#Am I the only one who chain-drinks tea?

[hazelelel]

I went to the dentist, and for context my dentist is hilarious, super charismatic kinda crazy (all dentist are) and he's in my mouth and inspecting my teeth and the conversation goes as follows:

Him: *Fingers and instruments all up in my mouth* Looks really good! Except for they are SUPER...

Me: aineh?

Him: Yes, 'stained'. Aesthetically they are still fine, but I wonder- I don't see this long term build up often. How'd you do that?

Me: Aye ink ea. (I drink tea).

Him: Run that by me again?

Me: Aye. Ink. Ea.

Him: *fucking with me* hm?

Me: Ea!

Him: *Fingers still in my mouth* Ea? You're going to have to say that a bit loud-

Me: *At the top of my lungs, closing my eyes and screaming* EA!! AYE INK EAAAA!!! EEEAAAAAAAAA!!!

Him: *Now laughing like a maniac* Ea!

Cheeky bastard, he's lucky he's the best dentist I've ever met so he can get away with his tomfoolery.

[bloody-peach]

Penny for Your Sins: A BNHA League Of Villains x F!Reader series - Shigaraki

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Goodie Bag: bondage, groping, vaginal fingering, drugging (aphrodisiac), nipple teasing, oral sex (m receiving), dom Shiggy, dirty talk, masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, hair tugging, deepthroating, cum swallowing, he has his thumb on your tongue at one point, corruption [let me know if i miss anything!]

Now Playing: Closer by Nine Inch Nails, Lesser Key by Pale Horse, Eat Me Drink Me by Marilyn Manson,

Chapters (not in any order, except intro/outro):

START: Intro

• Shigaraki (you are here)

• Dabi

• Twice

• Mr. Compress

• Spinner

• Toga

END: Outro

A/N: No notes. Just enjoy!

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You looked at the calendar and saw it had been a few weeks since you got the ‘job’ of being the League of Villains’ stress reliever. Luckily, you’ve been following everyone’s orders when made and been doing a good job comforting everyone. You wondered when you’d meet their leader...

One night, you were in bed reading a book when you heard something rustling. You walked over and saw that someone slipped an envelope under the door. You got up and walked over to the door, bent down and grabbed the envelope, opening it. Inside was a single tea bag and a note. 'Drink me,' the note read. You smelled the tea bag and could smell peppermint and lavender. It smelled so good, you immediately got your hot water dispenser out and prepared the tea. Once the tea was finished brewing, you got a cup and poured some inside. You took a sip and smiled, loving the taste. You walked back to bed and got back to reading, sipping the tea occasionally. Not long after you finished your drink, you noticed that something was off... Tea wasn’t supposed to make you this relaxed and dizzy, was it? The words on the page were starting to swirl and warp as you tried to keep reading, but the effects were too strong. You wondered if someone spiked the tea bag before you fell back on the bed, blacking out.

You start to wake up, your body still feeling relaxed and warm, but you could feel you weren’t in your bed anymore. You felt your arms held up in the air, something cold and hard wrapping around your wrists, and your feet barely touching the floor. You opened your eyes and you saw you were chained by your wrists, dangling from the ceiling. You looked at yourself and noticed you only had your panties and bra on. “W..what...what’s going on..?” you asked, your speech slightly slurred. You saw something from the corner of your eye and turned your head. There was someone sitting in an armchair, hidden in the shadows. You heard them chuckle as they stood up and came out from the shade. It was a man, with white hair and piercing red eyes. You noticed he was much taller than you and he had a fit, muscular body, your blush growing as you look at him. He smirked, enjoying your gaze. “My, my.. You’re a real pretty thing, aren’t you?” he finally said, his voice a bit raspy.

“Who are you...?” you asked. He smiled and responded as he walked to stand in front of you, “Who am I? I’m Shigaraki Tomura, I’m in charge of the League. And you are our new plaything.” He bent forward, his face close to yours as he said, “Consider yourself lucky you caught our attention.” You were still a bit woozy from the tea, but you asked, “W..Why me?” He gently grabbed your jaw with his hand and he said in a voice laced with desire, “Why you? Oh, it’s quite simple. You see, I have a love for chaos and destruction, and what better way to indulge myself then by taking someone like you captive? Destroying your world by ripping you out of it was a great pleasure. Sure, the League needs some way to vent our frustrations, but...I’ve been craving something more... Oh yes, especially from you... Your beauty, your vulnerability, your surrender...It’s an exhilirating combination that I long for..” He let go of your jaw and he said as he walked behind you, “But don’t you worry.. I have no plan to harm you, and I won’t let anyone else do so.” He gently gripped your sides and leaned into your neck, his hot breath brushing along your skin, making you blush and gasp softly due to your body’s sensitivity. “Besides...I think you’ll enjoy yourself here...You’d be surprised what can be found in places like this.”

You gulped, unsure how to feel exactly, but there was one thing you knew. “Well....if I’m gonna be staying here for a while...I should tell you my name...My name is Y/N.” “Y/N... What a lovely name. Fits you perfectly.” His hands then slid up to your covered breasts, his hands groping each one, the size of his hands engulfing them. “Now, Y/N, let’s have a little fun, shall we? After all, you’re here to entertain me tonight..” He started to massage your breasts as his body pressed against your back. You could feel something hard pressing against your ass, making your body grow warmer. He kissed your neck and shoulder, the sensation causing shivers down your spine. Your head was still swimming, and everything Tomura was doing felt so good...

He leaned to your ear and whispered, “Tell me, Y/N... Do you enjoy pain..? Does the idea of me leaving marks on you make you tremble..?” “N..No...I’m..not a fan of pain...I..If I could choose between pleasure and pain...I..I’d choose pleasure..” You heard him chuckle then respond, “Is that so..? Then you’ll receive that in abundance..” He undid your bra then let the garment fall to the floor. Once that was off, he put one hand back on your breast, teasing your nipple as he massaged it. The sensation made you gasp softly, which made Tomura smile deviously. His other hand slid down your side and teased the band of your panties. “Now tell me this, Y/N...Have you ever been touched intimately before..?” “Well...not in this position, at least..” His lips trailed your neck again as he said softly, “Well, Y/N, this is your lucky day. I’m going to show you how pleasurable it is when my hands explore your body..Would you like that, Y/N?” His offer was so tempting, you only had one answer. “Yes...” He smiled, saying, “Good girl. Just relax and let me take care of everything..”

He then slowly trailed his fingers under your panties and down to your pussy. He started to gently caress your clit as he kissed and licked your neck. The pleasure was like a firework shooting through your body, causing you to moan and making you crave more. Tomura whispered, “Does that feel good, Y/N?” As you moaned, you said, “Y..Yeah...” “That’s it, Y/N. Embrace the feeling..let yourself be consumed by it.” He started to pinch and tug at your nipple as he kept rubbing your pussy. Thanks to the effects of the tea, you couldn’t really resist anything he was doing, and in all honesty, you didn’t want to. It all just felt too good... Tomura noticed your surrender and smiled as he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with lust, “I want to hear you moan more for me, Y/N..Let the pleasure escape your lips..” With that, he slowly slid a finger inside you and started to pump at a slow yet steady pace. The pleasure was too much, and you started to moan louder. Soon, you wanted more pleasure, so you started to gently buck your hips. Tomura let out a deep chuckle from his throat and said, “Oh, eager, aren’t you? Such a keen and responsive little plaything you are, Y/N...” You found your head turned, facing Tomura. Your lips were so close to his and you wanted to kiss him so bad, it was almost torture. You couldn’t take it anymore and you leaned your head a bit forward and kissed him.

It was a surprise to Tomura, but he quickly kissed you back. He savored the taste of your desire on his lips, his touch becoming rougher in response to the growing intensity between you. The sounds of your moans mixed with this own, building and consuming you both. Breaking the kiss momentarily, he whispered huskily against your lips, “You’re a bold one, Y/N. But be careful...I can’t promise to be gentle with you.” With that, he kissed you again and slid two more fingers inside you, making your eyes turn wide as he curled his fingers inside you, his movements becoming rougher and more demanding, pushing you closer to the edge. It’s not too long before you cum hard, moaning in his mouth. Tomura groaned into the kiss, feeling your climax wash over you through his fingers. He eagerly swallowed your moans, grinning to himself as he does. As your release subsided, he pulled away from the kiss, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. His fingers still buried inside you, he continued to gently move them, prolonging the pleasure as he watched you recover from your intense orgasm. “Doesn't that feel good, Y/N?” he murmured, his voice filled with seduction. “But we’re far from done here. I have so much more in store for you.”

He pulled his fingers out of you and licked up the juices dripping from them, savoring the taste of you. With a wicked glimmer in his eyes, he leaned in to capture your lips once again. You could taste yourself in the kiss, the sweetness coating your tongue. You watch as he removed his clothes, then he undid your chain, making you fall to the ground. He picked you up so you were on your knees. You see his hard and throbbing cock in front of you, already starting to drip pre-cum down the shaft. You could feel your mouth water as you kept staring at it, feeling your inner core tighten as you wondered how it’d feel stuffed inside your holes. You looked up at him, wordlessly asking for permission to please him. Tomura’s eyes darkened with raw desire as he saw your hunger. He reached out, his fingers running through your hair as he pets your head, his touch possessive and commanding. “You want me, don’t you, Y/N?” he asked, his voice husky with anticipation. “I can see it in your eyes. Go ahead.” His hand tightened in your hair, applying enough pressure to assert his dominance. You may have been pleasuring him, but he was still in control. With a firm grip, he guided your head closer to his hardened cock, wordlessly granting your unspoken request. “Now, show me just how good you can be.”

You gently held his cock and you started to lick up the shaft and swirled your tongue around the head, moaning as you did. Soon, you let it slide into your mouth and you started to suck on it as you bobbed your head. Tomura grunted in pleasure as you took his cock in your mouth, the wet warmth sending waves of pleasure through his body. He watched you with a predatory gaze, relishing in the sight of your lips wrapped around him. “Such a good little cock-sucker, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice filled with desire. His hand remained firmly gripping your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head, taking more of him into your mouth. As you continued to suck and tease him, Tomura couldn’t help but let out a series of low moans, the pleasure building steadily. His hips involuntarily bucked, seeking more contact with the wet heat between your lips. “Deeper,” he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. “Take all of it, Y/N. Show me how much you crave it.”

You did as he said and took more of his cock deeper into your mouth. Eventually, you were able to take his entire length and suck on it, letting your tongue rub against any sensitive spots. Tomura hissed in pleasure, feeling the tightness of your throat as you took his entire length. He watched you with a mix of admiration and dominance, his grip on your hair guiding your movements. “That’s it, Y/N,” he groaned. “You’re doing such a good job. Keep sucking, don’t stop.” He bucked his hips gently, setting a rhythm that matched the movements of your mouth. Your tongue worked wonders against his sensitive flesh, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. With every suck and every flick of your tongue, Tomura’s moans grew louder, his body tensing with the growing desire for release. He could feel himself reaching his edge, his breathing becoming ragged. “Keep going, Y/N,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I’m close...Do you want me to cum in your mouth? Show me how badly you want it.”

You put your hand on the back of his thigh to keep his cock in your mouth and you gently fondled his balls, encouraging them to let him cum in your mouth. Tomura’s breath hitched as he felt that, adding an extra layer of stimulation to his throbbing cock. The pressure and the pleasure building within him intensified, and he could feel his orgasm approaching rapidly. His grip on your hair tightened further as he looked down at you with a fierce desire, his eyes burning with intensity. “Yes, Y/N,” he growled. “Drain me. Take every drop.” With a final thrust of his hips, Tomura couldn’t hold back any longer. A gutteral moan escaped his lips as he released his hot cum into your mouth. He watched intently as you took every drop, savoring the sight of your submission and the pleasure you brought him. “You certainly know how to please, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with lust. “But this is only the beginning. There’s so much more I have planned for us.”

