#thought and approaching things that I think aren't really... perhaps the best)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

question for my Christian mutuals:

I saw someone reply to a question of "what's your opinion on Baptist beliefs?" with "well I'm not Baptist so obviously I believe they're wrong in some capacity" which is puzzling to me because I have never thought of it like that. yes I think some denominations or even specific churches within denominations have incorrect beliefs but "I'm not [denomination] ergo I think they're wrong" doesn't make sense to me personally

not trying to start beef btw I'm just asking if this is a direct "I'm not this which means I think they're wrong" thing for others or not, I'm just curious about what different people think about this

[moonsaver]

Warning: yan!jiaoqiu x reader, hints/implications of cannibalism and drugs.

Note: its 1.3k words, which is surprising considering i dont usually write that much. Anyways i tried to incorporate a different kind of horror feeling into this work. Hope you guys like it.

-

Jiaoqiu lives up to his name. Medicinal chef, although one part is hidden, and he willfully lives up to the other half. But both seem to work in cognition when he meets you.

There you are – where he always hopes you'll be. A small twitch of his ear, the flurry of his tail. His eyes creak open ever so slightly to behold your silhouette in the golden frame of his irises. 

There you are – where you always will be, he hopes. Or rather, he wills.

Jiaoqiu has taken a rather different approach when it comes to medicines, and food.

The chilli sizzles in the oil, loud and crackling in short bursts through the growing warm air surrounding his workspace, his tender hands working swiftly through the assortment of spices. But really, he wouldn't need much, especially considering the chillis he's going to be using. Although, he changes his mind, going back over to dutifully sprinkle in a few spices anyway. At least, he does this for you.

Quiet, ever so silent. Curt responses. Flitting eyes. You're a curious little thing. Well, it doesn't matter how brooding or moody you may be. To him, you're interesting. To any sly fox, interesting means plaything. He's learned how to really risk the delicate balance of spice and flavour. And he's also sure how to deal with bitterness.

Strangely enough - you seem to like it. The bitterness slowly but surely pierces through the food, seeping into your mouth like poison. He's sure to take inspiration, but for now, he watches with a closed eye smile. A smile you're always too familiar with, ever since he's started making things special for you.

His chin placed delicately on the palm of his hand, elbow slightly straining the smooth wood underneath, as his hand gently fans away the ghat of the chili, still wafting in the air, making a few people cough in the distance. “Do you like it?” He asks, often. “I've added just what you might like”, “you'll keep coming back”, and, “my, aren't I seeing you too often?”

...

You don't know what's gotten into you. Dazed, but also hypervigilant at the same time. You think you're losing your mind – the reality you were so grounded in, losing your footing, the dissonance of your mind pushing you far into the cacophony of distressed thoughts, until his calm voice snaps you of it.

“Hm? Perhaps my new recipe will help soothe you. If the feeling persists.. meet me after hours.”

You take another bite, another walk back home, and another episode of hyperventilation. You breathe in, eyes flitting to the mirror you can't seem to reach – or rather you can't seem to keep yourself standing despite your fearful heart lurching in your chest.

And as per Jiaoqiu's predictions, you do meet him after hours. But you can't tell with the blend of reality and your hallucinations. You're not sure if it's the moon, but you're sure Jiaoqiu stares down at you, silver and gold melding into your delicate vision.

—--

Jiaoqiu has many characters of a cat than he does of a fox

Or rather, you say that because you probably haven't interacted with a fox before.

All the times you were sick and bedridden, Jiaoqiu made it almost his personal mission to look after you. He wouldn't be around for too long, thankfully. Long hours at work or the other. But he comes back and makes the best soup you could ever have, especially with your illness.

But you find the meat makes your body slightly reactive, at least when you're sick. Jiaoqiu brushes it off and insists you eat regardless.

His cheek rubs against your shoulder when you wake up, telling you how dearly he missed you. You yawn, eyes still closed and heavy from sleep while you wake up, but you can notice the slight grazing of his pointed teeth on your skin. 

You watch as he dutifully grinds up herbs and other malleable herbs into the mortar. He grew them himself, he tells you. It's simply better to alter and enhance them when you can get your hands on them, he tells you.

That's a beautiful flower, you tell him. His dutiful hands temporarily withhold in the air above the mortar, the soft stem bent and almost breaking in his fingers. He chuckles softly. You've been tasting it for a while in your food now, he informs you. You hum as he grinds it into the powdery mixture. Was that the source of bitterness?

-

Jiaoqiu has a taste for many peculiar things. But he also has a taste for humans. Or, more or less, just you.

Ever since you've become a regular, Jiaoqiu has been eager to offer you a sneak peek into the kitchen. He sits you down for the milder part of the cooking process, chatting away with you as he waits for one or the other thing to marinate, rise, or separate. His hand not so subtly itching to yours over the countertop, forcing your hand to slip into his glove. When you whine or complain about the constriction of the material, Jiaoqiu only responds with a quiet smile, his ears twitching the slightest bit. 

Sometimes, he lets you look around the kitchen, with sanitary limitations, of course. You eye the meat that looks a bit too red, or the one with a few too many strings in it to be written off as normal. You gaze at the blood seeping into the water. Myoglobin, he tells you. But you think your eyes are keener than that.

He feeds you well, isn't hesitant to add in a few extra medicinal herbs to your food, serves you the special tea he prepares only for momentous occasions.

And the best meat he finds.

Its a beautiful red, in his opinion. You stare as the knife cuts through the meat, the strings loosening and tearing. The blood– myoglobin, he corrects you, taints his hands, ungloved. Its far easier to determine the cleanliness without gloves. They tend to give you a false sense of it. He tells you.

You watch, the smell of the raw meat making you scrunch your nose the slightest bit. He chuckles fondly when he sees that on your face.

He finds you to be one of the people he's met, that he's taken a liking to. As for the one that he considers distasteful.. well, he's sure he can find some use of them. Especially if you dislike them, too.

-

You're sure something is wrong.

The soups make you dizzy, your body bursts into hives, your heart rate goes up. Something in it is causing you severe distress, but you can't understand what exactly it might be. You've staved away from his shop for a while. 

Until one day – Jiaoqiu senses your hesitation. His smile is no longer on his face, despite his closed eyes. He quietly allows you to inspect the kitchen after hours, his back turned to you, grinding, crushing, snapping the herbs into the mortar. You especially eye the red meat he stores away, and this time he doesn't tell you off. He continues to grind the herbs, shuffling through a few cabinets for them, before continuing. You've insisted on calling it blood and not myoglobin. Because you can taste it in your food.

He tells you, you're hallucinating. It's a side effect of your sickness he's had to help ward off lately. But you're sure he's wrong. He hums, and continues quietly. The darkness of the kitchen only illuminated by scarce yellow lighting, and the sterile, white glow of the fridge as you continue staring at it. Your eyes wander at the various meats before–

You spot something behind it.

His meats are sourced from various animals, with smaller organs, incomparable to the size of humans.

Was this animal mutated? Or simply particularly large?

You gently kneel down, hearing Jiaoqiu snapping the stem of a flower and continue grinding the herbs, your eyes settled fiercely onto the incomprehensible.. thing.

Your shaking hand reaches out, the coldness of the fridge making you shiver, although it's not exactly the cold, is it?

Your fingers touch the strange surface of the unidentifiable meat. Pericardium. Your fingers reach further and gently grasp it. It's about the size of your fist.

You breathe out, your heart thudding in the quiet of your mind as you stare at the one in your hands.

…

Has it always been this quiet?

You look back and are met with Jiaoqiu's golden eyes.

His default smile returns to his face, but this time, his golden eyes are staring directly at you.

You should have stayed out of his kitchen. Who knows what he'd been feeding you?

-

[yanderes-galore]

Arthur Morgan with prompts 79, 42, 15 by yandere-daze? Maybe Arthur lassos them off their horse during a chase

Sure! Pairing is left vague as you could be a lover on the run, or a sibling/younger gang member on the run from Arthur for this.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Arthur Morgan Prompts 79, 42, 15

"Don’t be scared. I don’t want to hurt you."

"Don’t struggle. This is for the best."

"You might not understand now but you will thank me later."

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Suffocating behavior, Restraints, Kidnapping, Forced companionship/relationship.

"Will you just quit it and come back!?"

You hear Arthur's call echo as you ride your horse through the wooded path. You ignore him and continue your escape. Perhaps outlaw life wasn't your thing....

Hell, it seemed even Arthur thought that. He always thought you were too much in danger to be alone. Now with everything going on with Dutch... Arthur felt he needed to be an overwhelming presence in your life to protect you...

Meanwhile, you're starting to open your eyes to Dutch's lies.

"Just let me go, Arthur!" You call back, making your horse cut a corner to try and make more distance. "It's better this way, I'll disappear without a trace!"

"Like HELL you will!" Arthur yells, yet you can hear him cough a bit. "What has gotten into you!?"

"What has gotten into you!" You retort, trying to break line of sight. "Why should I stay so bad?"

"The gang needs you!" Arthur calls, "I'll miss you, what are you expecting to do alone? You have nowhere to go! You aren't thinking straight!"

"Bullshit!" You call back, making Arthur grimace at your language.

"Will you just LISTEN to me!?" Arthur calls, but you no longer humor him and go silent.

The sun had set a long time ago now. You should've expected Arthur to follow you like a hound. He'd never let you out of his sight.

The ride is silent for the most part except for Arthur's horse and yours. You keep trying to lose him, but like Dutch's precious hound, he doesn't lose your scent. He's a good tracker like much of the gang...

Even more so if it meant keeping you home.

When you're about to leave the wooded path, you feel something hit you. You aren't sure what it is, or what happened.... But next thing you know, your horse takes off and you're roughly pulled into the dirt road.

The thing around you tightens when you hit the ground. It restricts your arms, leaving you flailing on the ground. Upon closer inspection, once you regain your bearings, you notice it's a rope.

"Arthur!?" You call, seeing him stop his horse and dismount. Your blood runs cold when you see him holding the lasso in his hands. He'd go this far?

"Don’t struggle. This is for the best." Arthur responds coldly, approaching you before kneeling down to tie you properly. "You're acting like a damn child...."

You don't listen, of course, making Arthur have to roughly force you to the ground. You cry out in surprise and slight pain as he rolls you over. Your wrists and feet are tied as Arthur struggles with you.

"Arthur, please, I don't want to go back... Just let me go...!" You plea, fear now in your eyes upon realizing Arthur will stop at nothing to keep you in the gang.

Is it really to protect you...? Or is it for Dutch's agenda?

"Don’t be scared. I don’t want to hurt you." Arthur coos as he rolls you back over to sit you up. You're immediately cradled into Arthur's chest as he presses a firm kiss to your head. It seems loving... but you're shaking.

"You had me worried sick... running away like that... Could've gotten yourself hurt... or worse." Arthur reprimanded, cupping your face to gaze at you. You look like such a scared animal... just seeing the lengths he'd go for you is unnerving.

"Why? Why can't you let me go? I don't want to be in the gang anymore..." You whisper. It wasn't just Dutch's lies you wanted to flee from. It was Arthur himself, one of the most dangerous and loyal men in the gang.

The same one madly protective and attentive to you... willing to do anything to get you to stay... no matter how immoral.

"You might not understand now but you will thank me later." Arthur whispers, his tone soft as he holds you close. "You're just... not thinking right. It's the stress. Just let me help you."

"No, Arthur, come on—"

"The gang is your home." Arthur responds firmly as he picks you up, cradling you close. "The gang... I'd do anything to help you."

Arthur walks you over to his horse, sitting you in front of him so he can keep you close to his chest. You try struggling but he doesn't allow you to move much. His gaze his cold towards you...

You had a feeling you weren't ever going to be let out of his sight now.

"Let's get you home...." Arthur whispers, holding you close as he starts his horse back to camp.

"My horse—"

"You won't need a horse now." Arthur states. "You're staying at camp, if not, you're riding with me."

You're silent at that, the night sky twinkling above you as wolves howl. Arthur holds you tighter, as if to comfort you. All while you slowly realize escape was probably never possible... once part of the gang, always part of the gang.

Or at least... Always Arthur's.

"You're sleeping in my tent tonight." Arthur commands, making you give him a bewildered look.

"Why!?" You panic.

"Can't trust you. Need to know you won't run from me again." Arthur responds, kissing your scalp. "I'll be your bodyguard, sweetheart."

Arthur squeezes your waist, which only makes you dread going back more.

"You aren't going to run again..." Arthur murmurs, a possessive glint in his gaze.

"You're right where you belong... with me... so don't struggle now. We'll be home soon."

[professional-spectator]

Hey there, it's IDK! I usually stick to writing in the third person, but I thought I'd try something a little different this time. If you want to imagine yourself as the reader, go right ahead! Though, fair warning, I've never been the best at those kinds of stories, haha.

I'm a huge Cyno fan and proudly main him in the game, so of course, he's going to be a part of this story! I absolutely love Sumeru, and I feel like there aren't enough fanfics set there, especially ones that focus on Cyno. I'm still deciding whether to make this a series, so please let me know what you think!

Okay, here's the little disclaimer and a heads-up: I don't own Hoyoverse, Genshin Impact, or anything related to them.

And a big thank you to @arn9tails for letting me use their Genshin size difference AU as the basis for this fanfic. The idea that Teyvat isn't scaled to Earth but is actually much, much larger really fascinated me—it's a pretty scary thought, isn't it? I also really liked the idea that people from Earth aren't resistant to it, which is what sparked this whole thing.

Also, just a quick heads-up: this story touches on some serious and sensitive subjects. It's inspired by SAGAU (Self-Aware Genshin Impact Alternative Universe), isekai themes, different isekai worlds, creation myths, and fanfiction in general.

Alright, let's dive into chapter 3 and see what adventures await our dear Oc!

Chapter 3 Paimon copy cat:

I sighed, realizing that no amount of reader inserts, fanfiction, chatbots, or fan-made otome games could have adequately prepared me for what I was experiencing. I felt incredibly small in this world, perhaps the size of a Barbie doll, and the food before me was stunning, as though it had been plucked straight from an anime. Had I not been so stressed, I would have undoubtedly been fan-girling.

Despite the plate still appearing enormous relative to my diminutive size, hunger overwhelmed me. I was ravenous, but without any utensils. Although I had prepared this dish countless times in the game, I had never actually tasted it back on Earth.

