#source: a study in scarlet

[george-the-pumpkin]

Lockwood: The plot thickens.

Lucy: The plot's thick enough.

[daemon-is-perfectly-unhinged]

Rhaegar: The plot thickens.

Jon: The plot's thick enough.

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Doorlock Holmes: You came to sthee me professionally. Inspector Bugstrade: Well, uh, unofficially. Doorlock Holmes: I sthee. Heads you win, tails I lose.

[comatosebunny09]

Dragging yourself back to the mansion after a grueling deal—an ambush. Twin assassins sent to take you out. Word travels fast in the underworld that you’re Sylus’ point man (woman?) and that you’ve been bumping off opposing faction heads in his stead.

They did a number on you. You’re a little worse for wear. A little rough around the edges. Nothing some antiseptic and a glass of something acrid can’t fix. The retina and fingerprint scanners grant you entry. It’s achingly bright inside. Serene, with classical music reverberating off the walls and the scent of polished floors assaulting your senses.

You’re clutching your side. Slightly limping. Squinting. Breathing through parted lips. You’re tired. You ache, but you’ve gotta brief bossman on how the “negotiation” went. You killed everyone there. One less group of baddies stalking around, challenging Onychinus’ name.

You near his study. Press your hand against the heavy oakwood door, preparing to shove inside. Two voices emerge from behind the wood’s barrier, one high and light, the other deep and abrasive. There’s humor there. Laughter. Fondness muffled by the door. You don’t have to do much guesswork—one voice belongs to Ms. Hunter, whilst the other is Sylus.

You lower your head, studying the floor with a half-hearted scowl. You don’t want to interrupt. Not when they sound all cozy inside. Something in your stomach pulls, chest tightening. You’ll update him later when he’s not preoccupied. In the meantime, you tow yourself back from whence you came. You can barely keep your eyes open, breaths labored.

One of the assassins nicked you good with a knife. It stings, your blood pasting your blouse to your split skin. You collapse onto a leather sofa in a dark room, your only light source pouring in from the hallway. You just want to rest up a bit. Maybe a little catnap to get your head back on straight before treating your injuries.

Darkness sweeps in like a vignette around the outskirts of your vision. You stare blankly at the marbled hallway floors before exhaustion takes over, robbing you of consciousness.

You awaken bleary-eyed sometime later. Colors and shapes bleed in, making way for coherency. You sit up on something silk-soft and pillowy. You’re no longer in the room you blacked out in. In fact, you’re in a bed, onyx sheets puddling around your waist.

Your head’s throbbing. Side’s smarting. You remember you were a little banged up when you returned home. You lift your shirt in alarm to observe your injury, but it’s been painstakingly dressed with gauze. You touch your temple—there’s a dressing there, too, covering the cut you acquired from head-butting some ornery henchman.

Further ingesting your surroundings, it’s with a frozen heart you realize you’re not in any of the guest rooms around the mansion. You’re in Sylus’ room. You’re in his bed, surrounded by his things. Did he find you when you’d slipped beneath the heavy veil of unconsciousness? Personally clean you up and dress your wounds? Change you?

You shake your head against the rush of questions, brain pounding in protest. You don’t want to think right now. He confuses you to no end. He’s kept you at what feels like arm’s length since the hunter emerged in his life. Still, there are days when he’s a reflection of his old self, fretting over your wellbeing, blurring the line between boss and subordinate.

Whatever.

You fall back into the sheets, taking in their comforting scent. You should leave, but you haven’t the strength to. He can bitch at you later. You turn away from the door and fall back asleep, unaware of it cautiously opening, a set of scarlet eyes warily observing you from behind the partition.

[3mbot]

Mr. Gap Wants YOU

Desc: You hide behind Mr. Gap to get away from Mr. Scarletella. You didn’t think that would be for free, did you? ;) Gender neutral reader

Warnings!!: 18+ just to be safe, making out, solo Mr. Gap masturbation at the end hehe. You can skip that part it’s after the “＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚”

A/n: I haven’t written for a long time so forgive me if it’s not the best.  Any constructive criticism is welcome. I was inspired to write again after playing this game and seeing how lively the fandom is. I hope to write more for Homicipher and other things in the future! 

╔═══════════════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════════════════╗

Walking through endless corridors of the ghost apartments is beginning to take its toll. After being separated again from Mr. Crawling, your only source of comfort, you become focused on one thing. Your only goal is to find the exit. 

You trudge along for what seems like ages until a faint glow of red can be seen around the corner. Your heart drops. This can only be from one source- Mr. Scarletella. His form glitches in and out of existence, which startles you out of being frozen in terror, and you begin to run in the other direction. 

To your horror, the corridor you ran to is a long stretch of hallway with no place to escape- until you see an opening in the bottom of the wall. With Mr. Scarletella hot on your heels, you run over there and are not surprised to see Mr. Gap appear. 

He tries to ask you for something but you can hear Mr. Scarletella’s static noises drawing ever near. In your panic, you push him to the side to jump into the dark hole to hide from the scarlet man. 

Mr. Gap isn’t happy about this but makes no move to push you back out and allows you to hide behind him in the darkness. 

Just as Mr. Scarletella makes it into the long hallway, you’re clinging to the side of Mr. Gap, shaking in fright. Your warmth envelops his cold body and Mr. Gap decides this isn’t so bad after all. He can always get your heart later. 

Several anxious seconds pass while Mr. Scarletella makes his way down the hallway. (Please don’t find me!!) you think to yourself. Each step causes you to hold your breath. 

Finally, he stops right outside the opening. He lingers there for a moment and you fear you’ve been found out. Suddenly, his head dips down to an inhuman position peering into the darkness. 

Almost as if he knew, Mr. Gap quickly covered your mouth to stop the surprised yelp from escaping you. You can feel his long, cold fingers, and they weirdly enough calm you down and prevent any noise from escaping. 

After a moment of searching, Mr. Scarletella sees nothing in the darkness and glitches away. 

You both stay stuck to each other for a bit, with you still holding your breath thinking he might come back and snatch you. What pulls you out of this state is Mr. Gap gently running his fingers along your side to comfort you. 

You look up at him and he is already looking down at you. You both blush and step away from each other. 

“He gone.” Mr Gap says. 

“Ha, yes… I think you’re right.” 

Mr Gap stares at you in confusion. You’re speaking in your language again without realizing it. 

“Thank you.” You say to him with a bow. 

He just stares at you. 

…

“I leave now.” You say to him. You turn to crawl back out, but Mr Gap grabs your wrist. You look back, confused. 

“No. You help me now.” He says, smiling. 

You roll your eyes at him. Of course, he wants something in return. 

“What do you want?” You ask him, annoyed. 

“You.” 

…

You blink up at him in surprise. (Did I hear that right?) Looking at his expression, his twisted smile looks more like a smirk than usual. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Me?” You question, pointing at yourself. 

His hand was still firmly on your wrist. His smile grows and he pulls you in close to him. 

“Yes, you” he confirms.

You gulp and stare back up at him. 

