#I just read something saying that a certain book can only be found once in the game and I'm like

[anangelcanonlygosofar]

Aziraphale And His Relationship With God

I've been thinking about something that I haven't heard/see anyone in this fandom ever really talk about. That could be because I don't keep up with everything, haven't come across a post talking about it, or the fandom has not discussed it yet. So I shall start a conversation about it here on this blog and many other things I have been thinking about and noticing with every rewatch of Good Omens Season 1 &2.

Let's start with a simple question...

What is the relationship between God and Aziraphale like?

To start, we must consider that God rarely talks to their angels, including Airazphale. They simply give orders that are most likely handed down to Metatron, who acts like a middleman and gives the angels "God's" orders. So it's safe to say that Aziraphale, hearing and learning he would be guarding the Eastern gate of Eden thought, or at last hoped, that God would check in on him every once in a while to see his progress.

However, in reality, God only checked in on him ONCE and asked about the whereabouts of the flaming sword in a short, curt matter, listening to Aziraphale give a dumbfounded remark of it "lying around somewhere" before just peacing out. It's also important to note that they chose to ask Aziraphale about the sword and not about Adam and Eve no longer being in the Garden Of Eden or the fact that Aziraphale had very clearly just finished filling in the hole in the wall to the garden.

After this interaction, it's safe to assume that God, for whatever reason, never directly spoke to Aziraphale themselves for the last 6,000 years or so. Leading me to wonder how Aziriphale felt about his mother, father, and creator talking to certain "special" humans but not to him. How hurt was Aziraphale when he realized that God never seemed interested or concerned about him on Earth or even his well-being?

How many times did Aziraphale try to talk to God directly only to get either the Metatron or no response at all? Did Aziraphale ever give up trying to talk to God? If so, for how long? How did Aziraphale deal with the feelings of jealousy he felt, but probably didn't understand when he witnessed time and time again God CHOOSING to talk to HUMANS but not their faithful Principality?

For example, in Good Omens Season 2 Episode 2, we get to see a minisode about Job and the bet that God and Satan made. Throughout the episode, you get to see how out of the loop Aziraphale is, especially when you learn that he wasn't even told about the bet because neither the Angels overseeing the bet nor God themself gave him a heads-up. Then, later on, and toward the end of the minisode, there is a moment when Aziraphale sees Job talking to God, who's just saying seemingly a lot of random things in no particular order. The camera pans to Aziraphale's face and you can see a mix of joy and sadness on his sweet angelic face. He is joyful to see (well hear) God, but at the same time, he is hurt that God simply didn't talk to him at least once (either before or after The Job Bet).

As time went on, how many times did he angrily rant in his numerous volumes of journals about how upset he was that God decided only to come to Earth to talk to a human of their choosing but not to talk to him? How many times did he cry in Crowley's arms about his feelings of jealousy that God would choose to talk to a human but not him?

Aziraphale must have felt so alone and forsaken. The only places he could turn for comfort were his journals, his books, music, food, and Crowley. For over 6,000 years Aziraphale busied himself with surrounding himself with comforting things and found ways to hang out with Crowley because that was ALL he had on Earth. He spent 6,000 years hanging out with Crowley, reading and collecting books, listening to music, traveling the world, eating his feelings, and writing every experience and emotional sensation he had in his 600+ volumes of journals to keep from going crazy and dwelling on the fact that God never once talked to him directly, even if was to just let him know they still care for him.

Aziraphale must have felt abandoned by God and kept unbreakable faith in them in the perpetual hope that they'd speak directly to him. So every time Crowley said some snide question or remark about God, Aziraphale would get hurt and retort that "it's ineffable" as a coping mechanism and as a way to change the subject because he didn't want to think about God and their perpetual silence toward him.

It must be so painful and insulting that God would talk to select humans but not talk to their own Angel who is watching over said humans. This would lead Aziraphale to grow silently resentful of his God yet he would also come up with an explanation to talk himself out of being resentful and to bury his hurt feelings so deep that he became in denial of said feelings.

Aziraphale probably told himself that God was too busy to keep in contact with all their Angels and only had fleeting moments of free time to talk to selected humans. This reasoning probably only made him somewhat content with God not talking to him. However, Aziraphale still desires to speak to God directly. So, when 6,000 years pass and he has the chance to talk to God directly in hopes of reasoning with them about not letting Armageddon happen, he goes for it. However, instead of God coming to talk to him, it's the damn Metatron, speaking on behalf of God.

At that moment, Aziraphale realized that God not directly talking to him was intentional. You can see in his face that he is hurt, that even in a moment of crisis, God still refused to speak directly to him. Yet Aziraphale still kept his FAITH in God in the suffocating hope that one day he could talk directly to God after 6,000 YEARS of waiting for any sign that God still cares for him in some way.

This is why I believe he truly decided to sacrifice EVERYTHING including Crowley so he could return to heaven and finally find a way to talk to God directly to STOP the 2nd Coming and any other Armageddons that may be in the pipeline. Maybe now that he's the Supreme Archangel God will finally talk to him directly.

He just wants to talk to God, fix heaven, and forever save the Earth from Heaven AND Hell. He believes that if he can talk to God maybe, just maybe, he can fix Heaven, save the Earth, and stop the 2nd Coming, as well as, permanently prevent and stop future Armageddons in the process.

Essentially his returning to Heaven is to "do good", and fix Heaven, but it's also to mend his 6,000 years of abandonment issues he developed because of God's 6,000 years of silence they gave to Aziraphale who only had Crowley to talk to and hang out with. Crowley was there when neither God nor other angels were. The only Angels that Aziraphale conversed with were probably Michael and Gabriel and they probably just yelled at him, bullied him, and stifled his questioning nature so that he wouldn't turn out like a former blued-eyed and blonde-haired angel who fell and became satan.

Apologies for the essay. I tend to write essays to express my ideas somewhat clearly.

Well, tada for now!

[cookinguptales]

I love it when there's a brand-new update out and the Stardew Valley wiki is in a state of constant flux. So sometimes you go on there and you read something like

[yawnderu]

honestly i would die for bimbo!reader to have some sort of Legally Blonde level of intelligence but for the stupidest, most useless shit. no, she can't remember which knob turns on which burner for the stove, but she can tell you the effects of different chemical compounds found in all her favorite skincare products and now they react to an individuals derma-layer. simon once caught her watching a screensaver on TV for 30 min because she thought it was "a reeeeally slow nature documentary /:", but she's fluent in Korean because she got super into Korean make up brands from her favorite influencers and wanted to be able to read the product ingredients/reviews/tutorials, it just never gets brought up otherwise and when someone asks in disbelief she's all "what, like it's hard?"

and simon is just sooooo so so proud of his smart pretty girl. who cares that she thought soap's parents legally named him after a dishwashing product. can mactavish tell him how to tell dupes from authentic handbags based on the inner stitching that can only be done on machines specially made by Italian companies? no? then shut the fuck up. tell us more about glitter lipgloss, beautiful.

Absolutely!! She may be dim-witted when it comes to certain things, but she's not exactly dumb at all. This girl could recite the laws of astrophysics and solve complex mathematical problems while being piss drunk.

Simon is still amazed by how complex his sweet girl is— he knows she isn't stupid, yet it never fails to surprise him how you start speaking to MacTavish in fluent Scottish Gaelic, only offering the explanation that you learnt it because a character on your favorite movie spoke it once, looking at him like he grew a second head when he sheepishly told you most scottish people don't speak Gaelic anymore.

Sure, you may have thought movies were real and used to avoid watching them because you thought the actors were actually getting killed and you didn't want to support that, yet a window of your house is full of math equations that gave him a headache just by looking at them.

I'd say Simon sees bimbo!reader as a box full of surprises, telling him about something new every single time you have a conversation. How did you get into studying astrophysics? You got the highest score in the university admission exam and saw a poster that was shiny and had cute stars and a pretty nebula!! How could you resist when everything about it called for you?

Mhm, the smell of gunpowder and blood that sticks to him no matter what is such an odd perfume, yet it surely has an interesting molecular makeup! Of course it does, pretty girl.

