#The rendering and draping is incredible

[capt-biglou]

Eli in her Primarch girlboss era. By the fantastic @leafy-yezi ✨

[haveihitanerve]

Maybe I’m grasping at straws here, but here is my very firm belief that Haymitch Abernathy is not nearly as drunk as he always pretends to be. 

Here is my evidence. 

When Katniss volunteers, he comes over to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, yelling something or other about how he “Likes her!” because shes got “spunk!” Now- Katniss admits that moments before this, she was near tears and desperately does not want to cry on camera. She also admits that Haymitch saves her in this way. 

He saw that she was about to cry, wraps an arm around her shoulders and basically shields her, because she mentions his breath smells, which she can only know because he’s draped over her, blocking her from the camera’s view, and then distracts the camera’s even further by yelling and falling off stage. 

Now, heres a little fun fact about alcohol. You can build up a sort of… i don't want to say resistance, but thats basically it. Don’t get me wrong, there is no feasible way not to get drunk with the quantities he consumes, but if you have been drinking for that long amount of time, your body develops a sort of self-defense mechanism, where it adapts to pump out more alcohol and lessens the effects it can have. Its why drug addicts and alcoholics are always consuming such massive amounts, because after a while the same small amounts of whatever it is you need to go numb don't work anymore. You have to add more. So Haymitch, after being such a heavy drinker for so long- and also he’s incredibly large, so he’s in no way a light weight- takes much more alcohol than the normal person to actually get the same feeling of completely being wasted. 

Another thing- Katniss, nobody in the audience knows if Haymitch is even truly drunk. He just acts like it. He stumbles on stage “clearly drunk.” but theres no actual proof of this, besides his own acting. 

Back to Katniss’s observation when he wraps an arm around her- she remarks how strong he is, surprising her. If he were truly as drunk as he appears, Haymitch would have knocked her over with his weight. Drunk people do not have a good center of balance and a very poor ability to maintain themselves and control their movements. Haymitch wraps his arm around Katniss’s shoulder, blocks her from camera view, and yet puts minimal amounts of his weight on her. Katniss never remarks on how heavy he is, or how he unbalances her when he drapes himself over her. A drunk person does not have that type of careful control, but Haymitch does. 

Now, none of this is to claim that Haymitch does not drink. He does. For sure. But even if he drinks as heavily as it appears, it does not completely render him totally drunk. I fully believe that while Haymitch is an alcoholic, its not debilitatingly drunk. He’s just acting much more drunk than he feels, relying on the buzz alcohol gives him to guide the way and show off his utter drunkenness. 

He also goes away from the drink much easier than any alcoholic I’ve ever met, and sure you could argue he has a good reason in Katniss and Peeta, but an alcoholic who consumes that much drink needs more than a good reason. His mind is much clearer than he wants people to believe, than he himself wants to even believe and I think its to protect himself. 

Oh also after he falls off the stage and throws up on himself and Peeta has to clean him up- yeah he was completely wasted for that because he just watched another reaping of more children he knows are probably gonna die and he cant handle that so he most definitely got fully drunk for that scene, but I think thats the drunkest he ever truly is in the books and the only time when hes actually fully drunk. 

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "My A-R-T"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: who would have thought you'd be a centerpiece of someone's world

Tag: @elalfywhore 🫶🏾🩷

Based of the song ART by Tyla..

Morning sunlight filtered through the windows as I walked into our apartment, still buzzing with energy from an early cheer practice. My muscles ached slightly, but it was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. Tossing my duffel bag onto the couch, I noticed how quiet the place was. Jana must still be out—probably in class or at the gym.

I headed toward the kitchen, but something on the dining table stopped me in my tracks. A large canvas, carefully covered with a cloth, rested against the wall. A note lay next to it, written in Jana’s familiar, neat handwriting:

"For my muse. Come find me after you see it, habibti"

-xoxo

My heart skipped a beat as I reached for the cloth, my fingers trembling slightly. Jana always had a way of surprising me, but this was different. This felt… intimate.

