#+ my writing is chicken scratch so I GET IT LMAO

[archersartcorner]

Here’s an assortment of HS doodles I’ve done in the past few days lol. HCs, shitposts, So Many Karkats (the state of my mind atm), and some more fallout radio lyrics (the BGM of my mind)

IDs under cut!

[ID: Ten pictures, traditionally done doodles in various colored markers, featuring various Homestuck characters, mostly Karkat Vantas. The artist would like to apologize in advance for what's going to be a long ID.

The first image is done mostly in red marker, and shows Karkat and Kankri, with various headcanons written around the page. In the order that makes the most sense, the notes read: "Appear most human in comparison to other trolls." ; "Rounder ears, nubby lil horns, blood (obvs), rounded teeth (-canines) ((like humans))" ; Regarding Karkat specifically: "Lil sideburns; anger is mostly farcical; so much baby fat; hair is more angular" ; Regarding Kankri specifically: "Bushier burns and more facial hair; repressing so much anger. Too much. Good god.; thinned out a bit, lanky; curlier hair, rounded out." A smaller doodle shows Kankri intimidatingly leaning over Karkat, saying, "Do you want me to kill him for you? tw: threats tw: violence," to which Karkat responds, all caps, with "What-". In black text, there are artist's notes and song lyrics, that read: "Homestuck???? In 2022??? Fuck!!" "And I'm still obsessed with the same lil guy," three arrows pointing to Karkat, and finally, "It's a sin alright!!"

The second image shows the Signless, drawn in red marker, smiling affectionately, holding his head in one of his hands. There are two small red hearts, and the cancer symbol. In black marker are more song lyrics, "Ain't that a kick in the head?"

The third image shows the artists self-insert, drawn in orange, and Karkat, drawn in warm gray. The self-insert is patting Karkat's head, smiling and singing, "You're a stinky baby~." Karkat looks annoyed, with a thought bubble next to him that just says "WTAF."

The fourth image is Karkat again, drawn in warm gray. His shoulders are hunched and he's angrily crying red tears, yelling out, "Fuck you! Fuck you!! Fuck you!!!" He appears to be trembling.

The fifth image shows Karkat, Kankri, the Signless, and Beforus Karkat. The Signless is affectionately resting his head on Kankri, who is affectionately resting his head on Karkat. Karkat looks annoyed off panel, saying, "Dave. Help." Off panel, Dave says, "Man c'mon, this is cute as fuck." Beforus Karkat looks on from a distance. Below is a continuation of this doodle, where Beforus Karkat yells out, "He doesn't want to be touched, assholes!!" Both Kankri and the Signless back off, the Signless saying, "Oh, sorry lovey!", Kankri saying, "Karkat, you should have told me I was upsetting you-" while Karkat looks back at Beforus Karkat and yells out, "Thank you!!"

The sixth image shows Beforus Karkat, drawn in a cool gray, affectionately coddling Karkat, drawn in warm gray. Beforus Karkat appears neutral in expression, petting the top of Karkat's head. Karkat is smiling softly, giving a little peace symbol with his right hand. A note written in black marker reads, "Finally. Two Karkats. And they care each other."

The seventh image is done in pencil rather than marker, seemingly on a worksheet. It's a meme redraw with Karkat and an Among Us bean looking down from the top of a building. Karkat is saying, "Are you seeing this, Mongus from Among Us?" The bean is nodding their head.

The eighth image is of Karkat drawn in warm gray again. He's looking down at the viewer, sickle raised above his head, with the caption, "*kills you*" next to him. I think I was referencing a meme, but I can't recall exactly which one. It's meant to be humorous.

The ninth and tenth images are related. The first shows Karkat, drawn in warm gray, and Kanaya, drawn in dark green. Karkat is pretty much a blob in the background, but appears to be upset, crying, while Kanaya looks annoyed in the foreground. Karkat is saying, "Kanaya, I frew up! :(", and Kanaya is just thinking, "God." The image after shows a similar scene, but Karkat is now in the foreground, annoyed expression on his face, and Gamzee, drawn in purple, seemingly upset, is in the background. Gamzee says, "Hey Kar. I threw up. Honk. :o(", and Karkat thinks, "God. I get it now, Kanaya. I get it."

END ID.]

[pettyprocrastination]

In less than two hours I was able to write five pages (more like four whole pages and a quarter) that came to almost a thousand words meanwhile every other time in my life im fighting and sobbing trying to break 500-

I think this might be a sign that I should write by hand more than typing up

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick

i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!

WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,

Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.

Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.

You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.

This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?

“Do you want my help or not?”

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.

[lilywastaken]

⇝ SICK DAY SCENARIOS !

CC!DreamWasTaken, CC!Sapnap, CC!GeorgeNotFound, CC!Quackity, CC!Karl Jacobs x GN!Reader.

SUMMARY: taking care of CCs when they're sick :( <3.

WARNINGS: SFW, a few spicy moments here and there, illness, a tiny drop of angst in Karl's part!

A/N: I'm alive!! The brainrot is real for these guys so I just had to write something, even if it's a bit crap LMAO. It's my first time writing for Karl/Quack, so they might be a bit weird/stiff, apologies! Once again, requests are open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you for reading! <333 If you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know, please!!! I wrote this quite late so there might be a few!

MASTERLIST.

DREAM:

"Feeling a bit better?"

You whisper softly as you open the door to your boyfriend's bedroom, noticing that he had made his way off his bed and onto his chair, legs up and pressed to his chest with his knees tucked under his chin, the bright screens of his monitors reflecting onto his sad face.

"Mm…"

His broken whimper makes you sigh, walking over to him carefully and placing the bowl of chicken soup next to his keyboard, leaning down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

"You should be resting."

You're about to lean back until Dream grabs your arm, his pointer finger coming up to tap his lips, hopeful eyes staring up at you.

"Clay. You're ill."

"Which means you're refusing to kiss your poor, suffering boyfriend?" He sighs dramatically, his voice deep yet nasally due to his stuffy nose, leaning into your touch as your hand comes up to cup his cheek.

"Are you ready to take care of me when I inevitably get sick, sweetheart?" You coo back, watching his expression morph from one of self-pity to one of dread.

"O-of course." He mumbles, hoping you don't remember how stressed he was when George had gotten sick a few weeks ago, running around the house looking for medicine in hopes that his friend wouldn't die. "Still… What if the cure to my sickness is a kiss from my beautiful partner?"

"Oh?" You play along with a smile, your hand coming up to play with his hair and run your fingers through his dirty blond curls, watching him flutter his eyes closed to enjoy your touch with a smile, half expecting him to start purring. "Well…" You sigh dramatically in defeat, leaning down so that the tips of both your noses are bumping. "I guess if it helps."

Dream makes a soft noise of excitement before you press your lips to his, his soft hand holding your head to his to slot your lips together easily.

"Now get to bed." You snap as soon as you pull back, causing him to huff and pause whatever video he had been watching.

"Fine." He grumbles like a child, lifting himself up and taking a few moments to make sure he isn't about to collapse before turning to you, letting you lead him to his mattress, onto which he immediately collapses on with a loud groan.

He situates himself under the covers and outstretches his arms to you expectantly, yet instead of your warm body he finds himself holding the bowl of soup you had brought.

You press a kiss to his forehead as he begrudgingly starts to sip on the soup, his gaze softening as he realises you're not about to leave his side.

Needless to say, the next day you were as ill as he was.

SAPNAP:

A loud groan resounds across the house.

You try your best to ignore it, going back to scrolling through your phone and scratching behind Patches' ears.

Another groan, louder this time, finally brings your attention away from social media and back to reality, frowning at the unending dramatic groans that come from your boyfriend.

You sigh, carefully pushing Patches off and starting your trek upstairs, listening to the borderline fake sounds coming from inside the room.

"You sound like you're dying."

You comment as soon as you push open the door to his bedroom, rolling your eyes with a smile as you meet your boyfriend's gaze, his lower lip curled into a pout as he makes grabby hands at you, his bed covered in what you assume to be snotty tissues.

"I am dying, darlin'. Feels like I'm being ripped apart."

You laugh, making your way towards him and sitting on the edge of the bed, and placing your hand onto his forehead, frowning instantly at how hot he feels.

"Wait, are you actually sick?"

"Yes!" Sapnap whines, throwing his head back and slamming it accidentally onto the wooden headboard, whining at the additional pain. "You thought I was fakin'!?"

"I wouldn't put it past you." You grumbled, wiping some of the sweat on his face with your sleeve, watching him try to adjust in his bed just to be closer with you. "What hurts?"

"Everything." He sighs out, closing his eyes in pain as his head throbs.

"Everything?" You repeat, unamused, already getting up to retrieve an ice pack from downstairs, hoping to cool down the fever he seems to have caught.

"Yes, every-" his eyes snap open as soon as he feels the bed shift, whining. "No, don't leave!"

"Nick, I need to get you something for your fever!"

You struggle against Sapnap's grip as he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped around your waist and stubble scratching against your cheek.

"No… all I need is you, darl'." He grumbles against your skin, peppering sloppy kisses onto your neck.

"You're delirious." You sigh, melting into his warmth as he pulls you under the covers, sniffling and whining with every move he makes. "You'll take some medicine later, right?"

"Mhm … yeah." He says drowsily as he starts to fall asleep right there, listening to your breathing as a means to calm himself down. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

GEORGE:

How can George still be asleep?

You think to yourself as you stare mindlessly into the TV, the plate of food you had been eating abandoned on the coffee table as you take note of how long it had been since you had seen your boyfriend after last night.

You know he's prone to sleeping in for long, but not this long. Especially now in Florida, where the sun rises earlier and helps him wake up at the same time as you and your roommates.

Once you give your half eaten plate to Dream, you carefully push open the door to your boyfriend's room, stopping for a few moments so your eyes get used to the darkness his room was covered in.

"George? Are you awake?"

Treading carefully so you don't trip on any loose cables or stuff that he might have tossed onto the ground, you finally reach his bed, kneeling next to him and placing your hands on the body beneath the covers and shaking softly.

"Georgie?"

"Hmng."

You feel him turn around, meeting his gaze despite the darkness around you, watching as his pained expression turns into one of relief.

"Hi…" He mumbles, voice coarse as if he had just finished screaming for over an hour, reminding you of that one time he had lost his voice after a particularly long stream. "Time…?"

"Almost 4." Your hand comes up to push back his bangs, a shiver racking through his body as your cool touch makes contact with his atypically hot skin. "What th- do you have a fever?"

"I think." You feel his arms creep around your waist, pulling you closer with abnormal strength and placing his head onto your lap, snuggling himself into your thighs, letting out a shaky sigh at the warmth. "Tried getting up this morning and I think I passed out."

That would explain the crash Sapnap had claimed to have heard early in the morning.

"You passed out? Why didn't you call me?" You whisper back, running your fingers through his hair and massaging the back of his neck, a spot you know always gets him weak. "We could've brought you downstairs so you weren't cooped up like this."

George laughed as the image of Dream and Sapnap dragging him downstairs came to mind, but the sudden stabbing pain that attacked his lungs caused him to start coughing with a whine.

"I'd rather just stay up here with you." He started to manhandle you to lie under the covers, his hands warm on your hips as he quite basically shoved his face into your chest, trying to calm his raging headache. "We can order something later… I just want to be with you for now."

You chewed on your lower lip before your hands came up subconsciously to bury themselves in his soft locks, a whine leaving his lips as your nails started scratching at his scalp. "Fine. Just for a bit, okay? You still have to eat, we got to get you medicine, and you probably stin-"

You squeaked as he nipped on your skin in an attempt to get you to shut up, rolling your eyes at the smirk on his pretty lips before he fluttered his eyes back closed, a silent way of telling you that he was going back to sleep.

QUACKITY:

"You're an idiot."

Your boyfriend sputters out a confused sound as he walks into the kitchen, not having expected to be instantly insulted first thing in the morning.

"Huh?"

"Why are you half-naked!? You're sick!" You point at his feet and then his shorts with your spoon, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"It's hot!" He throws his arms up in the air as he sits down at the kitchen island, ignoring the way you frown at him. "And I'm not sick. I'm fine. It's just a cold."

"That still counts as being sick." You mumble under your breath, pushing a plate of food in his direction before pulling off your hoodie (which casually happened to be his) and handing it to him. "Put it on. I don't want you getting worse."

"...fine." He mumbles, starting to eat once it's on. "Thank you, mi vida."

Your face heats up at the casual nickname, nodding as you start on your own breakfast, too busy scrolling on your phone to notice the way your boyfriend starts squirming in his seat, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tries to focus on his food.

"You alright?" You finally realise how sick he looks despite having looked fine mere moments before, face flushed and skin sickly pale as he wipes the sweat away with his hoodies sleeves.

"Mhm. Okay." Your hand reaches over to cup his cheek, almost flinching back at how hot his skin feels. "Jesus! You're so fucking hot!"

