#Espi answers asks!

[espithewarlock]

also\1!!! is there perhaps a possibility of taking a smol look into the future of my beloved dragon pierre and potion student Charles? 🥺

💕

Hello Jully darling!! I am so sorry this took me a while but, well, you'll see. 🤭

This snippet will not make much sense if anyone has not read my Dragon!Pierre x Potions Apprentice!Charles fic, Bittersweet, That Glitter. (But you should read it because I'm very proud of that one ok thank you!)

“Pierre, the stock of nymph-grown flowers is getting low,” Charles mentioned as he was checking their potion supplies. He was inside one of the portable holes within the back room of their shop doing their monthly check-in on what they needed to resupply for the potion-eager residents of Maranello.

Recently, the demand for their resistance potions had significantly increased as the Hunter’s Guild accepted both more dangerous and more profitable contracts for their services.

Thanks to Charles’ former affiliation with the Guild, they had a standing agreement. Any components that they could provide to him and Pierre that weren’t needed to fulfill a contract would result in a discount on their potions purchases.

Sometimes, Pierre would even take out a contract with them if he needed any specific materials and either didn’t want to or didn’t have the time to harvest the creature himself.

Well, it was usually to avoid suspicion. Any reports of a fully grown blue dragon hunting anywhere near them would result in very much unwanted attention. They were incredibly careful after Charles essentially led his guild straight into Pierre’s lair unknowingly and he forced Pierre into revealing his secret earlier than he had intended.

Luckily, by staying on the move, they managed to avoid detection and were well-known as a traveling potions master and his incredibly talented apprentice. (Though Charles had intentions of trying for his mastery soon.)

Still, it meant that they had to return to Maranello frequently enough to check on their store and restock anything that was low. The increasing contracts for the Hunter’s Guild led to an increase in demand for all ten types of their resistance potions. All elemental resistance potions had the same base – water infused with three nymph-grown flowers – and those were not easily acquired.

On this plane, at least. Pierre had told him a long time ago that he could easily travel to the Feywild to gather more whenever they ran low. Typically, he would pop over there with a teleportation ritual and return generally between an hour and a day later.

Charles’ soulbond always felt weirdly stretched whenever Pierre was on another plane. He had requested to come along, once, and Pierre had shut that down in his no-nonsense tone that meant he absolutely would not be persuaded.

Sometimes he knew he could convince Pierre with a well-timed plea, or kiss, or pout, and others it was absolutely not up for discussion. That had been one of those times and Charles hadn’t pressed despite his curiosity of the Feywild.

Since fresh flowers were more potent, and Pierre could acquire them easily, they never kept too many on hand since they would lose potency the longer they sat in storage. It meant that Pierre was farther away from him than he would prefer more often than he liked, but Charles always made up for it by keeping Pierre in bed for the same amount of time that he was gone.

If that happened to be a whole day, well, he never got any complaints from his soulbonded.

So he was not prepared for what Pierre said in response. “Is there anything else we need while we are there?” Pierre asked calmly, though out of sight from Charles’ position technically underneath the level of the floor.

He stumbled a bit and rattled one of the shelves to catch himself, then set out a quick curl of air to make sure none of the bottles dropped to the floor and shattered.

“Beloved?” Pierre said, half in amusement and half in concern at the sound of shaking jars.

“When…we go?” Charles clarified. As soon as the shelves were back to their usual stationary state, he quickly hopped into his air elemental form to fly out of the portable hole and return to his human form.

Once he landed, he knew that he had an eager, hopeful expression plastered on his face. Charles didn’t care, since Pierre would be able to read that from the soulbond regardless. There was no point in hiding anything he felt from Pierre.

“Yes,” Pierre replied, giving Charles a soft smile, “you may accompany me to the Feywild. Unless you do not want to go?”

“Of course I want to go,” Charles professed. Pierre’s words were teasing and both of them knew it, yet he responded earnestly.

“Then allow me to finish this today,” Pierre requested, “tonight, we will talk through the ritual and the rules for being within the Feywild. If I am confident in your abilities, we will go there in the morning.”

Charles couldn’t help the spike of excitement within his chest and practically skipped forward to kiss Pierre quickly. His soulbonded indulged it for a moment, then broke away with a bit of a warning glance. Pierre did not like to be interrupted or distracted while they were brewing since the result could be disastrous.

As disappointed as he was to stop kissing Pierre, Charles did not try for more. It would only irritate him and he would have his fill later. He transformed back into an air elemental to return to the shelves and continue taking inventory.

— — —

Later, after they had eaten dinner and gone through the teleportation ritual extensively, Pierre did take him to bed. Once they were naked and sweaty, and Charles was breathless and satisfied, Pierre pulled him to his chest so they could cuddle.

After a few minutes, Charles’ breathing and heart rate settled to something resembling normal and he began tracing little circles onto Pierre’s chest.

“You mentioned some…rules earlier?” he prompted in the quiet of the room.

“Yes, I did,” Pierre agreed, “are you in a clear enough mind to remember them?”

It was, again, a little bit of a tease. Charles had a blanket of warmth in the form of a very satisfying orgasm draped over him, but his mind wasn’t hazy or foggy at all. “I will remember,” he promised.

Pierre pressed a kiss to the top of his head and hugged him tightly. “There are many beings that inhabit the Feywild that you will be unfamiliar with,” he explained slowly, “and their magic is tied to promises and etiquette.”

“The nymphs we will speak to tomorrow will take things very literally,” Pierre continued, “if you ‘give’ them anything as a figure of speech, the way their magic works means they can take it literally. So be very careful with your words.”

“I will,” Charles said instantly.

“I fear you do not fully understand me, my beloved,” Pierre said earnestly and tipped Charles’ face up so he could look into his eyes. “If you introduce yourself to these nymphs and tell them ‘my name is Charles’ they will take that as a gift and will take your name away from you.”

“As much as I love calling you my beloved, I do wish for you to retain your name, and to retain the use of my own,” Pierre murmured.

That was a little terrifying and Charles could see why Pierre had been hesitant about bringing him to the Feywild. “What do they call you, then, if you have not given your name?” he wondered.

“‘Dragon’, usually, since they can sense lies and deception,” Pierre shrugged lightly with a fond smile, “they consider lying to be extremely rude and offensive. If you break their rules of etiquette, then their magic can…obligate you to make it right. That debt can take on many forms, so do not lie and do not break any common rules of etiquette.”

“Like what?”

“They will invite us for tea and it is extremely rude to refuse,” Pierre explained, “but we will start one of our longer potions before we leave, so we can claim that we can only stay for a single cup since we must check on its progress.”

“Isn’t that also a lie, of sorts?” Charles wondered, “since we would be doing something deliberately to get out of an obligation?”

“It is…a convenient excuse,” Pierre said with a wave of his hand, “if we were invited guests then yes, that would be rude. Since we are arriving without notice or warning, it will be technically the truth, though one we have conveniently fabricated for our advantage.”

Charles’ head was spinning a bit, but he could commit these relatively simple rules to memory. He’d done much more strenuous things in order to stay by Pierre’s side and this was no hardship.

“No names, no lies, no rudeness,” he summarized.

Pierre laughed lightly and shifted to kiss him firmly. “You’ll find that it’s much more difficult in practice,” he said against Charles’ lips, “but I have confidence in you, my beloved.”

His confidence could be felt all the way through their soulbond and Charles wasted no time in rolling on top of him so that he could deepen their kiss. He knew that Pierre would, eventually, flip them back over, but that was part of his plan.