According to the game's lore, the dish was Biryani: "An aromatic rice dish. Stir-fry the meat until it's crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. Then, stew it with condiments and long-grain rice. Sprinkle a few Padisarah petals before serving. Every grain is saturated with the aroma of fatty meat and condiments. The dish has an exquisite taste only found in Sumeru." To my exhausted and sleep-deprived mind, that description simply translated to "food."

At that moment, I likely resembled a wild animal.

"You look like a boar piglet..."

I immediately recognized Cyno's voice, followed by Tighnari, who looked utterly exhausted.

"Cyno..." The forest watcher shook his head, his expression weary. "Just ignore him..."

A wave of embarrassment washed over me.

The insult was like a slap. "I don't resemble a boar..." The denial escaped my lips before I could think, a purely defensive response born from injured pride. Hindsight suggested a more tactful approach might have been wiser.

"You do... you resemble a boar piglet," Cyno's voice, a resonant baritone from his towering height, corrected me. Stupid giant Cyno. A child? I was a fully grown woman, thank you very much. I couldn't discern his meaning – was he joking, or was it simply his blunt, unwavering honesty? A shiver traced its way down my spine. The mere thought of facing a real boar filled me with apprehension. My small size in this world already put me at a disadvantage, and if the boars here were anything like their Earth counterparts, with their indiscriminate appetites, I was in deep trouble. The food chain's hierarchy became painfully obvious, and I realized I was at the very bottom.

He locked his intense, crimson gaze on me, his expression inscrutable.

"Tighnari, I did not enjoy yesterday's dinner at camp with the boar..." he stated, his tone utterly grave, the slightest cock of his head the only hint of anything unusual. I could almost hear Tighnari's weary sigh carried on the wind. "He was such a pig..." Cyno continued, his voice as monotone as ever.

As a dedicated Cyno player, even I couldn't manage a smile. He was trying, I could tell, attempting to alleviate the tension, but his attempt fell completely flat. I had always pictured that if I ever met him in person, I'd be overcome with laughter, tears streaming down my face. But here, now, standing before the genuine article? Not a possibility.

"You see, the boar is a part of the pig famil-..." I watched, a bizarre blend of fascination and dismay, as he tried to analyze and explain the joke, only further entrenching himself in comedic failure.

Tighnari, muttering, "I should wash the dishes..." gathered the plates and walked away from Cyno, abandoning me. I wanted to scream, "Giant Tighnari, come back!" but I bit back the words.

He'd deserted me the instant Cyno began his jokes. I felt a pang of sympathy for Cyno; he seemed utterly oblivious to just how awful his jokes were. Now, I was trapped at this enormous table, forced to endure them. Kaveh's voice line suddenly sprang to mind, the one where he warned the Traveler to never listen to Cyno's jokes sober. Between you and me, I'd always dismissed it as the ramblings of an alcoholic. But Kaveh was right.

Cyno's voice cut through the silence. "Not funny? Mao?"

Mao. That was the name I'd settled on. A placeholder, really, a designated title in this bizarre chapter of my life. The fact that I couldn't remember my own name gnawed at me, a constant, low-level hum of fear beneath the surface. My emotions were a tangled mess, a chaotic storm of anxiety and bewilderment. And then there was the small matter of my current stature – I was, quite literally, the size of a Barbie doll. A cat minded you.

"It's not you, it's me..." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I trailed off, cringing inwardly. It sounded like a breakup line, ridiculous given the circumstances. Thankfully, Cyno didn't seem to pick up on the awkwardness.

The words rushed out, a torrent of pent-up worry and frustration. "I was abducted, along with my best friends, and I have absolutely no idea where they are. On top of that, I left my aunt in charge of looking after my parents, and they're both really sick. I'm supposed to be home."

Cyno's gaze softened as he took in her plight. Trapped in a world so alien, so vast compared to her own—he understood her fear, her disorientation. A deep frown etched itself onto his face. The practice of selling these "mini humans" was an abomination, a custom long outlawed in Sumeru. Yet, despite the ban, they still surfaced, these tiny beings, often brought to the Akademiya under the guise of research.

But these miniature people… they were different. They didn't behave as ordinary humans should. Most scholars accepted this at face value, attributing it to their diminutive size or unknown origins. Cyno, however, suspected a deeper, more insidious cause. He remembered Tighnari's insightful observation: these "mini humans" likely lacked the natural defenses, the inherent immunities, against this world's unique magic, its mana.

If Mao—the name they'd given her, since her own was lost to her—was similarly vulnerable… Cyno's mind raced. He couldn't be sure if the world's strange energies had already begun to affect her. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Was it possible she might regress, devolve into the feral state he'd witnessed in other mini humans? He couldn't allow it. He wouldn't.

His resolve hardening, Cyno met her gaze. "We're going to get to the bottom of this," he declared, his voice firm, laced with a promise he intended to keep.

I nodded, but little did I know what the next day held. A day that would turn my world, quite literally, upside down.

I awoke the following morning, desperately wishing the events unfolding were nothing more than a bizarre dream. Alas, reality crashed down upon me: I was in a gargantuan version of Teyvat, perched precariously on Cyno's broad shoulder like some exotic parrot. My knuckles were white as I gripped his cape with my uninjured hand, fighting the dizzying urge to look down. It was a terrifyingly long way to fall. He had been striding purposefully towards Sumeru City for what felt like an eternity – a good four hours, at least.

How, you might ask, did I find myself in such a ludicrous predicament? Well, it all started something like this:

"Hey," I began, craning my neck to look up at Cyno. Without a word, he promptly scooped me up, his movements reminiscent of King Kong seizing his prize.

"I really don't want to go in your pocket..." I protested, my voice laced with apprehension. The last time I'd been confined to that pocket, I was bordering on the brink of a full-blown meltdown. Besides, the space was incredibly claustrophobic.

"How else are you supposed to travel, Mao?" He crossed his arms, a gesture I knew all too well.

"Walking, like a normal person..." I suggested, perhaps with a touch too much hope in my voice.

"You wouldn't be able to keep up, and the moment you set foot on the forest floor, I'm sure some ravenous beast would try to make a meal out of you," Cyno countered, painting a rather morbid, and frankly, unsettling picture.

"Isn't there any other way?" I pleaded, desperation seeping into my tone. Cyno sighed, a sound that usually preceded some form of compromise.

"I suppose I could pass you off as a jinni..." he conceded, his voice tinged with reluctance.

And that is how I ended up here, teetering on his shoulder like a brightly plumaged parrot. To add insult to injury, I was adorned in something vaguely resembling Princess Jasmine's outfit from the cartoon, albeit a significantly more modest version, for which I was eternally, deeply grateful.

"Do the Jinn really wear these?" I asked, my fingers gripping Cyno heavy cloak. Perched precariously on Cyno's broad shoulder, I couldn't help but feel like a slightly-out-of-place Princess Jasmine Barbie doll.

"Yes, when they take human form, they do." Cyno's voice was a low rumble. "But they're rare, you know. Most are kept confined – in jars, or bound to weapons, or even trapped within lamps."

I nodded, remembering the few Jinn scattered throughout the game's lore. They were creations of Nabu Malikata, powerful beings, but…

"Are they common?" I asked, my curiosity now fully ignited. I didn't recall encountering the Jinn all that frequently during my playthroughs.

"Common enough..." Cyno replied, his tone leaving me wondering just how "common" was "common enough" in this strange new reality.

Sumeru City was a feast for the senses, a vibrant tapestry of exotic scents and captivating sounds. I reveled in its beauty, often perched comfortably upon Cyno's broad shoulder, the rich aroma of spices swirling around me. Life was tranquil, until that moment that peace shattered with a single, chilling question. I overheard a voice, laced with avarice, inquiring, "How much for the Jinni?"

Being Barbie-sized, it seemed, offered no advantages in this situation. My tiny heart lurched within my chest. Did people truly see me as nothing more than a commodity, an object to be bought and sold?

"Not for sale," Cyno's voice cut through the air, firm and unwavering. In a swift, protective motion, he tucked me safely inside the secure darkness of his cloak pocket.

I wish I had an exciting secret to share, or that I had found something interesting in Cyno's pocket, but sadly, neither of those things happened. After what felt like forever, he finally pulled me out from inside his cloak.

"Mao? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a tint of worry. I gave a slight nod.

"I'm fine..." I answered, my eyes scanning the room. It looked like an office, or maybe a bedroom—possibly a studio apartment. I noticed I was sitting on a desk, and in the corner, there was a bed and a bookshelf. I tried to remember, but I couldn't recall Cyno ever having an office in the game. I knew he had a place to live, but the details were vague.

"So, what now?" I blurted out, feeling anxious as I sat on his desk. He stayed in his chair, looking at me.

"For now, I need you to tell me everything you know..." His voice was strong and determined. I had a sinking feeling that I was about to be interrogated.

I was the size of a Barbie doll, a tiny intruder in a colossal, terrifying version of my favorite game. The thought of being interrogated by Cyno, my beloved character, sent shivers down my spine.

He began with deceptively simple questions, each a calculated probe: my date of birth, my mother's maiden name, the name of my childhood pet. With unnerving precision, he recorded every answer.

The inevitable moment arrived when I had to explain Genshin Impact to him. It was a daunting task, considering Teyvat was a world untouched by computers and the technological marvels of modern Earth.

"In your world, I'm a character in a game?" he finally asked, his voice sharp and devoid of warmth.

"Yes..." I squeaked, my gaze fixed on the floor, struggling to articulate the impossible. I braced myself for anger, for threats. Instead, an unsettling calm settled over him.

"That's interesting. What do you know about me?" The crimson eyes that I once adored now sparked with an intensity that filled me with dread.

"I know you tell jokes to diffuse tense situations. I know you received your Vision while reading a book on Sumerian law, before your appointment as General Mahamatra. And I know about Collei..." The words tumbled out in a rush.

"Is this game akin to Genius Invokation TCG?" he pressed, his mind already dissecting the information.

"Yes, in a way, but far more interactive..." I offered, struggling to find the right words.

"Hmm, could that be the reason for your divergence from the other 'mini humans'? Perhaps your immersion in this world through the game..." Cyno murmured, more to himself than to me, lost in a labyrinth of his own deductions.

Before I could even blink, Cyno's hand was upon me, scooping me up with the force of King Kong. I found myself staring up at him, my expression, I imagined, resembling that of a pouting kitten cradled in his massive grip.

"Give me some warning, will you? I'm not particularly fond of being manhandled..." I leveled him with a look that could only be described as utterly done.

"Mao, I assure you, no harm is intended. We simply must be on our way..." He then proceeded to deposit me, once again, upon his shoulder. I felt like a brightly colored parrot perched there, surveying the room. He reached for a jar on his desk, the lid unscrewing to reveal some sort of almond-coated treat. Chocolate, I presumed. He offered it to me, and of course, it felt enormous in my hands. I devoured it.

"Mao, you eat like a boar piglet..." A chuckle rumbled from his chest.

A blush crept across my face. Why was this man constantly comparing me to a piglet? It was the second time now!

"I do not!" I protested, perhaps a little too vehemently. I hadn't even realized I'd finished the treat so quickly. He offered me another. I also didn't realize how ridiculous I looked.

"You do. Though, I suppose it makes sense, in a way." Cyno seemed to be thinking aloud, more to himself than to me.

"The Traveler has a floating companion, bigger than you but smaller than a child, who possesses an enormous appetite. Perhaps it's your size, coupled with your intelligence, that drives you to eat more..."

The realization dawned on me. He was talking about Paimon. He offered me another almond, and I froze as his large finger gently patted the top of my head. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me: embarrassment, anger, a strange sense of humility, a flicker of… pleasure? And underlying it all, a distinct anxiety. It hit me like a bolt of lightning: did he see me as another Paimon? Another almond, another head pat. Oh, I was a Paimon to him—a cute, adorable, albeit slightly annoying companion with an insatiable appetite. I glared at him, my annoyance palpable. I could practically see the thought bubble forming above his head: "Adorable, like a piglet."

High up on Cyno's shoulder, I felt like some strange, miniature parrot—a Paimon-esque creature under observation. I was doll-sized, perched upon the shoulder of my favorite character, being hand-fed almonds. It struck me then: did others yearn for their own Paimon? After all, the Traveler had journeyed to the farthest reaches of Teyvat, accompanied by the tiny companion. Perhaps that was the driving force behind the booming "Mini Human" market. But such thoughts were far from my mind as Cyno strode down the hall, my attention consumed by the almonds I munched on.

A confession: my pride stung a little. I was, by all accounts, average. In my daydreams of being Isekai'd, I always envisioned myself as the female lead, the center of attention. Back on Earth, I often felt like a background character in my own life. And now, here in Teyvat, the world of my beloved game, I was merely a tag-along. Not the heroine, not even a significant player—just a tiny sidekick.

As we delved further into the Akademiya, the familiar sight of the House of Daena came into view. A wave of awe replaced my earlier apprehension. This was the place where I had spent countless hours in the game, getting lost in the intricate library and longing to experience it in person. And now, here I was, although my current situation as a miniature version of myself clinging to Cyno's shoulder was difficult to overlook.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Cyno's deep voice rumbled, interrupting my thoughts. He gently patted my head, his finger feeling enormous.

"I am not! Stop petting my head!" My high-pitched, indignant voice echoed in the vast space. I clutched his cloak even tighter with my injured hand.

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Mao, you seem to be enjoying it," Cyno repeated, his face stoic and serious. Was he really that oblivious? Another almond appeared, an offering as if food could buy my cooperation. Sadly, it often did. With a resigned sigh, I raised the comically large almond to my mouth.

"I am not..." I mumbled, taking a bite of the almond. "Stupid giant Cyno, stupid almond, stupid head pat," I thought to myself.

"Why are you pouting, Mao?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I'm not!" I retorted, probably sounding just like Paimon.

The earlier integration with Cyno had been intense, and Dori's name inevitably came up. I couldn't help but throw her under the bus, exposing her "Mini humans" operation—the one dealing with humans from Earth, like my friends and I. But that was then, and this is now.

We found ourselves in the House of Daena. I sat on Cyno's shoulder, feeling like a tiny, inquisitive parrot.

"What brings us here?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I need to wait for something..." He eventually set me down on a table. Being so small was incredibly frustrating; a mountain of books towered over me. Why the secrecy? Couldn't he just tell me what was going on? I glared at him, only to receive another head pat in return.

I held back my questions. What were we waiting for, exactly? Just then, I saw him retrieving what I assumed were his Caskets of Tomes. In the game's lore, these card boxes were created by Sumeru Akademiya researchers and had a special mechanism for detecting others nearby who also possessed Caskets of Tomes.