As his orgasm subsided, he gently pulled you away, a satisfied smirk on his lips. When he pulled out of your mouth, you licked up every visible drop of his cum, even going so far as to lick up the drops that fell onto the hard floor. Tomura watched with a mixture of fascination and lust as you obediently licked up every visible drop of his cum. The intensity of your submission and addiction thrilled him, fueling his desire for further exploration. “You’re quite the eager little slut, aren’t you, Y/N?” he said, his voice filled with a dark amusement. “But there’s no need to waste a drop. You’re so devoted, so desperate for my pleasure.” His words, laced with dominance, sent a shiver down your spine as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed against your lips, coated with the remnants of his release. He pushed his thumb inside, pressing it onto your tongue, to see your reaction. When you start to pant and gently massage his thumb with your tongue, he smirked devilishly. Tomura knelt down and leaned in, his eyes dark with desire as he observed the remnants of his release still lingering on your tongue. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he felt the wet warmth of your tongue sliding along his thumb. He held it there for a moment, savoring the sensation before slowly pulling it out, a predatory glint in his eyes. “You’re so obedient, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Such a good little pet. I think we’re going to enjoy each other’s company very much.”

He leaned in to you, his mouth close to your ear. “Now, Y/N, I want you to touch yourself for me. Show me how much pleasure you can endure,” he whispered, his voice dripping with promises of even more intense experiences to come. He stood up, his gaze locked onto yours, filled with anticipation. You nodded and you sat on the floor. You started to rub your pussy, his gaze never leaving you. You moaned as you rubbed your clit and slid your fingers inside you. You pumped your fingers inside you at a steady pace as your hips matched the tempo of your fingers. Tomura’s eyes were fixated on your intimate display, a hunger evident in his gaze. He leaned back against the wall, his cock fully erect again and throbbing with arousal. The sight of you pleasuring yourself ignited a primal desire within him. He watched intently as your fingers expertly worked your pussy, your moans filling the room. The sound of your pleasure only fueled his own, and he couldn’t resist the urge to stroke his cock in response. “All those lovely sounds you make, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with a dark desire. “You’re a sight to behold, giving in to your own desires. But remember, the true pleasure comes from me.”

He stroked his cock with long, slow motions, matching the rhythm of your hand. The anticipation of joining you, of bringing you to even greater heights of pleasure, pulsed through his veins. “Keep going, my little whore,” he murmured. “Bring yourself to the edge. I want to see you unravel, to hear you scream my name.” You moaned and slid more fingers inside, watching Tomura jack off making you even more aroused. You couldn’t help but moan out, “Ahh..yes... Ohh...Tomura... Please... I.. I need you so bad... I need you to fuck me.. Tomura, please fuck me as much as you want... I don’t care... I..I want you to fill me with your cum... Please..!” Tomura’s eyes glinted with a mixture of satisfaction and hunger as he heard your desperate pleas. The intensity of your desire matched his own, driving him to fulfill your carnal cravings. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between you in a swift motion, kneeling on the floor in front of you. His hands firmly grasped your hips, pulling you closer to him. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasingly rubbing your wet folds. He leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered in a low, seductive tone, “Oh, Y/N, you’re so eager, so ready to be filled. I’ll give you what you want, but remember, I’ll take you as roughly as I please.”

With a powerful thrust, he impaled you on his cock, filling you completely. The sensation of his hardness inside you sent electric shocks of pleasure through your body. His grip tightened on your hips as he began to move, setting a relentless pace. With every thrust, Tomura’s groans mingled with yours, creating a symphony of raw desire. His hips met yours with an unyielding force, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the orchestra of your moans filling the room. He provided the pleasure you craved, taking you to new heights of ecstasy. “Goddamn, Y/N,” he grunted, his voice strained as he bit his lower lip. “You’re so tight, so fucking wet. We’re just getting started. I'm going to take you over and over, until you can’t even think straight.” You moaned loud and threw your head back in pleasure. Oh god, it felt so much better than you could’ve ever imagined. A smile grew on your face as the pleasure surged through your body. “Ahh..! Yes..! Use me..! Break me..!”

Tomura’s eyes burned with a primal hunger as he watched you surrender to the pleasure coursing through you. He could feel the raw intensity of your desire, matching his own in ferocity. He gripped your hips tightly, anchoring himself as he continued to thrust into you with unrelenting force. Each movement was filled with dominance, his cock delving within you, hitting every sensitive area. “You want to be used, Y/N?” he growled, his voice laced with the darkest satisfaction. “I’ll give you everything you crave. Every ounce of pleasure. Every moment of ecstasy. You’re mine to break, to ravish, to mark as mine.” As his pace quickened, the sound of your moans and the slap of skin echoed through the room, a symphony of desire. Tomura reveled in the power he held over you, the primal satisfaction that came from claiming you as his. “Let go, Y/N,” he urged, his voice strained and desperate. “Cum for me. Give in to the pleasure. Surrender yourself completely.”

It wasn’t too long until you were able to fulfill his wish, cumming hard on his cock and giving in to the pleasure, your mind swimming in the purest of bliss. Tomura’s eyes burned with satisfaction as he felt your walls clench around him, your release washing over you. The tightness and pulsing sensation intensified his own pleasure, pushing him closer to the edge. He continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm, the friction and heat between you both driving him towards his own climax. With a final, desperate thrust, he let out a primal groan as his own release tore through him, spilling his hot cum deep inside you. As he rode out the waves of pleasure, he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mixture of possessiveness and satisfaction. He leaned in close, his voice a low rasp against your ear. “You’re mine now, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with a possessive edge. “You belong to me. And I’ll keep using you, breaking you, until there’s nothing left.” With that final declaration, he pressed his lips against yours in a possessive kiss, claiming you as his own.

He lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you in it before entering it himself, the room filled with the scent of sex and the sounds of your heavy breathing, as you both basked in the aftermath of your intense encounter. You had a look of pure bliss on your face as you laid there, unable to move. “Yes...I’m yours...I belong to you...” you softly said. Tomura’s dark satisfaction morphed into something softer as he observed the pleasured look on your face. ‘God, she’s so precious,’ he thought to himself. He held you close, his touch now gentle, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and possessiveness. “Yes, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “You belong to me, body and soul. I’ll protect you, I’ll ravish you, and I’ll cherish you in my own twisted way. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.” With those words, he gently caressed your cheek, his touch a stark contrast to the intensity of your recent encounter. The room remained cloaked in a hazy cloud of desire and peace as both of you savored the bond that had been formed, knowing that both pleasure and darkness awaited you in the future.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[venic-bxtch]

If I didn’t meet you

Synopsis: Pregnant Y/N asks Jack who he would have dated if they never met.

Paring: Husband!Jack x Wife!Black fem reader

TW: Talk of morning sickness and pregnancy

You were making your morning Mint Tea to calm down your morning sickness. Kaliea, your daughter, had been changed, fed, and put to play in the playroom.

Your husband was asleep since he stayed out late last night.

You walked back into the bedroom and sat at your white armchair you read at. As you opened up the blinds near you so you could see,Jack finally woke up.

He looked over at you smiling. His hair was messy and his eyes squinting,”Good Morning, baby.”

You got up to kiss his forehead,”Morning J.”

He sat up and patted on the spot where you sleep,”Come sit.”

You pouted,”Jackkk, my tea is gonna get cold!”

He chuckled,”You could get a blanket, put it on your stomach, then put your tea on your stomach and drink. Problem solved!”

You groan,”Fineeeeee. Only because I love you.” You got your tea from the side table and went to sit on the bed. You did as he said.

He stared at you for a while, smiling.

You raised an eyebrow,”What? Is there something on my face?”

He put his hand on your cheek,”Nah. You’re just so pretty.”

You smiled,”Thank you handsome.” A random question popped into your head,”Jack, if we never met. What would your life be like? I know mine would be..interesting…” Your parents had wanted you married off to a close family-friend of yours, since both families were religious.Your father owned a chain of designer resale stores across the country. Your family friends family owned mega churches and charities. You both went to the same church throughout your lives until you moved from Louisville to Florida. But there was no romantic feelings.

You and Jack met when he went on a summer vacation with his family during middle school years. You happened to be at the same beach that day. Your family had also happened to set up the beach umbrellas and chairs right next to Jack’s families umbrella and beach chairs. Your younger siblings built sandcastles together, practically giving you two a reason to speak to each other.

You left the beach that day with his phone number and a new crush, and the rest is history.

Jack furrowed his brows,”No clue…Why?”

You sighed,”Just curious. But seriously, who would you be with and what would your life be like?”

He began,”Well, I wouldn’t be Kaliea’s dad, we would have never been married, I would have ended up with a girl at my school who also had a similar passion for rap. Andddddd,” He put his hand on his heart and spoke dramatically,”I can’t imagine not giving you my kids. The process of it especially.”

You smacked his arm,”Jackman!”

He put his hands up in surrender,”What? It’s true. You liked it too!”

You smiled,”Yes I did. I can’t front on that.”

He nodded, smiling,”As you should. Now, where’s my morning kiss?”

You laughed,”Here.” You leaned in and kissed him. The kiss became more passionate by the second, then you pulled back,”Smush, I would….but I’m ok with one baby in my stomach for now. You’d make it happen even if it wasn’t possible.”

Kaliea began crying.

Jack got up,”Ah, I love fatherhood.” He said joking. He looked back at you,pointing,”And yes, I would make it possible, I am a very determined man.”

A/N: Just a little something before I put up chapter 3 of first class. I’ve been very busy with studying😭Psychiatry is not easy. Bear with me for now.

-Michelle💗🎀🌺

[azulsluver]

I CURSE YOU WITH RAIN OF THE CATS UPON YOU UNTIL YOU SHALL WRITE A YANDERE HETALIA DRABBLE !!!! [Preferably the axis] [please I am thirsty my dear writer]

Drink my anon

Post-kidnapping, perhaps a mild reader with a rather big mouth and attitude. Let’s talk about some nightly routine scenarios.

Italy

There isn’t a night Italy comes back home tired yet smiling, oh, so wide for you. Are you happy he’s home?

Italy’s stress and problems seemed to vanish as soon as he sees your face, all scrunched up and clawing at him as he buries his face in your chest. For someone so useless, he sure has a tight grip on you. To destress is to bask in your presence, hold you in his arms while he sits on your lap, rub his cheek back and forth until it burns, your skin cells and his mixing with sweat and the sheer raw flesh of one another…. Just push him off at this point.

He whines and cries when you hog the blankets and turn on your side facing the wall, he loves your back, but he loves that pretty face of yours more. It’s better to let him spoon you, although, one day he wishes he’d be the one getting spooned. But a man can dream.

He tosses and turns a lot, you might think it’s intentional, he’s practically groping you. Letting out a small ‘mii—chuuu’ with every breath coming from his mouth. Like a pretzel, he bends and throws his limbs at whatever he can grab onto, you woke up to him sleeping upside down while cradling your legs.

Very heavy sleeper, you smacked him because he was mumbling nonsense, something about letting him put meatballs on it. If you weren’t chained to the bed with restricted gloves he so personally got from Greece (the impact and strength of your hits still hurt), then you would smother him with his pillow. Love comes with pain.

Germany

Popping open a canned beer isn’t something he wished he often did. He knows, he knows, he’s so awful and you’re disappointed he came back home well.