— — —

“Be very precise with your markings,” Pierre instructed while handing Charles the magically-enhanced chalk for the teleportation ritual. This was not Charles’ first time casting the ritual, but it was his first time doing it to another plane. 

Thankfully, Pierre had a focus that was attuned to the Feywild, which would remove the risk of the spell significantly. With such a focus, they were far more likely to end up where they intended, especially if Charles got all of the sigils in the runes correct.

He was diligent about copying the circle and all of its intricacies from one of their spellbooks while Pierre observed. Charles never felt like Pierre was hovering or intimidating. If Charles made a mistake, Pierre would correct him before the spell was cast, though he would also allow Charles the opportunity to notice and correct his own mistake before he offered any input.

It was the sort of challenge that he appreciated and the occasional glance (or check of the soulbond) didn’t give any sort of indication on whether he was correct or not.

Once he had double and triple-checked all the runes, Charles sat back on his heels and nervously gestured for Pierre to check his work. Pierre made a slow circuit around the entire thing, carefully studying Charles’ efforts of the last few minutes.

After a long moment in complete, stoic silence, Pierre’s lips curled into a grin and Charles felt a surge of satisfaction within the bond.

“Very good, my beloved,” Pierre said out loud and held out his hand towards Charles, “you will provide the magic and the incantation for us. I will guide it once it has been cast. Come here.”

Charles accepted the outstretched hand and used it to pull himself into the circle along with Pierre. He tapped into his core – a whirlwind with an occasional blue spark of lightning – with practiced ease and pushed his magic into the circle with a familiar chant spilling from his lips.

The magic connected and Charles felt Pierre’s arm wrap protectively around his waist as they began whirling through what Pierre called void space. It was the nothing that existed between and separated different planes, and could not be traversed without magic.

There were a few places that existed where the magic was ‘thinner,’ but those came with their own difficulties in traveling. In Pierre’s words, it was far easier to use their own magic, especially since he knew where they were going. 

When they stopped moving, Charles opened his eyes to a gorgeous world. 

Instead of the desert of Maranello, this world was lush. Trees and bushes were thick, bright green, and almost seemed to be coated in gold since there was so much magic practically dripping off of every branch.

They landed adjacent to a crystal-clear waterfall that was pouring into an equally clear lake. It stretched high up a rocky cliff face which seemed to have even more lush vegetation at the top. Charles continued to look upwards and the sky was a beautiful burst of color.

Yellows, oranges, and pinks streaked across the sky in the most stunning sunset that Charles had ever witnessed. It was more brilliant than anything he had ever seen in the desert next to Maranello or anywhere else he had traveled on their plane.

“Welcome to the Feywild, my beloved,” Pierre murmured right in Charles’ ear, “remember the rules we discussed and you will be just fine.”

He felt Pierre plant a soft kiss in the space just below his ear, then grabbed his hand to begin leading him around the lake. They approached the shallow part of the lake on the opposite side from the waterfall where several large rocks stuck out into the water.

Pierre did not waste any time in removing his shoes, rolling up the bottom of his pants, and stepping onto one of the rocks. Charles hurriedly copied him and together they eased their legs into the water.

It was cool and refreshing, perfect if he had been out in the desert sun all day, though a little too cool for the dense woods they seemed to be in. 

“Hello, nymphs of the Waveless Lake,” Pierre called out, “your favorite blue dragon has come with a gift, and a request, for any who wish to speak with us.”

The name gave Charles a moment of pause, then he realized that the waterfall was splashing into the water yet not creating any ripples. It was beautiful and strange and assuredly magical in nature.

Silence covered the lake, but Pierre did not seem worried. He was patient and calm, like the waters that were touching their legs. Charles waited alongside him, eager to see what would happen.

“Is this human our gift?” A light voice on Charles’ other side startled him just as a hand grabbed his chin to turn him away from Pierre.

There was a woman sitting next to him where there hadn’t been one a moment before. She had long, wavy hair that looked like reeds covering her light blue body. Her strange dark blue and gold eyes were studying Charles and he resisted the urge to push her away. Surely, if he was in danger, Pierre would rescue him.

“He’s only here as an introduction,” Pierre replied calmly, “this one is my soulbonded, my beloved, and will be returning with me when our business is concluded.”

“But he’s so pretty,” a new voice appeared on the other side of Pierre, “are you sure we can’t keep him?”

“Very sure,” Pierre retorted, “I also think he’s beautiful and talented and I will keep him by my side.”

Charles flushed red from the compliment as the first woman dropped his chin and laughed. He was able to twist his head to the side to see a near-identical woman there too. These must be the nymphs that Pierre had mentioned since they were eerily beautiful and almost seemed to be made of water from how their legs blended into the lake.

“You are no fun, dragon,” a third nymph popped out of the water in front of them with her arms propped on the surface as if it was a solid table instead of liquid, “you tease us with this toy and then won’t let us play with him.”

“Will you give us your name, human?” the first nymph asked him while batting her eyelashes coyly, “your dragon hasn’t even given us a proper introduction, yet.”

Pierre’s warning flashed through his head and Charles smiled back at her innocently. “I’m afraid my soulbonded is correct and I am his beloved,” he responded, “but I would love to know the name of a creature of such beauty, if you are willing to share?” Charles grabbed her hand to bring it up to his lips and kiss the back of it.

She giggled and Charles felt a flare of unbridled jealousy and possessiveness coming from the soulbond. He knew that it was…dangerous to tease Pierre like this, but it was payback for Pierre calling him beautiful.

“You may call me Sundew,” she said lightly.

“Mossspring,” the one next to Pierre added.

“Tempest,” the third nymph in the water smiled at him.

“It is lovely to make your acquaintance,” Charles continued with a small half-bow from his seated position, “and I believe my wonderful dragon has some business he wishes to conduct with the three of you.”

“Indeed I do,” Pierre picked up the conversation smoothly, “I am here to fulfill my end of our long standing agreement to check and reinforce your wards every time I am in need of any nymph-grown flowers.”

Charles knew that, technically, Pierre could harvest the flowers himself pretty much anywhere within the plane where nymphs were prevalent. However, the agreement allowed him to expand his collection of connections that he could call upon for favors or information, should that also be required.

“And, as a sign of my continued appreciation, I also have a gift for you three who have come to speak with us today,” Pierre pulled one of his bags of holding out from a pocket and reached inside quickly.

When his hand emerged, he was clutching three small identical vials. They were filled with a silver liquid so light that it was almost white and glowed faintly. “Liquid Moonlight,” Pierre said reverently, “one for each of you, as a gift.”

Instantly, all three were snatched out of his hand by the nymphs and they disappeared below the surface of the water.

Charles’ eyes narrowed. He had heard of Liquid Moonlight, of course. It was an illegal drug that was highly addictive and supposedly caused intense euphoria for the drinker. Anyone caught with it in their possession would be in a world of trouble, and anyone caught brewing it doubly so.

“What are you doing brewing illegal potions?” he hissed, “that is idiotic and we could–”

Suddenly, Charles found himself flat on his back with a very angry soulmate hovering over him. Pierre’s eyes were dark blue and he could feel lightning crackling in the air around him from his fury.

“You forget yourself,” Pierre growled, “we are no longer on your plane or your kingdom. Your laws have no meaning here.”

Charles instantly realized his mistake. He had accused and insulted Pierre with one question based on his own ignorance.