He places his cold, rough fingers on your face by holding your chin and studying your reaction. He seems pleased and brings you close to his face, giving you plenty of time to push him away. You don’t. 

His lips touch yours gently, far more gently than you would think suits him. Delighted by your submission, he goes back in for more. 

You both slowly warm up to the kiss and it gets heated. It gets sloppy. You’re almost surprised at how bad he is at kissing, but you don’t mind it. He is a quick learner and each one is better than the last. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, but when you finally part to gasp for air, his eyes are blown out, wet mouth glistening in the dim light, and looking the most delighted you’d ever seen him. His longing gaze catches you off guard. 

He comes back for more and you oblige, showing him the ropes. Your tongues dance together in harmony but he easily dominates yours at the same time. He loves the noises you make and he experimentally gropes around your body, surprised by how soft it is. 

You tap his arm to signal that you need air and he grunts but allows you to part. Your dazed expression sends a signal to his nether region that causes it to stir. 

You catch your breath and blush at his eyes piercing into your soul. Solely focused on you. You clear your throat and say “Thank you. Good enough? I go now?”

He makes a face and grumbles. “Yes. Leave.” Before you can respond, he drops you off in another room to rest. You turn back to say your thanks, but he’s already gone. 

You have a feeling that won’t be your last encounter. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Extra. 

Mr Gap returns to the darkness after leaving you and touches his fingers to his lips, still feeling the phantom touch of your lips. 

By this point, he is frustratingly bothered by you, evident by the bulge in his pants. He grunts in annoyance and fishes his dick out of his pants. 

He does this often by himself but something was different this time. He was far more sensitive as he gently stroked himself and growled, member twitching wildly at the thought of you. 

He was already so close without any friction at all. With each rough stroke, he pictured your flushed face, heavy panting breaths, your supple body…everything about you drove him mad. 

He had to slow down so he didn’t come too quick. Instead, he focused on teasing his tip with his cold fingers. He wondered how yours would feel. You were so warm. 

He cursed at himself for not feeling your hands more. Were they nice and soft like the rest of you, or calloused and hard like his? Either way, it excited him to fantasize about. 

He wondered if you would tease his tip until he became a whiny mess, if you would take the time to fondle his balls, stroke his thigh…splurt. 

Damn it. He came too quick. 

╚═════════════════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*════════════════╝

A/n: Again, I apologize if it’s not the best thing you’ve ever read. I haven’t written for a long while. Any comments are appreciated!! Please be nice. :,) If you liked it, feel free to request something else! I’ll publish a pinned post soon to tell you about me and what things I'll write for!

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

Edwin Payne (1900 – 1916)

Dead Boy Detectives Agency

[source: wasted by marya hornbacher || dead boy detectives, episode 1 || all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky || notion by the rare occasions || pin by margaret lee || dead boy detectives, episode 7 || anecdote of the pig by tory adkisson || dead boy detectives, episode 1 + a study in scarlet by arthur conan doyle || the duchess of padua by oscar wilde || tumblr]

edwin / charles / paineland / niko / crystal

[iamirhen]

The Midnight Suns rock Band AU literally nobody asked for.

Lore dump under the cut.

The AU in which Robbie never died at that race because the people who cornered him in that alley were actually the police. He managed to get lucky for one single time and narrowly managed to avoid jail by getting sentenced to do community work instead and assisting mandatory sessions in Blade's therapy group for troubled youth at risk. He met Nico, Wanda and Illyana there and ended up begrudgingly befriending them. Blade considers this kids both one of his biggest achievements and biggest sources of headaches.

Nico still get on Robbie's nerves sometimes and in the rare ocasion that he fights with Illyana it usually gets so bad that Wanda needs to mediate because neither of them will put their foot down otherwise. He still makes an effort to keep them in his life, because when he's too tight with money Nico will "accidentally" order too much pizza when they meet and he'll end up going home with leftovers afterwards, so he doesn't complain too much when she asks him to drive her places; and Illyana once showed up to take care of Gabe when he had the flu because Robbie had to work and didn't want to leave him alone, so when she mentioned that she was going to have to sleep in her van for a few days while she searched for a new flat after her former landowner kicked her out, he let her crash at his couch instead. They take care of each other in small ways, even if they dont' mention it.

Starting the band was Nico's idea so they would have an excuse for regular meet ups. She was also the one who got Robbie a second hand battery and insisted that he at least tried. It turned out that he was not half bad at it, he had a good sense of rithm and good coordination, and was surprised to find out that the gigs they eventually managed to pull out were starting to become a very welcome source of extra income. They meet for practice at a community center located in an old church, regented by a couple of old ladies: Sarah and Agatha. Gabe is their number one fan (and Piotr Rasputin is a close second, much to Illyana's dismay), so he's the other reason he hasn't dropped out yet despite being tight on time. After going for several provisional names, the last of them being Scarlet and the Witches, which Robbie was not very enthusiastic about, they ended up setting for Midnight Suns after Hunter's incorporation.

After Wanda was involved in a car accident that left her badly injured and put Agatha in a coma, their band was left without their main singer and guitarrist. It was then when Hunter, Sarah's niece, who had been raised by her aunt and her partner, temporarily moved back to the state after receiving the news about the accident. Hunter's relationship with Sarah became strained after she dropped out of college and started studying to become a tattoo and piercing artist instead. She's covering for Wanda and her stay is only temporary, or at least that was the original plan, but it seems that after her incorporation the band is doing better than ever before. Robbie's not so thrilled about having a new person joining his inner circle, and specially not one that's such a cocky little shit, but better gigs means more money, and he doesn't want to have to go back to work two jobs now that he can manage to live with the money he gets from his work at Canelo's AND the band.

Thanks @moosemonstrous for helping brainstorm ideas.

[best-thing]

Out of all the things in everything, which one... is best?

It's a question we sometimes ask and never need to know the answer to. And finding answers no one needs is precisely the role of the tumblr tournament poll!

Thing submissions currently closed.

Frequently Asked Questions

How does this work? Tumblr users can submit a thing via ask, and the thing will be tried against the other things one by one in random order. 1v1 polls will determine which of each pair is better.

Won't that make way too many polls? Oh yes. If we do ALL the polls of the round robin, there will be a number of total polls equal to the square of the number of things that tumblr users can think of, minus that number, all divided by two. That's pretty many. Or perhaps zero. It depends on if this blog gets traction or not. This blog got some traction.

Sooo do you have a solution to that problem? We'll probably discard things that lose all their polls, or enough of their polls, or something like that. They can go on a "not that good" list that will grow over time.

It sounds like you haven't really got a plan. That's not a question!

Why not do a regular single-elimination bracket? We like round robin tournaments better! They're a more reliable way to find out the true relative quality of things. Plus we can have rolling submissions this way.

What kinds of things can be submitted? Submissions should:

1) be a thing. It can be abstract or concrete, alive or not, all are accepted. Examples include "doughnuts", "the letter M", "orgasms", "the Engraved Hourglass Nebula", "being a wizard", "fresh wizard meat cooked over an open fire with a rosemary dry rub", and more!