They complement each other so well because Simon has the street smarts she's lacking, and she has the book smarts Simon doesn't. She can be extremely ditzy, but who cares when she can tell him exactly which inks are recommended for his skin and which chemicals can rough up his face? He had to buy a brand-new eye black stick simply because you could tell the materials used on it by applying it on your hand with a frown.

I'd like to imagine her as someone with lots of odd interests, knowledge and hyperfixations in the dumbest things besides the universe. He has to keep up with you buying materials for making bracelets and keeping a room full of dinosaur plushies.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING SPOILED !!! FERNANDO A. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she could easily get away with things and when she couldn’t, he always made sure to put her back in her place

content warning: smut (minors dni!), pwp(ish?), what is context, explicit language, themes of jealousy and sugar daddy/baby relationship, degradation, dumbification, spitting, dacryphilia, impact play, brief mention of oral sex (m receiving), brat taming (dom!fernando), brief lance stroll x reader interaction, shitty smut, what’s beta reading we just rawdog our writing in here

note: i will be making a separate masterlist for this i think… lmk what you think and enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

send your 💌re:moony’s planner requests here!

she can get away from a lot of things. she knew that. fernando knew that. 

in fact, fernando would even reward her for it. after all, she never demanded too much and all he wanted was to give her the world.

she wanted a new pair of shoes? he’d buy her the sneakers AND a pair of red bottoms. she wanted something from macy’s? fuck that; he’d have his assistant book the whole floor of harrods just so she can pick out new clothes for her closet. 

he would give her everything. even if she tends to be very playful and hilarious, he’d give her everything just to see it.

her cheekiness was a welcome distraction from his busy life as a professional racer. she’d often tease him in different ways but not once did she ever cross the lines and tested his patience and limits. she wasn’t really a brat, to say the least— she’d often give up by the time fernando would wrap his arms around her and press kisses all over her face.

and if she didn’t give up her act, he’d put her back to her place. it rarely happened, and when it did— they were rough. she would continue to act up just so he could punish her. she welcomed the pain with no hesitation and allowed him to control her like she was nothing but a body to be tossed around. 

she could get away from a lot. whenever she couldn’t, her excitement would soak through her knickers while thinking about his next move.

but right now, she wasn’t really at fault for being so bratty. her petulant attitude toward him wasn’t something that she expected from herself, but when her partner continued to ignore her throughout the party after arriving separately— the least she could do was throw his attitude right back at him. more petulantly, if you were to compare her actions to his.

she sat by the bar counter and quietly sipped on her drink, her ears ringing at the sound of his laughter from the distance alongside other men while they spoke about the happenings during the race earlier today.

she looked so pathetic like this; dressed up in the prettiest slip dress that turned to be a fabric of despair. she was the prettiest woman to have ever existed, and even the rest of the grid thought so, yet she looked so alone. she blamed fernando for this. 

all she wanted was him. she only wanted him right now. nothing more, nothing less. 

yet, in a world where he’d give her everything, he wouldn’t hand himself over to her. instead, he was laughing with lewis and carlos as they chatted about whatever the fuck it was. 

“you’d make a good renaissance painting,” her head shot up at the sound as she found lance stroll sitting next to her. the canadian beamed at her teasingly before sipping on his whiskey on the rocks. 

she scoffed, “if you want to see me naked, just say that.” 

lance laughed over the club music that continued to bust everyone’s eardrums. he then continued, “i would say that but do i really want to get my engines busted by a certain teammate before the next race?” 

her thoughts drifted back to fernando, who, from afar, had gone quiet (not that she knew that), before she rolled her eyes. “don’t be stupid,” she said, “i don’t think he’d care enough to ruin your car.” 

“you’re underestimating the man,” lance chuckled, “way too much, if anything. he could kill with just a look if anyone’s made a passing comment about you.” 

“i really should stop showing up at these stupid races,” she muttered quietly, “it’ll get worse as soon as people find out i hang out in the garages or paddock.”

“why?” lance asked, his frown an evident of concern as he said, “are you two not a…” 

“no, we’re not,” she interrupted with a huff, downing the rest of her drink as she continued, “it’s still the same arrangement. i could just stay at home and still get an allowance— i dunno why i said i’d come with him. look where i am now. he’s doing the same shit he does whenever he’s arriving at the paddock— i have to go after him so nobody knows who i am.” 

it was so obvious that she and fernando should be more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. he showed her something more than financial support and casual intimacy— yet he kept it on the down low as if she’s just a pastime. 

“damn,” lance muttered, offering her a sympathetic smile as he said, “is the money that good?”

“i don’t even care about the money anymore,” she laughed quietly, her eyes pausing from their track as she saw the obvious glare from her partner. he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing.

yet she ignored his heavy scowl as she beamed, “i’m sure you’d be able to provide more if it was about it.” 

lance smirked lazily, now realizing what she was implying as he replied, “i’m sure i would’ve given it to you already if you weren’t as attached to fernando as you are now.” 

looking away from fernando, she covered her excitement and petulance with a giggle before she shoved lance lightly. “shut up.” 

sure, she could get away from a lot of things. but the way fernando stared at her coldly while she was acting all playful towards lance told her enough about the kind of treatment a spoiled brat like her would get from him. 

all she could do was squirm at the thought. 

her mouth let out a shrill cry as fernando pulled her mouth away from his cock, saliva dribbling down her chin to her chest as she felt a sharp pain on the roots of her head. he continued to grab a handful of her hair as he looked down at her. 

his eyes showed nothing of affection. his face offered nothing but mockery and anger. not towards her— but her bratty attitude that she showed tonight. 

he never felt so jealous until he saw lance talking to her up close. and he’s never been angrier than what he felt when she let his teammate get close like that. like she could just move on after talking to the man with a flirtatious smile and get away from her crimes that easily. 

her petulance and constant refusal on the way back to the hotel led to where she was now. her thighs rubbed against each other while tears trickled down her reddening cheeks.

she was desperate for his cock and his touch. both of which she didn’t even deserve despite being his spoiled girlfriend.

she tried to be prideful and strong as she refused to listen to his orders. 

it was too bad for her because while she thought that her pride was big, fernando alonso’s pride was bigger. his ego and his desire to control were what she enjoyed most about this— and these were his tools to tame her. 

“did you think that you can get away from that, hermosa?” he spewed out, watching her as she shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “not listening to me and letting those men get near you— you’re not very smart, are you?”

“m- fer—“ she babbled, only to be interrupted by the clicking of his tongue as his other hand gripped her chin tightly. finally letting go of her hair, he tilted her chin up to his direction without a word. 

he growled quietly, “you’re such a disobedient girl. a very ungrateful and disobedient girl. you don’t deserve my cock after all of this, hermosa.”

“n- no! please-“ she exclaimed, squirming against the hold on her chin as she pleaded with him, “‘ll be good! i’ll be a good girl, i pr- promise. jus’ wan’ your cock- please nando!” 

his breath fanned on her face as he chuckled quietly, “you don’t listen to me unless you want it, hm?”

his hand let go of the grip for a moment, only for his palm to strike her cheek as he gripped her face once more. “open.” 

her brain, feeling hazy from the impact of his slapping and being deprived of his touch and his cock, short circuited. fernando tsked, tapping her reddening cheek once more as he crooned, “look at you, amor. you’re so dumb for my cock, eh? such a stupid bratty girl— wanting my cock when she doesn’t deserve it— open your mouth, hermosa.” 

she obliged, not wanting to disobey him anymore as he grinned. his grin eventually turned into a frown before spitting in her mouth as he demanded, “you know what to do.”

closing her mouth, she swallowed without a hesitation while her glistening eyes looked up at him.

“so you listen then,” he laughed mockingly, “i thought i’ve already fucked your mouth until you turned stupid.” 

she rubbed her thighs against each other, hoping for some sort of relief as a whine escaped her throat. “what’s wrong, hermosa?” tears escaped her eyes as she continued to plead with him wordlessly. “that’s not going to get you anywhere right now— not after you pulled that shit earlier just so you can piss me off.”

she couldn’t find a way to speak, humiliation and pleasure mixed with her adrenaline as she babbled, “i- i wan’- ‘m…” 

“speak up,” he laughed once more. “you’re way too mouthy earlier— what is stopping you now?” 

she whimpered, feeling too frustrated and already feeling too fucked out. she really wasn’t going to get away with all of those things that she did just to catch his attention earlier.

she just wanted him, but she couldn’t seem to get it all out because of the immense pleasure that she received from being disciplined. 

he chuckled quietly, “you want my cock?” 

she nodded frantically, a series of murmurs escaped her mouth as she meekly cried out, “want you to fuck me, please, please, please nando~ ‘m a good girl.”