Pulling back the cloth, I gasped softly. The painting beneath was breathtaking—a portrait of me, vibrant and alive, rendered in soft yet striking hues of caramel and gold. My figure was posed delicately, with one arm resting against my hip and my eyes gazing softly at something out of frame. It wasn’t just a painting; it was me through Jana’s eyes—bold, confident, beautiful.

The details were astonishing. The curve of my lips, the arch of my brow, even the faint shimmer in my hair—everything was captured with an artist’s precision. But what stood out the most was how she’d captured my essence, the warmth and softness that only she got to see.

I couldn’t stop staring. My lips parted as I traced the edges with my fingertips, completely in awe of the love and care that had gone into this.

“Do you like it?”

I turned to see Jana standing in the doorway, a shy but proud smile on her face. She was dressed casually in sweatpants and a UConn hoodie, her hair slightly messy from a morning workout.

“Like it?” I asked, shaking my head as I walked toward her. “Jana, this is… it’s incredible. You did this?”

She nodded, her cheeks tinting pink. “I didn’t paint it myself,” she admitted. “But I found an artist who could bring my vision to life. I told them exactly what I wanted—how I wanted you to look, the colors, everything. I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

I threw my arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re amazing, you know that?” I whispered, burying my face against her shoulder.

Jana chuckled, her hands settling on my waist. “I had to do something. You’ve been playing that Tyla song nonstop. I figured it was my turn to make you my ‘A-R-T.’”

I pulled back to look at her, a teasing smile on my lips. “So, you think I’m worthy of being someone’s centerpiece, huh?”

She brushed a strand of hair from my face, her eyes softening. “You’re worthy of being the centerpiece of my world. Always.”

Heat crept up my neck as I bit back a grin. “You’re so corny.”

“And you love it.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Later that morning, after I’d showered and changed into a cozy hoodie and leggings, we sat on the couch together, the painting propped up on the coffee table so we could admire it.

“Why didn’t you wait until my birthday or something?” I asked, leaning against her shoulder.

Jana shrugged, her arm draped over me. “I didn’t want to wait. You’ve been working so hard—between cheer, school, and everything else. I wanted to remind you how amazing you are. You’re my muse, you know.”

I turned to look at her, my chest tightening with emotion. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” she said, cupping my face with her hand. “Every time I look at you, I see something new to love. Something beautiful. I wanted you to see yourself the way I see you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I leaned into her touch. “You’re too good to me.”

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over my cheek.

As the day went on, I found myself unable to stop glancing at the painting. It felt surreal to see myself through someone else’s eyes, especially someone who loved me as much as Jana did.

By evening, we’d hung it up in the living room, right above the couch. Jana insisted on doing the heavy lifting while I stood back and gave her directions.

“Left a little… no, your other left,” I teased, earning an exaggerated eye roll from her.

“Keep talking, and I’ll hang it crooked just to spite you,” she shot back, but there was no bite to her words.

When it was finally in place, we stood back to admire it together.

“It’s perfect,” I said, slipping my hand into hers.

“You’re perfect,” Jana replied, squeezing my hand.

I glanced up at her, my heart swelling with love. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think this is my favorite song now.”

She laughed, pulling me into a hug. “Good. Because it’s ours now.”

As the soft melody of “ART” played from my phone in the background, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. Jana didn’t just see me—she celebrated me, and that was a love I’d treasure forever.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[ollypopwrites]

Our Sweet Remedy

Gale x Fem!Tav [AFAB, she/her]

Rating: Explicit [18+ MDNI]

Word count: 2.8k

Request: 69 or DP with Gale by anon!

Warnings: Smut (oral [f and m receiving, face fucking, cum swallowing], Gale’s projection double participates [PiV], double penetration, fingering), dirty talk, Dom!Gale (and he is condescending lmao, but no degradation), after care, safe and consensual check ins. Changing POV (Tav then Gale).