You instantly regret what comes out of your mouth at his cocky expression, watching him m lean into your hand and sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering open and closed as he speaks.

"You think I'm that hot, babe?" He purrs out, despite the absolute pain that's racking through his body at the minute. "Damn, didn't expect you to be bold."

"Shut up." You pinch his cheek, forcing a high pitched cry to leave his mouth as you turn around to look through the medicine cabinet. "I meant you're literally hot, Alex."

"So you think I'm not figuratively hot?" You refrain from the urge to groan at his teasing, pulling off the cap to some medicine and dropping a pill into a glass of water.

"If you keep acting like this, you'll be less than hot to me." You snap, handing him the drink and waiting for him to down it like he usually does when it comes to ill-tasting medicine. "Go lie down, I'll make you some soup."

Before you can leave, he grabs your arm, pulling you into the space between his open legs and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"With me?" He mumbles into your hair, causing you to roll your eyes at how clingy he's become. "Come on, cielo. We can just order soup."

"But will it be as good as my soup?" You brush some of his longer strands of hair away from his eyes and trace the invisible lines between the beauty marks on his face.

"No… but I'd take cold soup any day of the week if it means having you in my arms."

KARL:

"Your nose is running."

You comment as you watch your boyfriend sluggishly make his way towards the fridge, eyes barely open and sweatpants almost falling down his waist.

"Mhm."

He doesn't even acknowledge your words, digging through the countless cans in the fridge to pull out some orange juice, instantly downing it without a second thought.

"Sorry. You want some?" He slurs, extending his arm and offering you the carton.

"Just finish it, Karl. I'd rather not get sick."

You notice that instead of his normal sleeping shirt he has a button up on, the buttons all messed up from probably trying to do it on his own in the bathroom mirror.

"You going somewhere, baby?" You comment on his appearance, frowning as he instantly nods, throwing the carton into the bin before looking for some snacks.

"Filming with Jimmy." He casually says, as if he hadn't been battling with a fever for almost a week. "I volunteered yesterd-"

You slap your hand over his mouth, stopping him from talking and meeting his shocked gaze, feeling his hands immediately find place on your waist out of instinct at how close you are.

"You're not going anywhere, Karl. I don't want you to get worse." You comment with a frown, having half expected him to lick at your hand when you had covered his mouth, but the sad look in his eyes feels worse than how that would've. "Please. You've been in pain for almost a week, I just want you to get better."

You let go of his face, moving your hand to cup his cheek and watch him press into your touch, nodding solemnly.

"Just don't like being useless. I wanna do stuff, I want to help!" He whines, closing his eyes as if afraid of your reaction to his complaint.

"You're not useless, though. You're sick. I'm taking care of you because I love you and I want you to get better. Jimmy's your friend, he'll probably won't want you working while you're sick, either." You lean up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a comforting hug, his cool hands roaming your skin under your shirt. "So get back into your pyjamas and get to bed and I'll bring you some food, okay? Then we can watch a movie, whichever one you want."

He nods enthusiastically, taking his turn to cup your cheeks in his hands and pepper kisses all over, brushing your lips with his before pulling away, aware of how sick you'd get if he gave you what he had. "I love you!" He says before rushing back upstairs giddily, not even waiting for you to say it back, aware that even without saying it, you do.

[skyeet-the-writer]

The One With the Girl from Canada

while im cleaning out my drafts, here's something from a few months ago. i really like this and i've written and are currently writing some more little chapters, so be on the lookout for them!! this is also posted on my ao3 if you want to go read it there too :) chandler bing x female!reader summary: new york city is a big place for a girl who lived in canada her entire life, but you manage. one afternoon, while getting some work done in a cozy coffee shop, a very handsome brunette asks to sit beside you. who are you to tell him no? word count: ~2.3k warnings: none i don't think lmao that never happens next>

Central Perk is a special spot for Chandler Bing. That's where he talks with his friends, it's where they all relax, it's where he met Rachel just a couple of months ago, coming in wearing a wedding dress and looking highly frazzled. It's got a nice, calming atmosphere, pretty good coffee, and the absolute best spot in all of Manhattan.

The area with the couch is where he and his friends always sit. Sometimes he feels bad for taking it, but nobody seems to mind, ever. And so he always sits there, usually on the couch when it is available.

When he walked into Central Perk one afternoon after work, he just wanted to grab a coffee and wait for the rest of his friends to show up eventually. He didn't expect there to be anyone there, no one ever was at this time on a Thursday.

But then he saw someone sitting in his spot.

Normally, he would have been upset, probably ask them to leave, nicely, of course, and pray to God that they left because he hates confrontation.

However, the person sitting in his spot was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like she had been there for a few hours, at least, because there was an empty plate with crumbs on it and a large mug drained, both sitting on the coffee table her feet were propped up on.

For a moment, Chandler stood at the counter and stared at her like some kind of creep. He had never seen her around and he knew he'd remember if he did. She wore gray jeans rolled up at the ankles to show off her colorful socks underneath a pair of black and white Converses. As his eyes traveled up her frame, he saw her wearing some kind of band tee and a tiny, silver necklace around her neck. She seemed to be writing something and, from what Chandler could tell, she seemed to be deep into thought. Her pencil scratched across the notebook and every so often, she would pause and read over it before promptly erasing something and writing once more.

He heard his name being said and turned around to see Guther holding out a coffee cup to him.

"Oh, thanks, Gunther," he told the worker, taking the coffee from him.

Chandler had never been good at talking to girls and more often than not chickened out on the opportunity to do so. But he didn't want to chicken out on talking to you.

And so, with confidence, he walked over to the area he always sat at and stood just beside the couch, next to your arm that was leaning on the armrest.

Before now, he didn't notice the headphones around your ears and the Walkman that sat beside you, but when he clears his throat and you don't react, he understands why. And so, again and a little bit louder, he clears his throat, gently tapping on your shoulder.

Your eyes tear away from the page in your lap at the touch of another person and you whip your head up to see a man standing beside you, looking at you with a smile. Perhaps too loudly, you exclaim, "Oh, shit, sorry!" and hastily pause your music and let the headphones rest around your neck. You blink up at the man and ask, "Yes?"

"I, uh." Chandler swallows thickly because even your voice is one from a dream. "You're, uh, kind of in my spot."

With a mischievous smile, you turn around in your seat like you're looking for something. "Oh, word? I don't see your name on it."

And then you smile at him snarkily and Chandler forgets how to breathe. But then he laughs, a bit awkwardly. Your sarcastic grin fades into a true one and you add, "Don't worry, I'll move."

When you start to gather your things, Chandler is quick to put a stop to it. He doesn't want you to move, not now, not ever. Not when he's just started to talk to you. "No, no, you're fine, I'm just kidding."

You stop your movements and look up at him. "Oh, alright. You can sit next to me, though."

Chandler doesn't have to be told twice. He sits beside you on the opposite side of the couch and takes a drink of his coffee like that will do anything to cure his jitters.

"What's your name?" you ask him, setting your notebook in your lap for just a moment. You wonder if he wants to have a conversation, but not many people in New York do.

He answers, "Chandler."

"Nice to meet you, Chandler. I'm y/n."

God, even your name sounds like something from a song.

"It's nice to meet you, too, y/n." He takes notice of the notebook in your lap and feels the urge to ask, "Mind if I ask what you're writing?"

With another grin, you say, "What if I did?"

Chandler can only wonder if your smile is contagious because he feels his lips curl upwards. "I mean, I'd still ask. I'm nosey."

You laugh and tilt your notebook for him to read. "It's a screenplay I'm writing."

Chandler's eyes widen. "You're a screenwriter? What, you make movies and stuff?"

"I wish." You scoff and feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. "No, I write stories for movies and stuff. At least, I try."

"Is it not going so well?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Some studio called me up a few months ago, said they liked the idea I submitted and gave me a few months to come up with a first draft. And I've got two more weeks to finish it, so we'll see."

"I'm sure it's great," Chandler says and he means it. He can't write for shit, but something about you seems so...creative and special. "Even if I just met you."

You laugh again and close the notebook, stashing it away in the tote bag that rests on the floor. "Thanks, really."

"Of course." When you turn your body to face him, he sees what band is on your shirt and, even though he knows who it is, he asks, "What band is that?"

When he points to your chest, you look down and answer, "Oh, Nirvana."

"Oh, my God, I love them!"

"Really?" Your face breaks into a grin and you lean forwards a little. "What's your favorite song."

"'Heart-Shaped Box'," he says.

"Oh, that's good. I like 'Come As You Are'."

Soon, the conversation seems to flow quite naturally between the pair of you. He tells you about his boring job, something with a bunch of numbers and nothing exciting. You both compare bands and he realizes you're much more into rock and alternative works, but he guessed that the second he saw the leather jacket that rests beside you.

Joey is the first to arrive. Chandler glances up at the door when he hears the bell above it jingle and sees his roommate falter at the sight of you. You're not looking, rummaging through your tote bag for something and Chandler's eyes widen at the sight of the other person. If Joey flirts with you, Chandler will kill him.

Joey, clearly not catching on to Chandler's look from across the cafe, sees you and smirks, walking over.

"Hey, Chandler," he greets but doesn't look at his friend, eyes settling on you. "Who's, uh, your friend?"

You turn up at the sound of another person and spot the Italian-American smiling at you. You smile back and say, "I'm y/n."

"How you doin'?" Joey smirks and sits himself down on the high stool beside you. "I'm Joey."

"Hi, Joey," you reply, glancing at Chandler who quickly wipes the glare from his face and smiles at you. "You guys know each other?"

"We're roommates," he answers, motioning at his friend who is still staring at you.

You blink and shift in your seat. "Oh."

"I like your shirt," Joey says.

"You like Nirvana, too?" Your face brightens and Chandler almost melts.

But then his roommate says, "Who?"

And that look on your face is gone. Your smile falls and you look away back into your tote, mumbling, "Never mind."

Chandler meets his friend's eyes and shakes his head twice, brows furrowed. Joey always gets the girl. Chandler deserves to hope, at least.

You pull out a packet of gum and open it. You take a piece out and unwrap it before offering one to Chandler. He smiles and takes it, popping it in his mouth and shoving the wrapper in his pocket.

"Want some gum?" you ask the other man with darker and messier hair.

He takes one and thanks you. You return it with a grin and put the gum back in your tote, on top of your notebook.

Joey says your name and you look at him. "So, you live around here?"

You nod. "Yeah, I live in Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh, cool, cool. How long have you lived here? You grew up in New York?"

Immediately, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no, I didn't grow up here."

"Where'd you grow up?" Chandler asks, tilting his head

"Winnipeg," you answer, biting back a smile.

Chandler's brows furrow and Joey asks, "Where's that?"

"Manitoba." Your straight cracks a bit and you try to fight the smile that wants to paint itself across your lips.

Joey looks lost and asks again, "...Where's that?"

"Canada," you tell him, fully grinning now.

Joey gasps and Chandler tries not to roll his eyes. He figured it out when you said Manitoba. He says, "You're from Canada?"

You nod, turning your head to look at him. "Yep."

"Do you speak French?" Joey asks, touching your arm, clearly already friendly with you.

Turning to him, you answer, "Non."

Chandler laughs and you giggle, crossing one leg over the other.

"I speak Italian," Joey says.

You raise a brow. "Yeah?"

He nods and leans forward in his chair, smirking. "Sei bellissima."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're beautiful," he answers, voice a little lower than it was before.

Some heat rushes up your neck and you look away at your lap. "Oh."

Chandler glares at his friend, but Joey doesn't catch it.

Thankfully, before Chandler reaches over you to choke Joey, the bell dings and he glances at the door. Monica, Ross, Phoebe, and Rachel are walking in and while the rest of his friends make their way over, Rachel immediately goes to clock in for her shift.

They walk over and greet the other two and Phoebe is the first to address you. "Oh, wow, you're pretty."

You laugh out loud, blushing even harder at the compliment from a woman, touching your necklace. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

Phoebe giggles and swishes her skirt. "Thanks."

"This is y/n," Chandler introduces you to his friends.

"Hey." You lift your hand in a wave of sorts, feeling like you're butting in on their group. You should leave, but in a minute. You don't want to be rude.

Chandler's friends introduce themselves--Ross, Monica, and Phoebe, you repeat their names in your head to remember better--and then he gestures towards the coffee bar. "And the girl over there is Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you guys," you say politely, squeezing your hands in your lap.

"You too." Monica smiles. "I love your shirt, by the way."

"Thanks." You grin, basking in all the compliments.

Ross looks at Monica and asks, "You listen to Nirvana?"

Monica fixes him with a look. "Yes, because I'm cooler than you."

You chuckle at their interaction when Joey suddenly blurts out, "Ask her where she's from!"

You giggle at the man's antics and look at the others.

Ross smiles and asks, "Alright. Where are you from?"