“no, you’re really not, hermosa,” he grinned wickedly, “if you were you would’ve known not to flirt with those people. but i guess it was my fault that i’ve left you hanging and horny before we went, no? otherwise you wouldn’t have been that stupid to tease them like you would with me.”

she squirmed again, whimpering at his words as fernando continued, “but i’ve given you so much that you always find a way to get some more. i think that my little slut should be thankful for what she’s getting instead of acting like a spoiled brat.”

she couldn’t even find herself to protest. she was so drunk in lust and his dominance that she couldn’t find herself to fight back against his words. 

her love for him would have to wait. she was in too deep right now and if it meant that she’ll get an orgasm and maybe more then she’d do whatever it takes to please him. 

after all, she was spoiled already. working hard didn’t sound too bad. 

[deadliestgalaxy]

SPOILERS FOR GOTG VOL. 3 - DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET!

I have a feeling that everyone (who calls themselves fans) that didn't get the meaning of the ending in GOTG Vol. 3 has never read a single comic of them or is only a fan of some characters/relationships. Many complaints I've seen are about the end and Gamora and Peter’s romance, which sounds kind of childish. You don't need to agree with me, but I’d like to elaborate on that.

James Gunn's writing is always about the detail of things and he is not afraid to do something “bad” if it is the best for the STORYTELLING. This is what most of these people don't get: the most important part of these movies is the story they are telling. The characters help the movie tell the story, it's their story after all — but there's no protagonist or greater good that puts them above the narrative.

(This is different from Gamora’s death in IW btw. It was not the only way they had to make the story flow; they just wanted to “humanize” Thanos and by that, they chose to kill her character. It was an action ADDED not CRUCIAL to the story.)

Vol. 3 is about found-family and growing up; finishing cycles. They will always be family, as we will always be part of their story (that’s why we understand Groot now). However, life chapters end just like in real books, and these Guardians as a TEAM “chapter” has ended for them and for us.

This is very common in the comics. Most times they are all separated, doing solo missions, until something goes wrong and they reunite again. They never stop being friends, why would it be different in the movie universe?

But the end suggests they are not family anymore.

Did we see the same film? No, it doesn't. We can see that in James’ subtle writing: the way they all still respect each other, their understanding of one another, and how they all would die for themselves if needed. That won't change just because they are not physically together — just like when you finish school you won't ignore your best friends, even if you create new relationships (which you will).

But Gamora is not part of the family anymore.

Well, if you see it this way, I can't change your mind. What I can say is that the story IMPLIES that she still is, in fact. And the number one clue is that she (in 2 days) understands Groot. Remember, we also understand him because the fans are now part of the Guardians family — so understanding him and being family are correlated.

Anyhow, I know this is not enough for most people, so hear me out: Gamora’s arc is about respect and healing. She starts the movie skeptical about working with the guardians — she just wants the money— when in reality, she acts like this because she is AFRAID and feels PRESSURED to be around her “old” family.

Imagine: you died but then another version of you comes back without knowing anything of your present life. People will expect you to act in a certain way that maybe you started to act after you met them; they will expect you to like certain things you don't know of; people will EXPECT you to attend to their needs. It is a lot to swallow at once. You are afraid because you don't know them, you don't think you deserve all this love and commitment out of nowhere. So you run away. You run away to find things on your own, to grow out of this pressure you feel and discover the whole universe of possibilities you have ahead.

That's what Gamora did. But then, the mission went south and now she is stuck with her “old” team. The film shows us her character exploring the ship, listening to music... trying to understand them. At one point she even says to Rocket “You must be a very loyal pet for them to do all this for you” (or something similar). This is her way of putting into words how she visualizes the current scenario she was put in. Slowly she recognizes that they are a family, and by the way they act she finally gets how and why she also must have loved them in the past.

She goes from “I don't give a fuck”, not open to them, afraid and pressured to “I bet we were fun”, understanding and respecting them, even fighting for their family to survive.

(If she still didn't give a fuck she wouldn't have fought for them and with them when she could have just run away again.)

But she has already created new relations, so she goes back to those for now. It is what she is familiar with in this timeline. Does that mean she will never contact the guardians ever again? NO. Remember: James’s writing is about DETAILS, nuance. She is open to them again, and the final part of the movie shows this to us, especially her last interaction with Groot, Peter, and Nebula being friendly.

Oh, but Peter and Gamora will never be a couple again, their romance ended when she went back to the Ravengers.

… Again, if you see it this way I can’t change your mind. What I can confirm is that she doesn’t close herself to the team — especially to Peter — in the end.

When she says “I bet we were fun” it's the first time she acknowledges their former relationship without distancing herself from it. She could've said “I bet you were fun” or “I bet she was fun”, but instead she prefers to include herself with “we”. She pauses before letting go of Nowhere, stopping before entering her ship — what moves her forward is Nebula, who can see her sister’s changed attitude but still encourages her to take a step forward and go explore the galaxy, because she knows Gamora is not mature and ready yet for those feelings; just like she wasn't ready to be openly sentimental when Gamora joined the Guardians back in 2014.

And Peter is also not ready. Just like Gamora needs to find herself again and discover who she is, Peter needs too. He is lost without her after IW, we can see it during Holiday Special and in the beginning of Vol. 3 when he passes out because of alcohol abuse. Both don't know who they are in this new reality — and they will only find out with time. Time heals and reveals.

In the end, Peter doesn't have the same thought as in the begging: he doesn't want her to be who he once knew, he wants her as she is, this new version whom he still loves so much and wants to know more of. Although he wishes she could stay, he knows that she has her own time and while she learns about herself he will go do the same.

So yes, they’re not explicitly together as a couple in the final scene — neither they kiss nor make out, whatever you believe a relationship is made of — but they’ve changed and are open to one another. The last scene does not appear to me as an “I’ll never see you again”, but as a “Goodbye, see you soon”.

(Aside from all the small bits we had through the movie of a developing relationship between them; my favorite one being when Peter activates the auto-destruction code and Gamora smiles at him.)

Besides, you can't force anyone to fall in love in 48 hours!!

Yes, I also have some minor complaints about the story, but I can recognize that — with all the turbulence the characters and the production faced in the last few years — it was a satisfying end with a limited amount of time to a badass trilogy. The end is definitive but also open to future possibilities for all our favorite characters in their universe — some we might never see and it will only be to our imagination.

Again, you don't need to agree with me, but I had to do this, or else I would implode with thoughts. Thank you if read up here! My ask box is open if you want to talk more <3

[lfghughes]

Can you do an imagine where jack’s wife (reader) and kids are at the game when he gets hurt and then after when they bring him home?? A little angst ending in lots of fluff

a/n: y'all i am not good at writing an angry jack because all i can think of when i see him is just a small bean

Your heart was in your throat when Jack went down on the ice, the hit had been a hard one and you knew Jack well enough to know that if he was staying down it was because he was hurt. But you also were trying to not react too much because you had your six year old daughter and your one year old son with you.

Your daughter especially was at the age where she started to question certain things and she picked up on emotions really well. So even if you weren’t reacting she knew something was wrong with her dad but you had to stay calm to keep her calm. “Mommy..is daddy okay?” She asked and you nodded your head. “Daddy is okay, the doctor is just going to check him.” You told her as he skated off the ice.

It didn’t take long until someone who worked for the team found you, and you were sure it was because Jack had sent them which was a pretty good indication this game was done for him. Your stomach was in knots as you held onto your one year old and your six year old. The minute Jack came out of the locker room you could tell he was pissed which meant the news really wasn’t good.

Your daughters hand slipped from yours as she ran up to Jack “Daddy!!” She exclaimed forgetting all her nervousness from earlier and just excited to see him. “Not right now little bug.” He told her as he placed a gentle hand on her head, leading her back to you. “Let’s go home.” He told you, his voice rough which only made that pit in your stomach grow more.