He thought he could come back home to see the love of his life without them reminding him how horrible he is. Right, he’s so terrible for giving you a roof over your head and a good three prepped meal. He lets you go on his morning runs but you still complain about not going outside enough.

His sweet is bitter, mean as you kick at his hunched back. He was planning on reading you a bedtime story but forget it you brat.

Germany doesn’t hit his partner. You didn’t consent to this lifestyle, but he let his selfish desires get the best of him. It’s the only thing Germany reaaaaally wanted, and he feels like shit when you interrupt his thoughts by being near him. Hate his guts, he doesn’t want you to love him back. Cause it proves his point, and that makes his tongue feel funny when you finally sleep comfortably with him. In his bed. His covers smell like you.

He doesn’t sleep yet. He can’t. He’s a little paranoid of one too many things, do you want him to put an arm around you? Is the room too cold or hot, should he raise the temperature? For someone who swears up and down that he should burn in hell, you wrap your arms around your body, missing a touch. And you don’t seem to push him away when he caved in.

Japan

He truly dreads having to come home to a sour you, tapping your foot on his matted floor and throwing tantrums after tantrums. Saying ‘what’s the point of keeping me locked up here if you’re too busy to care for me?!’ — it really hurts his head, please stop shouting.

Japan is strict with your schedule, it doesn’t apply to him whether he comes home late, he’s a busy person trying to give you a simple and cozy life if you—just—let him. You should have your teeth brushed after dinner, shower, drink the herbal tea he prepares every morning, and rest. You don’t settle in right away, it’s normal, you’ll get there. Japan has mastered his patience, so any sort of trouble you bring won’t deter him from his goal.

This is why he made the herbal tea. Presenting it nicely with your choice of cream or milk. It’s supposed to help you sleep, the futon looks so comfortable once it hits you. That way Japan can come back to see your resting body, chest slowly moving up and down with only a lamp for company.

Sleeping next to each other, not too close. He doesn’t want to scare you, a good three feet apart. Japan is ready to sleep alongside you after coxing you to be more comfortable around him, your days of sleeping in a separate bedroom revoked once you tried ambushing him from behind the door.

He’s not exactly sleeping…. At first he’s staring up at the ceiling, counting to himself. But his eyes betray him, wandering to you. So blissful. Calm. And you’re actually right there. He hates how aware he is about that fact, his hand trembling as he reaches for yours.

That’ll be good enough for him. You twitching will have him snapping his limbs back to his body, turning the other way with heating cheeks.

[trans-cuchulainn]

i shared something a few months ago about allergies and food disabilities and it recently started accumulating notes again and now it's at 5.7k, so obviously my activity page is just people trauma dumping about their awful experiences with allergies in the tags which is. Fun.

but what's really getting me is how i made a comment early on in the reblog chain about how many personal and professional activities revolve around food and how much it sucks to have to either put yourself at risk or miss out on those opportunities, because people often react badly either way if you cause them even the slightest inconvenience

and EVERYBODY who has responded to that comment. and I mean everybody. has focused on "personal" and made comments about how "if your friends don't respect your food disabilities, they're not your friends" and "you'll meet more supportive people in future" and all of that

and not one of them has paid any attention to the "professional" part of that. I'm talking about work Christmas dinners where if you don't go you're not a team player and will probably get passed over for future opportunities, but if you go, you'll get sick and HR will be mad about the extra time off. I'm talking about networking dinners and business lunches and meeting people at the buffet table at events, all of which are fraught if not impossible. I'm talking about travelling for conferences or other events and having to bring an entire extra bag with food because the venue can't cater for you (hand luggage only just ain't even an option at this point, so yay, extra costs if you're travelling further afield)

and also! smaller things like job interviews where you have to wear "smart" clothes (fitted waistbands and IBS? A Nightmare). dress codes in general. working in a building where the nearest toilets are on the opposite side. not being able to trust the work kettle/microwave because it might be contaminated but not having the facilities to bring/use your own. not being able to use communal tea/coffee/milk supplies for the same reason. all of those little everyday things

it isn't just about friends. it's about LIFE. i'm in an industry where events, lunches, etc are a common occurrence, and a nightmare for me. in academia, it feels like every other event involves a wine reception, which is shit when you don't drink and don't love being around people who are drinking a lot. in the office, i can't participate properly in any of the seasonal social gatherings, whether they're tea and biscuits or a Christmas meal

food disabilities have PROFESSIONAL impacts. because they are disabilities. it isn't just about having fun or hanging out with friends. it affects my career and my opportunities and it is INVISIBLE because people don't even know to recognise the ableism when they're doing it

i am tired of people ignoring that facet of it all

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡My immortal Jaskier headcanons♡

So here are my headcanons, because I refuse to believe that our ball of sunshine has an expiration date...

So, I know Lauren said that Jaskier not aging in the show was just a filming mistake, something they simply forgot to do and on a completely logical level I am fully aware that in canon Jaskier is completely human, 100%. And I also know that they're not gonna change it, no matter how much some of us may wish they did (Although why not? They already strayed so far from the books and made so many changes, might as well go the extra mile)

Realistic-ish headcanons:

- Jaskier is part elf, perhaps quarter elf like Yennefer, it is an entirely justifiable headcanon, theoretically, Jaskier's human father could have married a half elf commoner woman (who may or may not have had the pointy tips on her ears cut off with a knife to avoid human prejudice)

- Jaskier has a fae ancestor, somewhere many many generations back in his ancestry, so his entire family is suspiciously long lived but nobody cares because Lettenhove isn't politically important and therefore doesn't catch the attention of the prejudiced Nobles farther up the royal court chain.

- Jaskier unintentionally drinks the same elixir mages/sorcerers drink to prolong their life. I read that chaos wielders don't have naturally long lifespans, they semi-regularly drink an elixir with mandrake roots in it to slow the aging process. According to Witcher Wiki, you can only buy mandrake root in Lindenvale and my headcanon is that Jaskier experiments with many different tea blends to see which one is more effective for soothing his throat after singing. So at the age of 29-30, he wanders into Lindenvale and buys some dried mandrake to make a tea, after one sip he felt more rejuvenated than ever and since that day, mandrake root tea has become his number one go-to, he drinks it as often as he can.

More fanfic centric, less canon possible headcanons:

- Jaskier is a Dryad. (Yayyy trans Jaskier headcanon) Since Lettenhove is so tiny, it isn't even on the Witcher continent map, but a simple Google search says that it is Located somewhere in Kerack. Kerack borders with Brokilon, so it's kind of a nifty little loophole for fanfic writers to use and place Lettenhove somewhere near the forests where Dryads live.

And while most Dryads treat any man that enters their realm as a mere sperm donor, Witcher Wiki does also mention that some Dryads can form emotional relationships and fall in love with humans and/or elves, but in the end, all Dryad born offspring is AFAB. So imagine this, Jaskier's father falls in love with a Dryad, she falls in love with him, they have Jaskier, Jaskier notices early on that he feels like a boy and his rich Viscount father hires a mage to help Jaskier transition early.

- Jaskier is a higher vampire, higher vampires are a HIGHLY secretive society, even in canon, part of the reason why even Witchers have so little information about them is because they prefer to hide in plain sight and are ridiculously good at it. Jaskier doesn't age, has no self-preservation instincts, doesn't buy a horse and yet still keeps up with Geralt on foot for 20 years. Jaskier's personality isn't fake, he doesn't act like someone else, it's all him, but his clumsiness is a little bit of an act, he also purposefully avoids physical fights, it comes across as fear of getting hurt but in reality it's because he's afraid of appearing too strong and exposing himself. Lettenhove doesn't appear on maps, because it doesn't exist legally, it's just a castle hidden in the woods, a safe place for higher vampires, kinda like Kaer Morhen is for Witchers, Jaskier's parents just happen to be the ones who run it.

[nelapanela94]

Nelaaaa!!! BB TODAY I AM HERE FOR SOME NELA X LEVI HEADCANONSJDJD .. tell me the little stufff toooooooo 🤍

Hi lovely. This one was so fun to write. <3 thank you for the request and please let me live in my delulu world 🌎

Levi and I currently live in Marley (What's left) in a coastal town where the streets finish at the beach.

Levi, though he doesn't admit it, is still afraid of the elevator. He just can't trust it. It jars him when it quivers right before stopping, and he hates it's tight and stuffy. He prefers swallowing the pain in his leg to risking getting stuck and climbs the stairs up to the third floor. And it is worse when the chains start to screech pleading for maintenance. In his defense, he claims it is a great exercise. He takes his time and says hi to the brats who live in the second floor. Sometimes he brings them desserts from the tea shop.

Levi loves sea food, specially shrimps. That is why I took some cooking classes with Niccolo. Steamed, stir-fried, tempura, in pastas, salads, rice and ceviche, I had to learn every preparation. Though we usually eat at home, we love trying new restaurants in town. From fancy to fast food. Once I tried to cajole Levi to a street food stall but he refused, questioning their cleaning procedures.

Levi owns a tea shop downtown that has been awarded twice by the city's chamber of commerce for excellence, quality and service. He was interviewed and his photo appeared in the newspaper, with Gabi and Falco thumbing up behind him. We still have the clippings of the articles, and Levi had the stars framed. He spends all day drinking tea, doing accounts, making payments to suppliers, bossing everyone around, the latter his favorite. When he loses his patience, he jabs the staff with his walking stick on the back of their knees. He also likes to go on Sundays to the spice market where herbs and spices from all corners of the world are found. He takes them home and experiments with them to develop new blends. Although sometimes we have purged by accident.

Meanwhile, I work at the post office right across the street and in my break time we had lunch together in his office and take naps.

We spend hours in the cleaning supplies aisle because Levi can't decide between lavender, cinnamon and apple or citronella. In any case, he decides on all three. One day after work, he brought home a wooden barrel with a crank handle. He explained that it was for washing clothes, although it took me a while to understand how it was operated. He acquired it at a home novelty fair after the inventor convinced him by promising to make our lives easier. I thought it was a scam, but he made it work! It really saves us time and I don't have to ruin my manicure anymore.

On my last birthday, Levi got me a gramophone. We love dancing in the living room despite our clumsy feet, and we’re often off the beat. But who cares, with a drop of wine sprinkling the mix, we hardly notice it. I’ve been collecting discs from thrift stores and garage sales, cramming our place, so Levi felt compelled to build a box to store them safely.

As you might guess, Levi is little fond of PDA. He only feels confortable holding hands, however, from time to time I’d steal a kiss to tease him. He grunts and mellows right after, blushing like a teenage boy kissing his crush for the first time. In private, on the other hand, he’s embarrassingly clingy (don’t ever mention it). When we’re reading in the sofa, he’d snuggle on my chest and loves it when I drop kisses on his head and coddle him. He loves hugs from the back and unexpected kisses on the cheek. Levi is milk with sugar but needs to keep a reputation.

We love traveling. For our honey moon, we visited a tropical island in hizuru. Roasted on the beach all day. He’s still wary of the sea water, can’t stand the slimy animals brushing his legs. But he enjoyed the scenery, the food, drinks and long loving sexy sessions in our suite with ocean view. We’ve been to other places, even though the voyage makes us seasick. We’ve seen temples, museums, archeological sites, lavender fields, all captured in photo albums.

Levi and I live a slow, tranquil life after the war. I think that we deserve that respite. <3

[maleyanderecafe]

Duskbound (Visual Novel)

Created by: nefferinthia

Genre: Horror/Otome

Duskbound has one of my favorite things which is when a yandere slowly grows more insane because he's in some sort of timeloop/ has to repeat things over and over again. The artwork and colors are really nice as well, fitting with the rather grey story that it's trying to tell. You can learn more about this game and other games at @nefgames.