Notes: there is so little plot here I don’t know what to say. No beta reader, only Ao can judge me. Also idk if it’s mirror image Gale uses for his projection? Sorry if that that is not lore accurate.

My Ao3

Tav felt she may have to sit down and chat with Gale about his inability to just lay back and receive every once in a while.

It was post-exam season, and her overachieving fiance, had just spent many days cooped up in the study grading and reading final assignments. But it was finally over and they were celebrating the completion of his first full term as a professor at Blackstaff. A night out so neither of them had to cook and a bottle of wine to end the evening.

With Gale wrapped up in his work, it had been up to Tav to arrange everything. Her plans for the night had so far gone exactly as they ought to, they made it to their reservation for dinner, the walk to and from the tower had been exactly on time and when they got through the door he was amenable to being ordered upstairs.

This was where the plan went awry. She had meant to get on her knees, and give him some well-deserved admiration. Gale, however, after what felt like weeks of being drowned in work and only seeing glimpses of his betrothed was feeling clingy and needy.

Instead of having his cock in her mouth from her knees, she was draped alongside him on the bed. His hands roamed over her sides, taking in each curve, grabbing onto flesh when she did something he particularly liked. The groans and murmured praises spurred her on, happy to be able to please him and offer him some reprieve.

His fingers trailed her thighs, nudging them apart. She allowed it, for the moment, a pleased yet shocked squeal leaving her when he ran through the seam of her, dipping his fingers inside of her when he found her wet.

She pulled off him to lift her head, and remind him she was doing something for him for once when she caught him bringing his fingers into his mouth. Rendered momentarily speechless, body pulsing with a renewed need, Tav licked her lips.

“Humor me?” He asked.

“This — hey!” She felt him grabbing her thighs, attempting to pull her onto his body. “Gale, tonight is supposed to be about you.”

“Believe me, my love,” he said, not giving up his intent so Tav had to acquiesce, “this is for me.”

Another pulse of excitement coursed through her. Not meaning to be outdone, Tav at least acknowledged that this gave her better access to his cock. Her body now settled over his, with her thighs bracketing his sides as he leaned against the headboard with her presented for him as he grabbed at her ass. She worked him into her mouth with renewed vigor, not letting up even when he began his usual maddening work on her with his tongue.

For a while she was too lost to the sensation of him groaning above her to truly acknowledge how worked up she was getting. When she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could, he sucked hard on her clit with a moan and she felt her entire body go rigid.

There was something incredibly enticing about feeling so much pleasure while he was buried in her throat. She pulled up for air and not one to be outdone, Gale went in more fervently.

She was quickly rising to her climax, and she was losing focus. Pumping him in her hand with his head in her mouth, she kept being distracted by the sensations.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined.

No response, just more incessant working of her that made her want to give up entirely on the task at hand and languish in his talents.

Her own hands wrapped around his hips, to grab at his ass and pull him further into her mouth so he would get the message. He hesitated, gently thrust and when she moaned he allowed himself shallow jerky movements. A half-formed groan escaped him and his grip grew tighter on her thighs.

Tav’s mind went blissfully blank, truly degenerate moans came out around the slight muffle of him thrusting in and out of her mouth and then something snapped.

It was hard to tell if Gale gave the hard thrust into her throat or if she pushed herself down onto him, but it hardly mattered. Mouth full of him, her toes curled, her legs shook and her hips had to be held firmly to keep from jolting and moving from the sensation of his mouth.

After it passed she took him out of her mouth to laugh, a bit delirious at what had just happened.

“Alright, my love?”

He sounded strained, and she could see why. His cock was rigid, pulsing slightly and she knew he was close. She hummed an affirmative and without distraction went back to work on rewarding her wizard for a successful first term not thinking much more of the turn of events.

Gale couldn’t forget it.

Perhaps it was that he had not considered how much time he was buried in work and now being able to reemerge he found himself constantly thinking about Tav’s reaction the other night. They went from enjoying each other's company as often as possible to intermittently due to his new work schedule to not at all during the exam season.