2) be something that a typical tumblr user could plausibly be familiar with. So "cats" is fine but "the cat that is on the lap of tumblr user fake-example-person" is not. It also can't be "your mom" or similar because that referent changes depending on the answerer. If you're getting specific, make sure it's something the voter could look up. If it's fictional, please include a brief indication of its origin.

3) be good. Or at least not bad. We are trying to find the best thing, so submitting "transmisogyny" or "smallpox" or whatever isn't going to be accepted. We also won't accept anything that it would be fucked up to apply a value judgment to, like a demographic of people or something like that.

4) not be a fandom thing. There are so many other tournament blogs for those, and they bore me. No fictional characters, works of fiction, films, shows, franchises, songs, video games, musicians, writers, actors, etc. Less specific options like genre or medium are allowed. For example, "Sherlock Holmes" or "A Study In Scarlet" or "Arthur Conan Doyle" would be disallowed, but "detective fiction" is allowed. Something that's fictional but not from a specific source, like "wizards", is allowed. (Some of these are going to be difficult edge cases and they will just be judged by my gut.)

What do I need to send in my ask? You can just include the thing itself, but if you wish you may add explanation about what the thing is and/or propaganda in favor of it being the best. These will be included with the poll. Unless I forget, which I usually do. These will not be included in the poll because it creates a significant amount of fuss when adding polls to the queue.

What if the options are two very different levels of specificity on similar subjects? Vote with your heart. Is more specificity better or worse?

Why are you pitting two bad bitches against each other? It is our calling.

What determines whether you include a Wikipedia link on a poll? Our finely tuned reference-inclusion criteria consider such factors as an average person's familiarity with the thing, whether we feel like it (it makes the post take longer to write) and whether we remember to (remembering things is hard). We do try to post a link for both options if one is included for either, though this is not always possible.

You sound familiar. Are you some other gimmick blog? We have the distinguished honor of being the same person-posting-as-if-she's-an-organization as the prestigious @meme-conservation and the elegant and insightful @bad-time-analogies!

I'm mad (and not in a fun pretend way) about one of the options getting votes when I hate it and/or strongly prefer the other. In fact, I think that people liking this thing may be What's Wrong With Society. May I annoy you and/or others by ranting in the notes about it? No. This may get you blocked.

Can I submit my orientation, gender, or other essential element of my identity? No. That would be fucked up (see above). Do you want to find out that most people prefer frozen yogurt over your identity?

I'm upset with how you handled my submission in some way. That's not a question! Perhaps "running a gimmick blog and handling people's submissions in a way they don't like" is the real Best Thing.

I have a different question. Perhaps you should ask it instead of waiting for us to anticipate it!

[lemon-russ]

Okay so. I have no defense for this. Sometimes you just wanna be mistreated by seemingly kind, giant men. For the love of the emperor please mind the warnings.

A Wife's Duty

Roboute Guilliman x F!Reader

Ao3 link

CW: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, referenced Abuse and DV, No sex, no comfort, unreliable narrator, manipulation, love bombing, DDDNE

Tags: (for the love of god read the warnings) @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk @artemisareia

"My Lady?"

The voice of your Victrix Guard spoke through your closed chamber door, uncharacteristically timid.

"The Lord Reagent says you are free to roam now, and that he will see you in his study whenever you are ready…"

Rasmus was a good Ultramarine. He had been assigned to guard you by Roboute when you had started officially courting. His duties were to protect you, but also to serve as a chaperon when you were out of Roboute's sight. This wasn't his fault, and you always felt a little guilty whenever you grew irritated by his constant presence. 

Usually Rasmus wasn't allowed to be apart from you. The few exceptions were when you were with Roboute, and in times like now when you were given anything you asked for without question. So it was that you had a brief chance to dismiss Rasmus today, which seemed to leave him unusually anxious. His Primarch had ordered he never leave your side, and you were essentially out-ranking Lord Guilliman by ordering him away. 

You rolled over in your bed, wincing at the ache in your shoulder and pulling up your blankets to your chin. "Thank you, Rasmus." You called out, voice raspy. 

He stood outside the door a moment in silence. 

"Are you… going to speak to Lord Guilliman, then, My Lady…?"

You took a moment to answer. "Later. You are dismissed."

You heard the scraping of ceremite on metal as Rasmus anxiously shuffled outside your door, but ultimately he relented and left. 

You would go see your husband today, of course. You just needed time to think of what to say. You had apologized in the moment, and during, and after last nights events. You worried about seeming insincere if you showed up with more empty words at his office. He deserved more than "sorry".

You were sorry, but sorry doesn't help. You had to explain how you would do better from now on. Your hand gingerly pressed to your cheek, and you winced at the sting it brought. It was good you had turned down all the mirrors so you didn't have to see the reminders of your failure, but you also knew it would upset Roboute to see them as well.

Reluctantly, you pushed down your blankets and pulled yourself out of bed with some effort, favoring your left side and being careful not to stress your sore knee. You shuffled your way to your vanity and started pulling out your makeups, powders and paints. 

You braced yourself, but still flinched when you turned the mirror back to its correct position. It seemed like most of the markings at least were around your throat, easily coverable with a high necked gown. Your left cheek was a mottled purple, though. A difficult color to blend. Your frown made the bruise ache again as you started pulling out color correcting creams. 

After some trial and error, the skin on your face now mostly matched the uninjured side, if not looking more swollen. Paired with one of the new gifts from your husband- a new gown- your efforts were finished. The collar of the neckline ended under your chin, and the sleeves ended beyond your hands. It was soft and beautiful, embroidered with the Ultramarine Omega symbol on your shoulder. 

Touching the insignia made your stomach twist. A mark simultaneously claiming you as part of the legion, Legion Mother of the Ultramarines, Lady of the Lord reagent- but also a scarlet letter. You were another source of stress for Roboute. What right did you have to wear his mark? 

You dabbed tears from your eyes, composing yourself again. Roboute was waiting for you, and to keep him waiting after everything was untenable. 

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

Roboute Guilliman was at the best of times, a very stressed man. The weight of the Imperium, the survival of humanity itself, rest on his broad shoulders. Juggling religious zealotry, tense alliances with Xenos, and the tedium of day to day rulership chipped away at the Lord Reagent. He was tired. His body ached in ways it was never meant to, his neck scar itched and twinged when he moved wrong, he felt bone deep fatigue that would crush a mortal man's spirit in seconds. 

So he could be excused if he lost his temper once in a while. 

It was not becoming of him, of course. And he did feel deep remorse when it happened. He was not his once-brother Angron, He was very composed 99% of the time. It was only occasionally, a little, when his guard was down and his emotions unmasked. 

Unfortunately, that was usually when his beloved little wife was nearby. She was his balm, normally. His closest confidant and his sweetest comfort. She made him feel not like a Primarch, but a Man. With her he was not putting up his guards or lying about how hard things were. He was just him, a Husband deeply in love and deeply tired.

She soothed him when he was agitated, praised him when he felt low, loved him at his worst. And last night was indeed, one of his worst. 