I enjoyed the Genius Invokation TCG in Genshin Impact, but I was quickly learning that reality didn't perfectly reflect the game. The cards were half my size!

"Do you know how to play Genius Invokation TCG, Mao?"

Now I was completely baffled.

"In theory..."

He started explaining the game to me, but it was obvious he was multitasking; his attention was divided. He was watching someone, or something, else.

Perched on a thick volume, I felt utterly insignificant amidst the towering stacks of books that surrounded me. Before me, spread across the table, were the Genius Invokation TCG cards. They seemed larger than life, each one a miniature portal into the game's sprawling world. The characters depicted on the cards appeared almost holographic, shimmering like ethereal projections above the playing surface.

The selection of characters immortalized on these cards was a curious one, primarily reserved for figures of historical significance and those actively shaping society. It was why Cyno, Kaveh, and Tighnari had their own cards, their images gleaming under the soft light, while Sethos, Alhaitham, Dehya, and Collei remained absent. It was a stark contrast to the game I knew.

Cyno seemed to be juggling a multitude of tasks within the confines of his mind, his expression an unreadable mask. Even when the event he'd clearly been anticipating finally unfolded, he remained seated, betraying no outward sign of surprise or satisfaction. Once our game reached its conclusion, he abruptly scooped me up, depositing me unceremoniously into the depths of his cloak pocket.

Cyno conversation with Mao proved to be a treasure trove of information, particularly regarding her earlier circumstances. She recounted detailed observations of various individuals, painting vivid pictures with her words. One person, in particular, caught my attention: Cyno's observation of a scholar near the Akademiya. According Cyno had witnessed this scholar exchanging what appeared to be a coded note with another, hinting at Dori's network of informants embedded within the very walls of the Akademiya. Cyno's actions were so subtle, so expertly masked, that many believed he was too engrossed in our Genius Invokation TCG match to notice the clandestine exchange. But of course, nothing escapes Cyno's watchful gaze. Shortly after relaying this information, Mao, too, found herself scooped up and deposited into Cyno's pocket.

Once more, I was desperately clinging to the inside of Cyno's pocket. The constant bumping was almost unbearable. Was he engaged in another fight?

"Ugh!" The abrupt movements made my stomach churn. I was thrown around like a rag doll, screaming and struggling to hold on.

Through the thick material, I could hear his voice, loud and muffled.

"What information do you have regarding the black market for mini-humans? I am aware of who your superior is..." His voice was cold, leaving no room for argument or excuses. "There's no point in lying."

He sounded absolutely frightening. Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled me out of his pocket. By this point, I was almost used to being held up like this. The sudden exposure to the bright sunlight was nearly blinding.

I blinked, trying to adjust my vision as I realized Cyno had some unfortunate person pinned against a wall with one hand, while I dangled precariously from the other.

"Do you recognize her?" Cyno's firm grip was the only thing preventing me from falling, but I trusted him completely not to drop me.

"Take a close look..." He held me up, presenting me to the scholar's face.

"It's a mini; they all appear the same..." the scholar stuttered, although I noticed a hint of recognition in his eyes.

"That's rude..." I gave him a look that clearly said, "I'm so over this." I didn't expect his reaction; he screamed.

"It's talking! It's talking..." the scholar yelled, clearly bewildered. Apparently, according to the Akademiya, earthlings – their creative name for "mini-humans" or "minis" – weren't supposed to be able to speak and only had the intelligence of a cat or dog.

"What's wrong with it? Is this an abnormal...?"

"No, she isn't..." Cyno's presence alone was enough to easily intimidate the scholar. I was simply there for the ride, a prop in his interrogation. Before long, Cyno had gotten the information he needed and placed the scholar under arrest.

Once more, I found myself perched on Cyno's broad shoulder, feeling like a brightly colored parrot. He released the scholar he'd been holding to the waiting Matra, his expression hardening.

"We have much to do, Mao..." His voice, usually so measured, now carried a weight that made my non-existent stomach clench. I hated this diminutive form, this feeling of being a mere doll. I was not a child, despite the way he treated me. Another head pat, delivered with the force of his massive finger, only amplified my frustration.

"Can you please explain to me what's going on?" I demanded, glaring up at him with all the ferocity I could muster.

"We are going to get to the bottom of this," he declared, his gaze fixed on some distant point. "Clearly, you are the normal one in this equation. There is something deeply amiss when others of your kind arrive in this world... We are going to hold those responsible accountable. It simply isn't right to enslave an entire group of people for the sake of companionship... Especially when they are rendered unable to speak for themselves."

The realization washed over me then: I was now an unwitting participant in Cyno's personal quest for justice. Another head pat landed, and I could see he genuinely believed I enjoyed them. I didn't have the heart to correct him. A weary part of me screamed that I'd had enough adventure, that I just wanted to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. But deep down, I knew I no longer had a choice in the matter. My fate was intertwined with his.

"So, what now?" I asked, the question hanging in the air.

"We'll go undercover..." Cyno stated, a glint of determination in his eyes as if he had a fully formed plan already brewing. Undercover? That didn't seem like his usual style. He looked incredibly resolute, a man on a mission.

To be continued, maybe......

[vibratingskull]

Your fics are everything! I love them!

I noticed in a couple you had this idea that Thrawn was severely injured and in a wheelchair when he first arrived in Peridea? And that was why he perhaps isn't in as peak shape nowadays?

It gave me a fic idea...

Thrawns SO is also on Peridea with him and as a result of his injuries is now taking care of him whilst he tries to recover. Assisting him with things he's never needed help with before...dressing, washing ect..

Thrawn seems to take it in stride but is secretly struggling with having to be looked after this way (particularly someone like him who is a tad prideful and values his independence).

SO wants to care for him obviously but is also struggling seeing him in pain and with the loneliness and isolation from being in exile on Peridea and is starting to feel the pressure of their situation.

They are also helping him delegate tasks and relay messages between him/troops/enoch/great mothers, etc...

SO isn't an officer so is having to undertake responsibilities they aren't used to.

They are getting on with everything quietly ignoring the stress/tension that's building between the two of them...until some event that triggers a loud, emotional, teary argument which untimely gets resolved after a long chat where they honest with each other about how they are feeling...

Just an idea 🙃 I thank you for your fanfiction writing service 🫡 💙

My king in pain (இ﹏இ`｡) My handsome king... He will rise above every trials!

⊹₊⟡⋆ Thrawn x GN!reader ⊹₊⟡⋆

Tags : Thrawn is disabled and in a wheelchair, support system, Reader tries their best, slight hurt/comfort

“Keep going Grand Admiral.” The medic instructs. 

Focused Thrawn takes another step on the treadmill in the pool. He cannot properly walk and can barely stand, but you hope that this physical therapy at least alleviates his suffering... 

Really, the medic team is doing a wonderful job with the so little they have here on Peridea! This is a true miracle that this pound is possible with how rare the water is here but trough an ingenious process of water recycling, it can be maintained and help a lot of the Chimaera’s warrior to heal. 

And one of them is Thrawn, no less. Your beloved husband, your Ch’acah. 

“All right. It is enough for today.” The medic decides. 

“I can push farther.” Thrawn indicates, decided to mend the fastest possible. 

“Those wounds are treacherous, Sir. Pushing farther could aggravate them, no matter how comfortable you think you feel. I would suggest you stop for today, you made great progress.” 

Nobody said anything but everyone thought it, he makes good progress but still cannot walk. Thrawn is even the first one to think it! Always pushing himself harder despite his own limitations. 

He is not used to remaining sitting in a wheelchair all day long after all, he is used to moving around, training for long hours, and going on the battlefield! But now he is bound to that chair that he loathes. 

You seize the wheelchair and approach the pool to help him get out and sit. You push him to the locker rooms to help him dry himself and get dressed. You are very careful but any movement of his lower body sends waves of pain in his nerves and he sometimes cannot control the subtle twitch of his features. 

You hate seeing him like that! 

In pain and tired... It breaks your heart into a million pieces. 

“Your new uniform will soon be ready. I received the news while you were in the pool.” You let him know with a comforting smile. 

Thrawn silently nods, undisturbed as he finishes to button up his white jacket. 

A jacket that is now a bit too tight, just like his pants. 

Your warrior put on a few pounds since you crashed and when you told him the number on the scale he asked you to repeat, like he could not believe it. His weight had never risen so high before! And those aren’t new muscles! 

He was not pleased. It was invisible to people who didn’t know him as well as you do, but you could clearly see him being moody for an entire day.  

He is softening up! He is losing his athletic build earned after infinite hours of labor and effort! ‘His muscles are melting under his skin’ as he once said to you on the pillows of your bed... 

The medic did plan for him a training program but with so dire wounds incapacitating him, those meager exercises could never replace the high training level he once had! 

And right now, the idea of needing a larger uniform isn’t sitting well with him. 

In fact, he harbors that idea. He harbors this new life despite all your efforts to make it more comfortable. 

“Let’s go to my office, I need to receive Enoch.” He orders once he is ready. 

He starts rolling his wheels but you grab the handles and start pushing him. You think he tenses but you can’t be sure. 

Everyone salutes him very respectfully when you cross paths with them. Everyone knows that if they are still alive and running today it is thanks to Thrawn’s quick thinking and meticulous organization. Despite being bound to a chair he remains a cunning and intelligent leader and everyone respects him even more for it now. 

But it is also a bit thanks to you too. 

Since day one you helped Thrawn, playing the secretary, the messenger, the head nurse, the therapist, the teams’ manager, etc... Each time Thrawn could not do something by himself or with a click on a datapad, you came running to help and do it yourself. 

It is a lot of work and stress. You are no military officer of any kind, you are a civilian, and Thrawn tactics are so delicate you are afraid one single wrong word from you could crumble everything! You are not meant for that kind of stuff! But you will do it to help your lover no question asked, even if it tires you. 

It’s the least you can do. 

You reach his office after a moment where Enoch is already waiting at the door. They enter and start discussing strategies you do not understand as your talents lie more into the negotiations with the Bandits for gaining resources for the Chimaera. 

Military planning is way out of your comfort zone! 

“We should send a squadron with a small group of bandits to the west of the mountains. After Ezra Bridger’s last feat, it is the only logical place he would choose as a bastion to recover. We should prioritize this area above everything else.” Thrawn declares. 

“Those mountains already claimed the lives of too many of our troops, sir. I suggest we bypass them with the south route.” Enoch suggests. 

You remain in the back, classifying some files while they discuss, sorting the news for Thrawn on your datapad since the officers realized they had as much chance by reaching you as him. You remain silent, only listening with one ear as you send one file to another bigger file or modify the order of priorities of some emails while sending the latest of Thrawn’s orders to the technicians’ teams. 

“I know that, Captain.” Thrawn responds with a drawling voice that grabs your attention, “I have... Prepared an assault in consequence. I... I...” 

“Sir?” Enoch asks unsure. 

When you look up from your screen you see Thrawn, head in his hand, taking support on the table in front of him like he was the victim of a strong headache. 

“Thrawn? Thrawn!” You shout, hurrying at his side, “Another vertigo?” You frantically search in your little bag until you find an emergency syringe. 

You pull on his sleeve and gently jab his arm, he slowly relaxes as the adrenaline and neurostimulant solution spreads in his veins, letting escape a small sigh of relief. 

This is a potent medicine for his frequent vertigo but you don’t have an infinite amount of them. 

He carefully straightens back his spine and neck, like he is recovering his senses, eyes closed he takes a long and deep breath, stabilizing himself. He reopens his eyes, clear and assured if not tired. 

You remain kneeling next to him, holding his hand desperately. He gently squeezes it, soothing you. 

“I am sorry for that scare, I did not foresee that vertigo.” 

“Are you all right Thrawn?” You ask barely breathing with worry. 

“I am Ch’acah, thank you.” He turns his head with you, definitely weary. 

“I will let you be and take my leave for today Grand Admiral. The troops need exercises, I will handle it.” Enoch explains, with enough tact to give a false reason as to why he needs to depart. 

Thrawn lazily nods at his captain who stands to attention and leaves you two in the office. You press Thrawn’s hand to your lips to kiss it, worry barely disappearing from your veins. Thrawn is subject to a lot of vertigo because of his spine injury and you are consistently afraid he will have a crisis when you are not around. 

“Thank you, ch’eo Ch’acah.” Thrawn repeats distractedly. 

You rise up to kiss his cheek desperately. 

“You need rest, my Warrior. I’ll guide you to our suite.” You assure him 

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

Snip, snip, snip. 

You finish cutting Thrawn’s hair after his bath where you helped him undress, sit down, wash, dry, and dress back up. 

This is... Exhausting honestly. And it hurts your back. 

You too are aging up after all. 

You comb his luscious strands cautiously because he cannot lift his arms with his spine injuries. You know he is displeased by the entire situation. He is a fiercely independent person and to be forced to rely on someone else for such minute tasks as brushing his hair must be infuriating to him. 

But as always he lets appear only the bare minimum. He remains mute and closes back on himself, a hard expression on his regal face, never letting you know the true content of his thoughts. 

You just finished tidying the comb when someone knocks at the door of the suite. 

“I’ll see who it is.” You warn Thrawn. 

It’s one of the tailors who brings you the new uniform you ordered for your beloved. You thank them and close the door with the box in hand. When you turn away, Thrawn rolls into the living room, coming to learn what this is all about. 

You open the lid and show him the pure white jacket. 

“You will be more comfortable now, Ch’acah!” You smile at him. 

He considers the piece of clothing in silence before squinting. 

“Could you please show me that?” He demands, extending his hand to you. 

You hand him the jacket that he holds as high as he can to look it up closely. 

“This is several size too large.” He sentences. 

“I know.” You reveal, putting the box on the table, “I wanted one you could wear for longer even if you keep gaining more weight.”  

He lowers the garment to looks at you dead in the eyes. 

“Because you think it will be necessary?” He asks coldly. 

“Well I...” 

“you think I cannot make it?” 

“No, I meant-” 

“You think I will remain bounds to this chair forever?” 

“Thrawn, you know I don’t! I-” 

“Then that precaution was not necessary, was it not?” He keeps firing. 

“Thrawn...You know that... Your condition is...” 

You see him clenching his fists around the white fabric despite his voice remaining deadly calm. 

“What about my condition? Do you know something I do not?” 

“No, but-” 

“Do you know anything at all? To be strapped to this chair, to be a prisoner of my own body?” The tone gets icy cold and you know you are not meant to respond, “To be forced to lose all my strength and witness my own organism decay? Do you know how that feels? Do you have any idea?” 