You hated when Jack was upset. When you got to the car the both of you helped strap the little ones to their car seats and then you went towards the drivers seat “I’ll drive.” You told him and immediately a frown grew on his lips. “I’m literally fine, stop treating me like I’m going to break.” He snapped at you out of nowhere. “Jack, I’m not doing this right now. Get in the car.”

It was a clear warning and you were just happy he listened and went to his side. Once you got home you didn’t say another word to Jack, instead you got started on the kids bedtime routine which included baths. This alone took what felt like forever with the two of them and without Jacks help it only felt like it took longer.

But once your one year old was down for bed you moved onto your six year old and in between all of this Luke had shown up to check on his brother. Your daughter before you could convince her otherwise had walked over to Jack. “Daddy can you read me a story tonight?” And with a shake of his head Jack responded “Not tonight.” And with that your six year old returned to you disappointed.

Once you had her in bed you could hear the faint conversation Jack was having with Luke and it didn’t sound great. The last thing you heard was Luke mutter to his brother “You don’t have to be such an ass.” Before you heard your front door shut. “Mommy will be back, pick out a book.” And with those words you went and found Jack.

Your husband sat at the kitchen counter, his head in his hands and your heart sank once again. You walked over to him, your arms wrapping around him and you could feel him soften under your touch. “Your brother isn’t wrong but I get why you’re upset.” You whispered to him. “I’m sorry, baby.” And you could tell it was a genuine apology and that finally everything was catching up to him.

“I just hate letting the team down and you guys.” He whispered to you. “Well right now you have a six year old upstairs who just wants her dad to read her a story.” You reminded him and he just nodded his head. “You’re her hero, Jack. Just remember that next time.” And with those words you saw something shift in Jack and you knew that tonight wouldn’t be repeated again.

[sebastianswallows]

— A/N: I saw this post by @ominisallow​​ and was hit by so many soft and tender *★°*feelings*°★* that I had to write it down 😭 sweetest beby snek

— Synopsis: Ominis teaching the main character how to read braille by tenderly placing his hand atop theirs to guide them while reading aloud.

— Wordcount: ~ 800 words of fluff

— Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

“How do you do it?” she asked, after countless minutes of staring at his hands.

“Do what?” said Ominis, fingers not even pausing on the page.

“Read like that,” she said as she scooted closer to him on the floor of the common room, where they sat before the fire. There was just a small and dimming flame left in the late night hours, and there was no one else around but them.

“I suppose the same way you do,” he smiled. “I perceive the symbols on the page and interpret them as letters.”

“You know what I mean,” said the new 5th-year with a tone that carried on it her sardonic smile.

“I don’t, really,” said Ominis serenely. “I have nothing to compare it to, you know.”

He’d stopped reading entirely. By now, he felt her by his side, her shoulder warmth-to-fleshy-warmth with his. Their robes were sprawled over the sofa at their back, and the shirts, white and starched, were paper-thin across their bodies. He only had to straighten his back a little to feel her right against his bony shoulder.

“I mean…” he added quickly, suddenly worried — frantically, irrationally — that he’d hurt her feelings, “I know in theory that you see the words written down and that they have a certain shape and that you need light to do it, but I suppose that’s as strange to me as my manner of reading is to you.”

“So,” she started cautiously, “each of those bumps is a letter?”

“Some are, others are in combination, yes,” he nodded.

Ominis allowed himself a smile at having found something to entice her, she who had learned everything so quickly and uncovered so many mysteries, and hoped she didn’t catch his grin — but she probably did, damned light, damned fireplace heating up his cheeks, damn…

“Can you show me?”

“W-what?”

If his grip had been lighter, he might have dropped the book when he felt that pressure, like a shiver on the page, as she touched it — then the deathly stillness of the book again as she let go of it as if burned.

“I mean — if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to —”

“No, it’s —”

“— to offend or —”

“It’s not, it’s —”

Ominis laughed stupidly at her shyness, at his, and as he turned his head toward where her small voice came from froze at feeling her so close, her little panicked breaths fanning on his lips.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he finished in a quiet voice. “I-I’ll show you, if you want.”

Without asking, his left hand let the book cover fall over his lap as it went in search of hers, feeling in the dark, across her bended knee, over the dip of the skirt between her legs, until it found her hand — dry, cold, a little shaky — and embraced it awkwardly in his own. She let him pull it back toward the book and, with like mind, they leaned into one another all at once to rest the book between them. Ominis took her right hand in his own and felt around her fingers until he caught the index.

“You can do it with one finger,” he whispered, facing ahead into nothing but feeling her cheek so close to his by now, “but it’s easier with two.” He caught the brief chuckle she gave at hearing that and blushed all the way to his ears for some reason.

“So, erm…” she started, fingers faltering on the page beneath his, “what does this say?”

“Oh,” said Ominis, “right, that’s…” He slipped his index between hers and her middle finger to rub it left and right over the text. “That says: A common — and — recommended — charm — for silencing — both beasts — and beings — is —”

“Silencio,”she finished, a smile shining through her voice. “Oh but this is so hard…” she complained, starting over at the top of the page and Ominis, without a thought as to why, letting his hand be carried with hers. “How can you tell which letter is which?”

“You learn it, of course, with practice,” he smiled. “See, this is A, this little dot here…”

“And I guess these must be C…”

“Only these two,” he continued, holding her finger between his own and pressing it into the page, “at the top, here.”

“And this is O?”

“It is. And this…”

They carried on like that, hand in hand, until they’d read the whole page through, and fell more lazily into each other, a sleepy tangle of elbows and knees and soft hair ruffled together, while the fire died and left them both in darkness, smiling with eyes closed while they read — Ominis from the book, her tracing each letter to the cadence of his soft and gentle voice.

[becomingfoxes]

The air is sticky-hot as he weaves through a mass of tangled bodies. Tries to tamp down on the beat of his anxious heart as it threatens to bubble over with each door he open-closes. Each time his shouts go unanswered. 

Feels the knot loosen, fall slack when he finally finds her. Curled up in a tub of all things. Eyes wet, glazed from too much alcohol, mascara dripping. Closes and locks the door behind him, steels himself for whatever this is.

“Robin.”

Her head lolls to the side, squints her vibrant blue eyes. She grins. “-evie, you found me!”

“Yeah, you, uh- what’s going on? I saw Vickie leave.”

He watches as her lips tremble and oh no.

He’s dropping to his knees before he can blink. Leaning over the tub. She’s gripping a bottle of something, like it's the only thing holding her afloat. Steve reaches, pushes her sweaty bangs from her face.

“Hey it's okay, you're okay.” He folds his arms over the rim of the tub, settles in. “What happened?”

“Nothin’. Just lemme be drunk in the, uh, bathtub. ‘s cozy.”

“It doesn't look very cozy. If I'm being honest.” Steve sits with her, the music outside muffled by the closed door. He waits, watches as she cradles the bottle tightly to her chest, the way her lip continues to tremble.

“‘s just not fair.” She picks at the bracelets on her arm. Steve reaches for her hand, grip loose but there, lest she start chewing on the leather bands he bought her. A habit formed after Starcourt.

“What's not fair?”

“Vickie, she- she got back with Dan.”

Oh.

“And she said, like, She was like-” Steve feels the wetness of her tears drip, drip, drip onto their intertwined hands. “She was so happy Steve!”

“She said I was such a good friend.” Robin sniffs. “I'm the worst!”

“Robin, hey you're not-”

“I am! I'm a terrible friend.” She's sobbing now, body shaking with it. Steve's never seen her this upset before. It breaks his heart. 

“I wanted it to be me.” Her voice sounds so small, so quiet as she says, “It's never gonna be me.”

“Oh Robbie.” Steve pulls the bottle from her. Thinks of a different bathroom floor and molotov cocktails and fire. “You're a good friend.” He hands her some tissue, finds a washcloth, wets it, helps her clean up. 

“So, no Vicki then. So what.” Robin lets out a pained sound. 

“Listen, somewhere out there, there is a girl who's gonna choose you. Who's gonna laugh at your terrible jokes and-

“Not terrible.”

“-listen to you blab on about Latin.”

“Pig Latin.”

“Uh, sure, exactly. Listen to you talk about Latin pigs.”