"Winnipeg," you reply, still smiling. Chandler thinks he's going to swoon.

Monica is the first to figure it out. "You live in Canada?"

You nod. "I mean, I used to. I moved to Hell's Kitchen a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, my god, so you just moved here," Chandler says.

"Why did you move all the way from Canada down to here?" Ross wonders.

"I'm a screenwriter and ended up getting a job down here," you answer. "Besides, Canada is boring, so I was looking for a change of scenery."

"Well, how do you like it here so far?" Phoebe asks.

You shrug. "It's pretty nice. A little colder, somehow, but I like it. There are a lot more people and a lot more things to do and see. I lived in Winnipeg my entire life so I kind of felt like I saw everything."

"I've always wanted to go to Canada," Rachel says, coming to hand out coffee.

You smile. "It's nice. Alberta is really pretty."

Mustering up some courage, Chandler says, "Hey, if you ever need someone to show you around the city, I'll be happy to help you."

And then you look at him and grin, nodding. "That'd be sick."

He feels heat start to creep up his cheeks, and he smiles back. "Awesome."

You look at the time on the clock and say, "I've got to head out, but it was great to meet you guys."

"Yeah, you too!" Monica says.

Taking a Post-it note from your bag, you write down your number and hand it to Chandler. He takes it and tries not to stare at it too hard. "Hope to catch you guys later."

Chandler's friends wave to you and you walk out the door, shrugging your jacket on before walking off. Chandler stares at the window for several seconds after you're gone and only snaps out of it when Monica says something.

"Chandler, how the hell did you get her number?"

He shrugs, looks at the bright blue Post-it note, and reads it.

here :) (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

He smiles and puts it in his pocket, trying to ignore the looks his friends are giving him. You're very cool and very pretty and Chandler can't wait to see you again.

[ghouljams]

Ghoul, have you ever thought about your character’s handwriting? Because I have. I think Liebling has neat handwriting but she’s always in a rush nowadays so all the pretty cursive loops all blend together. Like a doctor’s handwriting. And Love has straight up just chicken scratch. - ☀️

I have thought about it for very few darlings, but not all of them! I'll pop it under the cut since I always go too long talking about my loves.

Cowboys first:

Moon has very neat looping handwriting, sort of riding the edge between cursive and print. Her letters are round and she does the little loop on 2s

Goose canonically has chicken scratch handwriting lmao. Very sharp quick letters, she has to put a line through her 7s and Zs because otherwise you cannot distinguish what they are. Birdie, Ghost, Duck are the only people that can read her handwriting.

Duck is a doctor her handwriting is atrocious. She can write neatly but she usually has to write quick so its very tight and messy.

Birdie is a teacher she has great handwriting, but it's also very teacher-y. It's super legible print, sharp letters so they're all easy to distinguish. Does the little snowman 8s.

Bee.... she doesnt write much, I feel like she's so digital that she doesn't really do much handwriting. I think it's fine. Not particularly neat but not chickenscratch. She draws little smiley faces on any notes she writes for König

Fae:

Love actually has fairly neat handwriting. It's definitely stylized but it's legible and that's what's important.

Liebling I agree has neat handwriting that's sort of smushed a little. Cursive that she can jot down quick when she's writing out store orders and budgets.

Witch is not neat with her handwriting. More cursive that even she has a little trouble with at times. She has to write labels for all of her products and jars so it has to be legible but she's also the only one reading it so not too legible. I actually think Witch might have a touch of dyslexia.

Crybaby has messy handwriting. Round and legible but messy handwriting.

Threat can't read. Jk but they don't write shit down and they don't really have a reason to. Jagged sharp handwriting, very precise and efficient.

Sunny has very loose handwriting, doesn't really care about making it neat or pretty, just gets it done. Strikes me as having big handwriting, a little too tall for lined paper y'know.

Pet doesn't need to write things. I do not think pet can read.

Demon:

Luck has very cute handwriting. I'm talking hearts over the i and loopy o's. Everything Luck does just speaks to sweetness and sunshine her handwriting is no different.

Price. Precise, military, neat handwriting. Print not cursive. Alternatively will take notes in shorthand.

Hush also writes shorthand. Very sharp and quick print, lots of chemical abbreviations now that he works in demo with Soap. Doodles.

Fetch had to be sat down by König and forced to write neatly. Completely illegible, I'm talking Russian cursive levels of illegible.

Die has very loose, but very small handwriting. She holds her pencil tightly. I think Die has an incredible memory for things, almost eidetic, so she doesn't write much down. Her magic requires a high capacity mental filing system so she's rather meticulous despite what her personality might suggest.

Hide also has a huge mental filing system but due to the nature of their job they have neat handwriting for ledgers.

[critter-core]

So uhh…

I just became obsessed with the Foodie Siblings au so now I present you…

CHIPS!

Name: Chips (or Chip)

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Loggerhead Sea Turtle

Short description:

Chips is a captain of a ship that was given to him by his parents’ last wills. This also included supplies to run the ship, and quite a lot of money, since his parents were rather well-known travelers before they got swept away at sea… Chips has a crew, but his crew mostly consists of the animals he has adopted or taken with him in his journeys. He hopes to build a true crew one day and travel the seven seas!

Extra info:

*I could totally see him hanging out with Mikey sometime, and they’d probably go ship sailing together lol

*Chips is 15 years old if you can’t read the writing (no judgement here, my handwriting’s chicken scratch lol)

*I think Chips would be determined to travel and would get over the ocean, but he’d definitely panic if he fell in considering what happened to his parents

*Chips has numerous pets, but his favorite is Kiwi the Caique Parrot! (Shhh don’t tell!)

*I may add more rottmnt specific plot points so that this isn’t just a turtle oc but we’ll see

*maybe Chips helps search for mutants and baddies over seas for the Mad Dogs

*maybe he changes the flag symbol to the Hamato clan crest or the Mad Dogs shell symbol?

*I’ll like… make him a master post some point with more organization later lmao

More to be added soon, idk :’)

Oh yeah, @sleepis4theweak just to make sure this doesn’t get missed. If I need to add anything else, let me know :]

[here2bbtstrash]

I also feel obligated to say that I would like to take all of them to a hockey game, purely to see how they react to a good fight and how much stadium food they would consume before they inevitably feel sick

BANGTAN + HOCKEY = A RARE OVERLAP OF TWO OF MY FAVORITE THINGS omg. ngl i got inspired to write some headcanons so let's goooo (ty to @sailoryooons for helping me cowrite hehe) 🏒

namjoon: he gets a little lost trying to find his way back to the seats on his own, and when his arm gets grabbed by some important looking dude in a polo, he just goes with it - which is how he ends up in the locker room, sitting quietly through the entire opening pep talk before anyone notices him. the height, the muscles, the general look of confusion on his face: the new assistant coach saw him bumbling around and just assumed he was a healthy scratch - oops!

seokjin: is here exclusively for the shit-talk. bullies the opposing team mercilessly even though he's not actually 100% positive what's going on in the game - it doesn't matter. these clowns need to be TOLD and he's gonna be the one to do it. let's face it, he could play hockey better with his TOES than these losers can! he's also very supportive of any and all fights that break out, and think it's ridiculous that people get penalized for the most interesting part of the game!!

yoongi: possibly the only one actually focused on the game. somehow has all the team standings as well as every single player's name and stats memorized, and can provide them off the top of his head when asked (okay, nobody asked, but he's providing them anyway!!!!!!) (this does actually end up coming in handy when jimin wants to know the names of the cutest players) - he also complains LOUDLY when the refs make terrible calls, and jin immediately joins in despite not knowing or caring what hooking even means.

hoseok: doesn't even know who's winning, all he knows is that he wants to be on the jumbotron so bad - he's wiggling in his seat every time the music comes on, and once the cameraperson finds him, his pure joy meltdown of seeing himself on the screen is so endearing, it becomes a recurring theme the rest of the game to cut to hobi at least once during any given moment of downtime. they even pan over to him during the kiss cam, just for laughs, but jimin is READY and proceeds to lean over and plant the smooch of a lifetime on him.

jimin: jungkook notices it first, and everyone thinks he's mostly joking and/or projecting when he mentions it, but then yoongi corroborates: the players...... can't stop looking at him. two dudes literally skate into each other because neither of them can take their eyes off jimin. guys sitting on the bench are turning around to look at him. he just cards a hand through his hair and tries to keep his knowing smirk to himself.

taehyung: the mysterious enigma that he is, our boy disappears midway through the period, mumbling an excuse about wanting to stretch his long-ass legs which, yeah, fair. but just as seokjin is starting to complain that he's going to miss the start of the period if he doesn't make it back soon, hobi is swatting at his arm and pointing towards the ice because, yep, there taehyung is: sitting prim and proper on the back of the zamboni, princess-waving as he circles the ice. to this day, nobody knows how he talked his way into it.

jungkook: as far as he's concerned, this is an all-you-can-eat buffet with a side of sports. hot dogs, burgers, nachos, pretzels, chicken tenders, popcorn, churros - he's eating til he's nauseous and washing it down with as many beers as he can get away with before jin cuts him off. he's here for a good time, not a long time!!!! .....and yes he will complain the entire ride home that his stomach hurts 🥺

whrguekhgjldf thank u and sorry this is so niche but i had fun lmao

soft hours!! 🌸 if you could do one (sfw!) activity with one member (or subunit!) of bangtan: who are you with & what are you doing?

[beneathashadytree]

Hello!! I wanted to request a cooking day with Albert? Just louis was out on a mission and Albert was there out of coincidence, and we find the true reason as to why hes not allowed in the kitchen

Pure crack really- considering nobody lets him in the kitchen for a reason LMAO

KITCHEN HAZARD - ALBERT MORIARTY X READER

Warnings : almost burning the house down, this can be read as platonic or romantic, Albert is a walking disaster, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : crack only ig?

Word count : 1.0K words

Additional notes : So sorry for taking a while getting to this, nonnie! I hope you understand my reasons for being so slow to get back to my writing routine. I hope you like this one! 💗

Requests: Are closed for the time being.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

They’d just hung their coat on the coatrack when an alarming clatter and clang came from the kitchen. They thought back to how they’d seen Louis set out earlier with William to meet up with the rest of the gang for a mission. And given that Jack had requested for a day off to get some affairs in order at the City Hall, that left only one possibility… one that had them running to the kitchen to put a stop to.

Indeed, there Albert was, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a frown on his face as he made to pick up all the pots and pans that now cluttered the floor.

“Oh dear,” they mumbled, quickly helping him and earning a look of surprise and a sheepish smile in return.

“I haven’t heard you come in,” Albert offered in form of an apology, “I would’ve told you to leave it to me and not worry.”

They gave him a pointed look as his fingers fumbled around a pan’s rim and nearly sent it tumbling once again. “I think seeing you in the kitchen in the first place is enough to make me worry.”

The man chuckled a little, though a faint flush climbed his cheeks. “That was one time.”

Shaking their head, they gently pushed him to the side. “I’m not taking any chances. Let me do the work.” They began to pull out the vegetables they needed from their weekly stock, already formulating the recipe they needed in their mind.

“At least let me help out?” Albert asked, clearly feeling bad that they were overworking themself once again, which had partially been the reason why he’d decided to take up the post for cooking in their place.

After hesitating for a second, they nodded. “Alright, you can wash up and cut the vegetables while I fix up the chicken.”

An eager look in his eyes, he took them from their hands and settled in front of the sink. Having thought that this task, at the very least, they could easily entrust to him, they turned back to the chicken Louis had so thoughtfully bought himself.

Halfway through skinning it, however, they were interrupted by a clatter, and a sharp intake of breath. Alarmed, they turned to find Albert pulling away from the cutting board with a rather deep cut on his index finger that now oozed blood.

“Good heavens, get away from the food!” they cried, ushering him away from possibly posing a health hazard, unhearing of his protests as they forced him to sit down while they fumbled for bandages from the overhead cupboard.

“Really, it’s just a surface scratch. It’s nothing, honestly.”

“Well, it isn’t to me,” they huffed, quick to return and dress the wound, much to his embarrassment. “Infections are widespread these days. I’m not taking any chances.” Their eyes were sharp as they met his emerald ones. “It’s best you stay out of the kitchen until I’m done with lunch.”

“I could do things that don’t directly involve food, maybe help around?” he offered once again, refusing to stand down.

Sighing, they could only wave a hand. “Fine. But this time, just get some oil in a pan. I’m going to simmer some onions, bell peppers, and carrots.”

“Well, I was halfway through cutting these.” Albert attempted to sound optimistic, though one glance at the mangled-looking vegetables had them arching their brow at him. Really, he had no right looking as wounded as he did as they rolled up their sleeves to chop them up properly.