He sighed, putting his datapad down and leaning back in his seat, scrubbing his hand over his sallow face. He hadn't slept, of course, how could he rest? The guilt gnawed his ribs and churned his stomach. She would forgive him, as she always did, and he would do his best to erase the memory for her with gifts and love and freedoms. But he suffered an Idedic memory, and always remembered what happened when he lost his temper at his sweet, fragile wife. If only he could be mortal and forgetful like her. 

A small knock on his office door drew him from his contemplation. "Enter." He commanded, sitting prim and collecting himself. 

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

You braced yourself as the doors to your husband's office slid open. He looked as regal as always, of course, datapads and parchments strewn about his desk. 

His face relaxed when he saw you, and he beckoned you in with a wave. "Ah, my love, good, I was waiting for you." He said, voice tired but warm. Non-threatening.

You stepped inside and gracefully strode to the front of his desk, purposefully ignoring the still unpainted patched wall near the door. 

You gave a traditional curtsy, which made Roboute sigh softly. 

"Such formality, my sweet. Come, it is only us." He said, smiling and patting his thigh. 

His brother may have been the one named The Lion, but you could think of no other comparison for how you felt in that moment but that a calm, happy predator was inviting you to put your head in its maw. Of course, being a loyal and behaved wife, you did so, trusting that this not-quite-human murder machine would not harm you right then. Because this was the soft phase. He was always soft and kind and warm right after. 

You gave a practiced smile and went to his side, letting him lift you gently onto his lap. You held in a hiss of pain as he agitated your injuries- because he did not like to be reminded that he had made them. 

"You are well, I hope?" He murmured into your hair as he pulled you closer. You nod. Words failed you. 

He sighed and rubbed your back, a gesture meant to soothe, though it irritated your bruises. "Good, good. I am glad our little spat is behind us." He sighed against your hair, warm breath tussling it. 

You wished you could be comforted. You wished you felt the flutter in your chest as he pressed his lips to your sore skull. But at the moment, all you felt was the single mindedness of a prey animal. Your lion was happy and satiated for now, but you didn't chance it. 

You would make him forget- or in lieu of that, forgive and move on. If you were sweeter and kinder and better, he would overlook last night's carelessness. 

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

You'd been checking in on him, mug of recaffe in hand. He had been short that morning, and his responses were cut and tired. You knew your husband, perhaps better than any mortal had, you could tell when he wrote a little harder, frowned a little more often. He was stressed, and needed you to soothe him as you always would. A cup of recaffe and resting his head on your chest while you played with his hair and told him he was doing a good job would lift his spirits. 

And he was happy to see you, smiling at the mug in your hand and the pretty low cut dress you'd worn for him. The tension almost immediately started to ease. 

Until you tripped. 

You had only a second to process the recaffe stained parchments that fell to the floor in front of you. The panic that jolted through you didn't even let you notice the shards of broken mug you'd fallen into had cut your palms. You only had time to look up at the furious face of a demi-god and squeak out like a wounded rabbit, "Robu I'm sor-"

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

The recaffe stain was still in the carpet, you noted, as Roboute continued to mutter sweet things into your ringing ear. 

"And of course you know, I do not mean what I say in the heat of the moment," he soothed, rubbing circles on your good shoulder with his thumb. "How do I deserve such a forgiving, loving woman as you, my love?"

You smiled and nuzzled to his chest in response, playing demure as he poured affection on you. But your mind was elsewhere. How loud was a Primarch's voice when they yelled? The tinnitus in your ears suggested very. Though it was less and less each time. You couldn't quite here high pitches anymore- some alarms on machinery now completely silent to you- but at least you didn't yell on accident for days like the first time. 

He was placated by now, and soothing himself with you. This meant your part to play was now just be cute and don't upset him, and to hide your pains. Your shoulder screamed at you as he squeezed you gently to his chest, but it's protestations were not as strong as your self preservation, so you simply giggled at his praises and kisses. 

The apothecary would be waiting for you in your chambers, still, as you hadn't completely masked your limp on the way in, but it was easier for you both to ignore it now. 

Your lion was feeling sorry and affectionate for now. It was much better to lay with him and let him be than to give him a reason to chase you down by distancing yourself. 

Next time, you would have a servant bring the recaffe in. You would learn, and improve, and love him harder as you always did. Eventually, he would run out of reasons to bat at his little mouse in anger. 

You Just had to be better. 

[wordslikesilver]

Wait. Oh my god I just. Something clicked and I need to be held now. St Trina is supposed to represent the part of Miquella that was able to heal others, genuinely and truly heal them, such that even the sickness would kneel and swear loyalty to her, for taking away its pain and misery (source: putrescent knight). Miquella’s needle represents a stop gap. A way of holding back and shielding one from the influence of outer gods. Pure, unalloyed kindness that can relieve you of even the pain of the scarlet rot, so long as it remains within you.

So when… when Malenia ripped out the needle… and sacrificed all her pride, honour and humanity in order to let the scarlet flower bloom in her fight with Radahn to guarantee her victory no matter the cost (Millicent is her humanity trying to return to herself, she is literally the rejection of the scarlet rot that Malenia feels, ejected from her body during the first blooming, I’ve gotta do a whole post on Millicent because she’s a fascinating character study with world building context of the DLC added)…

Doesn’t that mean she ripped out the literal kindness she felt from her own brother in order to do what she did? Dude wtf hold me. But wait it’s even worse because not only can she no longer feel her brother’s kindness protecting her, she didn’t have anyone or any way to put back the rot goddess. Unless… it was Finlay. Because as stated by putrescent knight’s remembrance, to be loved is to be healed (St Trina is Miquella’s love). So not only did Finlay carry the Scarlet Bloom all the way back to the Haligtree from Caelid, when Malenia awoke alone without her brother there anymore to help her heal making her bloom all over again, Finlay stepped in to help save her from herself. To be loved is to be healed. And Malenia was definitely both loved and healed because when we find her… she’s asleep. And St Trina, saint of healing and sleep, is love.

ELDEN RING LESBIANS CONFIRMED???

[nargacuga-tamer8000]

You know, I don't need to explain myself anymore. I love Erik. You love Erik. We all love Erik. End of story. Except this one, which is just beginning.

Apparently, Erik Has Game

A moment of intimacy in the Scarlet Forest gets ruined when the team hears of it.

The Scarlet Forest was quieter than usual.

Dusky green leaves swayed above like slow-moving waves, filtering the afternoon light into warm honey-gold rays. A low mist clung to the undergrowth, and somewhere far off, the mournful cry of a Rathian echoed into silence. The trees whispered, the wind carried a stillness, and for once—it wasn’t hostile. It was... peaceful.

You and Erik were alone.

Well, mostly.

The rest of the team had returned to the Scarlet Forest base camp after a long and grueling hunt in the Oilwell Basin. There had been rumors of new monster behavior near there, but no signs of nests or aggression. A rare window of quiet. Alma had insisted you two take a break and catalog the endemic life colonies near the glade in the forest. “Scientific,” she’d said. “Low-risk. Calm.”

You’d exchanged a long look with Erik the moment she said calm.