The story starts out with the Pale One, who lives in a town in which it seems all of the people's life has been depleted, walking around like husks of what they once were. The pale one notices this but is unable to do anything, forced to live in this town day by day until she meets someone who seems to be the exception, having light in his eyes. Following this, she ends up going to where he lives, a giant manor where he invites her in.

While going on, the Pale One notices a bunch of portraits hanging on the hallways. If she asks about them, Vergilius will respond that they are all portraits of her. If she freaks out about it, she will try to get away, with Vergilius disappointed, believing that he's squandered this chance. He ends up knocking her out, until she wakes up strapped to a chair, with Vergilius painting a portrait of her.

If the Pale One goes along with it, Vergilius will end up bringing her to the living room and offering her tea. As they talk, she ends up confessing to him, to Vergilius's surprise. During this time, Vergilius reveals that he is indeed a vampire, and is overcome with his obsession for her, stating that he's extremely happy that she's confessed to him and that he's been waiting for this moment. He ends up biting the Pale One, however ends up turning into dust afterwards, leading to another loop in the cycle.

If she decides not to confess, she'll end up passing out and waking up chained inside of his room. Vergilius will continue to come into her room to ask her for her blood. If she asks why he doesn't just take it from her forcefully, Vergilius will explain more about the curse. He talks about how this entire town has been stuck in a timeloop, forced to live the same events over and over again. This has taken a toll on everyone in the town, leaving everyone but himself and the pale one in a husk like state, with The Pale One able to withstand it as she is pure of heart. He's not able to take her blood forcefully as when he tried it before, he still was not able to break the curse. The Pale One asks if instead she could drink his blood, thus leading to her becoming a vampire and being together.

If she doesn't ask and keeps on refusing, eventually, the Pale One will be able to kill Vergilius, thus letting her escape but also keeping her alone in this trapped town.

Once all endings are completed, the Pale One will end up remembering Vergilius and the other timelines. This will bring Vergilius a lot of joy as he is finally able to have companionship in this timeloop. Here, the pale one remembers her name (which the default is Mercy) and the two of them decide to venture out of town together to finally get revenge on the person who put them in this time loop in the first place.

Like I said before, I really love yandere stories that have time loops in them because you really get a sense of how they slowly spiral into madness having been forced to relive the same things over and over again as well as the tragedy of it all. The art style is very nice too, with more muted colors to not only show the kind of husks that the town as become but also the despair that Vergilus is feeling, not able to escape this loop. It's just overall really nice looking with the paler reds and darker blacks. I just like the way it looks.

I am kind of curious about the time loop though, Vergilius mentions that he was trapped here by another, but I'm not really sure what's preventing him (or even Mercy) from leaving the town. Supposedly, it's stated that it's dangerous to leave, however, I don't really see them ever trying or even any of the repercussions for it, especially since it seems like they leave the area pretty easily in the last ending. I'm also not sure what happens in the ending where Vergilius turns into dust though, since presumably he doesn't actually stay dead forever, more that in that time loop he is dead, and he comes back (at least from my interpretation) after the next day. Breaking the curse has to involve getting consent from Mercy or else something bad tends to happen and he can't lose control during it. Not sure why this is a specific thing, but it does prevent him from just forcing himself onto her over and over again during each time loop (though I imagine he does do this anyways). I'm not really expecting the game to answer all of these questions because it was just an otome jam game, but it might be something nice to expand on if this does get a sequel.

As for a yandere, Vergilius succumbs to basically going insane after going through the timeloops over and over again. Given that the only person he can interact with even remotely during this loop is Mercy, it only makes sense that he grows a really strong attachment to her, from painting her in various portraits to outright drugging her in some endings. Considering that the time loop always resets everything, Vergilius can basically do whatever he wants without consequence, whether that be drinking her blood, to drugging her to telling her what is going on, but I bet even that gets rather lonely at times, as he's the only one who will remember anything. As hard as he tries though, he went through a lot of failure when trying to get her to understand the curse, from having her run away, to having him drink her blood forcibly. Luckily at some point, Mercy does end up remembering things from her previous timeloops and the two do end up together to go fight off the one who caused this entire mess in the first place. A happy ending for the two, which is nice.

Overall, I think the game is pretty nice. I like the general art and atmosphere and it was pretty fun seeing Mercy and Vergilius interact with each other in this otherwise husk like world. I hope that we get to see more of what happens in these two's story.

[thepieisalie]

A snippet from “Chapter 1: Visiting Hours” of my Azula redemption fanfic:

—

Context: Zuko visits Azula in the asylum

…

The room was depressingly empty, aside from a single wooden chair by the wall and the bed under the ‘‘window.’’ Most of the rooms in the psych ward had at least some furniture or decorations to liven it up. Azula’s room used to have them too, at the very start. Most of it had been burned to a crisp by now. And if Zuko had to guess, that chair wasn’t going to last long either.

Azula sat on top of the bed, crawled into the corner. Her arms were restrained in a straitjacket, as well as her feet which were held together by chained cuffs. She only had a little bit of movement free so she could walk if she wanted to. She had her face turned towards the wall and was softly mumbling to herself.

Zuko felt his stomach churn at the sight of his sister, but he ignored it and forced himself to remain calm. He pulled the chair into the middle with his foot, since he had his hands occupied with the tea. The noise caused Azula to stir and turn. Her eyes darted wildly until she recognized him and that controlled demeanor he was so used to returned on her expression.

‘’Hi, Azula,’’ he said softly as he sat down on the chair. She didn’t say anything back. She just watched him. He was quiet for a moment before awkwardly motioning to the cups he was holding. ‘’I uh, brought you something.’’

She looked at the cups, then back at him. Entirely unimpressed. ‘’How am I supposed to drink tea in a straitjacket, Zuzu?’’

He was a little taken aback by her comment but continued.

‘’I thought it would be nice,’’ he said as he placed one of the cups on the floor next to him. ‘’For you to have something from home. Maybe the tea could lend you a little dignity.’’

She huffed a short, mocking laugh. ‘’Don’t you talk to me about dignity. Not while you keep me in here.’’

Zuko inwardly cringed. He knew she was right. She looked anything but dignified right now. She was extremely pale and her hair was a knotted mess. That was probably because she was so difficult about the nurses touching her.

‘’Would you like me to take you out to the gardens? It’s a nice day for—‘’

‘’I’m not interested in being wheeled around to look at flowers. Why are you here?’’

Zuko sighed, breaking eye contact to look at the steaming cup in his hands. ‘’You’re family. Do I need to have any other reason to come visit you?’’

‘’You have a strange idea of caring for family, Zuzu. Given you have each of us locked up.’’

‘’You’re not locked up,‘’ he began to argue, but Azula gave him a pointed look. Zuko sighed again. ‘’Do you want the tea or not?’’

She eyed him for a moment before giving a very small nod. Zuko leaned forward, holding the cup to her lips so she could drink.

‘’Do you ever think of Father?’’ he asked her after she finished.

‘’Hmm, sometimes,’’ she said as she looked past him in thought. ‘’Sometimes I think of Mother too.’’

That caught Zuko’s attention. ‘’You do?’’

Azula nodded, still not looking him in the eye. ‘’I know she’s behind all of this. She probably send you to come here today. I know it. She can’t fool me.’’

Zuko instantly felt a heaviness weighing on his chest. Dr. Sun Chen told him before that Azula would sometimes have mad ramblings about their mother. The doctor claimed it was some sort of trauma response. He had no idea what that meant.

‘’Do you ever wonder what happened to her?’’

Azula shrugged. In the best way she could with the jacket on.

‘’I’ve been trying to talk to Father about her. But he won’t speak to me. I was wondering if maybe you could try to talk to him.’’

Azula’s eyes filled with clarity again and her gaze instantly fixated back on him. ‘’So you did come here with a reason.’’

‘’Please, Azula. You might be the only person who can get anything out of him.’’

She looked away for a moment, pretending to think it over. ‘’Fine. But I cannot go speak to him looking like this. If you want me to face him, I must be allowed to do so with some dignity.’’

Zuko closed his eyes, clutching the cup in his hand a little tighter. He knew she was trying something. Using his own words against him. He needed to remind himself that even though she had been in the institution for so long, her personality had not changed.

—

You can read the rest of Chapter 1: Visiting Hours on AO3, by clicking the link below!

[snifekinner]

talking w spence about russia and austria being the worst frenemies in the world and fighting constantly, and got inspired to write something silly.

meetcutes over bad parking? its more likely that you think.

Ivan was pleased with himself. He'd got some important jobs done that he'd been putting off, in favour of lying on the sofa re-reading the entire Rougon-Macquart cycle and drinking endless cups of tea, like ordering a new fridge to replace the one which was currently leaking black mould, and taking his passport for renewal, and posting a letter to the TV Licensing company to tell them to stop charging him because he hadn't watched his television in months, ever since it ended up with a large hole in the screen due to a complicated chain of events which started with a saucepan he'd left on the hob. 

These things just seemed to happen to him, Ivan reflected, as he finished up by shopping for some essentials - firelights, zip ties, a new pair of pliers, a few balls of wool, and a pack of buttons. The shop didn't have the buttons he usually bought, so some of his shirts would be mismatched but that, for once, was the only thing which had really gone wrong that day.

Then he left the shop and saw a figure standing next to his car - arms folded, visibly tutting - tutting with his whole body, which was something Ivan hadn't seen since his high school headteacher.

Just once, Ivan thought as he trudged to the car, I would like to have a day where nobody picks a fight with me. Not the TV Licensing company, or his manager, or people who tut with their whole bodies.

The figure looked up when the car lights flashed. Then he drew himself up to his full height, although Ivan saw, as he often did, that the man had to make a concerted effort to stay standing straight as Ivan approached and his full bulk could be appreciated.

Ivan switched his shopping bag to his right hand and foraged in one pocket for his keys. The stranger coughed in a way which was obviously meant to garner attention. Ivan opened the car door and made to get in.

"Excuse me?"

He turned, and stood back up, heaving a deep internal sigh. "Yes?"

"I've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes. I can't get in my car because of the way you parked."

"Oh," Ivan said. He glanced at the other car, a beaten up Citroen in faded blue, probably a good twenty years old - it was a nice car, Ivan thought, a classic shape. "Well, I am going to move my car now, so you will be able to get in."

He made to get in the car again. 

"That's not good enough! Do you realise how much time your poor parking has wasted for me? I've had to cancel a lesson, which is money out of my pocket - aren't you even going to apologise? It's thoughtlessness, that's what it is."

Ivan waited patiently until the stranger seemed to be done speaking. He looked between the two cars again, judging the space.

"I think you could have got in."

"Are you blind? I could barely get my foot into that gap!"

"You must have very big feet."

"I don't - you really must be blind! What's wrong with you? Or are you being deliberately obtuse?"

Ivan put his bag into the car and locked the door again. It seemed the stranger was determined to have an argument, and waste more of his own time, and Ivan's. He was tempted just to drive off, but there was always the chance that the stranger would get in the way of his car - he seemed a little unstable, physically and mentally - and then he'd get hurt, and that would be an even bigger waste of time.

Arguments can always be solved using common sense, he reminded himself. His sister was always saying that, and Ivan considered her the world's expert on just about everything.

The stranger seemed to think Ivan's pause meant he didn't understand something. "Obtuse means -"

"I know what it means, thank you," Ivan said frostily. He hated when people assumed he wasn't fluent in English, especially when it was coming from someone with an articulated and grating Austrian accent that sounded like its owner was being strangled. "There is no need to be impolite."

"Impolite! You blocked in my car for half an hour and I'm the one being impolite?"