“Even if I am caught, what prison could hold me?” Pierre asked rhetorically, “I am personal friends with the strongest mage on the continent and he would struggle to contain me.”

Of course, Pierre was talking about Lewis. Charles knew the arcanist's power first-hand and the two of them had become close, especially following Pierre's year of attempted disappearance. Charles was well aware of both Pierre's and Lewis' levels of power and shuddered to think what catastrophe might happen if the two were to clash.

“I follow the laws to avoid detection and I do not get caught for the ones I do not follow,” Pierre concluded, “Liquid Moonlight in small doses for nymphs is nothing more than a strong ale for you, my beloved. Do not insinuate that I do not know what I am doing.”

As much as Charles wanted to cower, to concede and be contrite in the face of an angry dragon, his soulbonded was being particularly selfish and stupid.

“And what about me?” Charles retorted, “if I am caught and imprisoned?”

“You have an air elemental form, no prison could hold you. Not that I would allow them to take you in the first place.”

“The reputation of our shop, then,” Charles pointed out, “and my brothers, too. If they are caught with Liquid Moonlight in the back room while they are working, will you pay their fine or break them out of prison, too? You are not usually this thoughtless, my dragon.”

Despite being pinned to the rock at his back, Charles felt confident. He saw his words hit their mark from Pierre’s expression and felt his annoyance at their truth from the soulbond. Charles loved Pierre deeply, and part of that meant reminding him that not everyone was a dragon with hundreds of years of life experience.

“Oh, he’s feisty,” one of the nymph’s voices resounded in his ears. Charles twisted his head to the side to see who he thought might be Tempest sitting next to them casually.

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” Sundew added as she set a jar filled with flowers next to Pierre on the rock and settled back into the water.

All of the anger vanished from Pierre in an instant and he backed off of Charles, then extended his hand to help him sit up. Once he was back upright, Pierre kissed the back of his hand in apology. 

“He keeps me humble,” Pierre murmured softly with a fond smile.

Charles and the nymphs all began laughing at him and Pierre rolled his eyes. “Slightly more humble,” he conceded.

“Dragon, will you and your soulbonded join us for a cup of tea?” Mossspring asked from the water.

“We have time for one cup, that would be lovely,” Pierre answered for both of them, “but then I must spend an hour meditating in my dragon form to check your wards, and we have a potion we must return to on our plane.”

All of the nymphs looked delighted at his acceptance and a table appeared straight out of the water. It was already set for the five of them and Charles didn’t have to move from his seat on the rock to reach his teacup.

Sundew grabbed the large teapot in the center of the table and began pouring generous servings for each of them. Charles was going to take a sip, but Pierre put his hand on his leg and gave it a quick warning squeeze.

They waited until all the nymphs had been served, then Tempest raised her teacup to the center of the table. “To you and your soulbonded’s continued health and happiness,” she said lightly.

“And to your good fortune,” Pierre returned while lifting his own cup. Charles copied him and took a sip once one of the nymphs drank from hers.

The tea was rich and fruity, perfectly sweetened and flavorful and made him feel at ease. Charles moved slightly closer to Pierre so that his soulbonded could keep one hand secured around his waist while they exchanged pleasantries with the nymphs.

Surprisingly, Charles found himself enjoying himself immensely and laughing at the stories that the nymphs shared. Once their teacups were empty, Pierre set his down with an apologetic smile.

“We thank you for your gracious hospitality,” he said while getting to his feet, “and I must hold up my end of our bargain to check your wards, if you will excuse us. Beloved?”

Charles took his cue and also got to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet all of you,” he said with a sweeping bow.

All of the nymphs giggled, said their own goodbyes, and vanished into the water as quickly as they arrived. Charles looked at the stillness of the lake in curiosity and wondered what all was beneath the surface.

“They were…interesting,” he commented as Pierre led him away from the water a short distance to a good sized clearing.

As soon as they were out of sight of the water, Charles was not expecting to be pulled into a searing kiss. He melted into it and rivers of heat began to travel up his spine from the way Pierre’s strong hand was gripping his waist.

“You handled them well, beloved,” Pierre whispered across his lips, “but they are fools if they think they can try to take what is mine.”

Charles felt desire absolutely flooding out of the bond. He adored how possessive Pierre was over him and felt it amplified through their connection. It always made his head spin and he let out a slight whimper as Pierre pulled away.

“Later, beloved,” Pierre promised with another quick brush of their lips, “I do need to meditate and check their wards for a time.”

He was disappointed, but allowed Pierre to step away after one more lingering kiss. Charles always thought that Pierre’s transformation into his true form was awe-inspiring and made no effort to hide his appreciation as a blue dragon briefly stretched his wings, then curled up in what looked like a typical sleeping position.

Charles reached into his pocket for his own bag of holding, then pulled out one of his advanced potions books along with his notebook. Pierre kept giving hints that Charles would be ready for his mastery exam soon and he wanted to be prepared.

One part of the exam would be to demonstrate a potion of his own creation. That meant that he had to come up with an idea that was unique, and could be brewed in less than a day. Preferably, less than a few hours, though it depended on the panel of potion masters that were evaluating him.

As his potions master, Pierre was not permitted to be a part of that panel, nor was he allowed to give Charles ideas. If Charles wanted to talk through ideas theoretically, that was perfectly fine. However, he needed to prove that he could do it all on his own if he wanted to feel confident with earning the master title himself.

His favorite place to study was perched on one of Pierre’s forelimbs. Pierre would bring his head around and press it to Charles’ side while he was resting and Charles loved to gently scratch at the small blue scales that covered his head.

Pierre would never admit to it, but the deep rumbling that resulted always reminded Charles of a purring cat. It was the perfect noise for studying while Pierre opened his magic in meditation. Charles loved the feel of it and leaned forward to press a kiss to Pierre’s scales before opening up his notebook in his lap.

There was no other place he’d rather be.

[espytalks]

ya know, the only reason i prioritize streaming services is cause i'm 99% out of the loop when it comes to alternative sites, and the one time i asked a friend about a torrent site i got a virus from it, so even though it's been like 8 years (i don't even talk to that friend anymore. he left this hellsite a few years ago) i'm still kinda scared of just going on to some rando site just cause i want to finish watching a show i never finished, ya know? At least i can feel pretty sure that if it's on an official site, its safe.

[pumpkinsaskblog]

for all characters: favorite soda?

Okay so I felt bad that I haven't responded to my asks!! But I'm not sure how to go about drawing this one so...! I will do so in text in the ways they would reply!

Nitor: Hmm... I don't really drink soda, I'm sorry!! I remember liking root beer as a kid, though? I suppose that would count?

Carrion: Cola's pretty good but honestly — I'll chug anything. Don't matter what! 🔥 GIMME!!

Espy: What is this... soda? I recognize the term. Carrie always seems to posses one. It's scent is so sweet... Reminds me of Carrie too, she's very sweet as well...

Penumbra: Root beer is alright. Why do you ask? Have any?

Dreamy: Oh! I just love any soda! Particularly the enigma soda pop! It's rare but quite good!!

Folly: You mean that super sweet syrupy concoction, right!? That stuff's goooood... This one time, my friend got this pumpkin pie flavor! We don't talk about that incident... but I'm banned from the storage room now.

I believe that's all the characters I shared that would even know what soda is!

[rexhya]

your boyfriend is a cuddle demon

the two of you rest together throughly entangled in each other when all of a sudden, a nagging and agitated feeling creeps up on you.