“Thrawn, please...” You beg 

“Do you know of the frustration of being forced to rely on someone else for the most basic tasks as washing oneself or eating properly? Do you know of the humiliation of not being able to walk from one location to another and needing someone to push you?” 

“Thrawn... Please stop...” You feel tears building behind your eyes. 

“Do you know of the physical pain of each minute movement? That all stretch feels like stabbing the flesh?” 

“THRAWN ENOUGH!” You explode, shouting at your lover at the end of yourself. 

Thrawn closes his mouth, not used to seeing you lash out, especially at him. He considers you in silence awaiting your explanation. 

“You... You are unfair, Thrawn...” You feel the first tear rolling down your cheek as you start trembling, “I am doing my best to help you! I bend over backward to make your life a little bit more comfortable and less painful, I watch over you and your crew when you are not around, I nurse you every day and I run all the errands.” 

You starts sobbing while Thrawn slouches in his chair, listening, mute. 

“I know... I know I am not perfect. I know you are in constant pain and I hate that. I viscerally hate to see you suffer like that every day, but I do my best, I really try the hardest I can, but I am only human...” 

Thrawn reopens his mouth to close it back immediately. He holds the bridge of his nose letting out a frustrated sigh before looking at you softly. 

“I am sorry Ch’acah.” He calls for you, “I should not have lashed out, it was distasteful of me. I am sorry.” 

You wipe one tear with the back of your hand when he invites you to come sit on his lap. You carefully sit down, pressing yourself against him. 

“I know you try your very best for me, and it was disgusting of me to imply you knew nothing about what I am going through. Could you find it in you to forgive me one day?” He almost pleads, caressing the roundness of your cheek with his knuckles, “My beloved, my Ch’acah... Do not cry because of me, I am not worth your tears.” 

You tssk, circling his neck with your arms to hug him tight. 

“Shut up you idiot Chiss!” You retorts, voice still full of tears but oh so slowly calming down, “You are worth every single tear!” 

He embraces you back, cradling you gently as he inhales your scent deep into his lungs to soothe himself. 

“It was not like me to lash out like that. You did not deserve those words.” He apologizes. 

“You are constantly in pain and frustrated... It happens, even to the very best... Even to you.” 

“I am so lucky to have you in my life, to help me live through this. I could not dream of a better partner, Ch’acah. I love you so much. Ch'ah ch'atcupun tat vah, nan'eo k'ustirah ch'ah.” 

“What does that means?” You ask, gaining your assertiveness back between the last remaining tears. 

“Nothing.” He lies, “Let me hug you, Ch’acah.” 

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @janjtje @helrose8

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

To heck with it--FragMem fluff

aka Happy First Anniversary to Fragaria Memories!

Apologies if OOC, this is the gist that I got of their characteristics. I hope you guys enjoy regardless!

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

It was looking to be another late night in the castle's library, but at least you had the quilt Romarriche gifted you to keep the increasing chills away, and small snacks and tea to keep your spirits up.

Actually, you never brought the snacks and tea: they were always there when you came into the library. It started almost a month ago and none of the librarians could tell you who left them there (or so they claimed). You had an idea who the culprit was regardless; you recognized the tea set and plates as the ones he reserved just for special guests. You didn't approach him about them, though, afraid that if you did, your fluttering heart would make it difficult for you to properly thank him.

Besides, you still needed to figure out what to gift him back in return for the quilt. You've considered an embroidery of a bouquet of roses, tea from another kingdom that you think he may enjoy, and a quilt of your own making, to name a few. They were good ideas, but now that he was providing refreshments, you thought the gift should be a little more refined--

You blink, refocusing on the form in front of you. You chide yourself for letting your mind wander back to gift ideas and him. You have forms to finish and a bed to fall into, now isn't the time!

With a huff, you reread the paragraph and adjust the quilt over your shoulders. Your fingers run over the stitching and feel the soft texture of the fabric. Even if it's been months already, you still appreciate the craftsmanship of the quilt and you are thankful for the comfort it brings.

You know what, perhaps you should make a quilt after all; you aren't as skilled as the older needle-workers, but you're pretty good at the craft. You just need to figure out what patterns he likes, maybe you can casually bring it up the next time you two chat. While you're at it, you should thank him for the refreshments. He's so thoughtful, and you really should have told him you appreciate them when they started appearing.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the paperwork, your sleepy mind further wanders to him and plans for the quilt.

It isn't long before you quietly doze off.

You're not sure how long you were asleep, but when you become conscious, you realize a few things:

One, you're being carried by someone.

Two, you're snuggling against this person, who is so warm and whose arms feel safe to be in.

Three, there's a faint perfume of roses, tea, and a certain sweet something that altogether is unique to one person.

Romarriche.

Romarriche is carrying you.

You try to keep calm and be still. If you are still dreaming, you don't want to wake up quite yet.

After a few seconds, he stops to open a door and the familiar scent of the scented candle you burned earlier greets your nose. He's brought you to your room.

You feel yourself being laid on your bed, legs hanging over the edge, and your shoes carefully taken off. He lifts you up and puts you down again so that you're lying completely on the mattress, and your heart flutters at how he does it so effortlessly. The blankets are pulled up to your chin and gentle hands tuck you in. All the while, Romarriche whispers to the supposedly sleeping you.

"I deeply admire you for your dedication to doing excellent work and wanting to help wherever you can. I just wish there was a way where you wouldn't have to push yourself to exhaustion."

You feel strands of your hair being brushed away from your face. His fingers lightly touch your cheek and linger there.

"I feel that every time we meet, the bags under your eyes get deeper, and I cannot help but be more worried. I do remember what you told me that night, but I also remember you nearly falling asleep into your lunch just last week and again three days ago."

He sighs. "I want you to know that your coworkers and I would be more than willing to share your burden. You wouldn't need to stay later than usual that way."

His perfume gradually becomes stronger. "I hope that somehow, my words can reach you in your dreams. I dearly care about you and wish for you better health."

Something soft touches your forehead; it doesn't get past being feather light. It's there for just a second, then it's gone along with his scent.

"No," you hear him whisper to himself, "I mustn't. It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

Hang on, that tone in his voice. It couldn't be longing, could it?

He sighs again, then says with a smile in his voice, "Have sweet dreams, dearest."

Once he leaves, you open your eyes and think about what just happened. You clench your hands and internally scream.

Romarriche cared about you this much?! Did he know that you appreciate him and that you really like him?!

A realization hits you that makes your face warm up.

That feather-light touch on your forehead. . .

"It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

". . . dearest. . ."

He was in the process of kissing your forehead and stopped because he didn't know if you felt the same towards him.

Romarriche liked you.

You smack a hand over your now burning hot face. Great Strawberry King, you really need to work on that quilt ASAP!

. . . And tell him that you like him back.

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

You look forward to harvesting the newest species of apples, so much so that you're sure the horses would roll their eyes if they could whenever you gush about it. You can't help it! You just love seeing how well the apples grew, and tasting one and thinking about the potential dishes you can make.

Stepping outside, you take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air and smile. The sun is just on the verge of peeking over the horizon and the autumn chill lightly bites your cheeks. You notice some farmers climbing into a wagon, likely coming back from the kitchen after delivering vegetables and apples for this morning's breakfast, and you wave to them. They wave back, then head on to their side of the field.

Your fellow harvesters won't arrive until a little later, so you decide to meander around.

You pass rows of various fruits and take a quick look at a patch of ripe pumpkins. Your lips immediately lift into a smile as you remember a certain Fragaria helping the farmers plant the seeds and attentively listening to their talks about pumpkins.

He was cute and had a very bright personality, was proud and had faith in the goodness of everyone he met. You two would have small chats at random times throughout the day, but nothing more beyond that, what with his knightly duties and your tending to the farm and the livestock keeping the two of you busy. You'd really like to get to know him better.

You look up every so often at the sky for incoming warm shades and you rub your hands together or lift the collar of your coat a little higher. You don't mind the autumn weather, but it does get a bit too chilly for your liking. It still doesn't stop you from getting up early and being the first to be ready to harvest.

You suddenly hear your name being called. Startled, you turn around.

Jogging down the dirt path, white and red uniform visible in the early gray morning, is Hallritt. He stops before you, panting, and his cheeks are pink from the autumn chill and the small excursion. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but I wanted to give you something."

He holds up a red knitted scarf and your eyes widen.

"It's just, I've noticed that you keep hunching into your coat and I get worried that you might catch a cold. So, I learned how to knit a scarf," Hallritt explains bashfully. "I'm sorry if it's a little crooked in some parts. I've never knitted before and practiced before making this, but. . . I hope you still like it."

You're silent as your mind registers his words; he slowly starts to become worried. But before he could say anything, you smile and say, "I haven't seen you a lot as usual and thought it was just my imagination. I appreciate this, Hallritt!"

Your fingers brush against his when you accept the scarf. In that brief moment, you feel a tiny spark that makes your heart skip a beat. You don't notice that Hallritt's eyes had widened a little, feeling the same tiny spark.

You wrap it around your neck and immediately laugh. Hallritt joins with his own. "I didn't realize the scarf would be this long," he says.

"No, it's perfect! Look, I can wrap my hands around the ends!" You proceed to demonstrate this.

"That's a relief!"

Somewhere beyond the rows, you hear horses fussing, and the sky starts to take on a pink tint. "I have to get going soon. Will I see you at the stables later?"

"Yeah! I have to apologize to Blossom for not visiting her for so long. I hope she can forgive me if I bring her treats."

"For someone like you, I'm sure she will."

"Wow, you really love that scarf," your friend observes.

"How could I not? It's so soft and warm!" you say, nuzzling against the yarn.

"You sure it's not just because the knight gave it to you himself?" they tease.

Your cheek warm up and you narrow your eyes at your friend. "No!"

After a beat of silence, you quietly say, "It was nice of him to make this for me, though. I've been racking my brain for the past hours settling on a gift."

You sit back against the barrier of the cart, staring at the clear sky. "I'd like to make him something with apples, but there's just so many things I could do!"

Your friend considers something. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen you try the apples we just harvested."

You blink and sit up, knowing your friend is a fellow baker. "Have you?"

They smile. "I think the taste will speak for itself."

Hallritt had been looking forward to chatting with you again, so he was a little disappointed when you weren't around as much as usual. Was this how you felt when he got preoccupied with knitting the scarf? He feels bad now.

"Hallritt!" To his pleasant surprise, it's you. The scarf is wrapped twice around your neck, and the ends flutter a little behind you as you jog towards him.

"Hey!" you greet, stopping before him. "I was hoping you'd be here. Here, I want to give you something."

You hold up a small casserole dish wrapped in cloth.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" he says.

You shake your head, insisting. "It's thanks for the scarf."

When he accepts it, he could feel the warmth of whatever you had made. "I made it with the newest species of apples. It took me a little bit to come up with the recipe, but I did it!" you explain proudly.

"You came up with the dish from scratch? Now I really can't wait to try! At the same time, it makes me relieved. I've been wondering where you've been for the past weeks."

"Sorry about that, Hallritt." You shrug and smile apologetically.

"There's no need!" A thought comes to him. "Why don't we go to the parlor and share this? I've. . . kind of missed talking with you."

Your cheeks heat up. "Honestly, me too. But you don't have to share, though! If anything, I'd like to hear what you think of them."

And so the two of you spent a cozy afternoon in the parlor, catching up and laughing, and unknowingly moving closer together.

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

You yelp again for what seemed like the umpteenth time and manage to catch yourself against a brick wall. You're usually good at handling icy paths, but you've never gone down this street before and it is ridiculously slippery. You wouldn't be surprised if this street has an associated notoriety.

"Are you all right?" Tuxam asks, just three paces in front of you. You are impressed and envious over how he hasn't slipped even once during the walk. You think his cane might be helping, but it doesn't take away your feeling.

"Yes, just almost slipped again is all," you say, shaking your head and steadying yourself.

". . . Here." You look up from the sidewalk. He's offering his arm to you. "H-hold on to my arm."

He clears his throat, embarrassed by the stutter, and the dust of pink on his cheek darkens. He's still avoiding eye contact as he says, "As a gentleman, it would be unforgivable if I continued to allow the risk of you falling and hurting yourself. It is already improper that I let you slip the past few times already. O-of course, you do not need to accept my help, if you aren't comfortable!"

Like any other citizen of this kingdom, you are aware of Tuxam's fixation of being a proper gentleman. While there are moments where you think he is going overboard, you think it is charming how he insists on holding open the door for the next person or pulling out a chair for you to sit in. Or maybe you just think the Fragaria himself is cute--ahem!

You shake your head and smile. "No, it's fine! I appreciate it."

He's stiff and a little awkward as you both loop arms, but as you two continue down the sidewalk, he relaxes--just a little bit. This is much closer than the two of you have ever been; the other time was when he readjusted your tie and had unknowingly stood very close. You wouldn't forget how embarrassed he got over invading your personal space, but you didn't mind. . . mostly because you yourself were preoccupied by your racing heart.

You spy the two of you in a reflective glass pane. You had a pleased but shy smile on your face while Tuxam had a straight but blushing face. Altogether, you two looked like a couple heading for their first outing.

Whoosh!

"Whoa!"

A gust of cold wind suddenly smacks into you two. Immediately, you duck and huddle closer against Tuxam, your free hand gripping his sleeve. Once it passes, you look to him.

"Sorry about that, I was--Tuxam, are you okay?"

His face is bright red and he seems to be on the verge of exploding. He shakes his head. "Yes, I'm all right. You don't need to trouble yourself over me. Are you all right?"

"Yes, just surprised is all. Oh, your hat's a little crooked. Here, let me fix it."

You unlink your arms and adjust the hat accordingly. You then notice his bow tie is crooked as well and begin to carefully fix it. All the while, Tuxam is quiet. Another wind comes, but it's significantly calmer and causes loose snow from building roofs to fall.

He can't stop staring at you. He thought of you as perfection when the two of you first met, and being able to properly see your face, he was well reminded of it. The backdrop of lightly falling snow makes the scene somehow more beautiful.

You eventually notice his staring and realize how close your faces are. Your cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry, am I standing too close?"

He blinks, cheeks heating up as well. "Ah, no! I was just. . ." He falters for a moment, then collects himself. "Thank you for fixing my appearance. It would have been improper if it continued to appear unruly."

You smile in response. "Of course, Tuxam. Shall we continue walking?"

He agrees. When the two of you link your arms again, he's a little less stiff than before.

A few paces down the sidewalk, he speaks up. "If you need to hold onto me with both hands, you may. Your safety and comfort are important, and it wouldn't do if I ignored those."