And now here you were, boots crunching gently over mossy stones and ferns as you followed a bubbling stream deeper into the forest. Erik was just ahead, half-bent over a cluster of bioluminescent mushrooms.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. His silver hair caught the dappled light like starlight, and the freckles across his cheeks were more pronounced in the sun. His field notebook was already out, balanced on one knee, and he was whispering to himself with that same passion he always did when he found something fascinating.

You didn’t interrupt. You didn’t have to.

He looked up a moment later and grinned.

“I think we’re near a water source. Maybe a stream that feeds this area,” he said. “And look—these mushrooms only bloom this bright near high humidity. We must be getting close to a waterfall.”

Your eyes lit up. “You think we’ll find it?”

“Only one way to know,” he said, tucking the notebook away and offering you his hand.

You took it, your fingers warm in his, and together you followed the sound of rushing water.

The waterfall wasn’t massive—it spilled over a tall curtain of stone, hidden behind a veil of vines and thick canopies. But it was beautiful. It was a place where you'd expect to find an elusive Mizutsune. Thankfully, there was no monsters present.

The stream frothed below into a crystal pool, ringed in moss and pale stones. Fireflies flitted through the mist like golden stars caught in slow motion, dancing in and out of the silver spray.

But what caught your attention most was the shallow cave behind the falls.

“It’s a hidden cave,” Erik whispered, eyes wide. “It’s... perfect.”

You squeezed his hand. “Let’s go in.”

Inside, the stone cavern curved inward like a natural cathedral. Water dripped steadily from overhead, echoing gently, and the fireflies danced even here, casting little golden glimmers over the rock. There was soft moss to sit on, a view of the falls just beyond, and—for once—no bugs, no monsters, and no one else.

Just the two of you.

Erik sat down and exhaled deeply, pushing back his hair. “We should mark this on the map. Maybe we can turn it into a secondary base for study.”

You knelt beside him. “Or maybe we don’t tell anyone and keep it as our secret.”

That caught his attention. He looked over at you, something playful flickering in his green eyes. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You leaned in slightly. “I think we deserve one little secret, don’t you?”

Erik reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand. His thumb brushed over your skin, soft and deliberate. “I think,” he murmured, “this is the best thing I’ve discovered all week.”

Then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, sweet at first—an exploration more than a hunger. He kissed like he studied: carefully, fully present, deeply focused on every small detail. The way your breath hitched. The way your hands slid into his hair. The way your knee nudged closer to his until your thighs touched.

You broke the kiss only for air, but Erik didn’t move far. He pressed his forehead against yours, still breathing fast. He nuzzled his nose against yours.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“We saw each other this morning.”

“I know. I missed you anyway.”

That made you laugh softly, and then your lips met again, this time more urgent. More needing. His hands ran along your back, pulling you closer. Yours slid under his collar, fingertips tracing the line of his neck, his jaw, the curve of his shoulder. Every touch felt like a spark in this darkened hideaway.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there. Time blurred with the sound of rushing water and the flicker of fireflies. Erik kissed you like he never wanted to stop, and you were more than willing to get lost in that feeling.

Somewhere between kisses, your forehead fell against his shoulder, your fingers resting on his chest, his arms holding you like you were something fragile he was afraid to lose.

“I could stay here with you forever,” he murmured, voice low.

You smiled against his shirt. “We’d probably starve.”

He chuckled. “Then I’ll build a fire.”

“I've seen you burn meat.”

He tilted your chin up again, that teasing glint in his eye. “Then you’ll keep me alive. Deal?”

“Deal.”

What you didn’t realize—what neither of you saw—was the small pair of feline eyes peeking from behind the curtain of vines.

Your Palico, P/N, had trailed after you both, intent on “keeping watch” in case a Lala Barina tried anything funny (we didn't need that again). What they witnessed instead had them frozen, tail twitching with glee, their little jaw dropping in disbelief.

They didn’t make a sound.

Not then.

No, they saved the moment for later.

That evening at camp, Erik was back to scribbling in his notes, a flush still stubbornly on his cheeks. You were trying very hard not to smile whenever he looked your way.

Then P/N cleared their throat.

Very loudly.

The entire crew—Alma, Olivia, Werner, Gemma—turned toward the Palico as they dramatically planted their paws on the table.

“Well, somebody had a steamy waterfall date today,” they declared, their voice full of smug satisfaction.

Your entire body froze.

Erik looked up, blinking. “What...?”

P/N grinned, tail curling. “A lot of kissing. A lot of moaning. Fireflies. Pretty cave. Oh, and Erik and Y/N were totally getting it on!”

Erik turned a shade of red you didn’t think was humanly possible.

Alma nearly dropped her field notebook. Olivia choked on her rations. Gemma calmly nodded and muttered, “Knew it.” And Werner looked like he just saw the secrets of the universe.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands.

“P/N,” you said through your fingers, “I am going to reassign you to Dung Collection duty for a month.”

They winked. “Worth it.”

That’s when Werner—ever blunt, ever tragically awkward—cleared his throat.

“I’m just gonna say it,” he began, already visibly regretting his own words. “The most terrifying thing about all of this...is that it's Erik.”

You all turned to look at him.

He looked you square in the eye, then flicked a glance at Erik, then back to you.

The room froze.

Werner frowned. “I just… I’ve tried. I’ve really tried. But I cannot picture sweet, nerdy, field-journal-cuddling, pollen-dusted Erik—ravishing someone. Like, passionately. Intentionally.”

Erik let out a noise somewhere between a sputter and a dying bird.

Olivia burst into laughter, leaning on the table to stay upright. “Werner!”

“I’m serious!” Werner insisted, clearly disturbed by his own imagination. “He blushes if someone says ‘mating behavior’ in a field report. I just assumed he was a deeply confused virgin.”

Alma turned away, covering her face with her notes as laughter began to ripple around the room.

“I take detailed notes!” Erik snapped, ears turning crimson. “I’m a biologist!”

“Yeah,” Gemma wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Well apparently your field studies include hands-on research now.”

Your own laughter cracked through you like a sunbeam through clouds, suddenly feeling less irritated at your Palico's betrayal. You buried your face in Erik’s arm as your shoulders shook, both horrified and delighted by the absolute absurdity of the moment.

“Is this how it’s going to be now?” Erik groaned.

“Oh,” Alma said dryly, finally looking up, “you’re never living this down.”

Later that night, Erik sat beside you outside the tents, face still flushed. He reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“I regret nothing,” he whispered.

You smiled. “Me neither.”

But then you looked toward the tent where your Palico was very smugly humming to themselves.

“Except maybe not checking behind the waterfall.”

Erik chuckled. “Next time, we scan for furballs first.”

[prickly-paprikash]

Something cool about Blue Eye Samurai is how sex is juxtaposed with the end-goals.

I really love how our three protagonists are all obsessed. And that obsession defines them, torments them, and are subsequently reborn through their obsessions.

Mizu, of course, is obsessed with the concept of revenge. It's not even about getting even or getting justice as some might use to justify the bloody road taken—it is simply about seeking satisfaction for Mizu. She cuts a bloody swathe across Japan because of what the Four White Devils did to her mother and herself. She does not concern herself with the ramifications of her wrath but merely charges forward, leaving behind a trail of viscera and gore behind her.

