#🔮.a peddler's ramblings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potionpeddlerpatchy · 9 months

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HELLLOOOOOO so your selfship with blonde twin 👀 how did this start? what is the origin story, i must know how you fell for each other.

Hello Marquie, my darling!! How sweet it is that you want to learn about a silly little self-ship of mine!

Truly, its all @melodramaticmatter's fault! Her husband is Osamu, and when I made the comment that if I was with Atsumu we could be sister-in-laws she took that and RAN!!

The story goes, Osamu and Gracie always love the ritual and community a Sunday night dinner has and would bring. And seeing as I am her bestie, I of course am always invited. And well, Osamu can't shake his brother off to save his life, so he's always there too.

And well, seeing each other once a week, and having certain people *cough Gracie* subtly place ideas in our heads (mainly Atsumu's) a crush was born. One that I am begrudgingly accepting. But it had led to some very cute scenarios I cannot lie!

One of which, is the fact that the twins always fight and though Atsumu is always the instigator, Osamu always wins them. And then Atsumu would have to endure me scolding him as I patch him up over being so childish and so on, all while he looks down with complete adoration. As well, there are breaks in the scolding cause I have to kiss his boo-boos better.

And yeah.... its adorable but I have yet to fully and truly embrace it cause he's such a little shit...

#anyway thanks for listening to me ramble #and well your interest in this in general #atsumu is a new beloved and he's such a shit about it #smh 😤😤#I hope you've been well!!#would love to hear about your own self ships as well!!#love hearing about people's self ships so much #🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.fellow witch marquie #🔮.the peddler's self-ship

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 2 years

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I'm breathing on the window of your blog with my nose pressed to the glass, wondering if there's a potion in your store to help me deal with overwhelming kirishima feelings.

Well hello Nemo, how wonderful it is to see you here. Though please, no need to fog up my glass, my shop is always open for you! Come in, sit and stay a little while; I just made some tea for your visit.

And as for your overwhelming feelings, I may just have something for you...

Bookbinding was not the most glamorous of work; but it did provide for you with an honest and decent living, one where you could live comfortably and eat well - one that was not too labor intensive or left you working at all hours of the night, and truly what else more could you ask for?

It also provided you the opportunity to meet with the village’s blacksmith. A strong, and intimidating, man with fiery hair and eyes that easily towered over you and dwarfed your frame with his massive size; you doubted that there was any trade out there that could fit like him so perfectly than that of smithing.

Yet despite his appearances, the blacksmith was a very kind and sweet man, one that eased your nerves when you stood before him, frame almost trembling at his imposing nature, with a shake of his hand as he introduced himself as Kirishima. His large hand was warm, calloused from years of his trade, as his toothy smile regarded you warmly; asking for your name as he welcomed you into his shop.

From then on you felt blessed to be a bookbinder for it allowed you the chance to visit the gentle giant’s workshop; to have him delicately create the many hooks you needed to bind twine with parchment. To allow yourself the chance to bask in his glory and presence without getting too far into your head and worrying.

“It is a necessity,” You would whisper to yourself as your nervous footsteps approached the workshop “for both him and I.”

And for the longest time, it worked.

Though, as you found, time makes a fool of us all in one way or another. And before you knew it, those nerves that etched deep within your stomach - that fluttered about wildly - were not do to being frightful and unsure of the blacksmith. But rather because you had grown to enjoy his company, and became attracted to his kind smile, warm eyes, and sweet nature.

It all became overwhelming all to quickly; how your heart hammered so violently within your chest that you found it hard to breathe whenever you stood in his presence. That his smile made it hard to you to form a single thought or hear a word he uttered to you; causing you to stutter over yourself as you tried, and failed, to recover from your embarrassment. And to focus even slightly on something as he worked on your order could never be done, and you could only pray to the gods above that he never noticed your staring.

It was hard to be a professional, to get work done in a timely fashion, with all these emotions and feelings pulling you in all sorts of directions. You wanted desperately for some serenity; a moment of reprieve whenever you were in his presence and the only way you knew to possibly gain that was to visit the peddler that lived nearby.