While they busied themself with that, they left him to his devices as he mumbled under his breath, taking his time to figure out how the stove worked. They knew him to be a bit of a genius in his own right, so surely it wouldn’t take him long, and they could focus on the task at hand instead, setting aside each vegetable into a separate bowl once they were done with them.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed from their side, as a thunderous roar sounded the kitchen and startled them into nearly cutting off their entire index finger along with the carrot at hand.

A choked scream left them as they saw the flames engulfing the stove and swallowing the pan whole. “What did you do?!”

“All I did was throw in the onions.” Albert sounded miserable, and looked the part as well—which was only made worse by them looking back in horror.

“All at once at the highest flame possible?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t… I suppose there’s only one setting available—“

Groaning as the smell of smoke and ashes permeated the area, they practically ran to search for a solution. “Less talking, more putting out the fire!”

“Water then—“

“No!”

***

Louis sniffed as he crossed the threshold of the mansion. That’s odd. It always smelled the exact same every single day, even after meals, because he made sure to air it quite well. This time, however…

He walked into the sitting room, where a very distinctly disheveled duo sat slumped against the back of a sofa, one looking more particularly distraught than the other, who seemed to have an air of guilt about him.

“Does either of you know why the mansion smells like caramelized incense? Or… something stronger?”

Albert looked slightly uncomfortable as he answered. “Now, brother, let’s not—“

“That man,” came a hard voice from beside him, their eyes still squeezed shut underneath their hand, “Is never allowed to enter the kitchen. As long as I shall live.”

“Ah,” Louis hummed in understanding, all the pieces clicking into place and forming the full picture. “Let me take the reins from here.”

They could only wave their free hand at him. Poor thing, Louis thought to himself as he slipped his gloves off and made his way to the smokey-smelling kitchen. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, learning first-hand just why their older brother was banned from ever testing his culinary skills.

Taglist: @sherlockscumslut @lilias-highlights @whitecelluyu @wifeofkyojuro

[lilac-5ky]

To Bake A Cake (Takasugi x Birthday Fem!Reader)

A/N: Last month was my birthday and I decided to write myself a birthday fic including my beloved, but due to certain annoying family situations, it took me ages to finish ;-; But it's finally done, and voila, I decided to post it even though my birthday was over 2 weeks ago lmao.

Plot: After a run-in with Sakamoto, Takasugi realizes it's your birthday, and decides to grant you a wish. Who could have thought such wish involved whisking and baking?

guest starring tatsuma and mutsu because i realized ive pretty much never included them in anything.

Warning: Comedic fluff with lots of smut :p

(here's a ss gif because im too much a chicken to dive in the final arc just yet ;-; but he looks fine af and ;-;)

“Takasugi?”

If there is one thing Takasugi Shinsuke has learned during his rather unpleasant sojourn in life, it’s that the sound of his name seldom accompanies a blessing. Everywhere he went, disaster followed, and this place was no exception.

Be it at Edo Mart or a terminal millions of miles away from Earth, a world renowned terrorist should never even dream of setting foot inside a tobacco store with such abandon. Still that was exactly what he did, and now, he was left with no other choice, but to face the consequences of his poor decision making.

With the smoke still in hand, Takasugi hurried out of the store. A head-on confrontation in the middle of the crowd wouldn’t do, and so he kept on walking, until the voice of his pursuer faded into existence. Had he misheard? Could it be that he’d grown paranoid enough to be chased by illusions?

Bewildered, he packed the tobacco inside his yukata, when a disturbingly familiar cackle reached his ears.

“Damn, I can’t believe it was actually you.” The silhouette of a man dressed in a red duster and a pair of dark circular shades said. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you avoided me.”

This was far worse than a rogue bounty hunter, space fighter or Naraku assassin catching whiff of him. Something he dreaded more than all three combined.

“What if I was?” Takasugi taunted.

“That’s not how you greet an old friend, Takasugi. Especially when we haven’t spoken in years!” Sakamoto pouted, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “My letters haven’t reached the Kihentai?”

“They haven’t.” He replied in a stern tone, ignoring his friend’s comment.

In reality, Takasugi had gotten his hands on every single letter Sakamoto sent his way, though he never answered back any of them. That’s not to say he never tried to, more like he was incapable of doing so. What would he write? What was there for him to say when there was nothing piecing the two together?

Idle small talk was never his thing. He couldn’t just go back to the time when the four of them chattered about everything and nothing in particular all at once. The bonds of the past belonged in the depths of his mind, along with the memories they shared. No matter how much he yearned to traverse that limit, the only road for him was the one lying ahead. He had no time for distractions.

“That’s a shame.” Sakamoto said, buying into it. “Have you met with the others then? I hear Zura is in the same field you are.”

“Same field, entirely different agenda.” He scoffed. “Let’s just say Zura’s more like a prickle pointing at my side rather than an ally.”

“I find that hard to believe. Wasn’t he the one to always clean after your mess?”

“We’re old enough to be cleaning after our own messes. Times change, Tatsuma. I’m sure you know that best.” He sighed, taking a few steps further away from the crowd, and hopefully, away from this discussion.

“People don’t. When I look at you, I only see the same idiot who put his life on the line for a lost war. Same goes for the others.”

By the looks of it, getting rid or him wouldn’t be this easy. Even when Takasugi walked away, Sakamoto kept trailing after him, until the two made it past the quiet corner of a souvenir shop. As if anyone would want a memento to remember this god-forsaken land by. Other than a safe heaven for criminals and merchants to conduct their business in discretion, this planet offered next to nothing. The lack of sustainable tourism was enough proof for that.

At the back of the store, lied a handful of vacant chairs, one of which Sakamoto sat on and another of which Takasugi rejected. He had no particular intention to get all cozy by his side, not when the cold metallic wall felt far more welcoming.

“Was this supposed to come off as an insult or a compliment?” Takasugi sneered.

“Just an old friend’s insight.” Sakamoto chuckled, stretching his limbs. “I take it you haven’t been talking with Kintoki either.”

“I haven’t.” He admitted, the last time the two of them conversed -or, rather squabbled- still vivid in his brain.

“In that case, why don’t we plan a reuni- ”

“I’m busy.” He cut him off.

“But I never said when-”

“I’ll be busy.”

The last thing he needed was a get-together with these three idiots. Running into one of them was bad enough on its own, be it the lesser evil. Even if part of him wanted to gather around a campfire, tossing stories and insults as if nothing ever soured between them, there was no way he’d never admit it. Not to himself, and certainly, not to him.

“I should get going.” Takasugi said, looking to end this little misfortune, when Sakamoto jumped before him.

“Wait! I didn’t tell you why I was here in the first place.” Sakamoto exclaimed, revealing a rather large box from behind his back, one that Takasugi had failed to notice in prior.

“I don’t remember asking.” He smirked in an attempt to hide his curiosity.

“I was gonna have this delivered at your ship, but since you are here, you should take it.” He said, urging him to grab the parcel. “It’s for Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Takasugi asked, visibly intrigued. He was aware the two of you shared the same beginnings in life, but he would’ve never guessed you’d kept contact after the war.

“Takasugi, don’t tell me you don’t remember your own girlfriend’s birthday.” Sakamoto said in a semi-accusatory tone.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He objected, the latter part of the sentence having yet to register.

He’d rather take his other eye out than let others define your relationships as that of a boyfriend and a girlfriend, but at the same time, Takasugi was unsure of what to actually introduce you as. The woman he slept with seemed too shallow, the woman he loved too grandiose. Perhaps the term partner was the closest at doing you justice. Still, titles meant nothing when he knew precisely what you were, and that was his.

His and only his.

“Is she not? Wow, then I suppose it’s not too late for me to shoot my shot.” Sakamoto declared with a grin.

“Not unless you want to get shot first.”

At his threat, Sakamoto couldn’t help but burst into laughter, nearly dropping the box to the ground. Which he would have done, had it not been for Takasugi successfully catching it midair. It was even heavier than it looked, he noted as he balanced it against his hip.

“I was just kidding! Well, not entirely, but I don’t suppose you plan on sharing, right?”

His silence was the only answer he could spare. A merchant should know better than to go after things that were never up for sale in the first place.

“Besides, I’m happy things worked out between you two. Y/N was a real knockout back home. I never worried about her hitting it off with someone, but you finding someone who can put up with your grumpiness long term? That’s amazing!” He went on, following his words with another of his distinct cackles.

Takasugi could feel himself getting increasingly irked with every word Sakamoto spewed, even when deep down he could see his point. It was true that he wasn’t the world’s easiest person and that you’d endured hell by choosing to stay around a guy like him. Maybe to others it looked as if you were the one who needed him, considering how you always clung onto him, but in reality, it was the other way around. You were the only one who could make these dark clouds disperse, the only one he truly needed.

“Remember how just about half the girls were in love with you, yet the second you looked their way they ran away? Or how you made that girl cry right after she confessed? Poor thing, she even made you a card! Or-or, how every time we went down to Yoshiwara, no girl managed to spend an entire night with you without-”

Just when he was about to mellow down a bit, Sakamoto started speaking again, his laughter constantly breaking his own sentences in half.

“Will you keep listing more unpleasant incidents?” Takasugi asked through gritted teeth, finding it impossible to maintain his composure.

“No, of course not! I was just pointing out how you seem to have found your one true match. Really puts the whole ‘there’s someone out there for everyone’ thing into perspective.” Sakamoto grinned earnestly.

“Then you are lucky more than half the population tends to your standards.” He mumbled, as he lowered his gaze towards the box.

Why did he not know it was your birthday today? No matter how busy he was, he couldn’t have possibly forgotten, unless he never knew about it in the first place.

Come think of it, you first met amidst the war. A merchant’s daughter with great prospects and an even greater future awaiting her, choosing to fund a war she wasn’t part of, and it was all because of him. Because ever since you met, you kept trying to earn his attention through whatever means necessary.

He remembered how persistent you were, suggesting he owed you so much as a mere talk when you’d burnt all this money on his cause. At first, he saw no reason for you to get too friendly with one another. All you were was a friend of a friend, and so, he’d brushed your advances, blatantly stating that no amount of yen was enough to buy him. However, you weren’t disheartened. You kept asking him to name his price over and over again, until he finally caved in and took you on a crappy date by the shore.

Truthfully, he sucked at dating, back then and right now. The right words never came easily, and getting involved with someone during such a crucial point of his life was a hassle. But even when he’d chosen to maintain his silence, idly tossing rocks into the sea, you’d chosen to grab a stone of your own, and join him without a single complaint. You’d stayed by his side until the awkward silence became comfortable, until the moon gave way to the sun, until your nights were filled with hasty kisses and unbottled chuckles.

And then the war came to an end. All survivors either returned home, or found a new place to call that, but he wasn’t among those. Perhaps he never survived that war, perhaps he never left the battlefield. He kept on dragging the horrors of the past with him, but worse, he kept dragging you along.

You were the person he valued more than his life, that was for certain. Every smile, every kiss, every night, even your own future, you’d given that all without asking for anything in return. But why was it that you’d kept something so trivial a secret? Why was it that he had no actual recollection of you ever celebrating a damn occasion by his side? Why was it that he felt as if the times you’d cried outnumbered the ones you’d smiled?

“But, Takasugi, you should know better than to disappoint her.” Sakamoto interrupted his thoughts. “Between you and me, women really do care about birthdays and anniversaries more than we do. You should also get her a little something while you still have time. Usually something shiny or pretty cuts it, but if push comes to shove, then you could always push or shove something else into her-”

Before Takasugi had the chance to truly grasp his friend’s explicit hints, a punch came raining down on him, sending his glasses flying and his head to meet the floor.

“I thought I heard a dog barking.” The voice of a woman spoke in a harsh tone, her presence revealed behind the man’s fallen body.

Long brown hair concealed by a straw hat. Fair complexion and cunning eyes. He’d only seen this woman once before, though such formidable persona was unforgettable.

“Mu-Mutsu?” Sakamoto squeaked.

“Didn’t you promise to stay put, Sakamoto? Do I really need to tie a leash around your neck?” She asked, rubbing the point of her shoe against his throat.

“Wh—what are you talking about? We were only catching up!” Sakamoto cried, attempting to lift her leg with both hands.

“Seems like your second-in-command is far more perceptive than you are, Tatsuma.” Takasugi smirked. “Too bad she’s wasting her potential. Although it’s not too late to reconsider.”

“I’m afraid I see no profit in terrorism.” Mutsu scorned, kicking Sakamoto’s palms off her while he rolled to the side in relief. “Besides, who knows what will become of this idiot, should he stay unsupervised long enough?”

“Fair enough. Although you should take care of yourself. Idiocy is highly contagious.” He said, lightly stepping over a writhing Sakamoto.

“After all these years, I’d like to think I’ve grown immune.” She replied, following his lead.

“There are no bigger idiots than the ones who claim they aren’t. Mix it up with someone like them once, and it’s already too late to go back.”

“Experience speaking?”

“Something like that.”