Like I said before, her vengeance and obsession with satisfaction is not painted by the show as wrong. It is how she allows it to affect others along the path. It's why the episode with Madame Kaji is so enlightening; Mizu should not tackle this quest as a vengeful revenant; an onryō. She has let the world define her as a monstrosity and so she embraced it, when Swordfather and Madame Kaji knew what the correct path was to satiate her need for vengeance. Treat her sword as the Artisan's tool it truly is. Treat her body the way an Artist would treat their canvas.

Madame Kaji and Swordfather are both outcasts, for being a woman and a blind man. Yet they found strength in their exclusion, becoming single-minded in their fields of art. Because sex is art and swordsmithing is art. It's what makes Mizu's body writing scene so fucking good.

Artistic vision becomes stagnant when one pulls from only one source. They become rigid and unbending when Mizu, like her namesake, must be fluid. She has shown fluidity in her use of her gender and her morals, but cannot apply that same flexibility towards her goal. Throughout season one, she was becoming an uninspired artist, merely painting the world in hues of scarlet. In a world that forces Women to be either Wives or Whores, Mizu chose to be a Warrior—but a warrior fights for a cause, whether it be just or otherwise. A soldier fights in an army. Mizu is neither of these things. She is an Artist first and foremost, and her medium is Death. Sex, something Mizu was at first hesitant before her failed marriage, and something she actively avoided afterwards, is what gives her a new perspective. Like an Illustrator studying life to better draw their intended worlds, taking inspiration from wherever one can find it.

Taigen and Akemi are also equally affected by the artistry of sex, as befitting of Mizu's fellow protagonists.

Akemi is quite obviously Mizu's narrative foil. Mizu chases after revenge like a bloodhound whereas Akemi longs for freedom like a bird in a cage. Both are fierce women who are unsatisfied with their lot in life, with their sex and gender being used against them in their lives. Literally, the episode "The Tale of the Ronin and the Bride" is a fucking triple entendre:

Mizu is the Ronin as well as the Bride.

The play showcases the tale of the Ronin and the Bride.

It is also Mizu as the Ronin and Akemi as the Bride.

And when Mizu finds her center as she melts down her blade and engages in body writing, this scene of enlightenment is juxtaposed with Akemi laying with her new husband Takayoshi. Both, in this moment, are taking control of their lives through sex. They are both taking control of their futures through the ways Madame Kaji taught them. Mizu and Akemi are both rebels against this oppressive society, and are both talented artists with their body. Whether that be sex, politicking, or ass-kicking.

Taigen, like the two women before, finds freedom through it but in a more subtle manner.

Where Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils, both using sex as a form of art and escape, Taigen finds liberation through his awakening.

Like the closeted bisexual man he is, he begins his journey of self-realization when he first encounters Mizu at the Dojo.

Every single battle these two have is purposefully rife with sexual tension. All his life, Taigen has been taught that a man must live with honor. That he must take control of his life and his identity, or he will have failed and that he is better off dead than to live with such shame.

Taigen is just as much a victim of the Patriarchal society around him. Mizu rails against it violently. Akemi seeks to run away from it all. And Taigen, with the privilege given to him by his manhood, chooses to become a perpetrator, enabling the vicious wheel of society to keep moving forward.

His obsession with honor leads him to hunting down and even protecting Mizu. Mizu is no doubt the better warrior, but even she knows she owes so much to Taigen. The blockhead not only did everything to protect her in the valley, but also sealed his lips shut even under the duress of torture. His obsession with honor becomes an obsession with Mizu.

His regrets over tormenting her over her looks and ethnicity as a child. His shame in having lost so decisively in his own dojo. Taigen was a man born with nothing and climbed up to the top with every advantage he could muster, and suddenly it's all ripped away by this one vengeful spirit passing by.

Taigen learns to surrender control around Mizu. He begins to discover his own sexuality and purpose around Mizu, redefining what honor really means to him now that he, as a man, has a budding attraction towards the man who beat him.

Mizu's Vengeance. Akemi's Freedom. Taigen's Honor. In all three, Sex becomes a catalyst in redefining what each of these concepts truly mean to them all. It's not just sex of course, but it is undeniable how the writers keep juxtaposing sexual acts and thoughts with massive character moments.

It changes how Mizu chases after her Vengeance. It recontextualizes how Akemi can be Free. It showcases the absurdity of the Honor forced upon Taigen.

It's so fucking refreshing seeing Sex not used as fanservice or shoe-horned in just to further a stale, poorly written cis-heterosexual romance; but used as a plot point that cannot be ignored. An impetus that fuels the narrative.

Moving forward, I'm curious as to how sex will be used.

The next few ideas aren't as sound or organized because I'm neither Asexual nor Genderfluid, so please if anyone reads this who understands it better, feel free to point it out.

I think it'd be cool if Mizu met the inverse of Madame Kaji. A person who is apathetic to sex. Sure, Swordfather has shades of this, but I'm tired of the person with disabilities also being on the Asexual spectrum. And I'm not saying that Ace or Graysexual people with disabilities don't exist! But they always tend to be written as having some form of disability (Varys from ASOIAF) or a Robot.

Just as artists need a variety of sources to pull inspiration from, I hope in the next seasons we get to see different perspectives on sex and gender. In London, it feels like Mizu finding the other half of herself, and with that having a better way of tackling her own identity. Whether it be gender, sex, combat, etc.

Basically what this inane rambling amounts to is that Blue Eye Samurai tackles sex and violence and revenge and obsession in ways that most media has yet to truly do. So that was pretty cool.

[historicalbookimages]

🌳 Trees as good citizens. Washington, D.C.American Tree Association[1922] Original source Image description: Illustration of various tree leaves labeled with their names: Tulip Poplar with large, lobed greenish-yellow leaves; Sweet-Gum showing star-shaped leaves in shades of deep red and purple; Scarlet Oak with pointed lobed leaves in green and red hues. Below are Basswood with heart-shaped yellow leaves; White Cedar displayed as small, dense, dark green needle-like foliage; Flowering Dogwood presenting oval, veined leaves transitioning from green to reddish tones; and Shagbark Hickory with elongated leaves in yellow-green shades. The image is a detailed botanical study from 1922 titled "Trees as good citizens."

[denim-devil]

Mike Schmidt x male reader pleaseee. Begging him to go to work with him, only to end up blowing him under the desk and maybe getting bent over by him🤭

•.* Sugar | M.S •.*

Summary - Just one night you promised, knowing the dangers, Mike put rules in place to make sure you were constantly monitored, he should of know why you had asked to join him…

A/N - I’m fucking obsessed with this man, like he could defile me in ANY WAY POSSIBLE and i’d thank him, please enjoy me spiralling for this man- (ALSO NOT PROOF READ)

“Please?”

You almost began to beg, gripping onto his baggy grey hoodie which captured the slight annoyance written against his features, the constant tugging on his sleeve resembled a hyperactive child but it had Mike question just how far you would go with the begging.