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

You remind him of the poems he read about the the spring and summer breezes. Warm and refreshing, and a singing voice that carries beautifully across the field or a room with an open window. Sometimes, the breeze that is you turns into a dizzying wind full of anxieties. He's more than happy to listen to whatever is on your mind, and for that, you're forever grateful.

You try to repay him for being so patient and willing to listen to your anxious thoughts, but he waves them off. You accompanying him on his traverses into the nearby fields is more than enough.

It's something the two of you do sometimes after all the work is done, if the sun is shining brightly and Puruth is in the mood to look for four leaf clovers. Sometimes you bring your lyre to get his opinion on a work in progress or to have something to fiddle with. There are moments where you even come up with a poem or random composition on the spot.

The latter scenario isn't that rare, not when he looks right at home in a sunny flower field. You'll often see Puruth standing in the middle of ankle-height grass, staring at the distance with a relaxed smile, while the sun casts its golden light on him and turns him into an enchanting prince.

You think Puruth has caught on that some of your sporadic poems and compositions are inspired by him. You also think he's aware that you're aware some of the poems he writes himself are inspired by you.

Neither of you seem to want to point it out, but if the glint in his eyes are anything to go by and if he understands the glint in yours, this arrangement is just fine. It's basically a fun little open secret between the two of you, one that you hope lasts for a long time.

The gentle rustle of leaves. The smell of dirt and a tinge of lavender in the passing breeze. You open your eyes to the sleeping face of Puruth just a small step away from you. He's facing you, and you wonder if he had fallen asleep while watching over you. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the hour before you fell asleep, the two of you climbed up a small hill and sat beneath one of the trees at its top. There, he read poems from a book he borrowed from the town's library and the two of you chatted about them. You vaguely remember a poem about dandelions and thinking how nice it was to listen to his voice and how comfortable the grass felt.

The book now sits between the two of you; a ladybug was making its way across the cover. Surely Puruth wouldn't mind if you looked through to see what other poems were there.

You sit up--and that's when you discover something that makes you chuckle.

Three-leaf clovers have been stuck through the buttonholes of your jacket and the loops of your shoelaces. Puruth must have collected the clovers and stuck them in while you were asleep.

You pick the one at the very top of your shirt and realize it's a four-leaf clover. You huff through your nose, smiling. Carefully, you tuck it in his hair--then stand up and head down the hill to look for a clover patch.

In just a few minutes, his hair is dotted with the little green flora. You didn't have Puruth's luck in finding four-leaf clovers, but at least he had the one he gave to you. You silently laugh at your handiwork and reward yourself with reading the book of poems, eagerly waiting for his reaction when he wakes up.

You hope afternoons like these last for a long time.

[azyimnothere]

HEEEEEELLLLOOOO GUYS GUYS GUYS!!!! 💙💙💙

How are we doing today? I know that they were doing great

It's pretty much an idealized version of what I think that Velchid selfie turned out like, I'd imagine that those little star cameras aren't all that great in resolution since they have so much going on in them to just be able to fly, do you think they'd be like drones or something? If that's the case I can just imagine how bad the paparazzi are in Mount Rageous, or would those cameras only be red carpet exclusive? Who knows, but either way I tried to make it look like a little shittier photo with a lot of blinga-ding from reflection and lights. I hope you guys like it! It isn't my best work to be honest but it's nice 😅

Oh and I don't know if this is already a thing or not, because I checked everywhere and couldn't really find it, tell me if you know someone who made this thingy first so I don't falsely claim it as mine okay?

So it's one where Orchid becomes a surprise assistant to Velvet and Veneer! (And of course Velchid is sprinkled in...not really sprinkled in, more like there's a full tub of salt)

So here's a little backstory if you want to know :D

As we know, there was mentioning of an assistant in the movie, or I just imagine it, I'm not sure atp it's 3 in the morning.

Anywhezel, so I thought it would be in one of those accidental encounters by chance.

Crimp had a hard day, on the verge of a breakdown every second because siblings became "kinda" overbearing, and with no assistant around to help (because they most likely quit), she had no help around them. There was nobody who was willing to take the job that was licensed for working and helping celebrities that way because of all the horror stories previous assistants shared around. Siblings didn't really care Crimp was alone with them, so they just put all the extra stuff on her.

Crimp knew she needed a bit of help purely to keep her sanity on the line with her, so she decided to take a walk and think about what to do next (after she made sure siblings were in bed of course). She sat on a bench in the nearest neon-colored park and cried, not knowing what else to do, and had to let it out.

But she heard someone approaching, turns out it was a purple haired mount rageon and she looked at Crimp sadly, and asking her what's wrong. That's how Crimp met Orchid!

Orchid was making her way from the grocery store and saw Crimp crying on the bench late at night, Orchid recognised her easily since Crimp was mentioned a few times by the siblings on social media, there were also some photos. Plus, despite being small she was hard to miss.

Crimp explained her situation and told Orchid she couldn't do everything alone anymore, and that no one was willing to take over a bit of the burden since the siblings simply scared everyone off. Which made Orchid feel sorry for her.

But Orchid figured, that she could perhaps help Crimp out, the job at that doughnut shop she worked at just wasn't payed enough for her to move out of her mom's apartment, she wasn't forced to move but craved some independence ever since she turned 18 (which wasn't that long ago).

A good bonus was that she got to work with her favorite duo! despite it probably, being a little challenging.

Orchid gave that proposition to Crimp, which made Crimp a bit sceptical, Orchid was a nice girl and didn't deserve that kind of stress, but Orchid persisted because Crimp didn't deserve all that stress either.

On the end Crimp agreed, it only had to go through the approval of the siblings first.

And as expected, Veneer didn't really mind who was helping Crimp as long as they helped Crimp in the first place, and everything gets done in time.

Velvet on the other hand wasn't all that for it, she remembered Orchid faintly from a memory of a concert, which meant Orchid was a fan, she didn't want some nosy stalker snooping around. But as she inspected further, and listened to what Crimp had to say, she reconsidered it and ended up agreeing, unenthusiastically.

So that's how Orchid is now a busy celebrity assistant for two.

The story is a little basic, but it is solid I think, there will probably be comics about it in the future if you're interested! 💕

Also here's some Ritzneer I didn't post, warning! Boys kissing!!!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Love you lovelies!!!! 💙💙💙💙

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 4/12

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers' life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now, when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

"So you're the children's caregiver now?"

"No, Laleh. I'm still just their aunt." What a waste of your lunch break, you thought. Laleh was grilling you with questions all through your walk in the park. You should have stayed at the office, perhaps snuck up to the roof top and joined the chainsmokers on their lunch break. Lord knows you could use a cigarette right about now.

"But you're the only one caring for them, no?"

"Well, my parents sent me money for the week while the kids are staying with me. But, yes, their dad has gone a bit M.I.A for the moment. I suppose Ruben and I are the only ones caring for the children."

And how does he feel about that?"

"What do you mean?" You stopped before a park bench, behind it a large oak tree where a group of senior citizens were practicing Tai chi.

"Well you've involuntarily made Ruben a father figure now." Laleh said.

"What? No I haven't. The children call him uncle Ruben but that's because my sister and I joked about it once. It kinda stuck, but Ruben knows he is not responsible for the children in any way."

"But you are."

"Yes. I am. So what?"

"I dunno Y/N. It just feels like it can get a bit messy if you and Ruben aren't on the same page."

"Well, we are. The children are leaving tomorrow. Both my parents are coming to London to help clean out the rest of Liza's things. They're taking Emmy and Vale with them to Bournemouth after that, while their father stays back and continues to try and sell the house."

"It's really that bad huh?" Laleh picked up your walk, taking a sip of her coffee. "Does he want all traces of your sister gone?"

You nodded. "But I think it's for the best. There is no need for him and the children to be reminded of her everyday. It would be too painful. "

"And how about you, how are you holding up?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you—"

"Auntie Y/N!"

"Emmy, Vale, what are you two doing here?"

Fallen leaves rustled on the ground as the children came sprinting your way.

"Look what Uncle Ruben got us." Said Vale, waving his melting popsicle. Emmy was nibbling on hers, almost chewing on the stick.

"Ice cream?" You questioned. "In the middle of the day."

"Uncle Ruben said we could have as many as we like."

"Did he now?" You raised your head, watching Ruben as he walked towards you with a football at his feet. You crossed your arms, a smile on your face as he approached. He was supposed to babysit the kids while you were at work, not give them cavities.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Hey Laleh." He greeted her while pressing a kiss to your cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine. I see you guys have a full house now."

"More or less." He sighed. A sigh that caused a jab in your stomach.

"Baby, you didn't have to take the kids out to the park. You could have just watched them while you were resting." It was supposed to be Ruben's day off and now you felt guilty for ruining it.

"Yeah, but they got pretty bored of watching TV all day." He said. "I didn't mind taking them to the park. We had pretty fun playing football."

"Uncle Ruben lost." Emmy said, throwing away her popsicle stick in the nearest bin. "I thought you said that he was a professional auntie Y/N?"

"I am." Ruben frowned.

"Could have fooled me." Emmy scoffed and walked off to join her brother that had taken interest in the old people doing a funny dance under the oak tree.

"It was two against one." Ruben assured you.

Laleh laughed.

"Sure it was, baby." You patted his arm.

"It was. And I was tired from a whole week of training."

"Of course you were." You pushed up and pecked his lips, whispering against his mouth, "I hope you're not too tired for tonight. I'm finally off my period."

Ruben's eyes widened with interest, a smirk twitching his lips. "I'll see you at home then."

"See you." You waved, teeth biting down on your lips.

You went back to work that afternoon with mixed feelings. The week had gone by so fast. Your niece and nephew were going back home to live with their dad just when they were starting to come to terms with the fact that their mother was never coming back to them. It will be hard to let them go, not knowing if your parents will pamper them with the same loving affirmation like you have been doing every day for the past week.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ruben's chest vibrated against your face, his voice quiet and deep in the night. The children had gone to bed early while you and Ruben stayed up in your room, finally getting a moment to yourself.

"I'm worried about Emmy and Vale."

"You are? Why?" Ruben's finger drew lazy patterns on the hill of your naked shoulder. He did so, tracing his finger down your arm and then back up again, causing goosebumps to rise.

"My parents..." You sighed. "They're not very good with kids."

"No?"

"No."

Ruben lay quiet, his eyes gazing at the ceiling before stating the obvious. "Didn't they have two of their own?"

You shut your eyes, but shifted so that your chin rested against Ruben's sternum. Your eyes opened and found Ruben watching you, his expression dark but attentive.

"They did have two kids." You nodded. "But my sister and I took care of each other. At least for the most part. It was mainly in our teens that our parents stopped paying attention to us. Almost as if they one day decided that they had done enough for us."

"I see." Ruben removed a strand of hair from your face, letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"It was terrible." You said, remembering your parents' first vacation without you, and then the second one and the third one.... Liza wasn't too bothered by their absence, but that's because she had football. You on the other hand developed some bad attachment issues. Issues that showed themselves in future relationships. Mainly how you handled heartbreak, often blaming yourself. You also put others before you to a point where your own boss found you a replacement to cover your shift at work, only because she knew that you wouldn't dare to ask for a day off on your birthday. That's how much of a people pleaser you were (had become).

"It's a good thing that they have each other, no?"

"Huh?"

Ruben nibbled his fingers at your earlobe. "Emmy and Vale," He said. "I'm sure that they'll be looking after each other."

"Yes, but they shouldn't have to. My parents should—"

There was a crack of the door as it slowly came ajar. "Auntie Y/N?"

"Emmy?" You quickly reached for the bed sheets.

"Auntie Y/N, we can't sleep."

"No?" You couldn't see her where you lay pressed against Ruben's naked chest, the two of you butt naked under the sheets. Nevertheless, the door cracked open some more and you sighed.

"Yes. Me and Vale. Can we sleep in here with you and uncle Ruben?"

"Erm..." Ruben was already reaching for something on the floor. A pair of shorts. "You know what. Why don't you go and wait for me in your room? I'll be right there with you, baby."

"Oh. Okay." Her bare feet were heard scattering away, leaving the bedroom door open.

"Fuck."

You pushed off the mattress, climbing over Ruben, sliding down the bed. You hurried to get dressed, looking back at your boyfriend who was left in bed.

"I'm so sorry. I've got to—"

"It's okay." Ruben smiled. A thin smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

You nodded, closing the door behind you. The apartment lay quiet in the night, the city lights showing you their way towards the guest room. You opened the door with a light knock and was surprised to find Emmy and Vale in bed together with the dog. Iker who squealed and wagged his tail at the sight of you.

Vale was fast asleep while Emmy moved over to make a spot for you in the middle. There you settled with the dog curling up on top of your pillow and Emmy wrapping her arms around your stomach. You draped your arm over her head, pressing her closer to you. That's how you fell asleep, to the sound of the dog's light snores, in unison with the children's. For the split second between sleep and alert, you thought of Ruben and how this was the first time in three years that you slept apart. At least without saying goodnight.

The next morning went by in a flash. By ten o'clock you Ruben and the kids were out of the apartment, on the road back to London.

It wasn't that you were in a rush. It was just that the drive back to Bournemouth would take your parents a few hours. It was best for the children to grab their things as early as possible to save time.

"There they are!"

"Grandma!"

"Grandpa!"

Emmy and Vale scattered out of Ruben's car as it pulled up to your sister's house. Your parents had coincidentally arrived at the sametime you did.

"How are my favorite grandchildren?"

"Grandma, we're your only grandchildren." Emmy and Vale giggled, swept up in your mother's embrace.

"Are you? How could I forget?"

It was all smiles and giggles in the front yard. Your dad and Ruben shook hands, but not much more words were exchanged beyond that. Same thing with your mother. The farthest they had gone to approve of your relationship with Ruben was in the form of an yearly invitation to visit them in Bournemouth in the summer. But only at the sametime as your sister and her children were there. Other than that they left you and Ruben alone. Possibly because they were both radical traditionalists. Your mother once told you when you first started dating Ruben, that a man like him would only string you along as long as you maintained your youth and never upsetted his lifestyle by bearing children. It was a cruel and unfair thing to say, and perhaps your parents being born and raised in Chelsea might have something to do with their resentment towards your boyfriend. Nevertheless, you had learned to live with it and so had Ruben.

"Kids!" Your dad announced with a clap of his hands. "Let's go inside and help your dad with your things. We have a long drive ahead of us once we're done."

"Yay!" Emmy and Vale joyously sprinted into their home, through the door that had been left unlocked.