“Gu-guys, can you not have this discussion on top of me?” Sakamoto begged, trying his best to retract his hands.

With a light chuckle, Takasugi obliged to his friend’s wishes, turning his back on the two of them. “Well then. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Oi, Takasugi, don’t forget about what I said! Make sure to-Ouch!”

Once he’d distanced himself from the scene, Takasugi stopped a final time to look over his shoulder. Mutsu kept making use of Sakamoto’s hair as if it were a mop, sweeping just about every piece of dirt, until his pleas disappeared along with the two of them behind the crowds.

“It really was good seeing you, Tatsuma.” Takasugi smiled, his steps heavier than before as he marched in the opposite direction.

“I thought you said you’d buy some smoke before we take off, not harvest an entire field yourself.”

At the sound of the door opening, you set your book down. You’d lost count of how many pages you’d flipped up until Takasugi decided to make it back to his room. For all you knew, hours, or even days had gone by. There was no real telling in the vastness of space. Everything moved at its own pace.

Still, what he did was unforgivable. Subjecting you to the dullness of going through the same book over and over again, while he was out there, most likely caught up in some incredibly fun story you’d missed on.

“If only.” Takasugi stated in a dry tone, closing the door behind him. “Instead, I was made into a messenger by an old friend of yours.”

“An old friend of mine?” You repeated, propping your jaw against your elbows.

There were little to no candidates for him to meet up in space. With the majority of your friends being either at odds with him or straight up unable to afford such a trip, the obvious answer would be Sakamoto. Not because he didn’t belong in either category, but because on a day like this, he was the only with a reason to seek you out.

Your suspicions were confirmed the moment Takasugi presented you with a rather hefty looking box, one that he set onto the floor before making his way towards the window. This definitely was the work of your childhood friend, you concluded, though you couldn’t resist playing dumb with your guesses.

“Hmm… could it be Gintoki?”

A thin cloud of smoke spiraled from his direction, the silence serving as response.

“Zura then?”

More smoke.

“Nobume?” You insisted.

“Just how many old friends do you have?” He stated, rather than asked.

“Then… Shige Shige?”

“Since when you’ve gotten friendly with the Shogun?”

“Since you’ve been taking hours to shop for tobacco.” You taunted, finding enjoyment in your little back and forth.

“Charming.” He smirked, at last turning around. “Tatsuma asked me to bring this to you.”

“Then I guess I have no right to nag you any longer. I wonder what it is!” You gleefully exclaimed in a singing voice, while your hands fumbled with the tape.

Ever since the two of you were mere brats back in Tosa, you’d come up with this weird tradition of finding the wackiest birthday gifts for one another. From vagina scented candles for your eleventh birthday, to a calendar full of inappropriate seasonal pictures of Tamo-san for his twelfth, each year the competition grew more severe than before, with nothing but the sky serving as the limit.

Your anticipation grew bigger over each tape that came off, and you could tell you weren’t the only one. A keen orb of green kept following your every movement while its owner timed each step of his with another puff of smoke. To be fair, he was doing a great job concealing his interest, and if it weren’t for his pipe nearly dropping off his lips at the sight of your gift, then you wouldn’t have known.

Admittedly, it took more time for you to realize what the item in hand was, than for Takasugi to recover from his rapid coughing. The two circular objects at the base, the pink colored mushroomy tip, the vein-like lines engraved all around… Judging by its size alone, it resembled more that of a greatsword than of a sex toy. It was ridiculously big, both in length and girth.

“Is that…?” Takasugi asked, not daring to finish his question.

Picking the dildo up, you failed close your palms around its head. This was definitely not meant for humans, or, at least, not one of your physique.

“I lost.” You admitted, realizing there was no way to ever surpass him now. “I actually lost.”

“There is a note.” He pointed back inside the box.

“Oh? You are right. Let’s see,” you paused to unfold the paper, “ ‘Dear Y/N, I hope this letter finds you in good health, and I wish you a very happy birth-Autumn, from the bottom of my heart.” You quickly glanced up at Takasugi, though he didn’t say a word.

That was a close one!

“That’s quite courteous of him!” You awkwardly chuckled.

“Anyways, ‘In the past month we managed to expand our business in Rakuyo, and this is one of our first prototypes. With the majority of Yato warriors scattered around the galaxy, their women tend to wallow in loneliness and frustration. We hope that with time, they can learn to open their hearts, along with their legs to us.’ Typical Tatsuma.” You chuckled, while Takasugi scoffed.

“Hmm, according to him, its name is ‘Master Sword 69’ and-oh, the tip is detachable and, if you insert batteries, it also works as a foot massager! That’s thoughtful.”

“Is that all?” He sighed.

You unfolded the rest of the letter, finding a postscript right at the end.

“‘P.S. I sincerely hope Takasugi is not as big of a bore in bed as he used to be.’ Oh, Tatsuma.” You giggled, unable to contain yourself. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Idiots never change.” Takasugi mumbled as he returned to the window.

“But Shinsuke, what’s that thing he said about you being a boring lover? Is there anything I should know?” You asked, not bothering to suppress your amusement.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Oh come on, I bet there is a great story behind this.” You insisted, only to be treated with more silence.

You didn’t need to take a look at his face to know he was sulking. With his eye narrowing to a slit, and the pouty expression of his lips, you’d grown plenty familiar with that side of his. What others saw as menacing, you only saw as absolutely adorable, to the point of you refusing to spend another minute apart.

You really had missed him.

“It’s fine. No need to tell me.” You mumbled as you pressed your head against the nape of his neck.

He was insistent on facing the opposite direction, but you didn’t mind. As long as he gave you the freedom to wrap your arms around his torso, to take in on his wonderfully intoxicating scent, to pepper every inch of bare skin you could find in kisses, then it was all fine by you.

“You plan on using that?” He eventually asked, huffing some of the smoke your way.

“Not if I can help it. I’d still choose to use you over anyone and anything else.” You cooed, planting your lips near the shell of his ear. “Only you can make me feel this way.”

“And what would that way be?” He asked in a gentler tone.

“Just, you know.” You left a peck upon his cheek. “The best kind of way.”

Although he didn’t mean for you to see it, a tiny smile broke through his grave expression as he caved in to your touch. That was Takasugi for you. No matter the sharpness of his eye, and the shrewdness of his words, the way his free hand cupped over your own revealed all you needed to know. From the moment you first took hold of each other, to this moment here, he remained as enamored with you as he was back then.

The two of you stayed like that for quite a while, until Takasugi drew his kiseru away from his lips to store it inside his clothes.

“What do you want?” He asked, circling his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head.

“Is there anything you want for your birthday?”

“You knew?” You yelped, letting go of him at once.

“You take me for an idiot?” Takasugi inquired as he turned around.

“….No.” You sighed. Switching out ‘birthday’ for autumn had really done it.

It wasn’t as if you actively tried to keep your birthday a secret, but with the war and him turning to terrorism, there was never really an appropriate moment to mention it. You couldn’t simply show up one day with cake and balloons and surprise your own self, and being the one to casually announce it didn’t feel quite right either. In the end, you pushed this occasion to the back of your brain, the sole reminder of which became Sakamoto’s annual presents.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with genuine concern.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that,” you lowered your head “I didn’t want to weigh you down with another responsibility. I know how exhausting everything is for you, I see it every single day when you collapse in bed without saying a word. I don’t want to be the one to add more to that, nor do I wish to pressure you into buying me a gift or pulling a surprise on me. Just getting to spend my every day with you is enough for me.”

“Y/N.” His voice commanded. “Our lives so far have been filled with more sorrows than I care to count. My eye has seen more horrors than I wish to remember. Do you really think that your birthday would add to either?”

“N-no…” You admitted, shying away from his gaze.

“Then I find no reason for you to be keeping that from me. We’ve each carried the other’s sorrows long enough. Let us carry a joy for once.”

He was right. If only you’d just mentioned it to him before, then you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself like this in front of him. It was only right that he knew, especially when you’d never missed the chance to surprise him on his own birthday.

“So tell me. Is there anything you want?” Takasugi asked again.

“Are you serious about the ‘anything’ part?” You smiled in mischief, quickly snapping out of your own dejection.

Arching an eyebrow, Takasugi took a step closer until you stood eye to eye. You couldn’t tell whether he was trying to read your mind or intimidate you into giving up on your idea, but either way, you both knew it was too late for him to go back on his offer.

“You’ll really do anything I ask?”

He was most likely regretting ever suggesting that, though he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely nodded, perhaps his curiosity winning him over a second time.

“…Sure.”

This was all the confirmation you needed. “Then, follow me!”

“What kind of wish fulfilling involves a kitchen?” Takasugi asked the second you set foot in the ship’s kitchen.

Out of all the shenanigans you’d gotten him mixed up in, out of every bad idea he’d suffered through, this one would come to top them all. But it was your birthday, and he’d been so generous as to present you with an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you weren’t too keen on brushing off. Even if he protested, even if he tried to claw his way out, you’d make sure that by the time the two of you left the room, it’d be with your objective in hand; a cake.

“Shinsuke, what is the first thing you think about when you hear the word ‘birthday’?”

“Death.” He bluntly stated. “It’s a reminder that your time is running out.”

“Weren’t you the one who spoke against sharing nothing but sorrows?” You argued in disbelief. It wasn’t unusual for him to be grim, but that was beyond your expectations. “Let’s just skip to the point. A birthday without cake is no birthday at all.”

His expression had turned completely vacant, to the point of you being able to hear imaginary crickets chirping in the background.

“My wish is for you to bake me a cake!”

Even more chirping.

Had he not heard you? You weren’t too sure about that, though once he turned to the door, you realized he’d not only been listening to your every word, but was already planning his escape.

“You said you’d-ugh, do anything! You can’t-ugh, leave!” You exclaimed as you threw yourself to the door, blocking the exit with your body.

Just like he had no intention of honoring his word, you had no intention of letting him go either. A direct confrontation would result in your defeat, but when you managed to get hold of the door’s key, there was little he could do. It was game over. At least for now.

“You know, this won’t be enough to stop me.” Takasugi sneered, watching as you stuffed the key inside your kimono. “There are many ways for me to get that key back.”

“I’d like to see you try. The only way outside these holy grounds is through my satisfaction.”

At your declaration, he couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

“Now, let’s get to work!” You said as you paced further inside the room, a groaning Takasugi following closely.

Truth is, you’d only been in the kitchen a handful times before. The Kiheitai already possessed designated personnel to handle everyone’s meals, and unless either of you wanted to snack on something specific, -namely, Takasugi on his beloved beverage- there was no need to spend any time in here, meaning, you had no idea where to find anything.

Starting with the fridge seemed like a reasonable idea, you thought to yourself as you tied your hair into a high ponytail. Eggs, butter and, thankfully, heavy cream. You laid everything on top of the counter before making your way around the drawers, checking the final ingredients off your list. So far, so good.

The real struggle came with finding the appropriate utensils. Bowls and cutlery were easy enough to locate. You even got yourself a light-pink apron in the process, yet no matter how hard you looked, the mixer was nowhere to be found.

“Where is the mixer?” You asked once you’d checked just about every cabinet.

“How am I supposed to know? What kind of faction do you think I’m running?” He snapped, refusing to help in the slightest.

Disappointed, you were about to call it quits when you remembered seeing a whisk somewhere in there, which wasn’t quite the same, but if a certain glaring samurai were to assist, nothing was impossible.

“There’s a whisk!” You announced, presenting it to him.

More cricket sounds. He looked at it as if he’d never seen another.

“You really haven’t cooked anything in your life, have you?”

“I have.” He lied.

“What was it?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Onigiri.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a culinary virgin, Shinsuke. I bet Zura was the one to handle the majority of the work while all you did was boss him around.” You accused, waving the whisk at his face.

“Not a lie.” He smirked.

“It’s a wonder people follow you when you refuse to get your hands dirty.” You mumbled. “But fear not! Today, your cherry gets popped. As long as we are in here, you are no Kiheitai leader, but a rookie whose wish is my com-no, my wish is your command” You corrected. “Understood?”

Although evidently irritated, Takasugi ended up agreeing to your suggestion, going so far as to accept the whisk from your hands.

“Perhaps you could call me senpai while you’re at it-”

“Not a chance, birthday girl.” He interrupted.

“Fine, fine. Let’s start with the base.”

One by one, you tossed the ingredients in the bowl, while he mixed them together with just about zero enthusiasm. He was such a handful!

“You know, it will take forever if you do it like that.” You commented, slipping behind his back and then claiming his hand with yours. “Let me show you.”

Propping your chin on top of his shoulder, you started to vigorously shake his hand back and forth around the bowl, making sure that everything got mixed thoroughly.

“If you don’t do it this way, the ingredients won’t mesh well together and there will be lumps of flour.” You explained, unaware of how rather than paying attention to your words, Takasugi kept staring down your lips.