"hun, i gotta pee." he groans dramatically as possible only locking your body further into place.

"don't go..." he whines pathetically you almost let him stay there, but like clockwork, the feeling returns.

"i'll be back in literally three seconds, seriously babe. do you want me to pee on you?" you huff, failing to pry the red heads beefy arms away from you.

theres a pause before he answers, "but i miss you..." and you laugh.

"and i do to, but if you wanna be covered in piss in the next two seconds you gotta move." and with a reluctance groan he shifts his warmth away for you to get up towards the bathroom. only instead of lying in your shated sheets like you'd expected him to, he immediately gets up after you and follows you to the bathroom.

"what are you doing?" your body in the doorway.

he rolls his eyes like it's obvious, "watching you what else."

you cock an eyebrow, "watching me pee?"

you boyfriend only pushes you in lightly and shuts the foor behind him. "only to protect you, and like i said. i miss you."

you grin in disbelief, he was pouting, litterally pouting as he answered.

"right, sure. makes total sense." and with a look you sit down on the toilet to use the bathroom, it's not as awkward as you think, espy your boyfriend who was currently checking himself out in the mirror.

and when you finish, "alll done?" he ask's, watching you reach for the toilet paper and turning around swiftly.

"yeah..."

and he whips back around scooping you up in his arms to carryy you back to bed.

"finally, i almost dies for a second there."

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : he’s not lover approved by traveler/paimon

there is nothing lyney wouldn’t do for you. if he can, he will; if he doesn’t have the means, he will find a way — no matter if it means standing still as a deer in the forest in front of the traveler and paimon, who shot him with icy glares upon discovering your romantic relationship.

he stands at your front door, in his hand a small bouquet of flowers he purchased in the city; his heart beating madly in his chest. the moment was surreal, like a suspense novel.

questions swirled, each one more bewildering than the last. why were the traveler and paimon, individuals he weren’t exactly on the best terms with, standing by your doorway? where were you? and most importantly, how did you know one another?

he didn’t know you had a personal connection with the pair, let alone be a close friend whom they held in high regard. he feared they might reveal the truth about his fate and ask you to end things, two outcomes he hoped to avoid.

the unmistakable tension in the air pours through like a fog, making it difficult to breath. he, though, was determined to dull his unease in a strained yet cheerful sing-song manner.

“ta-da~!”

alas, his attempt at levity fell flat.

“eh? paimon didn’t know you knew each other!” she yelps, a blend of surprise and curiosity in her voice. the traveler, too, nods in agreement.

lyney, feeling like an uninvited visitor in his own lover’s cozy home, removes his hate and rests it on the standee that you had thoughtfully bought for his stay. with a sense of discomfort that he tried to bury, he takes a seat on your old armchair and crosses his legs.

a faint, near inaudible, sigh was his feeble attempt to soothe the racing thoughts within his head.

“i can say the same.” his nimble hand grazes the nape of his neck. “speaking of, where might she be? and, please, do not take offense, what lured you two into her humble abode?” his eyes dart between their scuffed attire, their fatigue state raising alarms. this cannot be good…

“uh, how does paimon explain this?” she trails, and shares a glance with the traveler.

the latter, taking the lead, starts to disclose how you’d been caught in a struggle on your journey to the city. fortunately, you held your ground, battling alongside the duo.

it didn’t mean you returned completely unscathed.

his concern heightened with every single word, and once he finally reached your bedside, he knelt down. his hand gently guides your gaze to meet his.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he espies the myriad of deep cuts and bruises that marred your delicate skin, the frown on his face deepens with every discovery. “why did you hide your injuries from me? do you wish to be the demise of your poor lyney? look, i’ve sprouted a forest of silver strands thanks to the harrowing distress you’ve inflicted upon me!”

as a joke, you roll your eyes at him, which elicits a theatrical and melodramatic whine of your nickname.

“i didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“but it’s my duty to worry about you?! and you’re well aware such secrets are forbidden from me, mon couer,” he scolds, rather mischievously, his finger tracing the outline of a particularly prominent bruise. it was clear that he genuinely couldn’t bear the idea of seeing you in pain.

he didn’t need to look to know the traveler and paimon were silently mocking him. you’re the very last person to say that, he can hear one of their voices answer.

the following hours unfold as a strange experience… the trio find themselves navigating the ‘intricacies’ of caring for you and your wounds, their interactions were a pleasant balance of teamwork and arguments.

it was a bit of an overstatement, you were merely sporting a couple of bruises and cuts here and there, far from laying at death’s door. at one point, they even engaged in — a passive aggressive — discourse about the meticulous art of wrapping bandages and the hours of your antibiotics intake.

“while i do appreciate your concern, traveler. i know what’s best for her.”

lyney, adopting a firm posture with arms crossed, ushered a resolute stare at the traveler. the atmosphere brimmed with an unspoken challenge as the latter counters, “it’s impressive how informed you are… i wasn’t aware the world of magic held such peril and risk.”

“what i’m trying to say is she needs a period to rest alone.”

“however,” traveler concedes, “she also needs the support of her friends. she doesn’t need to be isolated.”

he counters with a wave of his hand, punctuating his words,“i’m not advocating for such a thing! i’m only expressing my worry about overwhelming her.”

“if you’re both going to argue, do it outside.”

there was no longer space for disagreement, the severity of your expression conveys a message that leaves no room for uncertainty or lightheartedness in your tone.

one last glimpse of your resting silhouette and he returns to the comfort of your living room, on the settee, exasperated yet cautious. meddlesome eyes preying on him, the friction amongst them was obvious to see, beneath it lays a shared regard for you wellbeing.

“can paimon stay?”

quick question, can you positively say your friends and lover get along? the short answer, no; the long answer, not really, no.

ignorant, oblivious, and unaware… there exists a plethora of words to describe the profound state of confusion you felt regarding your friends’ steadfast reluctance to embrace the wanderer as your lover. their hesitancy remained an enigma, though, you can take a ganderw and guess it might be due to his crabby demeanor.

yet, when you allude to it, they refuse to utter a word.

although it did prove to be considerably simpler to gather a proper answer from paimon than traveler. she wasn’t shy, she expressed her thoughts about him. very freely. it began with her calling him short in both stature and temperament, and eventually led up to a blunt end, saying the problem lies in his attitude.

she was in complete denial, the notion you were in love with HIM, of all people, a sentiment underscored by her disbelief at the idea.

your warm presence rendered you a person whose kindness knew no bounds. in stark contrast, he was the epitome of a grump, a less than delightful company. if you were searching for a partner, she could’ve found a more ‘suitable’ match for you!

uh, maybe a compassionate and mellow personality, a man akin to kazuha, might be the perfect choice? she entertains the idea of opening it up to the traveler.

while privy on the subject, the traveler chose to stay hushed the entire time. despite their initial resolve to be neutral, you couldn’t help but notice the bitter expression that manifests when you utter his name.

it was clear to see something occured in the past…

however, your frequent line of questioning over the passing weeks eventually wore them down. after all, alongside paimon, you were a good friend of theirs! and it only seems fair to reveal their lingering apprehensions.

the fateful encounter with wanderer, a narrative that — you had to suspend your disbelief — went back to a time before his very existence had been erased by the use of irminsul and the assistance of lesser lord kusanali. as they wove this convoluted tale, you struggle to keep pace with the details, but your patience compelled you to still try.