You and Ruben entered the house behind your parents. But just like them you were struck by the mess in the living room and the kitchen. Boxes lay scattered all over the floor. Boxes containing old books, records and pictures of—"

A heart-wrenching scream shook the house.

"Emmy!" Your heart tied a knot as you sprinted through the house in search of her. You passed the living room and pushed through the door to the office. In that moment an incredible stench hit you like a wall, tearing up your eyes as you regarded the tragic scene before you.

"My dad is dead. My dad is dead!" Emmy cried, and ran to you hiding her face. Vale on the other hand, stood in shock, his mouth left open, watching his father who lay slumped over the desktop his skin pale and gray. However, he wasn't dead. He was just passed out in a pool of his own vomit. Hence the stench. You counted at least four bottles of something strong, whiskey perhaps.

"Y/N?" Ruben appeared behind you in the door, wrinkling his nose once the smell hit him too.

"Oh dear." Your mother gasped. Your dad pushed past her and into the room his eyes wide and his breath shallow. "Valentie." He hissed. "Please, get away from there."

He didn't move, his feet remaining glued to the floor while his body trembled all over.

"Oh dear." Your mother repeated tugging at your arm for you and Emmy to step out of the room. However, you couldn't leave, not without Vale.

"Son, please" Your dad pleaded. Tears were seen streaming down Vale's cheeks but other than that he was unresponsive.

Your mother could no longer bare the tragic scene and disappeared down the hall, dialing 999 on her phone. Meanwhile you and Ruben watched how your dad struggled to get Vale's attention. The boy was simply in shock.

"Vale please." You cried. "Come to me." His sister trembled in your embrace, her arms wrapped around you tightly. So tight that you couldn't move. "Please, Vale."

His tearfilled eyes shifted towards you and the look in them was nothing but dreadful, emptied of all light.

"That's it. Good boy." You encouraged, as his little feet shuffled slowly towards you, or towards Ruben to be exact. He walked past your dad, stretching his arms above his head. And for a moment you saw the hesitation in Ruben's eyes. The fear. But he bent down to pick him up, cradling a sniffling Vale in his embrace.

The ambulance pulled up to the house as you stepped out of it. And just as you thought to see the end of a nightmare, another one had just begun.

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

[bellamyblake]

As a fanfic writer, how do you typically characterize Bellamy? Sometimes I worry mine is out of character hah

That's normal actually. A lot of people follow the character that he is but add other things to him like they headcanon his profession or what he'd enjoy as a hobby. The most typical approach is that he's a history/english nerd who loves mythology but I've read fics where he works other jobs as well and they all make sense to me. For example I write him as a soldier/seal a lot though I guess in a way that coinsides with his role in the show where he's more or less a guard/soldier type. As far as characteristics go, I usually make him very stubborn, perhaps a bit too stubborn but doing things out of love for his family. I think a lot of people just treat Bellamy as an atribute at least most Bellarke fics do, without any offence-that he is an attribute to safe Clarke or to be a big brother. I myself like writing Bellamy-centric fics where I investigate HIS character, his stubborness, his smart brains, his stupidity that comes out best when he does something out of love, his big big heart. I think the most important thing to remember when you write Bellamy is to remember that his heart dictates his actions and yes he does do it all for others but the OTHERS aren't always the main point or don't have to be,HIS ability to do that, his selfessness that is who makes Bellamy. He gives up all else for everyone else without a thought of him, he acts stupidly, he makes mistakes FOR others and yes Clarke has that same excuse but somehow people tend to blame it on bellamy a lot more. I don't always paint him as perfect, that's also good to remember, it's not a problem to write him making mistakes that he can later on fix, it's HUMAN to do that. Otherwise the character's not really characteristic.

But then again I'm probably not the best person to ask. I do write mostly whump stories with hurt Bellamy, lots of emotion, lots of stubborness and I generally suck at it hah. But thanks for the question!

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 23: Stalker

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

One week on...

Several days had passed since your affair with Cillian came to light and it came much to your surprise when, on Friday morning you saw something strange by the side of your block.

For the past four days now, there had been a black Mercedes lurking in the shadows of wherever you went and, if it wasn't for one part of your mind telling you not to be delusional, you thought that you were being followed. 

Thinking about how absurd being followed sounded though you almost shook it off as a figment of your imagination or perhaps your guilty conscience exaggerating, but something about all this felt rather odd and even your best friend Enna agreed. 

"The car is there again," you pointed out to Lucy as the two of you walked to the hospital together for your shift. " And I swear, it's been there the entire time. I could see it from the window upstairs."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at you, her curiosity piqued. "Are you sure it's the same car?" she asked, skepticism clear in her voice.

"Yes, I'm sure," you replied firmly. "Look, it's right there," you said, gesturing towards the parking lot. "It was parked outside the hospital yesterday too when I finished up my shift and I have seen it before in front of Cillian's unit," 

Lucy glanced over in the direction you were pointing and noticed the black Mercedes parked a few rows over. "Okay, fine. It does seem strange," Lucy conceded reluctantly. "But maybe it's just a coincidence?" she suggested, the doubt evident in her voice.

You shook your head adamantly. "No way, Em. It even parkes in the same spot every day. I'm telling you, someone is watching me."

Lucy gave you a concerned look, her normally bright and cheerful expression replaced with a more somber one. "Have you reported this to the police?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed heavily, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't really go to the police with this, Em. I mean, what am I going to tell them?" you asked, sighing deeply. "That I have been having an affair with my ex-boyfriend's father and now I suspect that his crazy ass wife might be stalking me?" you said, feeling utterly ridiculous at the mere prospect of uttering such ridiculous and scandalous words out loud. "Oh, and by the way, he is a famous actor too and she almost leaked a sex-tape of us after hiding a camera in his bedroom," you added sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Lucy nodded understandingly. "Yeah, maybe not the best approach," she admitted. "But have you tried talking to Cillian about it?"

"No, because he already has enough shit to worry about," you told her, thinking about the turmoil that your affair had caused in his life. From the moment that Max had walked in on the two of you, nearly everything had spiraled out of control. Max had was refusing to speak to his father, and Danielle had threatened to ruin his career by leaking the sex-tapes if he didn't end things with you immediately. In the end, Cillian's attorney filed for an emergency injunction to prevent her from leaking the tape whilst, at the same time, serving her with divorce papers. 

"I get that Y/N, but his wife is a nutcase. I read the medical files and whilst I do think that you are a little paranoid right now, you should at least talk to him about your concerns, just to err on the side of caution I mean," Lucy implored, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for understanding.

"I know, Em, but I don't even know where we will go from here," you confided, feeling the tight knot in your throat as you spoke. "We aren't in a relationship or anything and I feel like I need to give him some space right now. I don't want to burden him with my paranoia," you added, the words heavy with resignation.

Lucy nodded sympathetically, her heart going out to you in this moment. She knew how much you cared for Cillian, but she also knew the impact of the situation and the weight of the decisions that now lay before you both.

"I know Y/N, but you are still sleeping with him, are you not?" Lucy asked, concern clouding her features as she looked over at you.  "Because his ex could have gotten wind of it and do something stupid now," Lucy worried. 

"Yes, we slept with each other once since the incident at his house. He's been in Ireland mostly," you admitted, your voice barely audible. Emotion clogged your throat as you recalled the tenderness in Cillian's touch, the gentle brush of his lips on yours that had made you feel wanted and desired despite the turmoil in your lives. But that one time together had only added fuel to the wildfire of passion that could not be contained anymore. In spite of the chaos, you couldn't resist the temptation, and neither could he.

"And what did his lawyer say? Didn't he make it clear that you should keep your distance from each other at least until the separation hearing was over?" Lucy asked, another wave of concern sweeping over her.

"He did, I know. But we were careful. We met at a hotel, not his apartment," you explained, sighing deeply as you reflected on the intense, passionate encounter. "Cillian was upset and asked if he could see me. I could hear it in his voice that he was struggling so I said yes," you admitted with a shrug, your tone nonchalant and yet, cracking with emotion, evidence that you were still reeling from the gravity of the situation.

Lucy shifted her weight towards you. She hadn't seen you this distraught since your father's death and witnessing your heartbreak now made her feel helpless and frustrated.

"Okay, let me ask you something, Y/N," Lucy stated, searching deep into your eyes as she chose her words carefully. "Do you truly love him? I mean, enough to deal with all this drama and keep seeing him despite the potential backlash to your career if this comes out?" Lucy's voice was soft and sincere, her gaze steady on yours.

You let out a pained sigh, your shoulders slumping with the weight of the question. "I don't know, Em. All I know is that I've never felt this way before, and I can't seem to shake him off. Not that I even want to. I just wish things were different, you know? That we had met under other circumstances, which wouldn't make it so bad," you sighed, your voice trembling as you spoke the words.

"I will always have your back Y/N, but just think about it for a minute," she began, her tone gentle yet firm. "Cillian is over twenty years older than you. His family dynamics are a mess, and he is your ex-boyfriend's father nonetheless which means that, if it was to come out - and it will come out eventually - then the press will have a field day with it. Your life and career will be covered in headlines that will ruin everything you've worked for thus far," Lucy warned, and she was right.

But you struggled to push Cillian out of your mind. He was charming, experienced, passionate, and so unlike Max. The attraction was instant and undeniable.

"I know that, Lucy. I know that it is reckless, but he makes me feel things I can't even describe. He is not just a fling, not just a temporary high, but someone who understands me, someone who fills in the spaces that no one else ever could," you confessed while walking side by side with Lucy, the hospital already in sight.

Lucy nodded, letting out a deep breath. "Then you need to protect yourself and be prepared for whatever comes next," she advised, as she touched your arm comfortingly. "That includes talking with Cillian about your potential stalker," she told you and, just as you approached the hospital entrance, the black Mercedes pulled up as well. 

"This is ridiculous. I am going to confront this woman," you declared, breaking away from Lucy to stride towards the parked car but Lucy stopped you. 

"No, you won't! It could make things worse," Lucy warned, grabbing your arm to stop you. 

You paused, considering her words. "You have a point," you said, taking a deep breath. 

"Talk to Cillian about it and let him deal with his crazy ass wife," Lucy told you. She knew how dangerous Danielle could be as well after having read her medical files and knowing about the threats she had made against you and Cillian.

"I will talk to him tonight," you assured Lucy, making up your mind but, just as you walked into the hospital's reception area, you were met with yet another surprise as Max was standing there, seemingly waiting for you.

"Max!" you exclaimed, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach as you saw the cold, hard look in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" you wanted to know, hoping that he wouldn't make a scene as, seemingly, he appeared somewhat intoxicated. 

Max simply stared at you for a moment, his blue eyes full of anger and hurt before he blurted out something rather inappropriate to upset you. 

"You are such a fucking home wrecker, you know that?" Max spat bitterly, with a drunken slur, causing you to wince at his unforgivable choice of words. "My father is divorcing my mother because of you!" Max snapped, jabbing a finger at you as his anger started to boil over. 

"Max, please! Not here!" you told him sternly, looking around at the people in the hospital lobby who were casting curious glances your way. "Let's go somewhere private and talk."

"Oh, of course," he chuckled drunkenly. "You don't want anyone else to hear that you fucked my fucking father," he snarled, the hurt and anger in his voice palpable.

People around you had started to stare as Max's voice had risen. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the discomfort and shame building up in the pit of your stomach.

"Come with me. Now," you hissed firmly under your breath, gripping tight onto Max's forearm as you dragged him away from the prying eyes in the hospital lobby, his words stinging your heart with an unbearable pain.

You had never intended for such chaos to unfurl when you became entangled with Cillian, knowing fully that your actions carried the potential for significant collateral damage. But yet, here you were—plunged into murky waters, powerless to stem the tide of destruction.

In a small consultancy room, a few corners away from the main lobby, you closed the door behind you and spun around to face Max, whom you hadn't seen since the disastrous confrontation in Cillian's apartment.

"Max, listen to me," you began, your voice low and soothing as you tried to reason with him. "I never meant for any of this to happen. Your father and I—we never planned for any of this. We just connected and one thing led to another," you continued before Max interrupted you.

"You slept with my father! Do you know how fucked up that is?" Max said, his words slurring together. "Is that like a thing you are into? Some kind of fetish?" Max sneered, his dark eyes flashing angrily at your words. "Or did you sleep with him because he is famous? Is that it?" Max went on, unable to contain his disgust. " What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?" Max demanded, his voice shaking with emotion.

You swallowed hard, the lump forming in your throat as you struggled to find the right words to defend yourself but nothing came out.

"This is so disgusting," Max muttered, his anger slowly giving way to sadness as he slumped down into one of the faded leather consulting chairs, staring blankly ahead as he tried to process the turn of events. "God, we used to date and now you are sleeping with my dad. How low can you get?"

You took in a sharp breath at his words, trying to find purchase in the face of his bitterness yet being unable to deny the devastating truth behind it. You couldn't explain to him the intimacy and the connection you shared with Cillian—things that went beyond sex. Things that Max was not privy to. Things that you had never experienced in your previous relationships either.

So, you decided not to divulge too much at that moment.

Instead, you opted to stand there, silent for a while, allowing Max to gather his thoughts. The atmosphere in the room had grown thick and heavy.

Finally, you took a deep breath. "You have every right to feel angry, betrayed, and confused," you began to explain. "I can assure you that what happened between your father and me was never intended. It just... well, it happened and I, uhm, I am in love with him," you admitted softly. You buried your gaze into the carpeted floor, the weight of your guilt and embarrassment making it difficult for you to face him. You could feel the temperature in the room drop significantly, as if it shares the same discomfort he felt.

"Are you fucking serious?" Max suddenly exploded, jumping up from his chair in disbelief and shock.  "He's nearly twenty years older than you, for Christ's sake!" he was almost shouting now, his words reverberating off the walls of the small room, causing you to jump in your seat. "Fuck, I know," he then said, chuckling. "You have daddy issues," he asserted before explaining himself. "Your father died and now you are fucking mine. It's like a sick fucking fantasy coming to life, isn't it?" Max said, a mixture of bitterness and disgust in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel as though he had slapped you across the face. The words he had just spoken to you were beyond cruel, and they cut you like a knife. Your whole body trembled with shock and anger, your hands shaking like a leaf.

Standing up to confront you some more, Max approached you. "So, tell me Y/N, seriously, how does it feel to have someone old enough to be your father between your legs? Does it give you a twisted sense of pleasure or fulfillment? Because, Jesus, that is some seriously twisted stuff you have going on there in your head," Max went on. "It's a shame your own father couldn't fulfill those fantasies for you before he died and you had to go after mine instead," he then added with a sarcastic snicker, the cruelty in his voice visibly increasing and, by this point, you couldn't take it anymore and lashed out and slapped him right across the cheek.