Robin snorts. Finally cracks a grin. Eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“And she's gonna love you, Robbie. She's gonna love you so much, okay? You'll find her. Or, maybe, she'll find you.”

“You really think so?”

“I promise.” He holds up a pinky for her to take. “Pinky swear it.” And she finally laughs, the sound of it loud and bright.

“Anoth- Another one for the books.”

“What?”

“Bathroom crisis.” 

Steve knocks his head to hers and laughs. “Is that what we're calling it now?”

“Yup, and while we're at it we could add, a, uh, ‘nother one to it.” She's grinning a little too sharply now and Steve is already making exit plans of how to get her downstairs to drink some water. His head is starting to pound.

“Can we not?”

“I've heard some, hmm, rumors. From some very rep- reputable sources.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I heard that you're getting awfully chummy with a certain metalhead.”

“Nope, we're not doing this.”

Hah! Erica says you've been reading him The Hobbit. Stevie! The Hobbit. And!” She jabs a finger into his chest, “That you offered to take him to physical therapy.”

Steve feels his cheeks heat as he pulls her from the tub. Knows she notices from the way she clings and shrieks in his good ear. “Let's keep the crises to one a day please. Or rather once a month. A year even.”

“Tomorrow then?” Robin's grin lights up the dark corners of the bathroom, radiant as the sun. 

“Tomorrow.”

[heliads]

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest. 

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.”

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?” 

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath:  A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another:  The van Almelos of the Belendt Region:  Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing. 

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @deadreaderssociety, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @eclliipsed, @mayfieldss, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Servamp chapter 136 spoilers

I only read the chapter once so I haven't understood some parts because I haven't looked up the meaning of some words, that's what I'll do when I get to properly translate the chapter, but in the meantime, I'm just going over a few pages so you can get an idea of what's going on.

Oh my God, this chapter reveled so much!

I haven't talked about this, because I still have a few chapters to work on, but the previous one ended with Lily saying that everything was done in order to make the revived Count become the 9th Servamp with Mikuni as his Eve.

If that's the plan, could it mean that Mikuni will break his contract with Jeje or will it be possible to also keep him too?

Lily reveals to Misono that initially he wanted to put Kuro in Mikuni's path, but that would have been a great risk if Tsubaki went after Kuro, so instead he chose Mahiru.

"As someone from a family of magicians that could be easily monitored and who didn't posses the combat skills of a magician...And most of all, he was the son of a certain man"

Lily tells Misono about Touma being Mahiru's father, who was a hindrance because Touma was close to the realization of the Count's reincarnation. Lily thought that if Tsubaki would target Mahiru, Touma would be dealt with if he tried protecting Mahiru.

Lily didn't think that Touma would try shooting his son, but he was wrong.

"Love is the most difficult to read."

Lily tells Misono about his mother and what we knew about her was a lie. To start off her name was Tatsunami Hokaze which is so weird and perhaps it was a mistake because it happened before that some character's name were misspelled, like it happened with Pisca (it was even brought up by Tanaka on Twitter) and I recall one time where Tsurugi's name was written Rurugi xD

So, I looked up Hokaze (歩風) and it seems to be a boy's name and I have found the readings Ayuka or Honoka for girl names, so maybe one of those is actually her name?

Well, if it won't be mentioned by Tanaka if it was a misspelling, for now she will be called Hokaze.

Moving on, I noticed that in the first panel on the left, if you look closely at the book she's holding, it most likely "Jane Eyre" written on the cover, so we have a literary work that's associated with her.

Alright, so she was one of the orphans Lily brought to the Alicein house, like Dodo and Mitsuki.

Lily described her as ambitious woman and he encouraged her to get into Mikado's good graces. If she became his mistress, she could control him from the shadows.

The letters from his mother that Misono read were censored by Mikuni and crafted a beautiful story. In Japanese it specifically says検閲 which means censorship, so that seems to imply that he didn't fabricate the letters entirely, some things that were written in them might have been left unchanged.

Poor Misono :((

Man, the drama of this family...

So, we get to see Lily's past and I'm assuming (because it doesn't say) that he was selling his body? That's the impression I get from that image with the old guy who's giving him money...

Alright, moving on to Kuro's fight against Tsubaki!

It's awesome how Kuro made the candlestick into a sword! It looks cool!

Tsubaki says that demon Kuro was apparently sensei's "something", that he called things such as friend or brother and the demon was sort of like a familiar.

Kuro wants to hear from Tsubaki why is he obsessed with the Count, but Tsubaki isn't reluctant to tell him.

Kuro uses "Elpsis" to try looking into his memories and it's so cool that he can use Mahiru's ability, like he even changed the sword into a staff like Mahiru's!

Tsubaki had a little sister :(

So, apparently the reason he wanted to revive sensei isn't because he cared about him. He wants the ritual to be fulfilled because he awaits what comes after. Tsubaki made a promise with sensei, the latter telling him that he would make his little sister happy.

What could that mean? If she's dead, could it mean that he will bring her to life? It doesn't mention what happened to her...

Oh boy, so, I feel sorry for Misono because of how much he was deceived and we also find out that Tsubaki wasn't actually looking forward to be reunited with sensei because they had a deep bond or something, he even admits in this chapter that he's probably just a means to sensei's objective to be united with Kuro, because sensei was only interested in him.

So yeah, that's about it. I want to end the post by saying that I thank you for the patience with the scanlations, I still have three more chapters to finish until I start working on this one.

[watatsumiis]

(A soft, fluffy continuation to this post about Xiao's reading and writing skills (or lack thereof)

Teaching Xiao how to read and write would be a tedious and difficult endeavour for everybody involved. He may not catch on to what you're doing at first, but once he does he'll do everything in his power to try and avoid it. He's super embarrassed at how far behind he is, and he doesn't want to be perceived as weak in any way, shape or form, especially not by you, someone he's sworn to protect.

It may seem like he's pushing you away at first, and eventually an intervention needs to be staged - whether you bring in Zhongli and some of the other adepti to help explain it all, or confront Xiao on your own, he'll respond better once you've been open and direct with him about what you're doing and why.

Though he is genuinely trying his best, Xiao simply isn't accustomed to sitting still and trying to learn. He's hard-wired for vigilance and combat, so it's nigh on impossible to get him to stay in his seat. He's up and about, wandering the area and trying to keep an eye out for any possible danger, no matter how much you assure him that there's none to be found. You can only get him to sit down for five or ten minutes at a time before he needs a break, or else he starts to get destructive.

Once he's settled a bit and started to write, it comes out stiff and awkward - he always holds his brush like a weapon, no matter how much you try to teach him otherwise. You can say it as often as you like, but Xiao simply cannot pull himself out of combat mode. To him, this is a battle like any other, he's just conquering worksheets instead of demons.

He always makes an utter mess of the inks and chews on the writing tools when you take your eyes off of him - he likes the texture of the wood splintering between his teeth.

His embarrassment and shyness also mean that he finds it really difficult to speak up when he's having trouble with something, no matter how much you reassure him that it's okay to ask for help. He also does well when you're working alongside him, even if it's on something else.

Teaching Xiao these skills is an arduous task, but he retains the information well, even after long gaps between lessons. You may find that occasionally rewarding him with little treats may also boost his productivity somewhat. Not necessarily food, but small trinkets, head scritches and hair brushing tend to be great bribes to coax Xiao into working towards a goal.

He'd never tell you, but one of the main reasons he said yes to your teaching proposition is because he wants to be able to read and enjoy your favourite books alongside you. He even ends up spending some extra time around others so that he can ask them for the definition of words he's not sure about as he slowly but surely progresses through the book during quiet restful periods of time.

One day, you'll find that he's speaking in an awkward, stilted sort of way, perhaps saying things that don't exactly fit into the context of the situation. How quickly you realise depends on what your memory for quotes is like, but you come to the conclusion in the end anyways - he's quoting your favourite books to you, trying to tell you that he read them without outright saying it.

He's secretly really proud of himself for being able to make it through an entire book. Though he may not fully understand certain parts of it, and the deeper meanings still elude him, he's just delighted that he was finally able to share something so special and meaningful with you.