But regardless of it being a matter of being pent up or not. He was catching himself thinking about her reaction in the middle of benign conversations, eyes drifting to her mouth and wondering just what her expression had been when she came with his cock in her throat.

Blindly feeling it had been near enough to throw him over the edge. He had to see it.

They had discussed trying things with his ability to conjure a mostly tangible mirror image before. The idea had come to him after the topic of Halsin wanting to be an add on to their partnership while on the road had come up. It had been born of insecurity, a need to be more in order to keep her by his side , but after his concerns were put to rest the idea remained.

It remained on a loop, actually. The idea of filling her so completely that all she could feel was him.

When she climbed in his lap in the study a couple days later, as eager to make up for their time apart as he was, he decided he had to see if he could bring the fantasy to life.

Tav gasped when she felt the somewhat cool touch of the mirror image’s hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and the projection smiled at her. Naked and ready already, but not making any other move to touch Tav.

“Hello there,” she said and then turned back to Gale. “We finally giving this a go?”

“Only if you want to,” he said, cupping her face. “Say the word and he will be gone.”

Tav kissed him, and then bit her lip with a cheeky smile. “How do you two want me?”

Gale felt a blazing trail of excitement crawl up his spine, blood rushing. “Naked. On your hand and knees.” He added a gentlemanly, “please,” for good measure.

“Yes, saer,” she teased and crawled out of his lap to strip herself of her clothes and do as she was asked.

For a while he just watched as she took in the sensations of the spectral presence lavishing her in attention. There was a thrill in being able to see his hands grab at the flesh of her ass, to see himself squeeze her thighs and generally admire her body from his seat on the settee. A unique pleasure in watching but still knowing it was all him that made her whine impatiently, and when he allowed the projection to finally touch her she eased into it.

“How does it feel, my love?”

The projection slid fingers through her folds, not quite giving her clit the attention it needed.

“Ever the scholar,” she mused and then moaned as a spectral finger circled her entrance. “Feels good, a bit like the mage hand, honestly.”

Gale hummed.

“Off,” she half demanded tugging down at the hem of his shirt.

“Always so impatient,” he chuckled, removing his shirt anyway.

“And you’re always a tease,” she shot back. One of her hands came up to tug at his waistband this time. “These next.”

“Demanding, as well,” he replied, yet he moved to acquiesce. He sat down in front of her, still on the settee while his mirror image continued to rub and tease, purposely not touching where she truly wanted him to. His hand came to her cheek, “I’d very much like to preoccupy your mouth with something besides bossing me around. How do you tell me to stop?”

“Two taps,” she demonstrated on his thigh for good measure.

There was a challenge in her eyes, one that spurred him on. The urge to take very deep despite his constant reign on himself. Perhaps a hold over from his time dealing with the orb, but if there was one thing Tav was good at it was tempting him.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked on it before opening her mouth to make a show of running her tongue along the pad of his finger.

“The other night,” he said, eyebrows furrowing in sharp focus at the point where his finger met her tongue, “you took me so deeply when you came. Did you like it?”

She hummed an affirmative, her mouth coming off his hand to say, “I loved it.” Her hand reached for the base of his cock, bringing it towards her mouth.

He moved his hand into her hair, gripping tight enough to keep her head from moving any further. Behind her his double stopped immediately. A frozen moment of disbelief crossed over her face.

“Ask me.”

She breathed a half laugh, but the way she licked her lips betrayed her interest in his demand.

“May I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Ask me, nicely.”

A shudder overtook her. “Please, Gale, can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“You may,” he replied with a smile, hand coming out of her hair to allow her to move.

The first lick was teasing, but with every attention she paid to him the projection behind her rewarded her anew. Gale took the time to sit back and enjoy, her clever mouth working him at her own leisure and each soft noise of pleasure while she did made his jaw clench.