As he got the hang of it, his hand began moving on its own. “That’s it! Keep it up, and-”

Before you could finish your sentence, you took notice in how close the two of you were. With your bodies pressed together and his lips curling into a lazy smile, you forgot all about what it was that you wanted to say.

“Y-you can handle things from here.” You stuttered, pulling yourself away. “I’ll go bring the pan.”

Even after all these years, it was so easy for him to get under your skin. One look of his, and your mind was already filling up with intrusive thoughts that involved him using his hands on something else. He’d always been skilled with his fingers, be it at fighting, cooking, or…

Get your shit together, you scolded yourself, repeatedly patting your palms flat against your burning cheeks.

“What’s taking you so long?” His voice queried from the other side of the room.

“Coming!”

Once the pan was in the oven and the timer set, the time for the the filling came. Neither your supplies nor your skills allowed much room for creativity and so, you decided to keep things simple. Some heavy cream and sugar would do just fine, but even for that, his help was needed.

“Can you do this for me?” You brought a clean bowl forth.

“Is that a question, or a command?” Takasugi asked.

“A little bit of both.” You smiled as he took the bowl from your hands. “Do it harder than before. You’ll know it’s ready when peaks start to form.”

It was nice to see him take things more seriously. For someone who was fixed on destroying the world, to be baking cakes certainly was out of character, but at the same time, the image felt somewhat natural to you.

Back when the outcome of the war had yet to be defined, and the two of you had the freedom to dream, you’d pictured such a life countless of times. Instead of sneaking around between stranded beaches and hollow willow trees, you’d be greeting each other under the same roof. He’d nag about the different ways Gintoki -or another of his subordinates- got on his nerves that day, while you’d be setting the table, welcoming his every complaint with a warm smile.

Then after you’d finish dining, you’d move onto the couch under the pretense of watching some crappy show none of you cared about, just he could snake his arm around your shoulders. And at the first yawn, you’d lay side by side on the same bed where you’d be free to cradle his face in your hands and fawn over how beautiful your reflection appeared in his emerald green eyes. You’d whisper ‘I love you’s’ to each other with no fear for tomorrow, knowing that this life would not be taken away from you.

The Takasugi in front of you resembled that of your dreams a lot, except this one kept hissing in frustration at his sleeves. No matter how many times he rolled them out of the way, they insisted to fall inside the bowl, cutting his movements short. With a smile, you placed your hand on top of his. This version of him was perfect enough already.

“Need some help?” You teased, lifting one of his sleeves out of the way.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

You chuckled at his refusal. He was always like that, as if it would kill for him to receive the aid of anyone. If he could bring this world down by himself, then you had no doubt, he’d choose to do that without speaking to another soul. Be it his burdens or his sleeves, unless you forcefully lifted them for him, then he’d insist on doing things the hard way.

With some his frustration evaporating, Takasugi managed to bring the cream to its appropriate state; not too fluffy and not too thick either. You let go off his sleeves and he let go of the whisk, turning the bowl around so to inspect it properly.

“Looks good.” He deducted.

You nodded in agreement. “Let’s see…”

Dipping the tip of a spoon in, you took a taste of your creation. He really had a knack for this. It tasted wonderful!

“Mmm, it’s sweet.” You exclaimed, licking it clean. “Want some?”

For a moment, you saw him contemplate his answer before reaching out. You took it as an invitation, and so you dipped the spoon back in, though you never had the chance to deliver it. Instead, your hand was caught mid-air by his, with your unsuspecting lips falling victim to his own. You gasped, nearly letting go off the spoon as you closed your eyes, finding a taste far more wonderful than any cream you’d ever tasted.

“Indeed.” He breathed. “Very sweet.”

With his fingers pressing at your wrist, Takasugi pulled you closer, until you landed in his arms, and until the thought of holding onto that stupid spoon vanished behind a loud clang. He pressed a kiss upon your lips and then you pressed another, your tongues tugging and swirling in imperfect sync, as you both felt the heat rise in between your bodies. You wanted more, and he was more than willing to take from you.

It was only when you felt his palms dropping to your bum that you realized what he was trying to do. That bastard was way too damn good at this.

“Seducing me won’t work.” You whispered and he chuckled, not at your words, but at how you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him.

“It won’t?” He taunted, fully aware of the answer. Whatever it was that he was doing, you had no power to resist.

Without breaking apart from your mouth, Takasugi carried you all the way towards the closest unoccupied flat surface he could find. A cold sensation trickled down your spine as you made contact with the hard metal. Not in a million years would you ever think that you’d be doing this with him, yet there you were, spreading your legs wide open for him to nest in between.

His arm remained hooked around your waist when all of a sudden you felt him stop. You opened your eyes along with your lips, sheepishly staring at him with nothing but desire, of which he took advantage. His thumb trailed the outline of your jawline before swiping over your bottom lip. Without thinking twice, you puckered up your lips against it, pressing a peck so gentle as his smile. God, he was so beautiful in that moment, words he stole right out your mouth.

Letting go of you completely, Takasugi lowered himself until his knees met with the floor and the tips of his fingers with your thighs. You glanced down at him, watching as he balanced your knees upon his shoulders, his own gaze solely fixated at your entrance.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, your voice coming out like a croak.

“You wanted to order me around, did you not?” His breath tickled as he moved his head closer. “Look where my hands are now, Y/N.” He demanded, squeezing at your skin. “And my lips.” He went on, leaving each thigh with a kiss. “And my tongue.”

A sharp inhale got caught up in your throat as you felt his wet tongue lap over your clothed slit, the feeling only amplified by the way his eye bore into yours.

“Go ahead and order.” He mumbled, running his tongue along your lips, lest you weren’t convinced already. “How should I use them?”

You had a hard time distinguishing between dream and reality right now. While he always made sure you got to have as much fun as he did, he’d never been this accommodating before, and in a semi-public space, least of all places. You barely believed in your eyes, but then again, the dripping sensation between your legs told no lies. This was all very much reality, and you wouldn’t let it go to waste.

“D-do that again,” you stammered. “I like it when you tease me.”

A faint chuckle followed your bashful confession, it feeding directly into his pride.

In less than a heartbeat, Takasugi complied with your demand. With his fingers squeezing lower, his mouth pressing firmer, and his tongue languidly moving across every inch of your folds, he left no spot untouched. You tried to look down, though your apron stood in the way of getting a clear view. All you saw was a head of purple peak underneath, and that certainly was not enough.

“I wanna see.”

Hands slid around your waist, his eye being the first to undress your body. One by one, the knots of your kimono and apron came undone, bringing both fabrics to simply drape over your bare figure, a sight not even he could resist.

Rather than going back down, his fingers snuck past your garment and onto your breast, trailing your hardened peak all the way to the soft curve of your skin. You smiled. After all, you loved that kind of attention from him.

Once he’d had enough, he returned to his knees, both of you having gained sufficiently better view of each other. You placed your feet atop his shoulders, prodding him to get back into business. A single finger hooked around the elastic of your underwear, with him seeking confirmation in your features. Perhaps you could get used to this compliant side of his.

“Take them off.” You instructed without hesitation, wiggling your hips to accommodate him.

The moment he rid of that final restraint, Takasugi plunged forward, his impatience showing every step of the way. If it were any other occasion, he’d have about zero qualm to push you down and take you however he pleased, but for now, you could tell he was doing his absolute best to remain tame for the sake of honoring his word.

Tentatively, he rolled his tongue outside his mouth and onto your entrance, his fingers spreading your lips for him to pepper the area with short kitten licks. You sighed, little by little feeling your clit swelling up under his touch. This was nowhere near what you’d imagined when you first walked ins that kitchen, but now, it was everything you craved.

“Give me your hand.” You asked, extending your own in his direction.

His hand found yours midway as he directed his attention to your fingers. You weren’t too sure whether he’d catch your drift or not, but it was worth a try. With your index, you traced the inside of his palm in a straight line, pressing firmly at the end of it before repeating the same gesture from the top. Not too gentle, but not too rough either. Just how you wanted to be touched.

In the same manner your finger brushed his skin, his flattened tongue came to glide over your slit only to stop short at your clit, following the same route all over again. For a second time, you sighed, your arousal gradually building with each stroke. The familiarity between you allowed no room for mistakes; he knew exactly what you needed.

“You taste better than any damn cake in this world.” Takasugi commented for the first time in a while, closing his lips over your clit.

“D-don’t insult our cake!” You felt him smirk at your objection, his teeth barely grazing over your sensitive spot, be it enough to make you moan.

“Want me to go a bit harder?” He asked, lazily swirling over your clit.

“I suppose you can.” You answered, hiding your embarrassment behind a pout. Years later and his effect on you had not worn off.

Lacing his fingers with yours, Takasugi began to follow a pattern of his own, the kind to set all your pretty sounds free. With his one hand rubbing at your thigh, he made sure you got to watch your clit disappear into his mouth, each kiss of his leaving it wetter than the previous one.

“F-fuck…”

You could feel every bump of his tongue massage your cluster of nerves, the warmth of his mouth making it feel as if he was attempting to rekindle a fire in you, one that had all but been extinguished. He wanted you to burn, just so he could burn with you. Just so you could feel every single emotion his tongue failed to describe engraved upon your body.

In no time, he had you moaning nothing but the sound of his name, occasionally no more than the sharp consonants of his initials coming out. It felt so good. Too good. He kept flicking and curling, while you kept tossing and turning, your hips squirming away while your fingers gripped closer, at his fingers, at his hair, anywhere you could find, anywhere you could anchor in.

Muffled sounds mixed in with your cries, as Takasugi kept gushing over you, his saliva and your fluids streaming down your throbbing holes. But the lewd sound of your squelching under his tongue, came only second to the far more obscene expression of his face. He looked so messed up, with his disheveled hair and bandages dropping over his forehead. So messed up that part of you couldn’t help but want to mess him up even further.

You weren’t even thinking straight anymore. Your judgment was completely clouded by primal instincts and sheer pleasure. All you knew was that you wanted him, that you’d spent every breathing moment of your life wanting and yearning for him, even when he’d always been by your side. You wanted to never let go, you wanted to become one with him. Now, and forever.

Your grip on his hair relaxed enough for you to push a loose strip of bandage that blocked his vision behind his ear. He hummed in response, his gratitude pouring in the way his hand held yours ever so lovingly. You tried your best to keep your gaze fixed on his, though the second he slid in one of his fingers, you had no choice but to fall back, your hips solely jerking forward.

You cursed again and again, until no word that made sense came out of your mouth, until the room began to spin, the bright kitchen lights and the buzzing of a bell filled in the void of your eyes. Briefly, you felt him pull out of you, his lips insisting on placing a series of tender kisses along your opening and thighs as if he were the one thanking you.

“Y/N.” The hoarse sound of your name fell on deaf ears. You were too preoccupied with your own bliss to answer him.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” He went on.

“Get… that?” Unwillingly you opened your eyes, completely clueless over what he was talking about.

The ringing had all but ceased inside your head, when you realized it had nothing to do with your orgasm. The cake!

In an instant, you flew to the other side of the kitchen, one hand attempting to piece your outfit together, while the other fumbled around the oven’s buttons. Were you a minute late, the cake would’ve gotten burnt to a crisp, and your entire struggle would’ve been over nothing.

“Couldn’t you handle it?” You protested, throwing a punch in the air as he approached you.

“Hmm? I don’t recall receiving such command.” He smirked, capturing each of your fists in his own before they got the chance to land.

“You!” You grunted and he grinned, finding your annoyed expression infinitely amusing, though perhaps, the funniest thing about this scene was the way a half-naked woman retaliated against him in the middle of a kitchen floor.

Maybe if you saw things from that perspective, you’d also be laughing, but for now, all you were was severely distracted and unsure of how to proceed. Your mind kept telling you to get things in order and finish with your cake’s assembly, while another less prim and proper part of you, kept urging you to jump his bones on the spot. Curse you, Takasugi Shinsuke and your stupidly stupid smile.

“Shall we wrap things up, or will you insist on attacking me?” He asked, his chin still glistening with your juices.

“…Get yourself cleaned up first.” You pulled your hands off him in defeat. There was no point of keeping this up.

After the two of you went back to appearing somewhat presentable, you explained how the cake needed some time to cool down, and how in the meantime, you could prepare additional toppings, such as those strawberries you’d previously located in the refrigerator.

Surprisingly enough, he seemed eager enough to assist without you having to ask. Where knives were involved, he found himself right in his element.

In no time, Takasugi made quick work of the strawberries, slicing them into smaller pieces, while all there was left for you to do was gawk at his broad shoulders. He seemed so focused, that even when you paraded back and forth, even when you forced a dry cough here and there, he paid no mind. Just what were you doing?

“What are you doing?” He read through your mind.

No answer could justify your actions. It was because of you that he’d found himself in this situation, but it was because of him that the insistent sensation between your legs wouldn’t go away. If your thoughts were that easy for him to read, then he’d know firsthand of how you felt right now.