​"Enough!" you said with great emotion in your voice at the mentioning of your father. 

Max had struck a nerve with his insensitive and derogatory words ad you stared at him in disbelief. His cheek was now flushed red from the force of your slap and, for a moment, neither of you spoke, caught up in the stunned silence that hung in the air.

"I never intended to hurt you or your family, Max. I deeply regret what has happened and I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused," you told him, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"Save it Y/N! Just know that you ruined not only mine, but also my mother's life," Max spat bitterly, his words cutting you deeply as he turned around and stormed out the room.

Hot, angry tears trailed down your cheeks as you watched him leave, your heart heavy with guilt, regret, and sadness and when Lucy came to check on you, she found you slumped over the cold steel of the examination table in the consultancy room, your body trembling with sobs, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You didn't need to tell her what happened, Lucy could read you like an open book. She took you into her arms and held you close as you cried for the hurt you had inflicted and the relationship that could never be salvaged.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[imperator-kahlo]

Sirène - Transcript

Part Two of my very intermittent, non-chronological transcribing of the game's ambient and cutscene dialogue. Previous installment, Visages, can be found here.

Will tag any hypothetical future installements #COE33 transcripts. If anyone else is working on transcriptions (or data-mining of dialogue files), feel free to let me know so we can collaborate a bit or to repost/republish any of mine for that project.

What follows is all, to the best of my knowledge, ambient banter and cutscene dialogue that takes place within Sirène's coliseum. I don't include the wrap-up dialogue back at camp.

On entering

Lune: The architecture looks very different here. Monoco: This kind of place never existed before the Fracture. Sciel: It's beautiful… Feels surreal…

Approaching Sirène for the first time

Lune: Is she the Axon? Monoco: Sirène. She Who Plays With Wonder. Verso: Putain. Lune: It's so— Maelle: Lune? What's going on? Lune: I—I don't know— Monoco: She's manipulating your emotions! You have to focus. Remember why you're here (he waves away the dancers, the others come back to themselves). Be careful. They call her She Who Plays with Wonder. But what she really does is play with your head. Verso: Let's move fast, before we all lose our minds.

Exploring

Verso: Don't look at her for too long or you'll go insane. I've seen people jumping off a cliff just from looking at her… Lune: It is… mesmerising. Maelle: This dance feels familiar. Was this kind of dancing taught in Lumière? Sciel: I don't think so, never seen it.

Maelle: This place is huge. Verso: Thank Expedition 67 for destroying a lot of the walls to get further. Couldn't progress without that. Lune: It feels like home.

Gestral: (lying dramatically upon stairs) It's been so long. The days spent surfing on the dunes... Gone. Whoever built this colosseum... SUCKS.

The Fading Man

Fading Man: … As I get older, I wonder, can you ever truly know someone else? Then again, how many truly know themselves?

Player: A lucky few, perhaps. Fading Man: Is it a blessing to understand your darkest nature… Or a curse to which we turn a blind eye.

or

Player: Everybody knows themselves. Fading Man: Would there be art if that were the case? Aren't we all pursuing this unattainable answer?

Fading Man: We lie to ourselves all the time, don't we? About things we'd rather not admit. Or confront. About ourselves. About each other. Then there are the things we genuinely don't see… Player: (only option) Isn't that human nature? Fading Man: I wonder… I have nothing but time these days to wonder… What I missed… that might have changed things. What is it that I didn't see? That I couldn't make myself see? Player: (only option) It sounds like you have many regrets. Fading Man: When did she start pulling away…

The Tisseur

Maelle: What's THAT? Verso: The tisseur, it works for Sirène. Lune: So he creates all of that for her. Verso: We should take it out. It would definitely be an advantage against Sirène.

Verso: Good job, no other expedition managed that. Maelle: No other expedition had a Lumina converter. Lune: Yet this victory feels hollow.

Monoco: We're finally there. Verso: She's waiting at the end of this tunnel. Lune: Then we should prepare before we head there.

Lune: She's even grander than I thought. Verso: Lune, you're ok, right? Maelle: I swear I've seen this dance before.

(No further dialogue)

[sseatherny]

allowing your childhood friend, kazuha, the honor of escorting you home after a night of alcohol indulgence may not have been the worst idea after all...

╰➤ modern au, kazuha x reader

“What do you think you're doing, Yn?” Kazuha asked, his voice laced with obvious frustration. He had been called by your classmate late at night to come get you, as you were apparently too drunk to go home on your own.

Despite his frustration, Kazuha made his way to your location. When he arrived, he found you huddled on the ground, your face buried in your knees, seemingly lost in a sea of distress.

Kazuha, just as expected, grew worried. He approached you cautiously, reaching for your hands and gently rubbing his thumb over your palm to soothe you.

“Come on, let's get you home.”

You pulled away, still unwilling to face him, but he persisted, crouching down to your level and offering you a helping hand.

Although your silence weighted strongly on the air between you, he remained patient, unwilling to pressure you to speak up. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again, his voice almost inaudible. “Look at me, please?���

Who are you to refuse? You can never refuse Kaedehara Kazuha. You hesitantly raised your head to face him, and he flashed a gentle smile, one that never failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. That smile made you think that you were ready to risk it all and give up everything simply to keep him in your life.

Kazuha turned around and signaled for you to climb onto his back. You were confused at first, but he merely grinned at you, his red eyes shining with mischief. “Piggyback ride?” he asked, and despite your hesitation, you found yourself climbing onto his back, almost tripping in the process.

You rolled your eyes at him, but at the same time, you couldn't resist the stupid, charming smile that was plastered across his face. You were a fool for him, and he doesn't have to know it.

“Can I ask you a question?” you suddenly ask, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Kazuha hummed in acknowledgment, letting you know he's listening.

“So...a friend of mine has done a lot of reflecting lately... and she's come to the realization that she might have fallen in love with her best friend...”

Kazuha's eyebrows rose in surprise, his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. Who could this friend be? Clearly, it's not him... and it would be unusual if it were Lumine, who's already in a romantic relationship.

“Really?” he inquires, a slight hint of surprise in his voice as his eyes meet yours for a brief moment.

“Mm...she's asking me to give her advice,” you uttered.

“And who might this friend be?” he asked in a somewhat playful manner.

“A classmate.. I can't tell. for privacy reasons,” you lied.

Kazuha chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, fine.. What sort of advice are you asking for, then?” he asked.

“Should I...or rather, m-my friend...confess her feelings..or just keep her feelings to herself?”

Kazuha thought about your question, remaining silent for a while, sensing the seriousness of the situation. After giving it some thought, he answers in a direct and firm manner, speaking with gentleness and understanding.

“Hmm... Well, if it were me, I believe it's always best to shoot your shot and get a clear answer. Otherwise, you'll just be left wondering 'what if' for the rest of your life. I understand that if the feelings aren't returned, things could get awkward for a while, but at least you'll have closure and be able to move on. And who could say? Perhaps their feelings are reciprocal, and they end up together. It's a risk, but in the end, I believe it's worth it.”

You exhaled and nodded. “You have a point...”

Kazuha smiled in response. “And even if things do become awkward, just be there for your friend until it blows over, okay?” he encouraged.

“How am I supposed to do that when the friend of mine I'm talking about is myself?” you muttered under your breath.

A smirk appeared on Kazuha's face, it appeared he was amused by your sudden revelation. “Is that so?” he asked.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, wondering how you could have let it slip like that. But there was no turning back now.

“What? You're hearing things,” you reasoned, hoping he'd drop the subject. You never want to get hit by a truck this badly.

“You can't fool me. I have known you since we were children,” he said. “I can see right through you,” the boy grinned, as if he had known all along.

As you buried your head on his shoulder, he looked at you intently. “So, are you planning on confessing?” he asked.

'Why can't he realize that the friend I'm in love with is him?' you thought to yourself.

Frustrated, you ruffled your hair, wondering why he doesn't realize that you're talking about him.

“I don't know what to do anymore,” you groaned, feeling defeated.

“Do you love this friend of yours?” he asked softly. You nodded.

“But you don't know if your feelings are reciprocated?” he asked yet again, and you nodded.

He sighed before asking a question again. “Can I ask why?”

Feeling your throat tighten up, you tightened your arms around him and buried your face deeper in his shoulder. “I saw him with a girl,” you responded, your voice cracking. “He looks genuinely happy with her, and I can't bear the thought of losing him.”

Kazuha stopped walking for a moment, taking it all in. He gently put you down and looked you in the eye, his tone becoming even more gentle and sweet than before.

“Did he say that it was his lover? No? Then my advice doesn't change. Even if you're scared of that awkwardness, you should still confess. You can ask to keep things normal between the two of you, but if he doesn't feel the same way, you should give him time to process his thoughts, okay?”

“What if I said that it's you—the friend I like?” you asked, locking eyes with him.

Kazuha stood frozen in shock, his eyes wide, as you blurted out your confessions.

“Me?” he whispered, flabbergasted. A shy smile crept across his lips as his cheeks grew rosy with emotion. The silence between you grew as your heart pounded loudly in your chest.

Desperate to avoid the impending awkwardness, you buried your face against Kazuha's chest and quickly uttered, “Never mind. I'm just drunk.”

A soft chuckle erupted from within Kazuha's chest at your words. His lips curled upward into a gentle smile as he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Oh, I see,” he replied softly, sounding a little flustered.

“I followed your advice and confessed,” you murmured, hopeful. “Things won’t be awkward between us, right?”

“Eh...?” he mumbled, clearly still surprised that you confessed to him. “I mean, I can't say it will be awkward, because I have feelings for you too,” he added softly.

“W-what?” you mumbled, looking up at him immediately after hearing him admit his feelings for you, clearly still bewildered by the sudden turn of events.

“I said I like you too,” he repeated, and this time, his voice sounded firm and certain.

You struggled to find your words, feeling a rush of emotions all at once. You tried to reply, but words wouldn't come out. You just stood there, frozen in place. “I–

Kazuha placed his index finger on your lips in a reassuring manner with his trademarked gentle smile. “Shh... We'll talk about this when you're sober, okay?” he said, his voice calming you down.

Just as you were going to speak again, Kazuha cut you off. “I promise we'll talk about us once you're sober. Don't stress your pretty little head too much, hm?” he smiled, gently patting your head.

You nodded at his words and allowed him to carry you on his back again.

'Maybe getting drunk tonight wasn't so bad after all' you thought to yourself before finally falling into a deep sleep, making a mental note to thank your classmate who called Kazuha after this.

[theirishwolfhound]

Bit of a rambling thing, so like fair warning I suppose. But these are topics that I would like to use in my stories one day, just so that I can figure out my own thoughts. There is more information at the bottom about why I am personally writing this, but consider this more of a self insert type of fic (but a lot of physical details are left ambiguous) for comfort. It has a lot of different thing from my own life.

Task Force 141 (Comfort Fic)- Are You Still There?

Content Warnings: Mental Health Related Issues (Disassociation/Derealization), Passive Suicidal Ideation, Hurt/Comfort

Written In First Person, Nickname: Cardinal, You can read this as a x Reader fic but it isn't intended that way

Joining the army was something I never wanted to do, but I had no choice. Between the lack of familial financial support to the increase of the general price of living, I had no choice. I don't even know why they would accept someone like me into the force. Perhaps they were like me. Desperate. In need of anything they could get their teeth and nails in. Willing for anything, or anyone that would approach with an offer. But now that I'm in it I can't really get out. A trap I willingly walked into like an animal that doesn't know any better. One who was hungry and tired of fighting everything so I chose to fight with a collective. It nearly broke me. But the pay is nice. So at least there's that. My bones and body ache every day. But the people I work with make it worth it. Right now however is a brief rest, no missions, no worries, no problems. At least that's what I think it should be, but my mind is too busy. There are too many thoughts in my head.

What if I didn't have to join up? I wouldn't be here, that's for sure. What if those pills back in secondary school had done the job? Then I wouldn't be here, but I'm not going to try it again. What if I took a bullet next mission? There's nothing I can do it it does, if it happens then it happens. What if I don't wake up in the morning? Preferable, but I have things I need to do tomorrow. Do my pets back home miss me? I hope so. Does my family miss me? Half of them do. All of these are valid thoughts, I think they are at least, and I can't help but to have them even as I sit with my friends in the common room. Two of them play cards together, one reads a book, and the other simply scrolls through his phone. But we're watching a movie at least, so there's noise. Looking at them, I realize that I'm lucky to have them. They're my friends after all. But I don't know what they're thinking, or if they feel the same way. If they feel trapped. ...if they feel real. Are they real? Counter question: am I real? Is this... all in my head? Arguably what is in my head and what is not? Should I reevaluate my decisions? ... My life? ...

Even now as I type this I can't tell if the men around me are actually there. If the phone in my hand is real. If these thoughts are my own. It's scary. To not trust your own mind that is. Life is scary in general. For example: never knowing if you're going to even wake up in the morning. But it's something I'm willing to accept. Something quick and painless. Sleep is the best way for sure. Would I wake up? Maybe. I don't have any underlying health problems as far as I know. Where would I wake up? Hopefully in my bed. What time line would I be in? One that I'm familiar with, I pray for that. Would I adapt if I woke up in a new body? God, I hope so. ... Would they miss me? ... I hope so.

I don't hear his voice when he talks to me, I can't even see who it is, I can only sit and remain transfixed on my notes app. If I ever have to go to therapy because it gets too bad I need something to show them, right? I can't tell if the pressure on my shoulder is real or not, if the way the couch dips next to me is actually there or if I'm still lost in the idea that maybe the world I'm in is all just a dream. That my friends aren't real and that I'm going to wake up in the next moment. It has to be real. It has to be. It feels real. But I don't.

"Are ye okay, Cardinal?"

Am I okay?

"Can you talk t' me?"

Can I?

"What's going on, mate?"

"...I don't know."

"'ad us worried there, mate."

"Yeah ye' was jus'... starin' off again., thought ye might start cryin' yer eyes did that glossy thing."

"Mhm, spaced out a good ten minutes ago."

"...you okay, mate?"

"Ah... sorry... and yeah. I guess I just have a lot on my mind."

Coming back to reality was a bit hard but with the grounding hand on my shoulder it made it easier, the same with the presence next to me. For a moment I could focus. But deep down I know it won't last, the next time I start to think, I'll spiral again. It's a scary thought. I can feel my eyes burning at the mere thought, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"What do you need, Cardinal?"