You may even start to receive mysterious, unsigned letters on important dates and holidays - rolled up in pretty, loose ribbons and covered in blocky, awkward handwriting. Unsigned, but filled with love nonetheless.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or copy - pasted into bot or AI technology

[volturiprincess]

To love You in an Old Way

Jasper Hale x human mate reader

Summary: Reader is a fan of old school love Warnings: None, just pure fluff A/N: This one-shot was inspired by this song I been listening on repeat lately, its called "Amarte a la Antigua" or "To Love You in an Old Way" by Eslabon Armado. I added lyrics from the song onto this (Spanish is my first language so translating was easy) From just that song theres another song I listen from this group and another one shot idea came to idea. There will be another A/N in the end. Enjoy :)

(You can never forget your first love for a Vampire)

“Today we no longer write letters to fall in love

Today the flowers are no longer seen”

I have never been serenaded by gifts or even experienced all those old school love gestures. I always said I had no interest in being serenaded but secretly I wished that everything you see in the movies could happen to me. The endless romance books I have drowned myself in so that I could try to picture myself in those romantic scenes leaves me with an unsaid desire. But it is an unrequired thing, guys at school just don't work like that anymore 

“Where has that romance gone?

There are no longer poems to conquer each other

Now only emails are sent”

That is until a certain cowboy came into my life, Jasper Hale. I always admired him from a distance and didn't really approach him in any way until he awkwardly but oh so adorable came up to me one day and said “Hello y/n would you like to go out with me to a bookstore in Port Angeles”. The way he had a hint of anxiety in his eyes and how he flexed his arms behind his back left me curious as to why he was so nervous to talk to me. From that moment 2 years ago today, we have been together ever since, and yes I do know about him and his family being vampires and his past even. There are days where he has to be away from me to control his thirst but I never feel disappointed or hurt. I do always praise him for how far he has come to being able to be around me without the feeling of wanting to drain my blood in a second. 

But the thing I absolutely love about Jasper is he is an old school lover, makes sense since he is old but he does everything you would see in the movies. At first it started with just short poem phrases left inside my locker or in the books I would read, 

“Loving you the old way, stealing your smiles

Hold your hand, open the door for you, write you poems

love like before”

And from that he started to write full on poems, one of them being called “To love you in old way”, which just hits my heart in every way. He then started to give me little gifts, nothing fancy yet unless you count chocolates but he would give me little drawings he's done throughout the day or once he gave me a bracelet he made that had a small heart and rose charm. I still wear that bracelet to this day. 

“Fill you with roses, sing you songs, paint you caresses”

When he writes me poems, he leaves them in my bedroom with a bouquet of my favorite flowers each time. The way he loves me is something I never knew could exist, he's so suave with his southern charm  and the way he can sit for hours listening to me talk just makes my heart swell. Many would assume just because he's the reserve type he lacks being a romantic type, but when me and him are alone he says some of the most dazzling and mesmerizing things that can put any poet to shame

Like just a minute ago he said this line 

“In you, I have found the love that fills my soul”

And with his Texan accent, it made it more personal.

“Was that an Edgar Allan Poe quote?”

“It was, I figured you would like it for the reason being you love his works”

“Oh you know me so well cowboy”

He smirked slightly and pulled me into his embrace so my back was against his chest while he was leaning against a tree. 

“I like how you learned quotes from his works to woe me, even if he focuses more on the dark and terror of life”

“Well one thing I have grown to know about you is books are a key to your heart”

“Yes true, and food, don't forget food”

The way he laughs makes me melt into him more, his laugh is quiet like the sounds of small bells ringing, so angelic yet at the same time so bewitching.

“I could never forget that about you darlin”

I thought about our first date, I was internally panicking and was overthinking constantly of what to say to him, I was debating to just be myself or my quiet self. What made me loosen up with him was he gave me this aura of calm, at the time I didn't understand how but with that feeling I relaxed and was able to finally be myself. Since our first date was at a bookstore, he held all the books I wanted and he didn't protest or anything, actually he would recommend books or I would catch him sneaking books into my growing pile. After that date, we just knew we fit like a puzzle, it was then confirmed later that Jasper and I are mates which confused me since I am human. 

We would spend hours either in his room or mine reading and then talking about it afterwards. He really is my missing piece to my soul. My parents even approved of Jasper and would be happy to have him over or even letting him stay the night or vice versa. They knew Jasper was the perfect gentleman and wouldn't do anything to hurt me, which is true in every way, even if he does have his days where he struggles with his thirst control.

“Penny for thoughts?”

At hearing his voice through my mist of memories I answered “I was just thinking about our first date”

“What about it?”

“Just thinking how we fit like two puzzle pieces”

He kissed the top of my head and mumbled quietly

“You have no idea how true that is”

I grabbed his hand and traced his visible veins. I would often do that to make him relax more and in a way it comforted me. As for him I noticed he would bury his face into my hair, he says my hair smells like flowers and I could feel him melt everytime he did that. 

“Can I ask you something”

His sudden voice in our quiet bliss startled me

“Yea? What's up?”

“Well I have a supplication for you”

I raised an eyebrow at that word but pulled away from him so I could face him.

“Supplication? You never fail to amuse me with your formal words but continue with your supplication”

His radiantly affectionate smirk spread onto his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled a small box out, seeing that box my eyes widened slightly, is it what i think it is? With opening the box I can already see the twinkling diamond shining through 

“Darlin’ the moment I meet you I felt I could finally breathe again, I felt somewhat human once again and my dark past did not cloud my mind as much, I don't know what I would do if I were to ever lose you or let you do, that might sound selfish but damn dang it I love you doll, Will you do me the honor and marry me?”

My tears were already building up when he barely said his first words. The man of my dreams is asking for my hand in marriage and the way the sunlight was hitting him made him look so surreal, it felt like we were in a dream at that moment.

“YES Jas, YES!!”

His smile widened and he placed the ring on my finger in an instant and pulled me into a deep kiss. This kiss didn't feel like any other kiss we had in the past, it felt like all our past deception vanished and it was just me and him in this whole world. And to think this all started with me craving for that old antique love gestures. 

“Love you the old way, love you like before”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love Jasper, as I said in one of my past post, he was my first Vampire love until well I discovered Felix but I still love him never less. I have another idea for a one shot with another song but this time it will be about Caius, hence to why I have one of his quotes in my bio.

[eldstunga]

Hi! I really love your art! The lines are so bold but the colours so natural that it feels distinct but grounded?? I'm obsessed with the shapes in your work

I was wondering if you had any advice for drawing bodies? Whenever I try it either my proportions are off or an arm ends up looking like a calf or something.

First of all, thank you <3 That's so nice and I think "lines bold, colours natural" is some truly aspirational words to say about my art, I'll strive to be what you say I am <3 I do not, unfortunately, have any great tips on drawing bodies - it's a very wide topic and fundamentally just really bloody hard. I fail horribly 9 times out of 10. How to approach it I think varies a lot with like...HOW you are struggling, and who you are as a person. For proportions and anatomy there are definitely books to look at, and some rules of thumb that can help you - anything from "the shoulders are about 2.5-3 heads wide" through "feet are the same length as the forearm", "elbows are in line with the navel and the navel is two sternums down" etc etc. For me, realising just how big the ribcage actually is and learning how to use that as a unit of measure was a big event (the torso is about two ribcages long). Look at references, Draw over low opacity references and try to look for patterns that help YOU. Like... "Hm, do the shoulders line up with something useful?"

Having a good ref model to double check things helps too. The pen is pointing to about the bottom of the ribcage. But there's also stuff like maybe you're getting too hung up on construction and then it might help more to try to draw from references by ONLY blocking in a silhouette first. This helps me sometimes still:

Or you could be like me, struggle with all of the above and then some - like how to make poses look natural and/or dynamic? Weight distribution is a whole other topic.. gah, it never ends, but it's fun to learn.

Lastly, this took me way too long to realise and I think it should be said: Do not fret too much about STUDYING. The unfair thing is that the better you are at something, the better you will be at actually learning from doing studies and exercises or reading books. We accept this with many other disciplines and sports but rarely art. Mileage is king, and mileage is best gained from having fun and enjoying what you do. If you find studies suffering and frustrating you're probably better off just drawing what you enjoy and fuck it if it isn't "pushing your boundaries" or whatever. Eventually you'll get to the point where studies start to give more than they take, and then you're home free. I'm not gonna recommend a billion resources you likely won't enjoy but here are some things I genuinely found helpful lately: * a physical anatomy model, they're pricy and not necessary but being able to just look at it every now and then, turn it over etc helps. * The "Morpho" series of books, they do not teach anatomy, but they are very useful quick reference books and much more easily digested than most anatomy material. Just try to find a real anatomy book to read once your appetite is up as well.