His fingers had no reason to be busied with cutlery and fruit. They belonged around your hips, holding you down, lest you arch your back too high.

Be it against the counter, the table, the floor, or even the sink, you longed to see that familiar glint in his eye, the one he only showed when sheathed deep within your heat. You wanted the only sound in the room to be that of his husky breathing evolving to a singular growl right before he spilled in your guts.

If he could really read your mind, he’d know of all that. He’d know of how much you wanted him and how maddening that was. Screw Yato women, what were you supposed to do about your own frustration?

“You know, we’ll probably be in here a while longer.” You suggested, moving up behind him.

“And?” Amusement dripped of his voice as you rest your chin upon his shoulder.

“And we could have some more fun to ourselves.” Your arms looped around his exposed chest. “We’ve never done it in here before.”

Despite him continuously driving the knife down the cutting board, his pace had slowed down. He could act disinterested all he wanted, but his actions suggested otherwise.

“And?”

“And,” you lowered your hands round his nether area, elated to feel his hardened cock poking at your fingertips. “I can tell I’m not the only one excited by the prospect.”

“And?” He hummed, having let go of the knife.

“And I’m sick of playing games.” Your lips tugged at his earlobe, while you kept on palming him.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to play house?”

“I was,” you admitted, “but now, I want you.”

“You grow more shameless with each year.” He accused, flaunting the kind of smirk you wanted to bite right off his lips.

“Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.”

One step was all it took for you to be pressed against the counter, the soft sensation of his mouth overriding the sharp edges of the drawers. It felt uncomfortable and rushed, but you couldn’t care less. The way his tongue wet over your bottom lip was enough to soothe the pain, enough to quell the thirst you had for him.

It’d always been like this. Every time Takasugi kissed you, you were brought back to that moonless summer night by the coastline, the place where you’d first gotten taste of each other. It felt as desperate as the sea’s foam clinging to the shore, and as certain as the promise of the incoming tide, liberating and drowning you all at once.

Deft fingers came digging at your waist, barely undoing each garment for him to ravish what was rightfully his. You helped him remove the kimono, though when it came to the apron, he didn’t allow for you to take it off. He loved the sight of you in it, but more importantly, he loved the fantasy of normality that came along, the manifestation of what your lives could have been.

Enveloped in his warm embrace, you took the opportunity to run your fingers over his skin, trailing them down his chest, his abdomen, and eventually, his crotch. He’d been in such hurry to leave that he’d neglected to wear an underwear. It was a wonder he’d never gotten arrested for public indecency, you mentally chuckled, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and then slowly pumping him.

A hand caressed your own, before moving onto your chest, drawing a tit outside the apron’s coverage. His hot breath replaced his fingers as he dipped forward, sucking your nipple right into his mouth. The sensation made your grip tighten, inducing a soft sigh to fall against your skin. He glanced at you, the green in his eye hazy while he moved higher to leave his mark, making sure that today would be more than just a memory to reminisce.

You dragged him closer, driving his cock to your slicked entrance. Playing around was nice, but definitely not as nice as being filled, a sentiment he seemed to share.

Takasugi placed his hands below your thighs, giving you little time to react when he lifted you up. You gasped, quickly knitting your fingers behind his neck to support yourself, while he held you close, shoving your hips together.

“Where to?” He rasped in between heavy breathing.

“Right here.” The second you gave your answer, you pressed your lips against his, unwilling to stray from his touch any longer.

With great care, he sat you atop the counter, his palms prompting your legs to dangle over the edge for him to position himself. You backed away ever so slightly, keen on watching his thumb continuously swipe over the head and your clit up until he allowed your lips to swallow him. You bit a moan back and he smiled, slowly pushing deeper, replacing your neediness with ecstatic pleasure.

“This is much better than Master Sword 69.” You jested, forcing him to shush you with his mouth, lest he let himself laugh at such a horrid joke.

You felt his tongue roll around yours in sync with his hips, the firm sensation of his pubic bone pressuring your clit whenever he slammed his cock inside. You moaned, nibbling at his lips while he grunted, digging his fingers at your hips to push you further against his thrusts. You loved it when he handled you like that, though you both knew he wouldn’t last much at this pace.

Eventually he slowed down, resorting to merely sheathing himself within your folds. He was already throbbing, his seed begging to spill inside your womb. You rocked your hips a tiny bit and he pulled away halfway before sinking back in, unable to truly part from you. Panted breaths mixed in with soft chuckles, the two of you finding great amusement in how naturally your bodies were drawn together, palpitating with desire.

“I can’t believe I’m yours.” You breathed, ghosting your lips over his. “Even after all these years, I can’t believe I was fortunate enough to have met you.”

“Hopefully you got your money’s worth.” He smirked.

“You make it sound as if you are a prostitute.”

Takasugi rolled his eye, returning his attention to your lower half. Even when he was balls deep inside, you couldn’t help but poke fun at him. Getting on his nerves never got old.

Faster than before, his hips snapped against yours, as if he was trying to fuck you into becoming less of a vixen. You paid no mind to that, fully enjoying the way his cock rammed in your sweet spot, until all of a sudden, sharp pain had you yelping. He stopped, a look of concern spreading to his features while you rubbed at the back of your skull. He’d gone so hard that you’d banged your head against the cabinet.

“So clumsy.” He mumbled, guising his mistake as yours.

You were about to complain when he started moving again, only this time, rather than feeling the cold metal boring into your head, you only felt the softness of his palm shielding you from harm.

“Shut up.” He hushed before you had the chance to say a single word.

Not that you really could, either. With how hard he pounded you, the only sounds you could make were whimpers, little by little being driven over the edge.

Stars still flickered past your shut eyelids as you used your last bit of energy to embrace him, propping your chin upon your arm. His hands searched for support against the counter while he began to fall out of rhythm, his thrusts leading to him cumming deep within your walls.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He was still throbbing as he said those three little words, words you never knew how much you longed to hear.

All these birthdays had gone by without a single gift or wish, but even if you could receive any gift, even if you could make any wish, you’d still choose him, you’d still wish for only him. In the end, all those forgotten gifts and wishes amounted to nothing. What was most important to you was right there in your arms. The most precious thing in life, your partner, your lover, your…family.

“Can you keep being my gift?” You asked, nuzzling in his shoulder. “Next year, and the year after that, can I keep asking for you?”

Takasugi spared no answer. Not because he didn’t want to, but because part of him knew there was always a possibility that the very first birthday you’d spent together might as well be the last he’d ever get to celebrate with you. And so he said nothing, choosing to splay his hands over your lower back in a tender motion.

“I don’t want anything other than you. There’s no one else I’d rather share such moments with, so can you please keep on being my present?” You insisted, demanding for a lie he was not too keen on giving.

A sigh heaved up his chest as he slowly moved away from you. “Quit being this mushy.” He mumbled, turning around.

Part of his cum poured down your thighs as you propped yourself against the counter.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. Maybe you shouldn’t make him commit to a promise he’d be unable to honor, but then again you had a hard time holding back when you loved him this much. The mere idea of spending a birthday on your own gave you goosebumps. It had to be with him. No matter what, he had to be there.

Takasugi returned a minute later with a couple of paper towels in hand. He took in your sour expression, realizing you probably took this short time to reflect upon the future, one you weren’t guaranteed to share.

“You’re such a mess.” He sank to his knees, gently cleaning after the mess he made between your legs.

“As long as I can help it, I promise.”

Following the rather eventful time you spent inside the kitchen, you’d made sure not to leave any traces of your little adventure behind, while he’d made sure to remind you of how easy it’d been for him to claim the key. You didn’t even notice he’d taken it from you until it was time to head out. That sly piece of…

But, you couldn’t complain. Not about his mocking, and not about his refusal to help clean either. The cake turned to be a great success, both in taste and appearance, and you could now finally reap your rewards in the comfort of his bedroom. Bit by bit the platter emptied with only about half the dessert remaining. You hadn’t eaten a single thing all day long, and the unscheduled ‘work-out’ had taken its toll on your poor legs.

Once the two of you finished eating, Takasugi brought forth his shamisen to tune it, while you fished out a piece of paper and a pen to write Sakamoto a letter. There was so much you wanted to tell him. About your trips, the Kiheitai, and of course, about Takasugi.

Outside your letters, Sakamoto never got to hear a word about or from his old friend. You’d seen Takasugi scribble some words, but they never reached his ears. All were torn into confetti.

You knew how much he missed the past. How deep his longing to meet with his friends again ran within his heart and how hard it was for him to express his innermost feelings. You knew all that, and although there was nothing you could do in order to help bridge the gap, letting Sakamoto know of his friend’s well-being wouldn’t harm. Behind his back, or not.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked without lifting head from his instrument.

“Nothing in particular. Just disproving some false claims.” You hid a dry cough behind your fist as you begun to read. “Dear Tatsuma, all’s well here, thanks for asking. I hope your business keeps expanding and you don’t get thrown out in space by Mutsu again. Your gift brought me great joy, but don’t assume I’ll let you win that easily. P.S. Don’t underestimate Shinsuke. He is an incredible lover and really great at-”

Before you could finish reading the supposed letter, Takasugi grabbed it from within your grasp, only to scoff at the lack of ink.

“You are incorrigible” He returned the paper to the table while you chuckled, earning yourself another of his infamous glares.

Rather than picking up the pen, you opted for the spoon, digging back in the remaining piece you’d left in your plate. “It’s true though. You really are an incredible lover and great at cooking.” You swallowed. “You know, it’s not too late to change career, Shinsuke.”

He shrugged, tightening and then striking one of the strings. “I’ll consider leaving the world with just a stove.”

“So what did you think of today? What was it like to make something from scratch?”

“Harder than watching Zura make onigiri.”

You laughed and he smiled just a little bit, the sound of his playing as mellow as his features.

“You’d rather just sit back and watch?”

He nodded, first setting his tuner and then his shamisen to the side. An invitation for you to scoot closer, one that you gracefully accepted by laying your head against his shoulder. For someone who lifted such a heavy burden, he surely felt lightweight as a pillow.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing you in an apron more often.” Takasugi said, picking up his own plate. He was never big on sweets, but he’d at the very least eaten half of what you’d served.

“Makes you resemble a proper housewife.” He smirked after shoving a bite.

“Calling me a housewife when you haven’t even put a ring on my finger.”

Your joke failed to land any chuckles apart from your own. If anything, it had the opposite effect on him, with his expression instantly turning sour.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-”

“Except you did.” He sighed, dropping the plate along with the spoon back on the table, while you sat up to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve halfed-assed many things in life, us included. Years later, and I still don’t know how to do this properly. But what I do know is that when we share a bed together, when we share what little’s left of our souls with one another, when we share a life, then that makes us as good as married, does it not?”

At the sound of his words, you felt your cheeks radiating with heat. How could he speak in such nonchalant way? He’d never called you so much as a girlfriend or a partner, and now went around addressing you as a wife? His wife?

“What? Scared to be called a terrorist’s wife?” Takasugi taunted.

“Terrorist? What terrorist?” You brought a hand onto your forehead, pretending to look around. “I see nothing but a samurai, and that would make me into a samurai’s wife.”

Your answer seemed to satisfy him enough to crack a smile, one that you eagerly returned.

“An idiot, a terrorist, and a samurai. I’ve been called all three in just one day.” He absently trailed over your fingers with his own.

“Only an idiotic samurai could ever turn to terrorism. To me, Shinsuke, you are the same boy I met back then. The one who’s unafraid to raise his sword in the name of a lost cause.”

You meant to assure him, but he only ended up snickering in amusement.

“I really haven’t changed, have I?”

“Not at all.” You expressed with a nod of your head. “But If I may say so myself, you’ve gotten a tad grumpier. It’s as if your grumpiness increases with each passing year.”

His amusement turned to irritation in a moment’s notice, though that did not dishearten you from making further comments. It was always amusing to see how far his tolerance would reach, but when he finally boiled over, your sounds turned muffled.

“Shut up and eat the damn cake already.” Takasugi huffed, having shoved a spoonful of cake in between your parted lips.

Once he felt you swallowing, he pulled his hand away, only for your mouth to follow it, seeking to be fed again. He glared and you insisted, drawing out a long ‘A’ sound until he caved in.

“Such a lousy wife.”

The next morning found you alone in bed, with Takasugi having seemingly disappeared from your side. This was hardly unlike him. Come morning light, he always had this tendency of running off with Bansai, handling the kind of issues you failed to wrap your head around. Can’t be helped.

Your eyes shut once more, refusing to open up just yet. It was so early and there was nothing for you to do, other than to spend another dull day in space. Or at least, that’s what you thought until you stretched your hand onto the pillow beside you, your fingers meeting with the cold roundness of a foreign object; a ring of gold.

“Such a lousy husband.” You exclaimed with a smile brighter than the sun itself.