“well, if it isn’t sumeru’s resident grouch!” paimon interjects your conversation by greeting him with a self-satisfied grin, thinking she just coined the most clever nickname since the inception of ‘tone-deaf bard.’

with a wry smirk, he chuckles, “i wasn’t aware they allowed pets inside the tavern.”

he was an absolute menace, you inwardly comment, stifling a giggle at her antics. her tantrum-like foot stomping in the air cemented your impression that they were far from being the best of friends.

“WHY YOU!” she shrieks, and he aptly interjects by sticking his tongue out at her. naturally, it only provokes her further. “paimon seriously doesn’t like you! c’mon, traveler. let’s find a table outside.”

the latter of whom sends you an apologetic glance, one that you reciprocate, before trailing after her.

not a second later, your dear wanderer eases in close to you. his knee brushes against yours — and if he sat any nearer, it would surely invite disapproving stares from the patrons at neighboring tables. he drapes his arm around your shoulder and leans his head next to yours.

it was rather audacious of him and out of place for the aura within the restaurant.

“was it necessary to tease her?” your amusement deepens now that paimon was out of earshot.

he shakes his head then lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “it was funny and there’s no hiding it, i know you were amused as well.”

“all lies!” playfully, you narrow your eyes at him. “i’m a good person and a good person like me does not take pleasure in other’s misfortunes.”

“then what are you doing with me?”

“hm, consider it an act of kindness.”

he was going to scoff at your retort when he met your gaze, a spark of affection and desire flickers. the blithe undertone gave way to a moment of intimacy. he leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and in that fleeting, heart-fluttering instant, it feels as if the entire world around you waned into obscurity.

“lucky me, then.” his lips, warm and inviting, met yours in a chaste yet rousing kiss, leaving you both breathless.

unbeknownst to either of you, paimon was on her way back witnessed the scene. the traveler asked her to tell you to go outside because the food they ordered arrived. however, seeing how happy the ‘good-for-nothing grump’ made you, her perspective shifts.

she returns to their table without a sound, deciding to give you two some privacy for a little bit longer.

[fruitbasketball]

lol Caitlin has used her platform to shine a light on all the black women who pioneered the sport, and actually done so by name, unlike Paige who made a vague statement one time and has never spoken up again

and idk where you get she’s entitled, it seems like all she’s ever wanted to do is win a championship which is what every player in college wants to do. she doesn’t seem remotely concerned with personal accolades, unlike other programs overly concerned with their player being NPOY despite not actually earning it

oh rightttt like that time they asked her on national television if race played a factor in the media’s treatment of her versus their treatment of angel reese and she… didn’t answer the question, right?

or the time that sheryl swoopes (one of those black women who pioneered the sport) was being attacked by her fans, and caitlin blocked everyone on twitter reminding her that her fans are racist? she did a great job shining a light on black women then!

i just feel like we watched different espys speeches, because i remember a 19 year old paige bueckers getting on national television, recognizing that she’s a white woman in a black led sport, and NAME DROPPING black women who deserved/deserve media attention, like maya moore and odyssey alexander, as well as speaking out against police brutality by mentioning breonna taylor.

and maybe we’re a little new to this and we don’t know ball, but if you’ve been following women’s college basketball for the past 4 years, you would know that instance is not a one off, because paige has been speaking out for the black community for years.

what y’all aren’t realizing is that racism is not just calling her teammates slurs or saying she hates black people or shit like that - it’s a refusal to acknowledge that racism exists in the first place.

and don’t play fucking dumb. by entitled i mean the whole “im caitlin clark give me that whistle”. fuck outta here w that ‘npoy but hasn’t earned it’. lisa bluder consistently touts that she has “the best player in the country” or “in the world”. i know that’s a dig at geno, so let’s get one thing fucking straight: paige is the best player in america. and when you have 11 fucking rings, you have every right to get up on a presser and say that. you might not think so, because your very narrow minded view of the game probably cleared the rest of the stat sheet except for points. paige came back from a fucking acl tear and she’s still a first team all american, and she’s a wade and naismith trophy finalist. she fills the stat sheet in every single thing except turnovers and personal fouls, and she does it on ridiculous efficiency. she makes her teammates better, and dawn staley herself has said she’s the most elite player to ever play the game.

do not piss me off with this bullshit

[strawberrypinky]

Feeling ✨spicy✨ tonight so i'm dropping some lines of my Gortash WIP that absolutely nobody asked for.

*contains spoilers for gortash's past*

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City. 

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets. At the very least, it provided a start to more extraordinary things. 

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him. 

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent — hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

[ssereinopheliah]

Ficlet - espy

Eye contact.

Lando is good at making eye contact.

When he finishes a race, he looks for his friends. He gives Carlos a hug and look at him through his visor.

contact

He runs towards his engineers before every race, handing out fist bumps like little confidence boosters. He sees them.

contact

Back relaxed against the sofa, he glances around lazily, eyes jumping from face to face as Max speaks. He giggles at his friends answer, he’s asked a question. He looks over at the reporter.

contact

He’s filming a McLaren challenge, Oscar is beside him. Both of them are sitting on a white couch, cameras surround them as they answer a stack of cards given to them by the team.

They tried to focus on the cards, but veer away from the questions almost immediately and into their own little back and forth.

He looks up at Oscar, he’s smiling. The soft smile that usually indicated that he liked Lando’s half hearted attempt at a joke.

He speaks, looking over at Oscar, who was staring at his own prompt cards.

“mWatcha think Osc? Think that you can beat me in a padel match?”

He watches as Oscar grins, his lips stretched thin across his face before he looks sideways, at him,

he turns away at the exact moment

“Reckon I could yeah.”

Oscar replied, with a tone of conviction that can’t even persuade a frog to jump into water.

“yeah”

He had echoed back, throat tight from trying not to laugh.

No contact

Huh.

No worries, McLaren is just gonna cut that part out anyways.

————————.—

McLaren wins the constructors championship.

Lando sits down on the pavement at the end of the night. Tucked away in a small alley way lit by a lone street light. The night is cold, the winds are chilly and his shirt is thin.

He still feels warm.

His body thrumming with alcohol and the high from the win. Hands laying uselessly beside him as his phone buzzes, friends asking where he is.

He’s thinking.

.

.

Lando and Oscar, Oscar and Lando.

He think about them a lot.

He thinks about the stolen glances, the small understanding smiles, the half hugs, the casual conversations.

He thinks that there might be something more.

He thinks about the last race that just happened.

He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

Lando and Oscar.. but Oscar’s too far away.

He can’t get a read on Oscar, Oscar can’t reach him.

A shadow falls on him.

He looks up,

contact

“Hey”

Oscar.

He smiles up at Oscar, his tongue and brain failing him simultaneously.

“Hey you”

Oscar smiles at him, soft.

Oscar’s eyes are brown, warm and inviting.

He’s overheating.

“Let’s go”

Oscar said, his hands reaching outward, trying to pull him up, up from the ground, and away from his thoughts.

Lando takes a chance.

He reaches out,

contact

Oscar’s hands are firm, his eyes set as he hauls Lando up from his seat.

Lando follows him, him body moving jerkily after curling into a ball in the cold night.

His eyes follow Oscar’s , as he started walking, hands still connected to Lando’s.

————

Lando never looks away.

Oscar’s reached him.

[liikeahawke]

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

It had started as a sort of…apology. Walking along the Wounded Coast and cleaning up the awkward mess they’d made in the attempt to get Aveline to court guardsman Donnic. It was perhaps, the most socially taxing and mortifying day of their life; having to wingman for Aveline…they swore it was never this difficult for Bethany or Carver. But then…perhaps they possessed more guile in their teen years. This sort of thing was beyond them, especially when the situation had turned itself around into thinking they had been the one flirting.