What do I need?

There's not much I want in life, not anymore. I had to give up my dreams and aspirations so that I could just live. I need basics, this I know... but I'm not hungry. There's a roof over my head. I don't need a drink yet, and I'm not tired.

What did I need?

"...I dunno." "Maybe some bubble tea?"

"Yeah? C'mon then. I'll drive."

"Shotgun!"

"Cardinal get's the middle seat."

"Mm, 'spose that works."

The hand on my shoulder shifts down to my arm, helping me to my feet before two of them wrap an arm around each shoulder so that we could begin to walk out of the common room. It could be real, it could be fake, but for right now... I know that I want it to be real... for my sake.

Part of me likes to think about the possibilities of not being myself, not really in the depression kind of way (i think i could be wrong) but like in the day dreaming kind of way.

Again it may be the mental illness but like constantly formulating these ideas in my head about myself or my OCs really keep me level headed.

I don't know what it is. But it's the only way I am able to not focus on burning out. Like one moment I could be the fucking Dragonborn fighting off Alduin (I'm actually walking through a supermarket trying to get groceries) or the next moment I'm on an undercover mission with the 141 giving me updates on my surroundings via the earpiece in my ear so that I can survive (its a headphone, I'm listening to music while working a job that is breaking my body down with each shift.)

It's like I don't exist but the people I want to be do.

I would give anything to just be in a different world for like a few hours. Whether it be Skyrim or where ever CoD takes place (don't actually send me to Britain) rather than where I am. I want to be without pain, or worry about work— I want to worry about dragons burning down my fucking house.

I should be happy in general, not only when I play DnD or get to just sit with my fiancé in relative silence (parallel play if you will).

I can't tell if this is disassociation or not. I don't think it's derealization but what would I know, y'know?

[stop-the-play]

> (Meek) Oh thank god, I thought I was going to die here. [Flee up the stairs and lock the door behind you]

"How well did that work out for you? Did it—"

You bolt midsentence, mustering a speed you didn't previously know you had to dash up the stairs. The door, fortunately, is still open, a rectangle of light serving as your beacon away from certain death.

You close it behind you, turning the lock shut and barricading it with the heavy wooden table that once held the blade.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Well, that wasn't the worst possible outcome of that situation.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: No, it was not. For one, we aren't dead! And for another, we've got the cabin door right ahead of us and can now leave this place behind forever and never think about it again.

VOICE OF THE HERO: But the world—it's still down there—Fine. I guess going back there without a blade in our hand is a death trap, and since he decided it would be a good idea to drop it...

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Hey, let's not go throwing around accusations of whose fault all this is. He did what he thought was best! As did both of us. Really, everyone here is equally complicit in what's happening right now.

VOICE OF THE HERO: (Frustrated grumbling)

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Anyway. Let's go. If you really want that thing down there slain, we can find someone else to do it. Or at least get a better weapon.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Fine. You're right. Let's go.

> [Exit the cabin]

You try the door that would lead you out of the cabin, but as soon as your fingers grasp the handle, you know it's too late. It's fixed in place, and refuses to turn no matter how much force you apply to it.

Locked, perhaps? Maybe not. You don't recall seeing a lock on either side of this door, nor hearing one close behind you, and wouldn't the handle have some give if it were truly only a lock standing in your way? The handle feels almost fused to the door, like a prop whose only purpose is to let you into the cabin. Not out. Never out.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: ...We're trapped.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Yeah. Looks like we are.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: We're trapped!

VOICE OF THE HERO: ...You doing okay...?

VOICE OF THE MEEK: No! No, I'm not doing okay! There's a locked door on one side of us and a locked door and some kind of... entity on the other side that'll tear us to pieces if it manages to get through, and we're stuck in the middle without a weapon, and even if we are safe in here, we don't have any food! Or water! We're going to die here either way!

VOICE OF THE HERO: Calm down, calm down, we'll... figure something out.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: SOMETHING LIKE WHAT—

The voice's panic is cut off by a piercing, wailing voice calling out to you from the other side of the door. It's different, you note, from what it was last time the being spoke.

"I know you're still there. Hoping for a slow end rather than a quick one? That's an interesting choice."

"You're awfully flighty for someone who approached me with a knife. What did I ever do to you?"

"Do you think I'm evil or something? Does it make me evil when I try to defend myself? When you held out freedom and then slammed it in my face, does it make me evil to want it back?"

VOICE OF THE HERO: It's the one that started threatening us!

VOICE OF THE MEEK: You think it cares!?

There is no sound from the basement when the being is not speaking, no pounding or shaking of the door, and yet you know it is standing directly behind it.

"Why don't you open this door and let me out? I won't bite... much."

VOICE OF THE HERO: NO!

VOICE OF THE MEEK: NO!

"Eventually, something is going to have to change. One of us is going to give—you, me, the cabin. And I think I can outlast both of you."

"I'm not going to forgive you for what you've done. And when I get out? You won't be able to forget it."

VOICE OF THE HERO: Let's just... try to get some sleep. We can figure things out once we're rested.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Yeah! Sure! Fine! Everything's fine! We're never going to be able to get back on its good side after this, and we're trapped in a tiny cabin with no blade, but sure! Let's sleep. It is literally the only thing we can do.

> "All I did was refuse to turn my back to you. I was even willing to let you out! I've done nothing wrong, and I won't let you make me feel guilty, especially not when you started threatening me afterwards."

"Then why did you have a knife from the start? You said it yourself. I'm such a scary thing, about to end the world. You were going to try to kill me sooner or later. Forgive me for not wanting to turn my back to you."

VOICE OF THE MEEK: You, ah, you sure taunting it like that is the best call?

VOICE OF THE HERO: It's the call he made. Let's just go to sleep before we start another argument.

You put the being's taunts out of your mind as best as you can and huddle in against the far wall.

You wake slowly, and for a moment can't tell if your eyes are open. They are. But no amount of blinking will make the pitch-darkness that now surrounds you any more permeable.

VOICE OF THE HERO: What happened? Why can't we see?

VOICE OF THE MEEK: Because we're about to die.

An eye blinks open. In the darkness, you can't tell whether it's small and close up, or large and far away.

Another follows. And another. And another, until the room is full of staring things.

"Oh... hello again."

The darkness almost feels physical, seeping into your lungs and choking out your breath. You try to stumble to your feet, but your legs are weak, and you collapse forward before you can properly stand. The eyes continue to stare.

And then you begin to fade. Whether it smoothly envelops all of your body at once, or if pieces of you are flickering out one at a time, you can't tell. Something in the air has numbed you too much to tell.

VOICE OF THE HERO: Is this it? Are we dying.

VOICE OF THE MEEK: I already told you. We are.

"Look at you. So... fragile. And here I really did think you were a threat to me!"

"It's probably for the best. Can't take any chances. You... clearly understand."

There's a clatter next to your head—the pristine blade, dropping to the floor beside you. You try to reach out, but you can't feel your arm enough to tell if it responds to your actions.

"Goodbye, 'hero.' I'd say it was nice meeting you, but at least one of us should make a habit of not lying."

You can't tell when you die, or even how, only that your senses have completely failed you. The last thing you're aware of—or is it only a memory of awareness? is an uncountable number of eyes, all focused on you.

But that cannot last forever. Eventually, they fade too, and everything is dark.

And you die.

This is the end.

[666writingcafe]

A Reward: Diavolo/Simeon

Part Four of Special Bonus Content

Content Warning: name-calling, biting

Diavolo and Simeon are off in a corner, looking rather serious as they're whispering to each other. I know that they have a professional relationship resulting from a mutual desire to unite the three realms, but I didn't think they talked much beyond that.

Apparently, I was wrong.

The two of them approach me, stopping at the foot of the bed. Simeon looks like he's seconds away from bolting, but Diavolo rests a hand on his shoulder, making him stay in place.

And then it dawns on me.

"You're scared, aren't you?" I ask Simeon, who nods his head.

"It hit me all at once," he whispers. "It's one thing to think about doing this, but actually being presented with the opportunity is something else entirely. I mean, I know we're in the dream realm, but that doesn't mean there won't be real-world consequences, and I..." He trails off, swallowing nervously.

"He fears that he's about to fly too close to the sun, so to speak," Diavolo continues. "And he's not sure whether to risk the fall or not." That makes sense. Simeon's feelings towards me are intense, but at the end of the day, he's still an angel. He's been conditioned for thousands of years to not succumb to sin. If he follows through on any of the fantasies I saw, his life as he knows it is over. He no longer would be able to call the Celestial Realm his home.

"It also doesn't help that I was all gun-ho about it earlier." Simeon looks down in embarrassment. "I don't want to look like a chicken by backing out."

"Bro," Mammon pipes up. "None of us are gonna judge you if you change your mind, least of all MC. We might have chosen our fate for different reasons, but that doesn't mean it was an easy decision to make. I remember Lucifer and I going back and forth about it a buncha times before we even thought about our first move. So not knowing which direction you're gonna go in is completely normal."

"Didn't think Mammon had it in him to be insightful," Levi mutters, earning a hard jab from his brother.

"You know my position on this, but if you feel like you need to take a back seat or leave this dream entirely, then that's fine as well," Diavolo tells Simeon, making me raise an eyebrow in disapproval.

"Really?" I ask the prince. "We're playing into tropes now?"

"He's right." Simeon's statement surprises me. "If it weren't for the apple, then you wouldn't be here, and you're the best thing that has happened to me in a really long time." The next thing I know, the angel's straddling my lap.

"I hope you're ready, MC," he murmurs. "Because I plan on making the Celestial Realm seem like a cheap imitation of heaven by the time I'm done with you." Diavolo clears his throat, reminding Simeon of his presence. The angel merely smirks as he asks me,

"Think you can handle both of us, MC?"

"Well, only one way to find out."

The dynamic that quickly develops between Simeon and Diavolo is insane. With only brief glances, they're able to communicate in a way that rivals the twin telepathy of Beel and Belphie. Between the two of them, they're able to work me up in a matter of seconds.

"This isn't fair," I whine. The two men chuckle.

"Did you really expect us to take it easy on you?" Simeon whispers, grinning wickedly. "You should know better than that, MC."

"Perhaps they're not as smart as we thought they were," Diavolo adds in a teasing tone.

"Or maybe being fucked by multiple men has made them temporarily stupid." Simeon pinches my chin between two of his fingers. "Is that it, MC? Have all the thoughts in your pretty little head been wiped clean and replaced with the sole desire of receiving as much dick as you possibly can?" Diavolo tightly grips my thighs.

"Answer him," he hisses. I manage to stammer out a "yes".

"Well, I'll give you this: at least you're honest," Simeon responds. "I suppose if you want to act like a needy whore, then we have no choice but to treat you like one." He glances at Diavolo, who nods in agreement. The next thing I know, my back's pressed against the prince's chest, my wrists restrained by his hands. Simeon nearly towers over me as he begins stroking himself.

"Are you ready?" he asks me.

"For what?"

"This." With that, he begins pounding into me relentlessly. Diavolo, meanwhile, bites down on my neck and begins sucking. The combined sensations are making me rather lightheaded, but not necessarily in a bad way.

I feel like I'm in a state of pure euphoria.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick

[reorientation]

Howdy! Im not into this sort of thing (orientation play), but I am a kink practitioner and will occasionally go on deep dives for kinks I dont fully “get” to understand myself/others better, + so I’m less quick to pass judgement on others. (Used to be a bad habit of mine).

Anyhow, found your blog. You seem like a super respectful + chill dude! I really appreciate the info and articulation in your meta/reality posts that help me understand the thought process and precautions behind the practice better.

I saw you reply to a few anon asks talking about people sharing their real stories to kink blogs but only really sharing the kinky/erotic parts of their stories. (Makes total sense!) an example you used was someone you knew of who genuinely retransitioned and explored that in the kink space to relieve some of that internal tension. (Not the most articulate rephrasal, but yk!)

My question is: how would you say that works for specifically the dykebreaking stories that are being shared? Do you still consider them to be predominantly real stories? Perhaps roleplay or sexuality exploration? or are there real conversion/reorientation elements happening in these lesbians’ stories?

Also, how do you deal with the genuine bigots/unsafe practitioners in the space? I’ve only perused for an hour or so and seen a handful of ‘em already.

Forgive me if these are odd questions. Just trying to wrap my head around all of it! Cheers.

(Anon is referencing this prior ask.)

That's a really solid way to approach kinks you don't understand! Kudos for that, and I'll answer as best as I can.

how would you say that works for specifically the dykebreaking stories that are being shared? Do you still consider them to be predominantly real stories? Perhaps roleplay or sexuality exploration? or are there real conversion/reorientation elements happening in these lesbians’ stories?

I think you're drawing a bit of an artificial distinction here: "real conversion" might be different in degree from "sexuality exploration", but not in kind. Someone starts being attracted to a group of people they weren't attracted to previously, someone tries something new and likes it, someone discovers a new side of themself with a new partner, someone's real-life desires are fed and shaped by their fantasies - all of this happens a lot, across people of all sexualities, and it's only the transgressive framing and the power play that makes it into "dykebreaking" in the case of lesbians being attracted to men.

Beyond that, an angle I see a lot is women who are attracted to men / have a breeding kink / just really like dick, but aren't interested in men romantically for whatever reason. It's easy to see how, if you have submissive tendencies, that turns into kinks about "giving in to your irresistible attraction to men" or "accepting that you truly need to take cock" - which you might then genuinely indulge in, even as you carry on having relationships with women.

And finally, some of the extremes of taking the kink into reality... aren't ultimately very extreme. Even if you really end up "broken" - i.e. you become exclusively attracted to men - so what? It may be a rattling change, but being straight is fine, and it's not like it's anything irreversible. "Conversion" has the potential for causing actual damage to people's lives - wrecked relationships, unplanned pregnancies - but the kink itself is more about tension and temptation and coercion than it is about any resulting damage, so it's possible to take a lot into real life without causing any real harm.

As for this part:

Also, how do you deal with the genuine bigots/unsafe practitioners in the space? I’ve only perused for an hour or so and seen a handful of ‘em already.

Honestly, we're just blogging here. People can just block assholes and never see them again; it's not like a physical space, where people might pose major danger. And none of us have the power to delete other people's blogs, so that's about as far as it goes in terms of realistic enforcement, too. If I (reliably!) found out that someone with a good reputation had been doing bad things, then I could do something - but only by saying "hey, I blocked this guy and here's why you should too."