When the presence behind her slipped two fingers inside of her, he felt her stiffen and her mouth froze on him. She tried to get back to her task but each stroke of the fingers inside of her seemed to draw her away until she was just sitting there moaning with his cock in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Gale muttered. “Hold me in your mouth, my love, can you do that?”

A gentle nod was her reply and the projection behind her went to work. Gale’s breathing picked up, self-control hanging on by a fraying thread as he simply watched. Pre-cum dribbled out of him and the resulting squeal she gave before running her tongue over the tip of him had him questioning why he was waiting.

Tav’s first orgasm approached, and he watched with fond understanding of exactly how it would go. The rush of sudden impatience as her hips thrust back onto the fingers inside of her, the little noises she would make and the crinkled brow of focus as she let herself hone in on the rising sensation. Beautiful as usual.

“Gale,” she breathed, “I’m going to —“

“Ask.”

Her eyes shot open, meeting his, a new sort of awe struck intrigue perhaps at the commanding tone. “Please,” she said, tongue laving over the tip of him, “please let me come.”

“Open for me,” he said, hand coming back into her hair. When she did as he asked he gently guided her back onto him, “hold me here. Keep me right here while you fall apart.”

The projection was unrelenting, and Gale could hardly keep his hips steady with each little whine that came from Tav’s lips. Enraptured by the view, he was lost when her jaw went a bit slack, tongue pressed against the head of his cock in a last attempt to pleasure him as she tipped over the edge.

The final thread of self-control frayed; the projection of himself quickly readjusted so that the same time Gale thrust into her mouth its cock was also sinking into her heat.

Tav squealed in surprise around both intrusions, and Gale grit his teeth to stave off further thrusting in order to give her the chance to tap out. His lovely Tav simply looked up at him, corners of her lips turned up in a challenging smile even with her mouth full.

The desire to make her as mindless as he felt overtook and in unison both cocks began to thrust. Praise was all he could find himself to speak.

“Yes, my love, yes,” he whispered, “look at you, full of me.” He sucked in a sharp breath when she whined, the sensation causing a sweet vibration. “So beautiful, so good,” he breathed, “with such an eager mouth — and a dripping cunt for me.”

Her eyes blinked, slightly watery with a sharper thrust that he felt gag her slightly. But yet unwaveringly full of awe, full of admiration and devotion. Proof she was loving every second of this as much as him.

The projection pressed over her back, arm coming around to touch her clit in reward. A slightly manic sound left her, desperate and shocked. He knew she was probably still sensitive, he barely gave her time to recover from the last orgasm before he began the double ended onslaught of sensation. Her walls had probably still been fluttering around the slightly spectral intrusion of his double’s cock.

He swallowed hard. He almost wanted to take himself out of her mouth to hear her describe the feeling, but it would be too great a loss he decided. The unending string of muffled moans were enough of an indication for him.

At a particularly harsh thrust from his double he was knocked from her mouth, her head lolling and eyes closing. She was losing her focus.

“Keep my cock in your mouth, Tav,” he commanded, the projection ceasing all movement. Hips and hands stilling mid movement.

“Trying,” she whimpered. “Feels too good —“

Gale tightened the grip in her hair, guiding her back to where he wanted her, his hips thrusting steadily with a groan. “I’ve got you,” he muttered, “stay there.”

The projection started its onslaught again, with renewed gasps and choked off whimpers from Tav starting anew. He was steadily approaching the precipice, but unwilling to venture over until he saw for himself what it looked like to have her truly debauched.

The visage of him behind her was unrelenting, and he could see her beginning to reach that peak. Her eyes gave away the desperation she felt, and when he finally gave her permission he watched first her body begin to slouch unable to keep herself up as her knees slid further apart and her hips twitch.

Tav’s eyes went blissfully blank before they rolled back slightly, his thrusts into her mouth a bit easier as her jaw went slack.

“That's it, Tav,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfection.”

Without being able to look away he felt the control finally slip away. His hips thrust up in harsh long strokes that made her gag as he felt himself seize up with the release. It was met with sucking as Tav eased him through it.