  At the very least, everything had been situated in the end. And the two could be…happy. 

  But now they needed a walk, and clearing out the path they’d taken to ensure the two’s evening “patrol” went smoothly seemed fitting enough to pass the time. Though things had seemed in rather tip top shape upon their return. Aveline was quick with her orders, even if she’d been initially distracted by her feelings. Maybe this was just an excuse to get out again, away from any possible social calls. Maybe they’d just wanted to watch the sun rise on the pale waters. 

  It was rather beautiful when their mind wasn’t preoccupied with a mission or threat of some sorts. It seems they were always out on some kind of hunt when out this way. But now…they could take in the dawn, and the early morning mists, and…the waves lapping against the shore. 

  “Ah, that’s where you wandered off to. I was starting to get the impression my conversation was wearing on you and you’d opted to have me walk back to Kirkwall alone~” 

  Oh, right. They hadn’t been alone. 

  “My apologies. I was distracted…” They muttered, arms folding across their chest as they pulled their gaze from the shore. 

  “It’s been a long day. My mind would be wandering too, especially after that torment Aveline put you through. Now if she’d asked me…”

  “You wouldn’t have danced around it, and she would have been mortified. You saw how she lit up like a blaze when Varric offered Donnic his…’demonstration.’” They finished, their gaze slipping past him a moment, as they eyed something along the shoreline.

  “So she asks you these things because you’ll do exactly as she says?”

  “She’s my friend, of course I would. Besides, I wasn’t going to do it my way, not when it’s her relationship.”

  “And what is your way, exactly?” Anders inquired, an amused brow raising as he watched them walk past him, seemingly toward whatever had caught their eye. He hadn’t exactly thought of them as someone who ‘courted’ others. They’d never alluded to past or present loves, but then…they really didn’t talk about their personal life unless pressed.

  “I would simply tell them. It saves a lot of time between struggling crushes.” They shrugged, before squatting down in the sand and preoccupying themself with uncovering…something.

  Anders shook his head, following after them for the real answer he was looking for.

  “But what of yourself? When you feel a certain way about someone, what do you do?” He knelt down next to them, attempting to espy what exactly was so important to unearth from the sand, before watching them pause, and glance up to him; surprised at how he’d followed. But they would just as quickly settle.

  “That…wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t spend my time doing those things.” They shook their head, before pulling out the very thing they were hoping to find and setting it in their lap. It was…a shell. A large one, but nothing particularly flashy beyond that. So why had it…?

  As if sensing his confusion, Hawke seemed to shrink away slightly. Their fingers brushing along the ridges worn into it; slowly and studiously, as if taking in each ridge. He’d seen this sort of thing many a time before. This same fascination with nature. The silent, curious contemplation…

  And he could feel it even now, that flame of curiosity stoked once more as they turned the shell over in their hands. He couldn’t understand it…

  But Justice wanted to. He could feel that curling warmth against his fingertips; the need to reach out and grasp but not quite being able to. It felt the equivalent of a child tugging on their mother’s skirts and pleading softly for something that had caught their eye. It was subtle, and gentle, but it was a curiosity nonetheless. 

  Perhaps they would fare better with him.

  Sensing the prolonged silence between them, Hawke paused a moment.  “My apologies, I was-” They caught his gaze then, their eyes widening slightly at the spirit’s presence.

  “Oh. Hello.” They managed, their voice softening as they watched the other eye the shell curiously. They hesitated a moment, before turning themself around to fully face him, and holding up the shell.

  “Did this catch your eye too? It’s…called a true tulip, because of the way it’s shaped really closely to the flower.” They attempted to explain, still catching slightly on their words as the embarrassment of their interests attempted to hold their tongue. They could feel themself faltering still. Maker, why had they allowed themself to get distracted, Anders probably wanted to go back, and this was wasting Justice’s time..

  “...it resembles it closely, aside from the sharp ridges. They would not have the same touch.”

  His observations anchor them back in, and they nod in agreement. “A lot of these edges are carved by wave erosion. The pulling motion of the sea and the salt it brushes back and forth against the rocks and shells wear them over time, and the longer they’ve been at it, the older they are..”

  They hold the shell out for the other to take. “This one has many, so it’s very old…”

  The shell drops into his hands, and the coolness of the sea wrapped around it is…refreshing, pleasant…his fingers brush along the ridges, and with each one, a memory; a bandit kicking it along the shore, a little girl cradling it close to her ear, a creature resting inside it for temporary comfort. This and so much more he can trace along its ridges…and it softens him. It reminds him of the beautiful nature of this world, something he thought he’d lost in the tempestuous and…alive mind that was Anders. 

  “What do you think?” Hawke spoke then, and the multitudes of sensations ebbed as he caught their gaze, an inquiry already at his lips.

  “A young girl has held this before…up to her ear. Why?”

  “Why don’t you try?” They suggested, before leaning forward to cup their hands under his, and guiding the shell up to his ear. He hesitated a moment, before letting it gently rest against the flesh there, pinking from the early morning chill. His brows furrowed a moment, as if trying to understand what he was hearing. When he couldn’t, he voiced it.

  “I do not understand…what is this?”

  “The ocean.” They answered, before glancing out to the sea beyond them, which was now reflecting golden in the rising sun. 

  “Is it truly..?”

  Hawke turned back then, meeting the other’s inquisitive eyes…and feeling something inside them soften, if only for a moment. Their hazy eyes warmed, and their lips tugged upwards, just enough to notice.

  “...if you really wish it to be.” 

  It was a sweet moment, watching someone experience something they’d had the same wonder over in their youth. It was…vicarious and comforting, to see oneself in another.

  But it wouldn’t last long, as the spirit’s gaze trailed from theirs, and the usual veilfire that flickered against his skin slipped itself back into the cracks of his flesh. Perhaps they had given too much for Justice to think about, or…

Soft golden eyes met theirs with equal confusion, as they lowered the shell back into their own hands.

❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ Was the first thing from his mouth, and the aforementioned expression dropped from their face. 

As if to emphasize their confusion, a hand brought itself up to their face, brushing along their cheek in confusion.

Had they been…? No, that wasn’t…

But the surprise in his face was palpable, genuine…it didn’t hold any fibs or jabs like it occasionally had…

Maker…what was wrong with them?

“...I don’t…”

“It’s alright, I won’t go running to Varric about it.”

His words only assuaged half of it, but at the very least they’d only hear about this from him. And he…mostly knew when to cease his prodding.

Mostly.

[skuppo]

Hiya, just popped in to say that I hope you’ve been doing well <3

Hi, hello, yes!! I am sorry I somehow missed this message! I will blame my scatterbrained head, or perhaps one of those times where I was roleplaying as one of those bunnies who is afraid of emails!

Either way, I'm so sorry! 😭😭 I was not doing too hot at the time you sent this, BUT! I am doing loads better right now! I'm doing especially good because I'm hoping to have the next chapter of my fic out by this weekend! It's ALMOST DONE WAAAHOO!

Also gonna use this opportunity to answer an ask @houchan sent me that I got in my email but for some reason is NOT showing up on Tumblr!!