[ivorydice]

15 Questions

I was tagged by @lunarlegend (thankies! 💜)

And I'll be giving no pressure tagging to: @oftincturedwords @alipeeps @promptos-barcode @amiyade @quartzguts @marmolita @kaelinaloveslomaris and anyone else who might want to do this *bonk* tagged.

1. Are you named after anyone? My middle name was my maternal grandmother's name. It's the only part of my name that I actually like lol. I also recently discovered one of its meanings is "sunflower" which makes me eternally happy for some reason XD

2. When was the last time you cried?

Literally today lmao ughhhhhhhh

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, and I highly doubt I ever will.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I was gonna answer this with yes, but thinking about it now I don't think I use it quite that often. I prefer silly humour instead.

5. What sports do you/have you played?

None, I've never been a sporty person lol.

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

Their hair, I think. It's the easiest way for me to remember what someone looks like. I have a hard time with faces.

7. Eye colour?

Blue-greenish

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies, I love horror so much (shocking, I know).

9. Any special talents?

Uhhhhhh? I can flare my nostrils, I'm just that amazing (😅).

10. Where were you born?

The north east of England.

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing, video games, reading, photography. I'm quite boring lmao.

12. Do you have any pets?

We have a cat (my sister's, technically), she's black and smaller than regular cats, and she likes to sprint around and act like a kitten even though she'll be, like, 8 this year or something. She was actually legit half feral when she came home as a kitten because she'd been left to live in the back of a barn by the family that had her, but now she's a massive baby that loves attention. We used to be frenemies, I'm the one she scratches up and chews on and kicks and pounces because I'm her play buddy or something, but recently she's decided she's also obsessed with me and comes shouting up the stairs for me if I'm in my room and likes to have naps on my lap while I'm on my computer.

I did have a dog, a black Labrador, though sadly she passed away back in March. But I still love her very much, that absolute GOOFBALL, she was a thief, she loved savoury foods so much, chicken was her favourite thing in the world, and she would rip the heads off dandelions and throw them away WHY I STILL DON'T GET IT WHY GIRL. I feel sorry for the other Rainbow Bridge pets because my girl will be storming around ripping all the flowers up XDDD

13. How tall are you?

5'6"

14. Favourite subject in school?

Uhhhh none lol. I can't remember, I think English and History. I think even religious studies in primary school, I was fascinated with learning about different religions.

15. Dream job? Working on video games maybe. Also film director. I would just love to make films, short ones, long ones, anything. I just want to be able to tell stories in so many different ways lol.

[1800titz]

OH NO OH NO OH NO ISLA WHAT HAPPENED???? WHAT WENT WRONG WE WERE DOING SO WELL AHHHHH WHATS THE ICK

ms titz once again this chapter was EVERYTHING i needed and more (even though im terrified of that ending). there is something about the way you write, the way you describe things, that just scratches an itch in my brain. i literally felt like i was the one going on the date the way i was so nervous starting this chapter LMAO. feeding her? the control conversation are u kidding me?? and when he uses mr. eros on to get her to put her wallet away???? i am melting into a puddle. i LOVE them getting to know each other in the daylight and getting vulnerable with each other (the tidbit about her crying both ways to piano lessons… SO on brand isla i’m laughing) and i can’t wait to see if that changes their tomorrow experience (which i stg if isla chickens out or smth i will smack her)

YOU GENIUS YOU 🥰🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 can’t wait for the next one as always!!!!

Firstly, thank you so much for sending this in!! You’re always so kind Therese!! I’m so glad you liked it! The ending is… something… HAHA. But it had to happen!! I promise it’ll all make sense in the end! <3

[genericpuff]

Hi! This is actually super off topic from the "main" (? theme of your blog, but I was wondering. As a person who works full time in making art, do you do anything to protect your hands? Asking this as a younger artist who is worried about getting carpal tunnel and stuff djfndk

Great question!

So I find most of my work - both webcomics and my day job - is actually more of a threat to my back and hips than my wrists. I've tried to mitigate these threats by having a mounted tablet that can be set at eye level (or even become a standing desk!) and investing in chairs that are comfortable and keep my posture somewhat reasonably adjusted (but the ADHD bisexual in me still finds ways to sit weird LMAO)

But as for wrist problems! There are some changes you can make to the way you draw to ensure you're not putting too much stress on your wrists:

Take breaks. You aren't under any obligation or expectation to be drawing every minute of the day. You should be trying to let your arm and wrists rest for a few minutes each hour. When you do, shake 'em out, do some stretches and rotations, massage them a little, do what you can to encourage movement other than drawing because it's repetitive movements that will put you at risk for carpal tunnel.

Learn to draw from the shoulder and elbow. This is a technique that was drilled into us during life drawing classes back in college, but learning how to draw from your shoulder will not only reduce the risk of damaging your wrists, you'll also find yourself creating way more confident lineart and brush strokes as drawing from the shoulder will create more lines and less strokes (like the difference between cursive writing and chicken scratching, if that makes sense lol). Focus less on wrist flicks and more on pulling lines through elbow/shoulder motions.

This isn't an option for everyone, but if you can invest in a bigger tablet, do it! It's one of the few times where I can attest that bigger = better, because a larger tablet will give your arm more room to move and will make drawing from the shoulder that much easier. A couple years back I switched from a 13" Wacom tablet to a 22" Huion one, it was a bit of a pricey buy but nowhere near as pricey as Wacom products are and I haven't looked back since because the large screen gives me soooooo much room to pull lines. It's why I have a hard time drawing on iPads nowadays, the tiny compact screen and how easy it is to just draw in your lap makes it ripe for drawing from the wrist. You really just want to try and find a way to mitigate any repetitive wrist flicking motions in general and having a bigger tablet can really help with that.

I hope that helps! I find my wrist is barely ever a problem nowadays, I've yet to end up with signs of carpal tunnel (knock on wood) and when I do have wrist pain, a day of rest typically clears it right up. Now if only I could fix my back/hip problems, then I'd be all set LMAO (but that's something that can only be solved with serious exercise which I... definitely don't get enough of x.x)

[kithtaehyung]

Ryen, I was about to reply to your previous reply of my ask. Was arranging sentences, might write something like "Oh so, you're saying if he turn his back, we're going to see that scratch?" And something like "ahhhhh that's the tank reader grabbed while kissing him" or something like "No wonder reader was too stunt to speak", but, you! You came up with the updated banner for summer bbq?! How dare you?! What is this behaviour?! You need to be punished!!!

- chicken lasagna -

LMAO hey it isn’t my fault mr min decided to drop what we needed😂 that man is a menace so.. i think we’re gonna get a LOT of banner content soon enough, which is perfect because of all the 3tan banners i have yet to make👀🫣

[kihaku-gato]

Ok time to scratch/vent crow brain now;

Things the Gato wants to has as a sorta-collection. It literally just lists Feathers, an egg and Anime Figures, cause brain said it’d have more than that for me to write on this list and it lied due to forgetfulness

First one- Feathers. Older me understands that legally best not to collect feathers that aren’t either hunting-game birds or domesticated birds, so makes this list scuffed as I only know a few birds that match that.

Male pheasant tail feathers. Cause lovely stripes.

Guniea Fowl Feathers, cause funky spots.

Peacock feather is actually one I’m not dying for weirdly enough, but wouldn’t mind as the top-off if I had other feathers, maybe I’d be more interested if it was from a funky colour morph peacock or something.

cutting in readmore cause this list is gonna be various the deeper we go

Fucking Sebright chicken feathers, either silver or gold morph tbh, and is the breed that always reminds me that there is prolly an untapped enjoyment for domestic birb feathers.

Plymouth Barred Rock feathers. STRIPES AGAIN!!! zebra chimkin!!!

Welsummer feathers. Neck or body cause wtf man, how they patterned like that. Is this a bird or a mosaic?!

Hamburg feathers. This is assuming that the feathers look like what I think they look like; white with black at the ends.

WE ARE SURPRISINGLY DONE WITH THE FEATHERS, not cause I wouldn’t mind others but cause I can’t think of any (the last two chickens were googled ones with me trying to find neat patterned breeds if it wasn’t obvious)

DRAINED EMU EGG. CAUSE GREEN AND FANCY AND THERES WEIRDOS IN THE ODD PARTS OF THIS PROVINCE THAT GOT EMUS

Anime figures since that’s the next one that crossed my mind, being most are expensive as fuck, I don’t see getting any unless I get super lucky. Not really into the ecchi/lewd types but the pretty/cute? absolutely

Gura Nendroid

Marine Nendroid (surprising entry since I don’t watch her but her pirate motif and colour designs hit the right spot)

Ironmouse Nendroid

Not gonna show pictures but like, most Miku Nendroids, Sakura, catgirl, any of the cute themed Mikus are a yes plz

Okayu figurine, cause catgirl bias

Chocolate/Vanilla nekopara figurines. Cause catgirl bias, I have not played the games (seeing streams of the games makes me want to play said games even less lmao). Azuki wouldn’t be bad either.

Googling pics made me realize there are a lot of cute catgirl figurines from various franchises. Many of those others would be cute too.

[charlesjosephwrites]

Find The Word Tag

Thanks for the tag @j-1173!

My words are Wonder, Age, Cover, Mind, and Nothing

These excerpts are all from my supervillain wip!

Some of these are kind of still in the word-vomity first draft stage so hopefully they're legible to more people than just me lmao

Wonder

“We don’t have to fight,” Ms. Psychic said. “If you just leave, we can pretend that nothing happened here.” I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at that. Ms. Psychic clearly hadn’t learned anything from the last two times she’d stuck her nose in my business for no good reason. “Yeah, that ain’t happening, toots,” I said. “We’re not going down without a fight, but first…” I cleared my throat, and I reached into the inside of my suit jacket for my note cards. By some miracle, I’d actually gotten my ass in gear enough to write out what I wanted to say to Ms. Psychic, but staring down at my awful chicken-scratch handwriting made me wonder whether it was worth all of the effort.

Age

Right inside the door was a little store room stocked full of the latest issues of the Tribune (did people still read actual newspapers?) alongside a variety of tourist-y bullshit and some Metrovale Tribune merchandise that no one under the age of forty-five would be caught dead wearing. “Good afternoon! How can I—” The person working the front of the store cut themself off mid-sentence, which was fine with me because I wasn’t sure I would have been able to put up with that overly-peppy customer service voice for too long. Still, I didn’t appreciate the way they stared at me all-slack jawed. “Hello!” I mirrored their peppy customer service voice with a little wave, but I dropped the smile as quickly as it appeared on my face. I slipped a knife into my hand with the flick of my wrist, and I popped to the other side of the desk to wave it around in their face for dramatic effect. “Where might I find the assholes who wrote all the shit about me?”

Cover

The kid turned to me. I couldn’t see much of his face with his helmet and the little black domino mask covering his eyes, but I caught a faint glimpse of the confused frown. He stared up at me for a few moments of stunned silence before he seemingly got a hold of himself. He jumped to his feet, placing his hands on his hips to strike a little pose. “I’m here to—” The kid’s voice cut out with a little squeak. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke up again, his voice came out a little deeper. “I’m here to stop you!”

Mind

“Also!” I waved my arms wildly through the air just to make sure that I was getting everyone’s attention. “One of you fucks better find a way to get Ms. Psychic here.” Our audience only responded with a confused murmur. “I don’t know how she finds out about these things,” I said. “But I’m not going anywhere until I get a chance to give that bitch a piece of my mind, so like…” My voice caught in my throat, and I clapped my hands together a few times as I searched for the right words to express what I wanted to say next. “I don’t fucking know. Just make a post online or something. Just don’t call the cops. I’m not in the mood to deal with any of those asshats today. Or any other day, really, but—” “Magician,” Edgar cut me off with an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to help me with this cash or what?”

Nothing

My mouth gaped open in shock as I looked over Ms. Psychic's new outfit. I looked her up and down, trying to find a place to rest my gaze that didn’t make me want to rip my own eyeballs out with an ice cream scoop, but it was all terrible. Her tights were a shade of yellow so bright that I felt like I was staring directly into the surface of the sun. Her dress was mostly a light shade of blue, but for some godforsaken reason, her left sleeve was covered in stripes of yellow and black that made it look like her arm was turning into a fucking bumblebee. The bright pink cape billowing out in the non-existent wind behind her did absolutely nothing to tie her color scheme together. And, as if none of that was bad enough, the off-center fanny pack strapped around her waist was the absolute worse shade of baby shit green that had ever assaulted my eyeballs. “What the fuck?” I questioned. “You look like a printer just threw up on you.”

I'll tag @andiwriteunderthemoon, @writinglyra, @helvelloides, @ghost-town-story, @did-i-do-this-write, and anyone else who sees this and wants to jump in! As always, no pressure though!

Your words are use, waste, fade, thank, and shake.