a diabolical Christmas plan on her itinerary for the day.  She’d tricked him right well, and now he wondered what other holiday themed surprises he might expect.  It was enough to make him start to rue the season.

The women worked together smoothly, gathering up the empty racks and pans into a pile for washing later, and stacking the sealed containers neatly upon the table.  Tessa had set aside a small portion of each type of cookie and treat on a platter, which Sherlock assumed meant they were available for immediate consumption.  In fact, Tessa had picked up a piece of the salted fudge, and headed his way.  “Taste this please, Sherlock, and tell me what you think.”  She held it up to his mouth so he could take a bite.

It was actually quite good; salted chocolate-caramel, incorporating two of his favorite flavors of sweets.  He took the rest of her proffered piece in hand to finish it.  “Very good,” he told her, “your own recipe?”

Tessa blushed slightly, looking delighted with his response, “Well yes; I tinkered a bit until I found the right ingredients and measurements.”  Her eyes grew even merrier as she told him, “I made it special just for you.”

Damn it, he thought, she’s just going to steamroll me with this Christmas business; yet her manner in it remained so charming, he knew to offer any objections now would be simply heartless.  Caught, he was, in her delicious Christmas cul-de-sac; he supposed he might as well accept it now and settle in for whatever further surprises she had in store.  The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, secret smile, knowing that the holiday surprises he had in store for Tessa would far surpass any she might have imagined for him.

Sherlock was to discover that the huge baking Tessa had undertaken was for gift-giving, a tradition handed down for several generations on her mother’s side.  “It’s the first Christmas that I’ve been on my own that I’ve been able to do this,” she’d told him, as she continued to tidy up the kitchen after lunch, “The oven in my flat is fussy and far too small for a project like this, and I really never had the luxury of time to do it anyway.”  In the end, she had made sure all his apparatus found their way back to their homes, so he was left without a need to complain.  And she’d ensured there was plenty of treats for him and John to enjoy, with the promise of more to come if they were greedy enough to finish them off too quickly.  Tessa had even left Mrs. Hudson with a basket full of goodies, insisting she take them despite her objection that Tessa needn’t do so. 

As for decorating the tree, Sherlock had steadfastly abstained for as long as he could, John good-naturedly needling him from time to time throughout the afternoon a counterpoint to Tessa’s subtle attempts to get him involved.  Wiley as her efforts were, Sherlock quickly saw right through them, but as always found them dear, for he knew they were born of her love for him.  He had sat down at his computer, meaning to do anything, anything, but what was clearly their priority for the day, meaning to tolerate the process with as much grace as he could muster.  Tessa speedily adopted a new tactic, making a casual display of such poor choices in fitting out the branches that his sense of the aesthetic would be offended enough to need to correct her.

Glancing up from the screen at her attempts, Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disapproval, but said nothing.  Instead, he fetched a dramatic sigh, closing his laptop, and then grumbled about how anyone expected him to work with such ridiculous goings on around him.  Tessa had looked immediately hopeful as he rose, thinking she had finally won him over, but he pointedly selected a random book from the case in the corner opposite the tree, taking his place on the sofa to at least pretend to read it.

Tessa had then redoubled her efforts, now asking him every other minute or so what he thought about a particular ornament, or did he think the tree was looking a little lopsided.  John had retired to the kitchen to refill his cider and grab a few of the fresh baked cookies, observing them with a very wry expression on his face, as he waited for Sherlock to either explode in irritation, or simply give in to Tessa’s dogged determination. Mrs. Hudson was busy trying to sort out the best location for the placement of the mistletoe.

Sherlock, of course, was not taking in a word of the book in his hands (a treatise on fungi and their medicinal uses versus dangers) as he waited for Tessa to admit defeat.  She eventually came to sit—wide-eyed as a pleading doe--at his side, silent until he turned his full attention to her.  “Please?” she asked simply, and in the end Sherlock had conceded.  Perhaps it was the healthy dose of rum contained in the cider; perhaps it was the way that Tessa, John, and Mrs. Hudson had joined in merrily with the carols playing; or perhaps it was the very holiday cheer that Tessa seemed to embody, but in the end he found he was more than happy as he helped her deck the tree, setting right her purposeful blunders and, at the last, placing the star atop just as she requested he do.

Mrs. Hudson had long since gone downstairs; John was out on a date (with high expectations of success on the field of amore); and Tessa was leaning upon Sherlock in the warm silence, the room lit only by the fire in the hearth and the glow of Christmas lights.  Their conversation had come around to family traditions, highlighting the wealth of differences between their upbringings, and when Sherlock asked her about her happiest Christmas memories, she had many she was glad to share with him.  It was a marvel for him to think of her as a girl, of her as a teen on the cusp of womanhood, cradled in the loving environment she described.  It was no wonder she adored the season as she did, and he realized that if her intent was to open his eyes to its simple, familial pleasures, she was decidedly succeeding. 

“But you know, darling,” her voice soft and satisfied, “you’ve given me one of my brightest memories.”

This surprised him, and so he had to ask, “Really?  How so?”

Tessa laid her hand on his shirt, absentmindedly fingering the buttons, as she found the best way to explain, “That day in the church.  I never expected that from you.  I know now that I should have.”

“What?” he replied, “That I actually showed up?”

She shook her head, softly against his shoulder, “No.  That you understood how I was feeling.  And that you wanted to make it right for me.” 

He was looking at the star atop the tree, remembering what he’d been feeling as she’d cried those sentimental tears.  Protective and irresistibly caught in her softness, and knowing in his soul that no matter how messy her emotions were at times, he’d never want her any other way.  “My dear, what I wanted in that moment I couldn’t say aloud in a church, for the sake of propriety.”  Tessa gasped against his shoulder, surprised; yet he knew she hung upon what he might say next.  “What I wanted was to bundle you up and take you back home and make love to you all night long.”  Sherlock paused, feeling the truth of his words as a warmth in his chest, “Until you cried out my name again and again, and the only tears you might shed would be happy ones.”

Without a word, without a bit of hesitation, Tessa was kissing him then, in ways that never would have suited those moments in the church, with her hands is hair, and barely stopping even a moment for breath.  Finally breaking the kiss, she leaned her forehead against his, whispering, “Oh Sherlock, my Sherlock, my darling, wonderful Sherlock.  It’s so cold outside right now,” she lingered deliciously before finishing, “and I need you to bundle me well.”

Of all the things she had asked of him that day, that request turned out to be the easiest one for him to fill.  And he would tell her later that she had easily given him his favorite Christmas memory.

(to be continued)

If you enjoyed this, I’m hoping you would be so kind as to reblog it. Being stuck in shadow ban prison has severely curtailed exposure of my work here on tumblr. Any reblog you could give me would be sure to share this story with many others, and maybe get this piece some much-needed love. Thank you!

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#my writing #Happy Christmas Mr. Holmes #bbc sherlock #fluff #light romance #deck the halls #Christmas comes to Baker Street #Christmas #Christmastime #Sherlock Holmes #Benedict's Sherlock #established relationship #Sherlock Holmes x OFC #Sherlockm x OFC #Tessa DeMauromOFC