HELLO HOUCHAN!! 💖💖 I went over onto your blog to take a peek and YES! It is looking very pretty!😭😭😭 I espied my beautiful bby there and I am going to go and reblog her now!! I do see your stuff sometimes when I remember to get on and check Tumblr and your girls are always so pretty!! I love the outfit you drew Suzu in, too 💖💖 It gives me big magical girl vibes, like she could be in Card Captor Sakura or something! Despite being more of an alt girlie myself, Suzu is all about the cutesy J-fashions... bouncing between things like morigirl or himekaji outfits! Very cute, very girly. LOVE LOVE LOVE! 💖

[espithewarlock]

I just found your tumblr so I apologize if you've gotten this question before haha

What day are the Safety In Your Arms updates posted after race week?

Hello! 💚 Sorry it took me a hot minute to answer! Updates get posted at the start of the next race weekend, just to give me a little breathing room to edit and format and actually write the chapter.

So the Spain chapter will go up on Thursday, June 12th (ahead of the Canadian GP), the Canada chapter will go up Thursday, June 26th (ahead of Austria!), and so on.

The only exception to this is going to be summer break. Let's be honest, several weeks without racing (or updates) will kill all of us, so I'm planning to post the Hungary chapter in the middle of summer break and post a "Summer Break" chapter ahead of Zandvoort.

All of this depends, of course, on my ability to write the chapters in time to post them. Staying motivated is difficult and inspiration comes and goes.

In any case, I hope you're excited! I'm enjoying writing it alongside the season and I've been thoroughly surprised at how much of a following it has! 💚

[forthedancingandthethriving]

The Aabid Ruins were a maze, it was decided quite quickly. Massive bones of divine animals and beings towered over the land, growth, and vines curling all around. Pillars of stone and rock jut out from the ground, casting large shadows.

That, and the cultists swarming about.

From far off, the two sentinels watch as the group fight them off. Magic, arrows, knives, and swords are used against the cultists, making Sentinel Alivs hum.

She tilts her head. "Two Beyonders." The three eyes floating above her head blink. "The rest fron Espi."

Sentienal Cato's scorpion tail flicks. "Destined to return?"

"If they themselves allows it."

The sentinels continue to watch. The eyes of Cato flick off to one of the Beyonders — Root. His eyes blink a few times.

"Hm." He hums.

Alivs turns her head. "Hm?"

Cato nods. "Hm."

The two continue to stand by the large ribs of an ancient dragon. They watch as the group defeats the cultists, and makes their way to them.

"Hello, adventurers," they greet the group.

"Sentinels.." Hilde looks amazed.

"Were you watching us the whole time?" Lyon looked exasperated.

"Fate does not allow us to intervene when the threads are tied," Alivs answers, extending a paw down. The group all gets on, and the sentinel sets them down on a large rock.

"Sentinels, we need your help," Hilde speaks as she walks up. She's frowning. "We need to figure out what the cultists want and why the emperor wants them in the kingdom."

"So we can kick their asses!" Alexander adds.

The sentinels turn their heads to look at each other. The three eyes that each had slowly blink before Cato turns his head.

"They wish for the rise of the Mar and Kaiah," Cato answers. "They reside all over this continent."

"Why?!" Xavier frowns deeply. "They're already powerful enough!"

"You know we cannot say."

It's quiet before Root steps forward, placing a hand on her chest. "Sentinels.. Arun said that.. you know everything. Is that true?"

They nod, and Root inhales slowly before exhaling. She looks up at them with a serious look. "Do you know where Alexander and I came from?"

It was a question that had been haunting her for ages. It was something that was clawing at the back of her mind.

They nod, and she pushes forward.

"Is there.. any chance we go home?"

She doesn't know why she's asking this. Curiosity, maybe? Who knows.

She certainly doesn't.

"It depends on your decisions." Alivs finally answers after a few moments.

Root glances down.

Well, isn't that reassuring.

○●○

Plurality chews on the pen in her mouth, staring at the theory board. After a few moments, she takes it out of her mouth and crosses out the 'developer took them' theory. It just didn't make sense in the long run.

She stares at the board more before exhaling, closing her eyes. She pauses to think before frowning.

She wishes she could just ask Database to open her a portal there, but that would be an entirely different computer, and the developer's copy. The Code Manifestation knew it was probably possible, but very, very risky.

And right now, she couldn't risk anything.

Root taps the pen against her lips as she thinks. She remembers Lil Coding recounting how Ozymandias apparently didn't know where Root had went, and he was being surprisingly honest.

She wonders..

[yumejo]

bury my new friend.

——neither of you were never meant for this world; and yet the end comes too soon.

;; how do you make your yuusonas interact? you don't, but you pretend that the worlds are merging. imagine yourself late at night, reading through fanfic after fanfic, and sometimes, they blur together, don't they? time flies, and you find your tired and hazy mind blending scenes and overlapping them⋯〈yuu belongs to @zhengbobatw !〉

cw: implied self-harm (mana)

「”Yuu, just what reflects in those glass eyes of yours?”」

With a bleary glaze enshrouding her eyes as she peered down at the translucent tea in her cup, Yuu scrutinized the image of another girl—retaining a faraway look in her blue eyes, she appeared eerily similar to⋯⋯ herself.

“My heart, what’s wrong? You’re spacing out more than usual⋯” Riddle’s voice interposed on her preoccupation, the inquiry dulcet and threaded with concern.

Beads of sweat accumulated on the nape of Yuu’s neck as she hurriedly averted her gaze, an egregious habit she possessed when lying (something she, admittedly, was terrible at in the first place), she answered, “N-Nothing’s wrong, per say⋯”

That sounded downright deplorable, she knew.

“It’s just that lately, I’ve been seeing a girl,” Yuu relinquished a shaky exhale, before shaking her head as realization struck her, “U-Um, not like that⋯!”

Watching as Yuu got herself all flustered without any quips from him, Riddle sighed and placed his teacup down onto its saucer; before he leaned forward and brushed the back of his gloved fingers against her skin. “Open your mouth wider, and breathe. You know you can confide in me, so take a moment,” he instructed her, poised as usual.

Doing as her beloved crush suggested, Yuu inhaled deeply and allowed that air to replenish her lungs and imbue tranquility back to her mind—even if only temporarily. “Riddle, you know how I’ve told you before about my dreams?” she softly asked, albeit she should’ve known better than to surmise he’d forget even a detail.

“Yes, and I’ve read your works depicting them, as well,” Riddle staidly replied, recollecting Yuu’s vocation when it came to expressing her feelings down into illustrations and literature. She was truly adept at both, and he told himself often he wanted to ask her someday for a painting for his room.

“Well, truthfully, I’ve been dreaming about this girl with blue eyes and brown hair; she almost⋯ looks like me, but she’s not,” Yuu vaguely clarified, although she couldn’t be sure if she could call it ‘dreaming’ if this girl appeared in every reflection. She caressed her green ribbons, another idiosyncrasy she does when anxiety creeps into her entity. “She looks like she’s in pain.”

As if tearing a page from a novel and inserting it in the middle of another one, Yuu always felt disquieted when she espied this mysterious girl. It made no sense in her tale—but it was something she couldn’t ignore.

“Sometimes I see her holding a bundle of purple hyacinths, her sailor uniform is tattered and dirty as bandages cover her wrists and legs,” Yuu continued, finding her fingers quivering as she brings her eyes back down onto her tea.

And for a moment, the girl’s lips move within this reflection—and it looked as if she was mouthing the words,

“I want to stay here, too.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Our Daily Homily

by F.B. Meyer

"The King held out to Esther the golden scepter that was in his hand." – Esther 5:2

What a beautiful type this is for each of us in our approaches to God!