"You said it was fifteen minutes," Ivan pointed out. The stranger looked ready to combust.

"It doesn't matter how long it was, the point is you blocked me in and now you're acting like an oaf about it!"

Ivan stepped around the battered Citroen. To the other side of the car was a low brick wall. The Citroen was parked a good five inches from the wall. Ivan pointed. 

"You could have parked closer to the wall. I do not think this is my fault."

"You are taking up too much space!" He stressed the last three words, as if Ivan would agree with him if he just said it louder and slower. Did that ever work? "Your car is - see? - on the line!"

"It is not over the line," Ivan said. Why was the stranger accusing him of not being able to see properly? Both of his tyres were squarely within the white lines which designated the parking space.

"It is on the line."

"But it is not over it."

"You're meant to be behind the line, Good Lord! How people like you manage to get a driving licence, I'll never know - they teach you all of this when you learn, you know." A note of spiteful condescension entered the stranger's voice, and Ivan, who did not respond well to being talked down to, immediately bristled.

"I know how to park. I have been parking for many years. You perhaps should take lessons because your parking is not very good."

"You park behind the line! Behind it! Not on it!" The stranger was almost shouting now, and his dark hair was standing out around his head. His glasses steamed up a little.

"I am going to get in my car and leave now," Ivan said. "I have had a nice day and I do not feel like shouting. You may stay here and shout some more if you like but I am going to leave." 

He turned and walked around to his driving seat, turning his back very firmly on the deranged stranger. He could feel the muscles in his hands and jaw beginning to twitch. He shut the car door harder than usual and without looking at the stranger, pulled directly out of the car park, his hands tight on the steering wheel, not even stopping to light a cigarette.

He heard the stranger shout something after him, which he deliberately didn't hear, and when he stopped at the first set of traffic lights he immediately fished for his cigarettes in the glove compartment, which he didn't find because a second later something hit his back bumper.

Ivan slammed the glove compartment closed, resisting the urge to rip the door off to batter whoever he was about to come across, and threw open his car door. Behind him was the crumpled and gently steaming front of a faded blue Citroen, now more beaten up than ever - probably beyond repair, which was sad, because it was really a lovely car. The stranger driving it was still flaming red in the face, and probably still an awful person unless the near-death experience had effected a sudden and miraculous change.

Ivan walked up to the car. The stranger tried to roll the window down, found that he couldn't, tried the door and found that he couldn't, and mimed this to Ivan through the window.

"It looks like you are having some trouble getting out of your car," Ivan said.

[pseudowho]

HIIIIIIIIIIII Haitch 🙂‍↕️

I’ve come to spam your inbox with my Sunday Love Letters & it’s about fucking time I stop pining from afar.

How is your novel going? Besides ruminating on the fact that you’re 5’11, this is the second Haitch Fact™️ that has me WRECKED. Like I need to know more. Where do you write? Home? Coffee shops? Do you have a schedule?

In my head you’re so sophisticated with this shit. Like I just know the you drink from a Tiffany’s Tea set or something with the classical music in the background at some fancy library that’s 500 stories high.

Mmk. love you. In the way that you have to kinda tilt your head to the side, and squint your eyes because…was she being platonic? (Spoiler: no).

💕Mr. Haitch if you see this respectfully no you didn’t💕

besos 💋

b.

Welcome to my Inbox 📥 No escape now, YOU FOOL! But Happy Sunday 💕😌☕

You'll be pleased to know that my height remains unchanged, but for my brother's wedding yesterday, I was a rather sultry 6ft2in in heels...until I kicked them off to walk barefoot, as nature intended.

r.e. the novel, it is going very well. I've been ill this week so haven't written much, but usually I write every evening once my diabolical children are asleep. In my soul, I am on a wonderful book/coffee shop, with my gold glasses chain, pencil skirt and turtleneck on, looking curvy and smart and sophisticated. And being glanced at by admiring strangers, etc etc.

These days however, I usually do it bra-less, in an oversized t-shirt and thong, swearing into my Shiraz and throwing debauchery at my long suffering husband. He listens to my rants and gives wonderful input and other stuff that's not appropriate to talk about here

When I write the novel...it's at a little old laptop in the evenings. Or on my phone while I put children to bed, or cook dinner. It's currently about a quarter complete, in two months. I think it's going well. It's plotted out and I'm in love with the characters.

And sadly...the plot and name is a total secret 🤫🙊 I shall not share my pen-name, nor the name of the novel on here, even if I get published (which I probably won't).

However...I largely dislike classical music. I have lovely tea sets...which are currently locked away from wayward tiny hands. My sophistication is on hold, soon to return, when my baby stops trying to eat my face and pull my glasses off.

Remember, at my core, I'm an angry anarcho-socialist who will quickly replace her heels for her DMs (or, my high-heeled DMs these days) when a door needs kicking through.

I'm also an insatiable flirt though, and I could and would do the Booktok door lean over you if only to see you melt just one chance Bunny I swear to god I would effuse about you if only I weren't too British to effuse but in reality I think about you a lot and question my heterosexuality and

Y'know, in case we ever meet 😏

Yours, disrespectfully,

-- Haitch xxx

[cleyellow-wood]

a/n: hello! just a silly lil royalty!au, arranged-marriage!au with the one and only bang chan and princess!reader to get it out of my system. mentions of other k-pop idols but skz-centric. mostly exploration of world-building, and the very beginnings of the arranged marriage (and i mean whatever word can come before beginning)

enjoy! maybe another fic in this universe is in the works. who knows? not me!

[10:28 AM]

it’s past afternoon tea and your stomach aches, but not for the reason of being comfortably stuffed.

“do you want me to get on my knees and beg?” you ask hotly, setting the full, untouched cup of wine on the cabinet and turning around to look at the man sitting behind the desk. your father watches you with pity, and you want to rip your skin off your body for it. it feels disgusting on you—a coating of oil that feels similar to shame. “i won’t marry anyone. i refuse it.”

“why not? your prospects are many, and you’re an intelligent woman. any man of similar intelligence would be honoured to marry you.”

“that’s not what matters. i don’t care if they like me. i love—“ someone else.

the words are on the tip of your tongue but you stop yourself, biting your lip until it bleeds and correcting yourself. “i love my freedom too much to be chained by marriage.” 

your father rises, and you turn to face him fully, your heart struggling to keep itself together in your chest. it feels like it’s slowly peeling apart, rubber glue barely enough to keep the shards from disappearing in the abyss below.

“i know the wound lord yeonjun’s death left on your heart has barely had time to begin to heal, and i’ve done my absolute best to postpone this decision despite the council’s insistence, but you must understand. the council don’t know of your entanglement with him. they don’t understand why you’re—“

“they don’t understand me grieving the loss of my dear companion and champion? i don’t need to marry when felix is heir to your throne,” you spit, ignoring the tight bruising knot in your chest. “he’s the one who you should be arranging to marry. not i.”

“the unrest within the capital has been growing since the escalation of the war. brokering a proposal between two warring kingdoms is near impossible until we can peacefully communicate with our enemies. that is not my biggest concern right now.” walking around his desk, your father pours himself a cup of wine and takes a long pull, sighing. he walks through the archway, and there is the unspoken order for you to follow him into the open courtyard just outside of his office. 

the sun feels warm on your numb skin as you clasp your hands in front of you, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. your father sits beneath one of the smaller trees branching up, and you look up at the wooden beams that cross the blue sky. vines and flowers and decades-old plants that have made their home here have wrapped tight around the wood, drape to form a green canopy that still allows golden light to stream through.

it reminds you of when you were a child, and only the daughter of the crown prince. you had so few responsibilities then, playing with felix in these gardens while your father spoke to your grandfather on matters that didn’t concern you.

a part of you wonders where your brother is now. he hasn’t written in weeks, although you don’t doubt his time is stretched thin during a tour.

you miss him. you miss your friends that have gone off with him.

you sit down beside your father, and look into your lap as he cradles his goblet of wine in his palms. he’s never liked the stuff. only ever started drinking when he became king, and you know, then, that they’ve been backed into a corner. if a war is not a king’s biggest concern, then it must be his people. his life. his family’s life at stake.

you eye the liquid numbly, and can’t bring yourself to be angry anymore.

“our banks are running low. the economy is floundering under this war,” your father says softly. “the weather will freeze in a few months, too. the people are losing hope in the crown when the idea of starving through the winter is more than just a far possibility. before we return our focus on the war, i must remedy the unrest spreading through our people like wildfire. if i don’t… well, i don’t think i have to spell it out for my smart daughter.”

you smile half-heartedly, but it fades quick. your father falls silent, and you gently take the cup of wine from his hand and pour it out onto the grass beneath their feet. he doesn’t protest when you bend down to set the goblet in the dirt, straightening up again and staring at the ground. 

you can’t look at him. you don’t know when this conflict made your father a stranger to you, but now, it feels like you’re seven again, watching the birds, not understanding a thing in this world. the inhale you take is cool, warning of the season to come, and it calms your heart beginning to race.

“this war has forced us to funnel all our resources into the wrong things,” you intone quietly. “we have alchemists using precious minerals to create concoctions that could raze a peasant’s farmland in an instant when we should be helping them prepare.”

“i know.” your father’s long heavy sigh. you feel his gaze on your face, and meet it. almost at once, his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, and you close your eyes as he tilts your head forward to kiss your forehead. a small pulse of warmth seeps into your skin, and it runs down your body, spreading through your chest cavity like honey. “the council’s adamant that we strengthen our bonds with the common folk by arranging a marriage between you and one of the newer lords that have risen from the peasantry. they have their own champion they wish to see on the council.”

“so they want him to breed me like a bitch in a kennel,” you finish for him desolately and he opens his mouth to argue but you beat him to it. it’s all your body will be fit for. no matter how powerful you are. “you’re their king.” lifting your head, you stare at him. “why can’t you stand to say no?”

“their ties reach into the every branch of our nobility. i can’t upset them when their support, the people’s support, is needed to maintain stability.”

“but you’re their king,” you repeat. “enforce the law. if they aren’t loyal to you no matter your decision, what is the point of the crown? the point of any of us being held at higher esteem than the rest of the people? the point of our blood being blessed with alchemic properties was so that our word would be held as law.”

“you want me to rule with an iron fist,” he questions, raising an eyebrow, “with the gentry in fear of who will die next? our ancestors have waged enough war using the power they had been blessed with. i refuse to continue that legacy.”

“and i admire that about you, father, but there comes a point where you must put your foot down. i’m your daughter.” you take hold of his hand on your cheek, clasping it tightly in your lap. “i don’t want to marry anyone. i know that my feelings for lord yeonjun weren’t appropriate, but i would rather die his unknown lover than marry another man.”

“that is not your choice to make. your life is not your own, nor will it ever be. that is the burden we were all born with, and i will not see your head on a pitchfork held in a starving farmer’s hand because i did nothing to pacify them,” your father says in a tone that concludes the matter entirely. he twists his hand to hold onto yours, and those eyes, eyes that you’ve been told that you have, stare back at you with a foreign sheen. 

your throat cinches, the noose tying itself. at that moment, you know that if your father asks you again to marry a stranger, you’ll say yes without a second more of protest. 

duty, and loyalty. 

you owe that to your king, too. 

your father squeezes your hand. “you and felix are the most precious things in my life. i would do anything for you to be born in some other family unbound of all these tiresome obligations.”

“i’m happy right where i am,” you insist, but even that gets caught in your throat, half a lie. lowering your voice to a whisper, you repeat it again. “i’m happy right where you are, father. ask me again, and i’ll do it. i’ll marry whoever you ask.” 

“you asked for me, your grace?”

the voice startles you out of your wits and you spin around on the bench. your hands spring away from your father’s as you spot a figure bowed beneath the archway. a figure that makes your blood run cold.