Behind her the projection had faded with his lack of concentration. He took a few moments to admire her, lips swollen, glistening with saliva and breathing heavy.

“Come here,” he pulled her up off of the floor, and settled her on his lap. He kissed her sweaty forehead, her cheek and then finally her lips. “Alright?”

She nodded her head.

“I need to hear you say it, Tav.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s stay like this, though, a little longer.”

His hands rubbed over her back, lips pressed to the crown of her head as they caught their breath. The glow of satiation still thrummed through his veins as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Gratitude bloomed in his chest at her ability to make him feel safe enough to explore his desire to take for once, for trusting him.

“You’re filthy, Gale,” she giggled after a while, still looking a bit dazed.

“You’re one to talk,” he challenged.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” she assured him, letting herself nestle her face into the crook of his neck. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Thank you for reading 💜

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: waking up with zb1

a/n: anon who requested this i saw the req and i actually felt my third eye opening ty for your service

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!, university au for gunwook’s

wc | 4.0k

jiwoong

jiwoong wakes up before you about 95% of the time

he seems like the type of guy who just … wakes up at the same time every day, no matter how late he went to sleep the night before

body clock and all that

so i imagine jiwoong wakes up at around 7, but he doesn’t move for a good 15 minutes

during these 15 minutes he makes an important judgment call: do you want to sleep or do you want him to wake you up

he’s your personal alarm so he’ll have to wake you up at some point, it just depends on when and how he’s going to do that

sometimes you get offended when he lets you sleep, other times you will ignore him trying to wake you and continue slumbering until you smell whatever he decides to cook for breakfast

this is the most stressful decision of his day 99.9% of the time

if you wake up, you will copy his morning routine while half asleep and then doze off at the dining table until the food is ready

if you sleep, he will wake up you when the food is ready

it’s lowkey incredibly exciting for you when you wake up before him, mostly because of how infrequent it is

you’ll lord it over him for the rest of the day like it was some sort of competition in the first place LOL

he’ll be like “just set an alarm?” but that doesn’t count because he’ll wake up, too

he doesn’t understand the joys of waking up before your boyfriend who’s a responsible adult that wakes up at 7 am without even an alarm

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you can see the light coming through your eyelids, but your brain screams at you to just go back to sleep. You begin to turn onto your other side, trying to find a new comfortable position so you can go back to your dreamland when something occurs to you.

There’s an arm draped over your middle, unmoving. You don’t hear anything but rhythmic breathing, too—no chuckles, no sighs, nobody saying your name softly.

So, your eyes rip open, immediately assaulted by the sunlight coming through your blinds. Once the shock ends, though, you’re met with the sight of Jiwoong, dead asleep in front of you. His hair is messy and his mouth is slightly ajar, his eyes are shut and his face is somewhat puffy from a full night of sleep. The sight is mesmerizing, and you bask in how beautiful your boyfriend looks, even in the morning.

Then, after a few minutes, you get to scheming.

It takes everything in you to suppress the manic giggle sliding up your throat, and, as slowly as you possibly can, you pick his arm up off your side and drop it back onto the bed.

I am going to make the best breakfast in the world, you think, scuttling out of the bedroom while you think about how exciting it is that you finally woke up before he did.

zhang hao

i imagine you wake up before zhang hao most of the time

he seems like the type of guy to be absolutely dead to the world when he’s asleep idk

you make it a point to go to bed before him too so you don’t have to listen to his snoring

i feel like hao likes being the little spoon </3 so i imagine you wake up with him nestled right up to you like a cat

of course it takes everything in you to not start screaming and crying over how cute he is

as aforementioned hao is a deep sleeper so most of the time you get up and start your day, and you only wake him up if he asked you to the night before

usually, hao will wake up when you’re sipping your morning drink of choice and scrolling through your phone on the couch

and he’ll waddle out and collapse on top of you :( head on your chest and arms wrapped around your middle … and then he goes back to sleep ON you

you’re rendered unable to move for the next half an hour so hopefully you have nowhere to be

when hao wakes up (rare, special event!) before you he doesn’t think much of it lol

usually, he just takes it as an invitation to lay in bed with you for longer

then he’ll get bored and wake you up “so you can chat”

“do i ever wake you up to chat?”