“Why? Why do you wanna go so bad- it’s a rundown shit hole”

He mumbles gruffly, hazel eyes darting down to meet with your own, trapped within a everlasting battle of a shared gaze, his eyebrows furrowing when finger tips graze just above his groin.

“I just wanna keep you company…is that such a bad thing?” Your words were a mere whisper, goosebumps now present over his cloth-covered skin, could he be so harsh to deny you? You were the only source of his happiness, just one night wouldn’t be so bad right?

He sighs, eyes shutting as he groans once you go lower, massaging the spot next to his growing ache. You had a way with not only words but it always seemed to work, each touch, each blink you gave had your lashes flick ethereally.

“Fine- but you better stay in the office, by my side at all times, you don’t know what’s lurking in the dark there”

An eager “yes” escapes your parted lips and it warmed his heart, that certain fuzzy feeling that left him daft and in love lingered and he couldn’t help but pull you into him, it had taken time to get to this point, especially for Mike, you had opened so many doors for him, his arms squeezed you close against him, lips placing a soft, chaste kiss to your temple in silence.

“Thank you Mikey, I appreciate it…”

He smiles with certainty downwards, his hold had loosened now but just enough so he could see how your cheeks grew with scarlet blossom, how timid you had gotten underneath his stare.

“Anytime…”

Knowing how easy it was to get underneath his skin like a blue beetle had a certain grip on you, thoughts about making it worth his time had riddled your brain, confusing both kindness and lust all in one.

Mike had his own ideas to pass the time, yet they were still for you to uncover.

• • • •

The night was quiet.

Mike questioned the silence at points, it was unusual for the place to stand still, slightly ominous in it’s restlessness, in it’s abandonment.

“So…is this what the job is?? To sit and watch camera’s?”

You sassily remark, eager to get a reaction from him, his office chair swirled as he span slowly, eventually facing your slumped frame, his eyes scanned your body from head to toe, slightly annoyed that you weren’t taking this seriously.

“No, I do actually have to check around, see if anything or anyone gets in, hence this-“

He poked the heavy golden badge latched onto his attire, just above the bold letters “security”. You couldn’t stop the laugh that rattled from the base of your chest, glancing over the cutesy child’s toy.

Mike’s brows furrowed, slightly confused but he understood, it was slightly silly, what else was he going to do with his time here? Sit in the same chair for six hours straight whilst going slightly insane?

“Really Mike? Where did you even get that?”

He glared with a certain tone, almost studying you.

“I found it out back…with everything else”

Interest spiked within you like the love you had for Mike. You reach over, hands gripping onto the warmed arm rests of his chair, pulling him closer until your lips were mere inches apart.

“I admire your bravery…”

His breath was sharp, taking in what he could before he dipped slightly, latching his own onto yours, the kiss was slow, played with the imaginary heart strings you conjured up in your head, a professional guitarist lingering the tips of his fingers amongst them, twanging each one as he pushed for it, pushed for more.

He pulls away, just enough to break it, break you out of it. The office was cold, the concrete checkered floor doing nothing to secure the heat in, Mike was your only source, not that you were complaining.

“Why did you ask to come tonight?”

In all honesty, you had nothing in your roster to fight back with, instead, a wandering hand of your own timidly trails down his denim clad thigh, rubbing the area earning a soft grunt, one he tried holding back.

“I’m not sure…but I can show you-“

That drew Mike’s attention back to your face, his lips slightly agape, jaw slack when you gravely reach for the spot you grew quickly acquainted with.

It was a surprise…he was already half hard, almost bursting at the seems once the continuous rubbing began, your palm was a source of comfort and desire for him.

“Yeah?…”

Mike still questioned himself, he shouldn’t really be distracted on the job, he had so much to uncover but the stress, god, it riddled every muscle and organ he had, he ached for it, yearned for something warm and wet.

“Is this okay, Mikey?”

He nods, almost to eager for it, you understood though, kicking your own chair behind you whilst lowering yourself, knees folding once you hit the hard floor with ease, it wasn’t the first time.

His eyes bore holes into you, like a scorching fire, they glowed with uncertainty and lust which served as a hard time, you weren’t entirely sure if Mike really wanted this.

Laying your head against his thigh, your hands slowly figure out the zipper, tugging the small piece of metal down before fingertips dig into the small opening created, pushing the thin material of his white briefs, unveiling the very source of your own impulse.

Glaring with both anticipation and admiration your eyes flicker, darting from certain points of his thick cock, his head a deep crimson, tints of purple like it had lacked something, a singular vein ran thickly on the underside from base to tip, it stood tall and proud, it always had and will for you.

The view you would never ever get use to, he always surprised you, how could it be both so beautiful and…big.

“Think you could help me out baby-“

The question lingered in the air for sometime whilst you hands began to work over him, both fists enclosed over it, jerking back and forth, watching excess skin slip back and forth, uncovering the tip once again.

“Yes Mikey- fuck, look at you…”

A few more wrist flicks you give, just to get him there, just to allow him to taste it in the air, to taste just what your about to do.

Your Eager lips wrap sultry around his pre-slicked head, engulfing the first two inches whilst using a hand to massage the rest, the other fondling the heavy sack just below, thumbing the spot between both testicles.

“Fuck- I gotta, we can’t be-“

He groaned before restless hands ran through your hair before resting at the base of your neck, pushing you down, this was now beyond your control, you were his to use, freely.

The last few inches slip inside, past the corners of your stretched lips and into the back of your throat, there the tip lingered and the heaviness on your tongue grew, chin resting lightly against his balls.

That’s when you choked and gagged, a thick layer of saliva trickling from the corners of your occupied mouth, gathering at the base, joining the thin layer of brunette hair.

The man above you groaned so loudly that it rattled the thin walls of the room. You could feel a gush of fluid dripping out of your throbbing cock which began to seep into the denim of your trousers, Mike was to busy rolling his hips into your throat to focus on anything else but his release, you wanted him to know just how much this got you to.

With a loud slurp and pop, you sucked and lapped the head of Mike’s aching cock, you wrap an eager hand around his length, squeezing and pumping as you mouth at his balls, slurping them both into your mouth and licking the underside.

“Baby- fuck, I’m so fuckin’ close”

Mike gripped at your now matted hair, forcing you back into his length, pushing you down as far as possible until he settle himself fully down your throat, watching as you begin to struggle, choking and sputtering for air.

His eyes focus on the tears slipping from your damp lids. Watched the copious amounts of saliva drip and leak from his balls and chair to the floor, you proved to be a mess and it had his insides churning and his cock jump and twitch.

“Baby-“

He came with a shout, hands still buried in the thickness of your hair, holding you there, making sure to take every single drop, in which you do, before proceeding to suck him dry, pull off with a hungered gasp.

The point yet again was proven, Mike needed you by his side constantly, the time flew and if anything, the stress seemed to subside, replaced with a certain lightness he compared to bliss.

You tuck him away, secreting the mess within his briefs before scrambling up into his lap, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He held you for a while, kissing softly at your ear.