Even if she was crazy at best.

She regarded you the moment you took a nervous step into her cluttered shop like you were an old friend overdue for a visit. She ushered you in with a knowing smile as she waved you in to look at her wares; her hands never halting their work as they carefully worked with a flame to boil a concussion of ever-changing, colourful, liquid.

“Your heart and mind are not acting as one.” She finally uttered, supposedly tired of the silence that fell like a blanket in the room as you carefully picked up and glanced from vial to vial.

“I-I… w-well, I don’t, I’m not sure…?” Your stuttering response made her laugh, though not in a cruel way, as she hummed along while you explained your situation; almost as if she already knew every beat of your story.

“Take this then” she poured the colourful concoction she had been brewing into a vial, bright sparks and a puff of smoke erupted when the last drop fell; unphased she closed it off with a small cork before handing it to you “Liquid Empathy always allow those who drink it a moment into your heart.”

She shooed you off, hands on her back and guiding you out of her shop, before you could protest; protest the dangers of said potion, the dangerous possible effects to those that drink it, and any inquiry as to how one might be able to get someone to take said drink. All of it fell on deaf ears as she smiled and waved you off.

It took a few days before you managed to find a solution; to give the blacksmith some bread and beer for all he had done, for only then could you have any hope of hiding the taste and power of the potion. And though your mind and heart were wreaked with guilt for such a deception, no matter how minor it was, you needed to quell the raging emotions that clashed and conflicted whenever in his presence - even if briefly - no matter the outcome; even if that outcome was to never again be allowed to speak with him again.

You made your way to his shop, knowing Kirishima would be there even so late at night for it was in his nature; and though it would benefit him to have a little reprieve, it benefitted you more to not have anyone else around. And ever the creature of habit, there he was; hammering away at a new piece of armor the crown had commissioned him for. You caught his eye with a tiny wave, knowing that your soft ‘hello’ could not be heard over his hammer.

“Well hey there!” He regarded you as warmly as he always did, wiping his brow as he approached you with that same smile that made you weak in the knees “What brings you here so late?”

You wanted to respond, to say the words you had practiced over and over in your head before arriving, but your tongue had turned to lead; working turning to sand in your mouth as you stumbled to even make a syllable; and after a moment, with his eyes blinking down at your expectantly - and kindly - you huffed quietly in defeat and held out the basket.

“This is for me?” Kirishima exclaimed, eyes going alight at the treat before him while you nodded your head “Thank you so much, what a sweet surprise!”

You watched as he took your wicker basket, setting it down on one of his many benches, to lift the banket that kept him from the goodies within. Exclaiming in delight the freshly baked bread and the mug of frothy ale; eagerly breaking a piece of the bread to stuff it into his mouth, quelling the raging hunger he was putting off, and lifting the mug up to his mouth the quell his ever-growing thirst.

Slowly, as the mug was raised to his lips, your self-doubt was etched and carved further into your beating heart; knots twisting and tuning more harshly within your stomach as your guilt knawed at your like the roots of a tree digging into the earth for purchase.

“N-no! Don’t!” You called out, hand darting out to pull his arm, and the mug, away from him; eyes unable to look at him, but knew he was staring at you with utter confusion. After a moment, after you knawed on your bottom lip once more, you gave him a glance “It’s a long story… but, um..”

And you told him how you felt for him; hands worrying as you picked at your nail beds, ee refusing to meet his - whether in shame, or embarrassment, or even both, you would never be sure - as you poured your heart out to him.

You didn’t think it would end with him finally silencing your ramblings with a soft and gentle kiss.

See? I knew a Touch of Empathy would work for you. Now I suggest you keep yourself away from other people, at least until the morrow, should you wish to be compelled to tell them your inner thoughts as well

#opps! didn't mean to ramble on with this one #sorry about that #though I hope you like it!#🔮.the peddler answers #🔮.traveler nemo #🔮.the peddler's peculiar potion sale #kirishima x reader

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