For the repentant sinner.—You may have said with Esther, "I will go into the king’s presence, and if I perish, I perish." But it is impossible for you to perish. None ever perished at the footstool of mercy. God is faithful to His promises, and just to His Son; and He can do no other—He wants to do no other—than for give. As you stand amid the throng that surrounds His throne, He will espy you, and accept you graciously, because of the God-Man who sits at His right hand, and ever lives to intercede. In His name you may come boldly and obtain mercy.

For the suppliant.—You have a great boon to ask for yourself, or another. The King’s court stands open; enter and lodge your petition. He will be very gracious at the voice of your cry: the golden scepter extended, His word passed, that He will answer with the whole resources of His kingdom. The answer may not come at once, or in the way you expected; but no true suppliant was ever turned away without his complaint or cause being graciously considered, and in the best way met and adjusted.

For the Christian worker.—Surely Esther represents a Paul prepared to be himself accursed, a Luther, a Brainerd. It is a lovely sight when the child of God is so oppressed with the burden of other souls as to sacrifice all else in order to plead their cause. Surely such find favor with God; they are kindred spirits with His own, and He bids them share His throne. God will do anything for those who are consumed by His own redemptive purpose.

[rjalker]

this? This is just irritating.

Paragraph breaks and quotation marks added by me.

Therewith the king and all espied where came riding down the river a lady on a white palfrey toward them. Then she saluted the king and the queen, and asked if that Sir Launcelot was there? And then he answered himself, "I am here, fair lady.". Then she said, all with weeping, "How your great doing is changed sith this day in the morn." "Damsel, why say ye so?" said Launcelot. "I say you sooth," said the damsel, "for ye were this day the best knight of the world, but who should say so now should be a liar, for there is now one better than ye. "And well it is proved by the adventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set your hand, and that is the change and leaving of your name; wherefore I make unto you a remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be the best knight of the world."

And even all of the bullshit aside, how does she know this???????????? Why does everyone in the freaking grail quest just magically know all this stuff with no explanation?!?!?!?!

[moncalamar]

For your non-holiday prompts!

Piarles + "You look beautiful" please? 🥰

HELLO ESPI DEAR🥰🥰🥰🥰

Thank you so much for the promptttt!!🫶🏽 I've combined it with 'gala' for my fourth (‼️) short fic of the week, I hope you enjoy itttt💖💖💖

“You look beautiful,” Pierre says as soon as he gets a good look at him.

Charles is wearing a black three piece suit, the perfect image of class - but his glasses are still perched on top of his nose and his hair is still irreparably messy. But, most importantly, he looks happy. He looks lighter than he’s ever been.

Pierre is expecting a blushing response to his compliment, but his fiancé only raises an eyebrow. “And you’d look more beautiful if you were actually getting ready.”

“Hey!” He whines, but understands that his shirtlessness is not particularly welcome at this hour. “I’m on it. You’re the man of the hour, calamar - not me.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “But I still need you with me.”

“For eye candy?”

“Whatever you want to be, Mr. P4,” he answers with a chuckle.

“I feel like that nickname doesn’t work nearly as well as Mr. World Champion, you know.” Pierre pokes him under the ribs as he walks by. “Anyway, I’ll do as you say. Do you know where my shirt is?”

“It’s with Ilies in the other hotel room.”

He frowns. “...Why?”

“I have no idea!” Charles complains. “But I’m Mr. World Champion like you said, so I’m not going to worry about that.”

He has no right being this cute when he’s being smug, Pierre thinks.

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’ll go look for it.”

—

Pierre finishes getting ready in Ilies’ room, just to annoy Charles, but he knows he needs to do it as quickly as he can.

This is a big moment - the biggest in Charles’ career so far -, and he’s not about to ruin it. No way.

He gets ready as best as he can - there’s a glam team coming to touch them up in about fifteen minutes, but he still wants to do this so when Charles opens the hotel room door to a chuckling Ilies, he can also see dolled up Pierre waiting for him.

When he hears him indeed knocking on the door, Pierre steals a Santa hat from the Christmas decorations on the mantle and smiles innocently. “Hello, baby.”

As he opens the door, Ilies loses it hard enough to fall ass first to the floor, leaving a befuddled Charles standing in the doorway. “You are so dumb, but I’m glad you’re ready.”

“What? You don’t like my hat? I feel like I could go to the gala just like this. Daniel would laugh, at least.”

“Daniel laughs at all of your jokes - you’re one of his favorites.”

“I’m flattered,” Pierre says, wiping away a fake tear.

Charles bites his lip and rolls his eyes. “C’mon, the glam team is here.” He turns to Ilies. “Sorry, mate.”

“It’s alright,” his friend answers, “I’ll see you guys there.”

—

The drive to the venue is surprisingly tense.

Charles can’t seem to stop fidgeting - he’s tapping his legs, turning his phone on and off to look at the time, bumping into Pierre, bopping his head to the music. Anything to avoid sitting still, which is ridiculously endearing to Pierre.

“Cherie,” he asks, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Charles tries to answer but his voice comes out high and strained, cracking in the middle of the word.

Pierre just sends him a pointed look, and there’s a pause before he finally cracks and admits his nervousness. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“I’m very proud of you, bebe.” Pierre kisses him softly, keeping him still for a second.

Charles smiles contentedly. “After this, I just want to sleep through the entire winter break.”

“We do have to meet our parents for Christmas,” Pierre reminds him, unable to contain his grin. “We kind of need to tell them about these.” He pulls out the chain around his neck, showing off the glittery engagement ring hanging from it.

Charles groans. “I’m sure Arthur has already told them. Can we go back to the sleeping until next season idea?”

“I don’t believe you could keep still that long.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Charles breaks out in giggles. “Fair.”

“It’s almost like I’ve known you forever.” Pierre sticks his tongue out teasingly like he did when they were children, prompting a similar response in his fiancé. “Unless you want to announce our engagement right now. It would definitely save us the hassle.”

He frowns, taking Pierre’s hand and tracing the place in his finger where the ring should be sitting. “No. Not yet. I’d rather we keep it to ourselves just a little bit more, and maman would kill me if she found out at the same time as the press.”

“Do you really think she doesn’t already know? I mean, even if Arthur hasn’t told, she did figure out we were together before we told her a few years ago. She might notice as soon as she sees us tonight.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Charles answers honestly. “But if she hasn’t, then… she can wait until Christmas. I like just being me and you.”

“And Arthur. And half of your team. And Carlos. And Ollie Bearman, for that matter.”

He frowns. “I hate you.”

“And you also love being engaged to me, Mr. World Champion.”

“Ah, I love how that sounds.” Charles smiles widely.

“You’re an egomaniac” is Pierre's response, getting him a punch in the shoulder and a giggle.

Just as Charles is gearing up to answer, their driver pulls to a stop and Pierre realizes he has succeeded in what he had set out to do - distracting Charles just enough until they get to the venue.

He looks out the window, his face illuminated by the camera flashes and Pierre knows he must look absolutely besotted. “Are you ready, cherie?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“The first of many?”

Charles smiles, incredibly bright. A beautiful smile Pierre is desperate to see again. “The first of many. Maybe you’ll get one too, that would be nice.”

“But don’t let me win,” Pierre interjects, “that would be the last thing I want.”

“Oh, never. I’ll fight you until the end, calamar.”