The ache, the one from before hadn’t really fully disappeared and he felt guilty, yet he wanted more, craved more, this was nice and all, he loved this usually but…he wanted more of you.

Wiggling slightly earns a rumble of a grunt, he still wasn’t ready to leave this office, not until he had his fair share.

“Mikey…”

You trail off, feeling him grow harder by the second, it hadn’t even been ten minutes, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Why don’t you get undressed and bend over my desk, all pretty for me baby, I gotta have you…”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More French Loans in Middle English

Loan Word - vocabulary borrowings

Borrow - to introduce a word (or some other linguistic feature) from one language or dialect into another

Leisure and the arts art, beauty, carol, chess, colour, conversation, courser, dalliance, dance, falcon, fool, harness, image, jollity, joust, juggler, kennel, lay, leisure, literature, lute, melody, minstrel, music, noun, painting, palfrey, paper, parchment, park, partridge, pavilion, pen, pheasant, poet, preface, prose, recreation, rein, retrieve, revel, rhyme, romance, sculpture, spaniel, stable, stallion, story, tabor, terrier, title, tournament, tragedy, trot, vellum, volume

Science and learning alkali, anatomy, arsenic, calendar, clause, copy, gender, geometry, gout, grammar, jaundice, leper, logic, medicine, metal, noun, ointment, pain, physician, plague, pleurisy, poison, pulse, sphere, square, stomach, study, sulphur, surgeon, treatise

The home basin, blanket, bucket, ceiling, cellar, chair, chamber, chandelier, chimney, closet, couch, counterpane, curtain, cushion, garret, joist, kennel, lamp, lantern, latch, lattice, pantry, parlour, pillar, porch, quilt, scullery, towel, tower, turret

General nouns action, adventure, affection, age, air, city, coast, comfort, country, courage, courtesy, cruelty, debt, deceit, dozen, envy, error, face, fault, flower, forest, grief, honour, hour, joy, labour, manner, marriage, mischief, mountain, noise, number, ocean, opinion, order, pair, people, person, piece, point, poverty, power, quality, rage, reason, river, scandal, season, sign, sound, spirit, substance, task, tavern, unity, vision

General adjectives active, amorous, blue, brown, calm, certain, clear, common, cruel, curious, eager, easy, final, foreign, gay, gentle, honest, horrible, large, mean, natural, nice, original, perfect, poor, precious, probable, real, rude, safe, scarce, scarlet, second, simple, single, solid, special, strange, sudden, sure, usual

General verbs advise, allow, arrange, carry, change, close, continue, cry, deceive, delay, enjoy, enter, form, grant, inform, join, marry, move, obey, pass, pay, please, prefer, prove, push, quit, receive, refuse, remember, reply, satisfy, save, serve, suppose, travel, trip, wait, waste

Turns of phrase by heart, come to a head, do homage, do justice to, have mercy on, hold one’s peace, make complaint, on the point of, take leave, take pity on

Part 1 ⚜ Source ⚜ More References: Middle English ⚜ Word Lists

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route

⋆ PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight violence and danger; mentions of blood; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 788

A/N: the first written story mode! hehe it’s inspired by yoosung’s route but i did my best to make it my own :)

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap and this part was inspired by day 10 of yoosung's route

Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route Masterlist

“Dude, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kaminari whispered, crouching as Sero had instructed him to do in order to avoid being caught on any of the secret base’s security cameras.

“Yeah,” Sero answered plainly, studying his handwritten blueprint of the base as he moved ever so quietly. “I’ve got everything marked down on here and there should be a back door around here…”

“It’s right there!” Kaminari gestured to the closed door just ahead of the pair. “Wait what if it’s locked?”

“You think a locked door is gonna be a problem for me?” Sero asked as they approached the door, turning the door handle to confirm it was in fact locked. He began picking the lock, which he did so with ease. He swung the door ajar slightly, confirming his confidence in his skills.

“You’re right. My bad,” Kaminari said with a firm nod. They peered into the room, which appeared to be empty except for a few black crates that were nailed shut. The boys entered the room, Sero closing the door behind them. Another door was in front of them and Sero repeated his actions and opened it slightly, peering inside carefully.

Kaminari leaned over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. “Well is there anybody there?”

“Dude, we’re trying to be discreet,” Sero whispered to his friend, bringing a finger to his lips to remind Kaminari of the reason why they were there. Sero opened the door. “Looks like no one’s here.”

It was a small room with grey walls. Only a chair and a desk with multiple computer screens and monitors was present. 

“Whoa looks like your place,” Kaminari commented, eyes widened at the amount of screens before him.

Sero immediately began to start working, sitting himself down at the chair and connecting a USB drive to the server. 

“Are you copying all of the data now?” Kaminari questioned, clearly out of his league and element with this area of work.

“Yup. Once it’s done downloading it’ll wipe the servers completely,” Sero says, typing away at the keyboard in front of the main computer screen. “These losers won’t see it coming.”

“Won’t we now?” A voice erupted from behind Kaminari and Sero.

They whipped their heads to the source of the voice, Kaminari stepping away from the mysterious man. He was in all black with a hood covering his head. His scarlet eyes were piercing as they looked back and forth between Sero and Kaminari. He had a small amused smile on his face, his arms behind his back.

Sero stood up, blocking the USB drive. He had to ensure that they got away with this vital information. He was risking his life for it.

“Who the hell are you?” Sero questioned.

“Aw come on now. No need to be so rude,” Unknown chuckled humorlessly. “I should be asking that since you two broke into my facility.”

“We know you already know who we are,” Kaminari stated plainly. “Isn’t that why you went after our friends?”

“Oh, so the event coordinator is just a friend to you?” Unknown laughed.

Kaminari and Sero were taken aback. The only way for this mysterious man to have known about Kaminari’s feelings for Y/N was if…

“You’ve been reading our messages?!” Sero exclaimed in disbelief.

“Of course.” Unknown shrugged. “I mean I did trap your beloved coordinator in the office after all. Hacking into your chat rooms was nothing.”

His eyes flicked over to Kaminari. Unknown took in his figure, continuing to chuckle amusingly. “It’d be a shame if anything happened to you, Kaminari Denki. I was looking forward to your little love story. But it looks like the MFA love story will have to come to an end.”

Kaminari grabbed the drive from the server behind him and tossed it to Sero. “Run! Get outta here!”

“What?!” Sero exclaimed, catching the drive and looking at his friend as if he were a madman. Sero had no intention of leaving the base without Kaminari. 

“Just go! We got the drive!” Kaminari pushed Sero towards the exit doors. 

Unknown let go of his arms from behind his back, his hand clutching a knife as he lunged forward, a menacing grin on his face as he swung at Kaminari. He pierced Kaminari’s arm with the knife as Kaminari grabbed the chair and pushed it towards Unknown, knocking Unknown back to the floor.

Kaminari winced in pain, clutching his forearm that was gushing blood. But the adrenaline had kicked in and Kaminari couldn’t focus on the pain as he sprinted for the door, his blood dripping in splats onto the floors.

Unknown’s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls. “We’ll get you! You’ll join Paradise soon enough!”

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