The zig-zag/Lightning bolt method for arms and legs, fuckin' thing revolutionised how I sketch: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCkmB030GpQ

Gottfried Bammes "The Complete guide to Anatomy for Artists and Illustrators" This thing is insane, it's from the 50's and like 600 pages long. You could absolutely kill someone with it, but a lot of the pages are more philosophical or art history you can skip and despite its age and fear factor this dude writes in a witty, clever and just wonderful way that I've seen nowhere else. Fantastic photos. By far, FAR the best anatomy book I've ever seen. It's not a book I'd recommend for someone starting out, I would not have been able to digest it like four years ago, but once you get to a certain point it's amazing.

That's a lot, uhhh, feel free to ask me for more specific tips this was a bit of a rant. Hope some of it was useful!

[moonlight-prose]

finding excuses to be alone with each other with miguel??

ME VUELVES LOCA

a/n: my first ever miggy fic!!! babes i am so fucking excited to be writing for this man. our dms are literally just filled with thoughts about him and that gave me so much inspo to write this. i've tried to get his voice down, but honestly i don't think i nailed it quite yet. still i hope you enjoy! (the title is named after such a beautiful song by lupita infante. i definitely recommend her music.)

note: thank you to @sunflowersteves for beta reading and easing my mind that this sounds like miggy. you're lovely darling.🖤

summary: "for weeks you’d been playing this cat and mouse game. trying to put off the attraction you felt in the hopes that this would dissolve into friendship once more."

word count: 0.9k+

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

warnings: not explicit, tad bit of angst (because it's me), fluff, the beginnings of love, soft miggy.

If there’s one thing you can say for certain it’s this: finding a lick of privacy in the otherwise crowded Spider Society was near impossible. In fact it had surpassed being in the realm of near impossible to never achievable. Wherever you turned there was a Spider in need of help. Asking for the one person who always managed to get dragged away from your secretive plans.

Miguel wasn’t one to push off someone’s request for help. Yet the many inconveniences that pulled him away from you seemed to only drive him towards one solution. Doing what he could to steal away every moment that he had with you. He wasn’t oblivious—he knew people could see the way you looked at each other. Yet asking him the truth was never an option, and you were always swift in an escape plan whenever the question arose.

He didn’t mind you evading the truth. Given that he wasn’t one to be entirely open with everyone—he found you keeping whatever you had private admirable. Hell he even encouraged it.

Except for today that is.

“Miguel I know it’s a lot to ask but—” He felt his back stiffen at the sound of Peter’s voice behind him; the expectation of a request not far behind.

You had sent him a message asking him to meet you in an empty office twenty minutes ago, and he was adamant on making it there on time. But that possibility seemed to drift farther and farther away the longer he stood here. Peter’s cheery expression only soured Miguel’s. He had half a mind to make up something and escape, but the urge to help continued to gnaw at him.

“What?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice calm—steady.

“This mission is kind of well a little harder than most. Not that it’s impossible. I mean nothing’s impossible. But I was wondering if you—”

A message from Lyla let him know that you were indeed five minutes away from being stood up yet again. Something weighed heavy in his chest, a feeling he was used to harboring when it came to you. And he hated it. Shutting his eyes briefly he staved off the annoyance that built the longer Peter yammered on about the difficulty of one mission. If it were any other time, if you weren’t waiting patiently for him to show up, then he’d have agreed.

But that wasn’t the case.

“Dios mío,” he muttered, finally turning around. “Peter you’re capable right?”

The man froze. “I mean…yeah I’d say I was.”

“Then you don’t need me.”

“Yeah but Miguel—”

“I’ve got another mission to handle.” The excuse flowed with ease off his tongue. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this—having made up every excuse in the book just to steal away time with you. He was certain you had done the same, knowing you were meant to be helping Gwen with something in the labs.

Peter seemed to catch onto the urgency of Miguel’s tone, but not in the way he hoped. A sly smile spread across his lips as he leaned in to nudge Miguel on the shoulder. If there ever was a moment to grasp onto any level of peace in his body—now was it. He was halfway to throwing Peter out of his office.

“I get you,” he said, backing away with his hands up. “The mission is much more important.”

“Get out.”

Peter was gone before Miguel could finish the word out—finally giving him the peace and satisfaction he desired. Instructing Lyla to close up everything behind him, he made his way towards the empty office—hoping you were actually still there. He couldn’t exactly blame you if you weren’t. It was rough finding ways to meet up, away from everything and everyone here.

Finding excuses seemed to be your way to go about things.

The door was shut and locked by the time he reached it, but that was easy enough to bypass. Given that you were most likely resting on the inside he figured it would be better to slip in silently. Sure enough he found you settled in a chair, your eyes opening to see him shutting the door softly behind him, a grin on his lips.

“I’m a mission huh?” you mumbled, standing and stretching with a groan.

He snorted, his eyes falling to the way you bent—watching you step closer. “Didn’t have anything else to say.”

“I suppose I could be a mission.”

“Yeah? And what was your excuse?”

You shrugged, leaning against the desk with a grin. “I told Gwen I was needed for repairs.”

“On what?”

Crossing your legs, you watched him take a step. “Don’t think it matters? She wouldn’t have believed me anyways.”

For weeks you’d been playing this cat and mouse game. Trying to put off the attraction you felt in the hopes that this would dissolve into friendship once more. But you could see it in Miguel’s eyes that he wasn’t interested in friendship. Hell he wasn’t even interested in taking things slow. Neither were you it seemed.

“I guess they know,” he muttered, his thighs pressing against your knees.

You smiled, reaching up to trace the Spider insignia across his chest. “Guess they do.”

“What now?”

Pulling him closer, you tried to keep yourself calm when he willingly fell into your hold, his body hunching down to meet yours. “We figure it out later,” you whispered, your nose barely brushing his. He grinned the sharp point of his fangs poking through. “Good.”

[veintrry]

asbsksbsna omg hii!! Not sure if I'm bothering u but I was wondering if you could write a male reader x scaramouche? Im kinda shitty when it comes to scenarios but im thinking of just a random night in bed and yk they start doing the dirty😭(ik im terrible at this ARGHH😟)He/him pronouns please!

OKK TYSM HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT :D

an: LOLOL THANK U FOR THE REQ ANON 😭 i must admit that i found the wording greatly amusing good god. FYI slightly rusty but ykyk

some stars shine brighter at night

The sky had long delved into darkness, deep shades overtaking all that once was and trailing stars amongst its body. They twinkle at a distance, far and out of reach but close enough to admire from Teyvat's grounds. Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by a voice. Dark amethyst irises staring back at you.

His voice has some rasp to it as he speaks, his eyes narrowing at you in disapproval, "How long are you going to stare?"

Blinking, you are effectively snapped awake from your daydreaming. Your faces were only parted slight as your noses barely grazed one another, yet he didn't seem to even spare a moment commenting or caring for it.

"Did you not hear me?"

Despite the question, it sounds more scolding than anything as if you had done something malicious to not recognise him then and there. It wasn't his fault, you were the one who still was focused on his irises, he was beginning to practically feel the laser beams. "Just how distracted are you..." He says with a grunt, leaning upwards to set aside the book he held, resting it upon the bedside table.

Turning his head back to you, he gives you a confusing expression. It didn't give you much to work with, but he seemed to be thinking something over. The only reason you think so is because of how you can tell he was biting on the inside of his bottom lip.

"Are you going to keep gawking? You interrupted my reading." There was that voice again, meant to tell you that you did something wrong. However, there was something else there; It was laced with a certain mischief. You didn't miss how the corners of his lip rose ever so slightly.

Ah. You knew what this meant. Although, you weren't going to argue. In truth, he wasn't against the idea of Scaramouche revelling in the thrill of looking down on him.