“rise, champion.”

it can’t be him. he is who the people want whispering in felix’s ear once he sits on the council?

you can’t. you can’t marry him.

his dark brown eyes meet yours as he straightens up, and there is not even a flare of recognition behind them. “oh. your highness. i didn’t realize you would be here, too.”

“lord christopher.” the name falls from your mouth without it meaning to, and your fingers flinch into a fist by your side, hidden in the folds of your dress. you hadn’t meant to have such an instant reaction to the man, but his mere appearance in your father’s garden has your mind reeling. 

his skin has tanned from the sun, and his freckles are more apparently as he peers at you. he’s dressed in a casual smock, sans his armour but with his sword sheathed at his side, his hair wild and untamed. he must’ve just come back from riding, or something arduous like it; there’s sweat dripping down his temples.

“come. sit with us,” your father invites, and your mouth goes dry.

you haven’t spoken to him in months, though you’ve seen him often since. yeonjun had been best friends with one of his best friends after all, so they’d been in the same circles, and just because yeonjun had passed didn’t mean you could suddenly slough off your old companions.

lord christopher was at his funeral, and he had offered condolences for your loss.

those words come back to bite you now.

“what do you know of my loss, wolf?”

now he stands before you, your future husband. you know it before your father even speaks it. suggests it. commands it.

you don’t know what aches more—your head or your heart.

you can’t marry him.

“wine?” your king offers.

but you will.

“no, thank you, your grace,” lord christopher says, and his eyes refuse to meet yours as he sits on the bench angled slanted to the one you’re perched on. his body won’t face you. his head is cordially tilted to his majesty, but somehow, you are the one locked out from a heart. “wine has never been to my taste.”

.

chan walks you back to your room on the orders of your father. 

chan. it feels strange to call him that in your head after all these months adamantly distancing yourself from both him and changbin, but the familiarity makes your heart wilt in yearning. you’ve missed his steady gait, his quiet presence. he never speaks unless he thinks he must; a trait you are most grateful for at this moment.

it gives you time to think. formulate what you need to say in the most efficient phrasing possible. 

it takes most of the walk to your rooms to decide on what to say, and as soon as you do, you open your mouth.

“if i had a choice,“ you begin suddenly, voice catching. you’ve been trying to hold back your tears for the past ten minutes since you’ve left your father’s office courtyard, and you clear your throat painfully, “i would have never chosen to marry. i think you deserve to know that before we go through with all the celebrations and we have to pretend we’re happy.”

“i know,” he says quietly. he rests his wrist on the pommel of his sword, and they both stop in the corridor. they’re alone, and they face each other. your eyes finally meet chan’s as determinedly as you can and your stomach turns. whatever speech you had constructed falters, crumbles into dust.

he looks the same since. not even older, or more tired.

just the same.

why does that devastate you?

is it because then it feels like yeonjun’s death never happened? his mark is invisible, unfelt. perhaps well-concealed. it brings you back only to last year when you’d been riding through the forests, chasing after a boy in front of you, racing with another at your side. nothing was wrong then. you just remember shouting to the man before you that no one could catch up to yeonjun once he was on horseback.

no one could ever reach the river before him.

it used to be a memory that made you smile.

then, you think maybe it’s envy. that he can look and act so normal when you’re little more than tatters at court is a feat that’s worthy of jealousy. why does he get to be even close to resembling a human when you’re nothing more than shredded remnants of your old body? you feel like you’ve been eviscerated by claws of grief, each strip of you remaining laying forgotten on some foreign street.

though you’d never been close to chan specifically, you can’t help but feel a yearning to be close to him again. close to anyone. the past half-year since the funeral has passed by in lonely hours. though none of the public know of your romantic affair with the now-dead heir to one of the great houses of your kingdom, everyone had known you two’d been companions.

then again, chan was an outsider to that band of boys, just like you were. it’d been yeonjun, changbin, and wooyoung since the beginning, and you tagged along because of yeonjun; chan being the same with changbin.

it would only make sense that the outsiders would not be as affected by the death of a best friend. at least, that’s what you want the public to think.

changbin hasn’t returned to court at all, still mourning in his ancestral family home. wooyoung is the only one you still speak to regularly as he’s never left the capital nor is he as easy to shake off with his smile hiding so much hurt.

but you’ve avoided chan for so long that standing here in silence with him isn’t awkward, only isolating. your hands tremble in their tight fists and you don’t know whether or not you should step forward or back. he’s the head of his own house at only twenty-two, an accomplished knight, but he still defers to you, so he will do what is asked of him with all the curtesy of a humble lord in the presence of his royal.

you know everything about their new betrothal makes sense. you know that you’ll do your duty, too, and create heirs to further your line.

but you know you can’t force chan into the same fate as yourself just because you’ve lost your chance at love, and you know he knows that you can’t love him.

nothing is fair to the kind-hearted, and everything is karmic to the devil.

“you should find a paramour,” you find yourself saying. his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you clasp your hands behind your back and lift your chin at him. “i will not satiate you, i’m sure, past the years we’ve created enough heirs, and perhaps even during, so you should find another person willing to fulfill you. i will do my best to keep your affair secret from the public, but know that i won’t stand in your way.”

“princess—“

“we will do what is needed of us,” you continue. “i only ask that you are present in our future children’s lives and efficient in your duties as a future council member, but anything relating to your personal life is none of my concern.” his lips twitch into a frown. you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re struggling to keep yourself together as your voice wavers. “i’m sorry i cannot be the wife you want.”

“don’t apologize,” chan replies immediately. he steps closer, his expression softening, and he moves to reach out for you. both pairs of eyes dart to his hands that have frozen mid air. slowly, chan curls them into fists, and he bows his head, letting them hang at his sides. “if that is what my princess demands, then i’ll do it, but i will never act outside of our marriage. my loyalty is to you alone.”

“what if you fall in love with someone?” you challenge. “you won’t be able to be with them if you bind yourself to me.”

“i won’t.”

“how do you know?” “i won’t look at another woman if you stand before me. there is no other woman to look at,” he answers honestly and your throat goes dry, gut twisting at his earnest tone. “i just... i just wish for us to be friends again. i don’t want us to be strangers trapped together in a room when we used to know each other.”

“chan...”

he smiles. it makes his entire face soften like fresh-baked bread, and you want to reach out to poke his cheek. like you’re familiar with him, his smile a refraction of the sun that used to live in your heart. a sun that begins to rise when chan’s smile grows so wide it makes his eyes squint, and he lets out a tiny laugh to himself, hiding his face by turning it over his shoulder.

“chan,” he echoes, pink dusting his face. “it feels good hearing you call me that again.”

you don’t know what to say, so you don’t. chan notices your silence and he faces you again, the innocence of his smile disappearing when he gauges your expression.

“princess.”

that word alone makes you want to crawl out of your skin. 

“thank you for accepting my father’s betrothal,” you say at last, and it is weak, quiet. 

“it was what was asked of me, princess.”

“still, we can only be grateful that you are doing your duty to the crown.” your tongue is heavy in your mouth, but your curtesies are drilled into your head.

lord christopher is your champion, now. he, too, must carry your favour.

you step forward, and steel your heart. chan tilts his head, and lowers it, already knowing what you’ll do. he read it in your expression the moment you unlaced your hands from behind your back to let them hang limply by your sides. the way your eyes became downcast. 

your lips meet his offered cheek in a soft kiss before you’re stepping back.

“our engagement will be announced to the realm in two days time,” you murmur. “relish that time while you can.”

“don’t assume i think of this as me losing my freedom in some unanimous contract.” his eyes search yours, and you press your lips into a thin line, trying hard not to bite back. it is exactly what you think of it as. “you know i would never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. and i want you to be happy.”

“of course i know that.”

“good.” he smiles again, faint and sad. it is only a few minutes walk to your chambers, up a flight of spiralling stairs, and though you should never go anywhere without your personal guard, you’re not above defending yourself. after all, you’ve got royal blood running like magma in your veins. the most volatile substance known on this planet. chan knows this, and he takes a step further back. “do you wish to be alone, princess?”

“if you wouldn’t mind,” you assent cautiously. he dips his head obediently, but he doesn’t look happy to leave you alone.

“whatever you’d like.” 

you nod to him one last time and walk to the door that will lead to the stairs. you don’t hear his retreating footsteps and know he’s watching, making sure your last moments with him are safe. you can’t help but feel guilt sink into your stomach like a dagger fresh from the forge. it’s hotter than the sun, and sears through your flesh, cauterizing the blood and keeping it lodged there.

your hand pauses against the wood of the door, and you stare at the grain beneath your barren fingers. you’re not yet adorned by rings and other such jewelry, though you don’t doubt that the bride price chan’s house will pay for the engagement will not lack in such things. 

they’re stuck together now.

you peer over your shoulder. he’s still standing there, his hand draped over the pommel of his sword still, his other hand grabbing his limp wrist. he doesn’t hide that he’s staring at you, studious gaze lightening once your gaze meets his.

“chan.”

“yes, princess?”

“i want us to go back to the way we were,” you say. “to be friends.”

his smile is damning. you remember how it would make changbin stop his rants and break into a smile just because his best friend was grinning ear to ear, and you don’t think you ever blamed him for it. “really?”

“yes. really.” and it almost feels like the anvil in your gut shifts. relieves the pressure that had been mounting inside of you somehow. you clear your throat, and straighten up your back. “i’ll see you at supper, then?”

chan nods, still grinning. “if my princess demands it.”

“she’s not demanding it,” you retort. then, because it makes you smile, you add, “but she’d like it if you were there because she likes seeing her friends.”

“then, i’ll be there.”

“good.”

with that, you turn and push through the entrance to your room, and though your steps are as heavy as they were the day before, this time, you cannot help but look up to where you’re going.

if you enjoyed, leave a reblog or comment ! ❤️

[bearbluebooks]

Chapter 4 and 5 Christmas in Velaris

“Does it hurt?” He asked. 

When she looked into his eyes she could swear there was worry in his eyes.

“Only when you touch it,” she joked.

December 6th, 8:54

A knock on the door pulled Gwyn out of her cleaning haze. Was she expecting another handyman?

One quick glance on her phone told her that wasn’t until tomorrow.

With hesitant steps she made her way to the front door. Just in case, she eyed the biggest book she could lift- they were weapons in more ways than one.

As she lifted the key chain lock she hardly had the chance to open the door before she was greeted with “I thought Feyre was joking when she said you were back.” 

Without thinking Gwyn engulfed her friend into the biggest hug. She held her so tight she almost suffocated her- as long as she held her, it was real. She was back .

And she came to see her. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her until this moment. The no bullshit, loyal Nesta Archeron. Her best friend.

News traveled fast but Nesta Archeron traveled faster.

Sometimes Velaris was just like a small town, and not the bustling city most people thought.

Right now she was glad for it. “Nesta!”

“I’ve missed you.” She whispered into the beautiful female's golden brown hair.

“What are you doing here? Are you back? For good?”

“Never mind,” she said as she removed herself from the hug.

“Tell me on Friday night, we're going out. I’m taking you and Emerie out for drinks. Maybe Cas will join. Who am I kidding he will join. But first just us girls.”

“That sounds nice, Nesta,” Gwyn chimed in.

“I’ll pick you up at six, wear something nice.”

Before she could respond Nesta was already out of the door as she said “I need to go to work but I needed to see if it was true.”

With one look back she said “it’s really nice to have you back Gwynnie.”

The old nickname squeezed her heart tight. It sent a flutter of warmth throughout her body. “It’s really nice to be back,” she said with a genuine smile. “See you on Friday.”