“no but i’m me”

then you’ll listen to him ramble on for a good twenty minutes while you try to wake up

he ends his little rambling session by giving you a big kiss and then getting up for the day

he’s so perfect lol

YOU WAKE UP to Hao’s finger on your cheek and his face inches away from yours, which scares you so bad that you yelp and jerk back. Hao frowns, jutting his bottom lip out as if he didn’t just wake you up at 7:30 in the morning.

“Why are you up so early?” you manage to choke out, cringing at the way you’ve woken up feeling.

“I don’t know, but I have a question,” he says, inching closer to you so his head is now on your pillow. “Do you think the government has actually found aliens and they’re just not telling anyone? Like, is that possible?”

“Huh? Why are you asking?”

“Just think about it,” he says as if there’s anything you can manage to think about at 7:30 in the morning. “Would they be able to pull that off without us knowing?”

“How would I know? I mean, maybe? If they tried hard enough?”

Hao hummed in response, tapping on his chin. “Okay. You can go back to bed."

hanbin

things are pretty middle of the road when it comes to hanbin

you could wake up first, or he could, or you wake up at around the same time

i think he has a daily alarm so whenever that goes off, if you’re both still sleeping, you’re both waking up at the same time

then there’s your allotted morning hanbin time

he doesn’t strike me as someone who wakes up quickly, so he’ll turn his alarm off and then cuddle up to you

i think he’d prefer sleeping face-to-face so most of the time your face is either buried in his chest or vice versa

at some point, he will begin the day with a “good morning beautiful” or a solid “i missed you” and it kind of feels like being punched in the stomach (he’s so UGHHGHGGH)

and he’ll ask how you slept, how you’re feeling, what you’re doing that day, etc … and you’ll do the same ofc

he’s very gentle in the mornings and he has a severe case of pink cheeks so he’s adorable to you

i see hanbin as the type of guy who likes doing his morning routine with you so you’ll get up together, brush your teeth together, wash your face, and all the different things

but i think he really really likes it when you cook him breakfast

it’s kinda odd but he will literally eat anything you put in front of him … like it could be a plate of salt and he’d be like “mmm this is delicious”

he will sit and watch you cook with a silly little grin on his face

he’s so sung hanbin

this guy is fatal

HANBIN FOLLOWS YOU to the kitchen like a chick, and, the moment you walk behind the counter, he’s immediately sitting on a stool, head resting on his arms.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, opening the fridge to survey your options. You had plenty of eggs, and you had quite a few bread spreads that could make good toast. You had an avocado left, too, which meant you just needed to hear from your boyfriend to start cooking.

“Whatever you want.”

“Savory or sweet?”

“I could do either.”

You sigh, wondering what you were expecting. So, you take the carton of eggs from the fridge and place it next to the stove, putting a pan on and turning up the heat. You hear the sound of the stool screeching behind you and, a second later, Hanbin is wrapping his hands around your waist. You feel the weight of his head on top of yours, and you’re almost melting at the gesture.

“How do you want your eggs cooked?”

“I don’t care.”