He could tell you caught on and he shuffled closer. Scaramouche was already down to his black skintight top, sheer and just barely see-through. You could see the slight shape and shadows of his figure, how the fabric clung to his waist.

Sometimes you wonder if he knew how beautiful he was. Then you reprimand yourself for thinking that.

One of his hands find itself on the side of your face, the pillow you rested your head upon sinking lower. The small smile he had donned had grown to an all too familiar smirk. You were beginning where he was going with this. You saw that his hand had slinked under the blankets earlier on but where could it-

An involuntary moan leaves your throat as you feel pressure on your crotch. His palm moved in miniscule circular motions over it, pressing deeply against you.

The pleasure he took in hearing you was evident as his face grew to be more grimacing. "So quick to voice your thoughts, aren't you?" He was a taunting conniving bastard cat and yet you still enjoyed how cruel he can be. Maybe that says something about you.

His hand continues to toy with you, feeling your buldge grow beneath his hand as he leans closer to you, his breath pressed against the skin of your neck. You can feel his lips brushing over you but he never does anything. No, rather, he merely seems to take in your scent, savouring the small whines and shaky breaths that leave you. The more he listened the further starved he felt. His tongue pokes out, licking at his bottom lip as he stares at your skin as though it was the most appetising thing to have ever graced this land. He digs in. His teeth are firm against you, leaving their mark. He doesn't soften, only going harsher, deeper. You had come to know that this was the equivalent of showing his affection. This aggression was merely love.

"Speak." He demands as his palm slid over your buldge, fingers slipping under the waistband of your pants. Scaramouche was not wasting any time. "I want to hear you."

Opening your mouth, a breathe leaves you. "Keep going..." His voice was firm, and you were sure of yourself. There were no doubts in your mind. Why would there be? All there was waiting for you was the impending pleasure.

A chuckle leaves the indigo eyed man, irises so dark they resemble the hue of the night. Suddenly, he yanks your trousers down to your thighs and the soft skin is exposed to the temperatures of the room. You sense the pads of his fingers on you, trailing up your legs as he massages the molds of flesh. He proceeds.

Scaramouche continues on his venture to your crotch, a smirk permanently on his lips as he feels your gaze fixated onto him in anticparion. The tips of his slender fingers on your boxers, grazing the fabric with his nail as he follows its form, only separated by thin cotton.

"Just do it already, stop making me wait." You interrupt, aware that he was enjoying taking his time to torture you as your heart drummed inside the confines of your chest.

Your words were met with a piercing glare. "Don't rush me." Low in tone and stern with his voice as though you had done something wrong. As much fun as he's having with you, he decides to take your wants into consideration and he quickly discards of the only clothing left to cover you. You could see how his smile widens at the sight as your member props up, precum staining it. As beautiful as he was you wondered how long he'd stare at you.

Scaramouche extends a finger, touching the slit of your dick, tracing the line over and over as your breath hitches, your spine arching slightly at the sensation.

"Have you a clue how much I like hearing you moan?" He begins, letting his hand fall to the length of your cock, rubbing you slowly, painfully slow. "When you're touching yourself alone..." Adjusting his position he pushes himself closer to your torso, kissing your upper chest, above where your heart would be. "When you're begging thinking of me, needing me, craving me." Scaramouche grows closer, just at your neck and you can feel each warm breath hit your skin as his pace quickens rapidly. "I love it when you can only want me."

"And I'll ensure it stays like that forever."

The pressure he applied was stronger now and you felt the rush of electricity buzzing through you with every swipe of his palm. Planting a peck on your skin in preparation for what was to come as he bites down on your skin again. You can hear him breathing through his nose as he continues to dig deeper and a moan escapes your throat. His tongue laps up the mark, almost in apology but those eyes don't seem regretful at all.

He almost seems to grow more and more possessive as he taints your skin with new marks he'd deem the gift of a god, so kindly gracing you. "Mine. I'll make sure...you're only mine." The once slow touch had changed quickly as it grew faster and faster. Your breaths were filled with pleasure, and when you'd attempt to muffle yourself it only resulted in futile whines leaving you. Scaramouche brings himself closer to you, his lips a few inches from the shell of your ear, you can feel them grazing it. "I want to hear every sound you make."

It was impossible to not take note of his chest rapidly rising and falling, you were unsure if he even needed to breathe but it certainly reflected his excitement back to you. You could feel your body burn aflame, something so strong one would say it rivals the menacing strength of his thunder strikes. Parting your lips, you attempt to speak although what leaves is a babble of words. He seems to take pride in this and leans closer, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and feeling the blood burning beneath.

"I got you." Scaramouche whispers, a hand on the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. Smacking his lips against yours in a harsh manner, he doesn't wait for you to ease into it, expecting you to keep up with him as his tongue slithers into your mouth and he brings himself deeper into you. The movements below only grow rapid and yet he only focuses on tasting you, rubbing his tongue against yours as he explores the familiar warmth, ignoring how you struggle with the moans arising from your throat.

Though, you eventually capture his attention. Your nails dig into the skin of this triceps, leaving crescent marks in their wake. He can feel your growing desperation to reach your climax as you buckle your hips into his hand with sloppy but rough thrusts. You can feel him smirk as he continues to kiss you. You press the back of your head further into the pillow behind you and only then does he part from you, solely to watch you, hear you.

It was almost second nature to always say his name. Without question, you always knew to say his name when you came, just so he can be reminded that you belong to him.

The height of your orgasm is met then and there, with a needy and loud moan you attempt to muffle as you press your mouth against his shoulder. It leaks down and onto his hands, staining with your cum and if you had looked at him then and there you'd see how prideful he appeared, swiping his tongue over a finger and tasting it; tasting you.

"That'll teach you to listen to me..."

[loveandleases]

(Our first character fluff alphabet, and who better to start with than M (arshmallow. Below the cut~)

A = Admiration - M admires kindness.

B = Body - M is a fan of thighs. The thicker the lovelier to them.

C = Cuddling - M is the type to be quite clingy when cuddling and not wanting their partner to move for quite a bit.

D = Dates - M's ideal date would be staying in, just vibing with their partner. Not doing anything. They just want to be able to spend time with their partner, which isn't that important as long as they can be together.

E = Emotions - M can be a bit secretive and hold some emotions back. They have a hard time opening up. Though they always seem to have a smile on their face, something else hides underneath.

F = Family - M is fine if their partner wants a family, also fine if they don't. They don't have strong emotions about it.

G = Gifts - As the only child of their parents M has gotten many presents over time, not even for meaningful days such as a birthday or a holiday. To them, gifts are small ways to show you care about someone and should be given whenever. Not just for holidays.

H = Holding Hands - M will be shy when holding hands but it won't cause them to want to stop. They will just be blushing the majority of the time. If their partner tries to pull away to make M more comfortable they will refuse to let go. It's for the better.

I = Injury - If M gets hurt, they will play it off as if it isn't that serious. Yet internally the amount of swearing they will be saying is immeasurable. They could give a certain redhead a run for his money.

J = Jokes - They aren't fans of pranks, but they do enjoy a good job—especially a dad joke. To them, their quite funny, even dry humor can be admired by M.

K = Kisses - Soft and reserved. However, once they get comfortable it will be firey.To the point that there may be some bruised lips among them.

L = Love - Spoiler

M = Memory - Not applicable, just yet.

N = Nightmare (what is one of their fears?) - M is afraid of turning in their book late.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?) They love horror but are afraid every time they watch it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?) Sunshine

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) M likes to take walks late at night, especially after they finish a chapter of work. They enjoy admiring the scenery outside, be it alone or with someone.

R = Rhythm (what song do they hum to themselves, when they think no one is listening.) Kiss me by sixpence none the richer

S = Secrets (how open are they?) M is very secretive, though they may let things slip from time to time.

T = Time (how do they spend their time?) More often than not, M can be found working in their apartment. Or asleep at their desk.

U = Upset (how do they act when they're upset?) They plaster on a smile pretending as if they are fine when they are sulking. Will be for a few days.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?) M is very proud of their achievements as a writer.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?) M would fight for MC. With a smile on their face the entire time, that is until MC isn't looking.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?) Not applicable just yet.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?) They would, once they stop freaking out about it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?) Knowing that MC is there, and sitting just enjoying the view. (Which will be MC more often than not.)