21:35

Fresh incense smoked in the background. Soft smells of Nag Champa filled the air, as it slowly replaced the old with the familiar. 

Lilly’s upstairs apartment was in much better shape than the shop- the ceilings held, there was no mold to be seen, and even the interior was quite nice.

All of Lilly’s furniture was a mix of cozy and kitsch. Dark green wallpaper adorned the old walls. The velvet green curtains slowly moved, as they signaled the entrance of fresh air. The ornate fireplace offered a warm fire with hypnotic crackling sounds. The large mirror on top of the fireplace showed Gwyn’s tired body on the green couch. Her legs rested gently on the chestnut coffee table. The many candles that she scattered around gave the room an even cozier ambiance. Gwyn couldn’t help the happy sigh that escaped her mouth as she planted her feet on the soft red carpet to change her position for a bit.

Happy.

Gwyn was happy. 

Mouse seemed to share the sentiment, as she purred contentedly in her lap. When she moved to grab her steaming cup of tea, her entire body ached, but somehow she felt more satisfied with life than she had in a while.

If she could get more than five hours of sleep tonight, she would be over the moon. But all the hard work in the world couldn’t help her sleep. Her amnesia followed her even to Velaris. In a desperate attempt to force her body to sleep, she already put her pajamas on, and her makeup off. 

The only thing that was left to do, was to go to bed and fall asleep. Instead of looking at the ceiling for hours and hours until the sun forcefully announced its presence.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door took her out of the in-between relaxed state she found herself in.

Again?

One look at her phone showed the time, “21:35?” she said to Mouse who looked with the same contentment as earlier.

Her heart began to beat faster and her palms began to sweat. Her mind faded to black as flashes of pounding against doors flashed before her, as if he was here again, demanding to “open up, you devil child.” 

With one shake of her head and one deep breath in she walked towards her bag on the antique hazelnut dinner table. 

“He’s not real. He’s not here. You’re safe,” she repeated quietly as she rifled through the messiness that was her life. Within seconds she found what she was looking for: the can of pepper spray.

Silent steps that came with years of making herself smaller brought her down the stairs.

With one whispered “You got this,” she swung the door open quickly- so quickly that she could take up her fighting stance without losing time. 

“Azriel?” She said in shock.

“Gwyn?” He said in even more shock.

“Is that- 

“Pepper spray?”

When she stepped out of the darkness of her shop into the dimly lit street, a sharp inhale came before a choked “What the hell happened to your face?”

One of his large hands instinctively reached for the spot on her chin where she knew a bruise bloomed in bright colors of red and purple.

This morning her limited makeup skills actually hid the bruise quite well, Nesta hadn’t even noticed.

“I fell up the stairs,” she answered honestly.

One sad smile adorned his full lips as he said, “Still clumsy I see.” 

“Does it hurt?” He asked. 

When she looked into his eyes she could swear there was worry in his eyes.

“Only when you touch it,” she joked.

With equal speed, his hand left her chin. The sudden movement left her feeling surprisingly wanting.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. 

She secretly hoped his answer would allow him to stay a little bit longer.

“I promised I’d come by,” he said.

With a smile, she remembered last night. 

“Hey, if we can’t use children to spread the Christmas spirit then who can we?”

“A question for the ages,” he replied with a smile.

Azriel’s eyes contained a silent question, are you going to let me in?

A shiver ran up her body as the cold air hit her naked feet. Even though the place was a mess, it was a lot warmer inside.

“Come in,” she said hesitantly, “But if you judge even one thing, I will send your ass back out.”

With his hands held up he walked inside.

“Not everybody can be the owner of an evil lair,” she said as she looked back with mock judgment.

“Not everybody has style, you mean,” he said with a smirk.

“Taste is subjective, and some are better than others,” she said as she walked up the stairs.

She noticed an encroaching presence behind her. Ever since she came back, he kept a distance, but now he was practically breathing in her neck. 

Then she remembered how she just told him about her feud with the stairs, and her heart warmed.

As she opened the door she looked back to warn Azriel, “Mouse is sweet but doesn’t really warm to strangers, don’t take it personally.” At least she would have an ally in her own home. It took her years for Mouse to be as comfortable with her as she was now. Years of cuddles, respecting her space, and lots and lots of treats. With no small amount of pride, she considered herself Mouse’s primary human.

Before she could even step foot into the warm living room, Mouse, the ninja cat already made her way towards the towering male that suddenly occupied a large part of the living room.

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem,” Azriel said as he pointed down to where Mouse encircled his legs.

The treacherous beast walked around Azriel’s long legs in a desperate attempt to be picked up. It took her one year until Mouse allowed her to be near her. 

Out of frustration, she whispered, “Arrogant son of a bitch.”

Did he still have that uncanny bat hearing, she wondered when he asked, “What was that?”

No backing out now, “Arrogant son of a bitch,” she repeated more confidently.

“Jealous?” he said with one corner of his mouth lifted.

“Not at all,” she lied.

21:35

Fresh incense smoked in the background. Soft smells of Nag Champa filled the air, as it slowly replaced the old with the familiar. 

Lilly’s upstairs apartment was in much better shape than the shop- the ceilings held, there was no mold to be seen, and even the interior was quite nice.

All of Lilly’s furniture was a mix of cozy and kitsch.

Dark green wallpaper adorned the old walls. The velvet green curtains slowly moved as they signaled the entrance of fresh air. The ornate fireplace offered a warm fire with hypnotic crackling sounds. The large mirror on top of the fireplace showed Gwyn’s tired body on the green couch. Her legs rested gently on the chestnut coffee table. The many candles that she scattered around gave the room an even cozier ambiance. Gwyn couldn’t help the happy sigh that escaped her mouth as she planted her feet on the soft red carpet to change her position for a bit.

Happy.

Gwyn was happy. 

Mouse seemed to share the sentiment, as she purred contentedly in her lap. When she moved to grab her steaming cup of tea, her entire body ached, but somehow she felt more satisfied with life than she had in a while.

If she could get more than five hours of sleep tonight, she would be over the moon. But all the hard work in the world couldn’t help her sleep. Her insomnia followed her even to Velaris. In a desperate attempt to force her body to sleep, she already put her pajamas on, and her makeup off. 

The only thing that was left to do was go to bed and fall asleep instead of looking at the ceiling for hours and hours until the sun forcefully announced its presence.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the door took her out of the relaxed state she found herself in.

Again?

One look at her phone showed the time, “21:35?” she said to Mouse who looked at her with the same contentment as earlier.

Her heart began to beat faster and her palms began to sweat. Her mind faded to black as flashes of pounding against doors flashed before her, as if he was here again, demanding to “open up, you devil child.” 

With one shake of her head and one deep breath in she walked towards her bag on the antique hazelnut dinner table. 

“He’s not real. He’s not here. You’re safe,” she repeated quietly as she rifled through the messiness that was her life. Within seconds she found what she was looking for: the can of pepper spray.

Silent steps that came with years of making herself smaller, brought her down the stairs.

With one whispered “You got this,” she swung the door open quickly- so quickly that she could take up her fighting stance without losing time. 

“Azriel?” She said in shock as she observed the humongous figure looming in the doorway.

“Gwyn?” He said in even more shock.

“Is that- 

“Pepper spray?”

When she stepped out of the darkness of her shop and into the dimly lit street, a sharp inhale sounded before a choked “Who did that to you?”

One of his large hands instinctively reached for the spot on her chin where she knew a bruise bloomed in bright colors of red and purple.

This morning, her limited makeup skills actually hid the bruise quite well- Nesta hadn’t even noticed.

“I fell up the stairs,” she answered honestly.

One sad smile adorned his full lips as he said, “Still clumsy I see.” 

“Does it hurt?” He asked. 

When she looked into his eyes she could swear there was worry in his eyes.

“Only when you touch it,” she joked.

With equal speed, his hand left her chin. The sudden movement left her feeling surprisingly wanting.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. 

She secretly hoped his answer would allow him to stay a little bit longer.

“I promised I’d come by,” he said. “Thanks for riling up Nyx by the way.”

With a smile, she remembered last night. 

“Hey, if we can’t use children to spread the Christmas spirit then who can we?”

“A question for the ages,” he replied with a smile.

Azriel’s eyes contained a silent question, are you going to let me in?

A shiver ran up her body as the cold air hit her naked feet. Even though the place was a mess, it was a lot warmer inside.

“Come in,” she said hesitantly, “But if you judge even one thing, I will send your ass back out.”

With his hands held up he walked inside.

“Not everybody can be the owner of an evil lair,” she said as she looked back with mock judgment.

“Not everybody has style, you mean,” he said with a smirk.

“Taste is subjective, and some have more than others,” she said as she walked up the stairs.

She noticed an encroaching presence behind her. Ever since she came back, he kept a distance, but now he was practically breathing in her neck. 

Then she remembered how she just told him about her feud with the stairs and her heart warmed.

As she opened the door she looked back to warn Azriel, “Mouse is sweet but doesn’t really warm to strangers, don’t take it personally.”

It took years for Mouse to be as comfortable with her as she was now. Years of cuddles, respecting her space, and lots and lots of treats. With no small amount of pride, she considered herself Mouse’s primary human.

Before she could even step foot into the warm living room, Mouse, the ninja cat already made her way towards the towering male that suddenly occupied a large part of the living room.

“Doesn’t seem to be a problem,” Azriel said as he pointed down to where Mouse encircled his legs.

The treacherous beast walked around Azriel’s long legs in a desperate attempt to be picked up.

Out of frustration, she whispered, “Arrogant son of a bitch.”

Did he still have that uncanny bat hearing, she wondered when he asked, “What was that?”

No backing out now, “Arrogant son of a bitch,” she repeated more confidently.

“Jealous?” he said with one corner of his mouth lifted.

“Not at all,” she lied.

With confident strides he walked to the large dark red chair. As he took a seat he asked “So what’s this I hear about a Christmas competition?”

[sukunasun]

i think about your kendallroyfication of gojo at least once a week

*gazes longingly at the succession poster on my wall*

its impossible to compare two icons against one another but i will say gojo would cope better than kendall ever did. only he suffers a fate worse than not becoming ceo. (i would have wanted satoru to have it, his name is on the building people, it was literally named the GOJO deal. wake up.)

do you think he's ever stomped his tiny foot down exclaiming "i am the honoured one!" when his favourite double XL digimon t-shirt had been confiscated in exchange for yet another haori because he insists on wearing it to every formal event. who cares about a tea ceremony with the royal family, he needs everyone to know about his beloved agumon.

some corrections should be made, he doesn't actually drown himself in a fishbowl's worth of alcohol because he's not even a fan of it. not a single drop. pure dislike. gojo's infamous creator has unfortunately disclosed that information after i decided to turn him into an alcoholic slash drug addict slash rehab enthusiast. yes, he's been to a few. so we'll just have to believe he'd deal with the pain of privilege in other ways. makes you wonder how much of a bore satoru actually is when he doesn't drink, doesn't fuck, only takes drugs when he has a boo boo, and most probably spends that allocated funding for idk...parfaits and sanrio themed desserts. saccharine and colourful, unlike the kind geto likes which are reminiscent of red beans and taro.

there's a nice place somewhere in ginza they frequent. although 'nice place' is rather generous considering suguru calls it a "piece of shit chain with the best fucking ohagis in japan." satoru rolls his eyes because geto says the same thing about everything he tries. the novelty doesn't last very long before he gets bored. rice crackers, pain au chocolat, satoru's actual body and soul for like three years in college.

ugh, that's a can of worms he doesn't want to unleash on a depressing and grey rainy morning. he's got no time for this when he really needs to get suguru's opinion on what to do about bankruptcy. something about his father borrowing billions of dollars. whatever it's complicated and the asshole had never really cared for consequences. gojo doesn't need to remind the world of his father's iron fist and small ego. but he explains just enough of the situation to geto. in corporate jargon with an eerily uncharacteristic 'i'm in deep shit' tone. he's never been one to panic.

"so what do you think?" he rushes geto for an answer and to the untrained eye, geto seems like he's hardly listening because he's busy tsk-ing and rolling his eyes at the servers who are obviously ignoring his request for extra napkins. not that they're busy with the morning rush or anything. 'they just hate me because i'm pretty' yeah yeah, we know suguru. your face card is platinum and so are your graff rings. please. you're perfectly capable of getting your own napkins. (it's purpose is less to do with wiping the crumbs off his lips and more as a buffer between his oh-so-sensitive hands and this piping cup of tea. you want me to touch this cup? with my bare hands?preposterous. it's filthy!)

"what if we came in, took the whole thing off your family's hands," geto suggests like it were so simple and not at all a ploy to bring gojo's family to ruins. that's the thing with suguru. he doesn't know how or why he says these things so casually.

jokes aside, he genuinely wonders if his best friend even likes him. there's this awkward tension to prove they're more than just two guys who get coffee every week. maybe if he stared at him for a second or two longer, he'd give in and comfort satoru like no one else in the universe ever had or will be able to.

they leave with umbrellas in hand and coats that are so expensive it's the same price as a car. or a down payment on a house. not that they'd know. they don't pay for these things like normal people do. satoru doesn't have a thing for labels, too gaudy, too showy. it comes off as some stealth-wealth bullshit but the truth is he won't admit his mother buys his clothes for him and now, that task has fallen into suguru's authority.

this might be a good time to note that he's barely gotten a pastry for himself. and the news of his father's company has yet to hit the headlines. it's enough to drag him out of his thoughts and back to reality before he smirks and shoots geto a sweet little "yeah? go fuck yourself." turning his suggestion down.

suguru laughs cheerily and it's so beautiful the clouds part for a ray of sun to catch the droplets off the edge of canopy shielding geto's profile. "you know i'd never...i'm on your side, toru," he whispers so fondly. a soft, gentle pull of syllables masking something he knows geto is dying to add to that sentence.

right then, they reach the street crossing where they usually part. he wants to ask him for more advice, more options, something that'll stop him from staring down the glass panes of high-rise windows. "i'll figure something out," suguru assures him, leaning in close because they wouldn't want any spies to hear, and leaves a kiss on his lips tasting like tea and glutinous rice.

satoru's gonna be sick.

[wellthebardsdead]

Shamat: *quietly enjoying his tea by the fire, watching his friends with growing concern the more drunk and rowdy they get*

Inigo: may I sit with you a while friend?

Shamat: of course…. Can you figure out what Taliesin and Kaidan are doing? I can’t tell if it’s a staring contest or if they’re sizing each other for a fight.

Inigo: you’re close. *watches the two lock arms only for Kaidan to immediately fling Taliesin out of his chair* It was going to be an arm wrestle but I think that was a bit one sided.

Shamat: oh dear- *moves to get up to go help only to sit back down upon seeing the high elf get back up for round two* he’s going to lose his arm if he’s not careful.

Inigo: why not? he’s clearly already lost his pride after that. *snickers and sips his ale* my friend… you mentioned you also did skooma… you seemed so relieved to see Id shaken it too when we met in my cell…

Shamat: *sighs and nods looking down at his mug* yes… it was a dark time in my life… the first time I had it I did not take it willingly… but I was young and starving… I had no other prospects and the men who gave it to me told me it’d help me… relax.

Inigo: I take it… that was also your first time- doing-

Shamat: *nods* I was 19. I know it sounds like a reasonable age but. Not for dunmer… keep in mind how long we live for, I didn’t even start getting facial hair until I was 25. *sighs* They didn’t give me much of a choice either. Moments after they offered it I was being held down as they made me drink it… I woke up 2 days later in a gutter, half naked with a splitting headache and money in my pocket I didn’t have before. They at least had the decency to pay me after they used and dumped me… but after that, all I craved was that poison… it got rid of the hunger, the pain, and it made me feel something other than sorry for myself…

Inigo: Fake happiness, is addicting when all you have is sadness… How did you shake your addiction?…

Shamat: I got arrested. Stumbled into a murder scene one evening while searching for a new dealer actually… I saw the assassin making his escape right as the ordinators busted down the door… they saw what happened to that family, and a confused junky coming down from his high, and that was all they needed to put me in chains for a few decades. *finishes his tea* in some ways, I’m greatful for it. I don’t think I’d of ever gotten clean without it. Though I don’t miss the stale bread, the black lung, the leaches on my legs or the whip around my thighs. *huffs* and people think Markarths prison system is cruel.

Inigo: *smiles sadly and pats his back* I’m glad you are free now my friend… I am still sorry I shot you while in my own skooma induced darkness…

Shamat: don’t apologise my friend. I’m happy to see you are healing and continuing to heal… I’m proud of y- *jumps hearing a chair topple over followed by Kaidan hitting the floor and a battle cry from a very drunk altmer*

Taliesin: YEEEEAAAAAAAAAA- *grabs the table smashing it* AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

Shamat: How many has he had?

Inigo: too much evidentially. Are you okay brother?

Kaidan: *groans*

Shamat: *readies healing hands as he gets up* hold still I’m coming-

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 16

Today's prompt is to base the work on a song. The ending notes will contain the full lyrics, but this is the song link I chose. It felt like it fit well with Wyll's character arc, how he's struggling with his identity shifting and changing as a result of everything that happens outside of his control.

I'm not as happy with this chapter but I think it ended well enough, and it was fun to explore through the vibes of the song~

Short fic below the cut~

Day 16 - Write something inspired by your favourite song/poem/book (I can't pick a single favourite song so I chose one that worked)

Wyll stormed out of his tent, shirtless and distressed, his clothing hanging loose in his hand. “That’s the fourth time this week! I can’t keep…how the hells do I-” 

“Wyll. Come here.” Tav’s voice was firm but calm, the others already starting their day around her as Wyll had been struggling with his outfit in his tent. “Sit down. Astarion?” 

“Again?” The pale elf was already going through his pack for the sewing kit as Wyll slumped down on the log next to Tav. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got more thread, more patches.” She took the shirt and passed it over to Astarion, who quickly got to work on the rip. 

“I’m pathetic.” Wyll gazed into the fire.

“Wyll, it’s a shirt. You’re still getting used to the horns, and honestly even if it wasn’t that then something would’ve put a hole in it eventually.” She wiggled her finger through a rip in her leathers, the slight red stain betraying the cause as an errant arrow a few days prior. 

“If it was just a shirt, it wouldn’t matter.” He still didn’t turn his eyes from the fire. “But that bloody thing might as well be a metaphor for my whole life.”

Tav looked to Halsin, who was helping Gale with the morning food supplies, and motioned brewing some tea. The druid nodded, already selecting the pot and herbs. She motioned for Wyll to continue.

“Every time I tried to dream of something, to reach out and grab it, it ends up torn apart. I tried to save the city, my family, to be the man that my father always wanted me to be…and I was cast out. I tried to rebuild myself, to at least still be a hero, to do what was right and to save people…and I nearly killed an innocent woman. Gods only know how many others Mizora might have made me hurt.” He glanced over at Karlach for a moment, as she helped pack up everyone’s tents for travelling again, completely unaware of the single fiery eye that was already stinging with fresh tears for her sake. “For all my troubles, for all that trying to still do the right thing, I can’t even be a hero because anyone I try to help only sees a demon from their worst nightmares.” 

“You didn’t know, you couldn’t have known any of this would happen.” Tav handed him the freshly brewed mug of tea. 

“But that’s the thing. Even if I knew, if I went back knowing everything I do now,  I’d do it all again. I don’t know if it’s foolishness, unjustified courage, or desperation to try and live up to even the smallest part of that legacy of my father. Yet here I am, blade in hand, devil’s chain around my neck. I’m still fooling myself into thinking I can change it, that it’s worth it… Just like every damned day I put that shirt on telling myself it won’t catch on my horns this time because I know better.” He sighed heavily, taking a sip of his drink and sitting back a little. “And yet here we are. Again. Another hole to mend, but at least that’s just a shirt, and not trading my soul for a dream that should’ve died the moment I lost my eye.” 

Astarion handed back the shirt in question, the hole mended, but not with a basic stitch. It looked more like embroidery, a small sword with a golden hilt. “Gods I can’t listen to this any more. Look at this. The shirt, it will never be the same because of the holes in it, imperfect, whatever you want to call it.” 

“You’re not helping, Astarion.” Wyll grumbled, running his thumb over the other repairs made that week. 

“Oh for the gods…let me finish, will you?” The pale elf shot back, tapping on the embroidered part insistently. “Someone here seems to keep telling me something, so I am going to do you a favour and impart the same lesson. Life changed you, yes. Well it does that, and rarely with any thought for your dreams or goals. So change them. Stop seeing all the parts that are broken and look at the parts you still have. You see over there? That tiefling who you didn’t horribly murder? Good. She’s rather fond of you, and if you get your horns out of your arse for 5 seconds you might just notice.” 

“That’s…certainly something to think about, but what’s the point if-” 

“Darling please stop the warlock from talking for a minute will you?” Astarion shot a pointed look at Tav, who in turn nudged Wyll and hid behind her own tea. “You cannot go back to being just the human Wyll Ravengard any more than I can undo being a bloody vampire. So, why not look at what you do have? You are alive. You have one good eye. And gods forbid I point out that you even have friends around you who do not give a single fuck what you look like, because they know who you are.”

“I…Thank you, Astarion, that’s surprisingly-” 

“AND WE ALSO ALL HAVE BLOODY TADPOLES IN OUR BRAINS THAT COULD TURN US INTO MINDFLAYERS AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT. So if you are quite done with your pity party, I would like to get back on our way to getting rid of the bloody things.”

Tav watched the vampire stalking back off to his tend and simply shrugged with a smile. “He’s not wrong. Not necessarily the kindest way to say it, but… Stop worrying about the dreams you can’t reach any more, Wyll. Look at what’s right in front of you. If you can even get a passionate speech out of Astarion of all people, I’d say you’re doing at least something right.” She ran a finger over the embroidered sword on his now mended shirt. “The world has changed every one of us from what we thought we might be. It’s scary, and sometimes it hurts more than any arrow or axe, but we survive. And after we survive, we decide what living means again.” 

She stood up to follow after Astarion, leaving Wyll with his thoughts, his shirt, and half a cup of cold tea that had been forgotten. He glanced over at Karlach again, her bright smile matching the glow of her heart. “A blade,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “is only worth what it can protect.” ------ ------ FULL SONG LYRICS

Sainthood and Sanctuary by Aviators

Safe from an early grave But death feels closer still When does the human soul cave To find itself a kill Promised a crown of glory Fought for an equal stand But fortune would never find me In this blood red land

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

After I sought protection The saviors broke my bones Lost streets that I remember Now lie here alone Mantras of greater purpose End up left behind The faithful don't deserve this Desperate and blind

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

I would give anything to know I'm not alone I'm tired of suffering When I once had a home

Fallen graces familiar faces Never look like mine rings of fire And holy water never turn back time Why do I have many questions Intel I can't find still unsure of My mind's selection to trust my fallen kind

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small I'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

Why have I given my heart I've fallen so far Because now the future scares me Why am I broken and small i'd sacrifice all For sainthood and sanctuary

I would give anything to know I'm not alone I'm tired of suffering When I once had a home