The moment is instantly ruined by the answer, and you sigh in exasperation. “Oh my god, please just pick a type of egg. Scrambled. Over easy. Sunny side up. I will do anything, please just pick.”

matthew

matthew is another guy who wakes up before you

except he wakes up to go to the gym so when you wake up, he’s gone and there’s a little note on your nightstand telling you when he’s going to get back and how much he loves you

good news is he comes back with food so you two are NEVER cooking in the mornings

spiritually i just know that matthew is an acai bowl guy so he comes back with two of those and then you both chow down

but i think, on special occasions, he will sleep in (when this happens, he’s usually not in the mood to go to the gym), and you’ll usually wake up before him when this happens

and i think matthew treats you like his own personal teddy bear so you wake up, arms around you and head on his chest while he’s snoring away

usually, you’re good to just lay there for a while until you start getting a cramp from the way he’s holding you

you’ll try to wiggle out but it’s no use, he’s got you in an unbreakable grip

so you’re left laying there, whisper-yelling “matthew!!! matthew!!!!”

at this point you haven't even seen his face yet, just his arms iron-locked around your waist and whatever else of him that you aren’t laying on top of

finally, you give up the whispering and just flat-out yell his name, which scares the shit out of him

he lets go and you roll off of him, sighing in relief at the feeling of your cramp beginning to go away

“what was that for?”

“leg cramp”

you and matthew will proceed to not move for the next 30 minutes to an hour, with there being small conversation interspersed throughout

FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, you wake up to Matthew laying next to you, rather than you laying on top of you. He’s laying on his stomach, practically face down on his pillow, with one hand on your hip and the other jutting off the side of the bed.

You giggle at him, wondering how he ended up laying like this when he usually has you locked up in his embrace. You reach behind you as steadily as you can, feeling around your nightstand for your phone so you can take a picture.

Once you manage to grab it, you quickly turn it on, but your plan is interrupted by two things. One, it’s nearly 10 in the morning, and, two, you have three texts from Gyuvin that were sent over an hour ago, asking where Matthew was.

It takes a moment of thinking for you to realize that he’d probably slept through his alarm, leaving Gyuvin completely in the dark. You lightly poke his bicep once, and when you get no reaction, you go again, but a bit firmer this time. Matthew doesn’t even stir.

“Matthew? Hello?” you ask, but nothing. So, your only solution is to half-yell his name, which causes his eyes to fly open.

“Oh my god, what?”

“You blew off Gyuvin.”

The moment you say that he’s up and on his phone, frantically typing while you laugh at him.

taerae

i actually think you wake up before taerae nearly 100% of the time

with the newfound news that he’s a gamer, i actively think he’s probably up way later than you and doesn’t get up until like noon

because of that, if you wake up earlier in the morning, you’re either waiting 70 years for him to rise from the dead or you’re getting up without him

he’s not that hard to detach from either, as long as you replace yourself with a stuffed animal you’re good

and 90% of the time you’re the one holding onto him so it’s not that big of a deal

sometimes you’ll be eating lunch when he finally emerges and then he’ll just eat the rest of your lunch

but he always greets you and asks how your morning was :) it’s very endearing

however, when taerae wakes up before you, it’s quite literally like he just won the lottery

he treats it like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him (similar to things with jiwoong tbh)

gets up and takes 80,000 pictures of you so he can tell everyone the good news

he attempts to make you breakfast in bed but, when he’s gone for too long, your spidey senses go off and you wake up like “oh my god where is my boyfriend he’s GONE”

so you go searching for him and find him partying it up in the kitchen

and then he gets upset at you because he had a tray ready and everything

the big event is when you wake up around the same time though

usually, it’s because you both got really drunk the night before

neither of you are happy but at least you have each other

YOU WAKE UP TO a pounding headache and a slight bit of nausea, which is something absolutely no one wants to wake up to. Taerae is lying in front of you on his back, arm over his eyes and a look of utter displeasure on his face.

“How did we get home?” was your first question, realizing that you didn’t remember anything after shotgunning an entire drink after someone told you they thought you couldn’t.

“Hanbin drove us,” he groaned, voice deep and hoarse from the sleep you just endured. You looked at the clock and realized it was 2 in the afternoon, which made you feel even worse without you trying.

Regret begins to soak into your skin as you shuffle closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your head into his chest. He weakly puts an arm around you, too, and you can tell he’s feeling the same way.

“Let’s never do that again,” you propose, which causes Taerae to laugh. His chest rumbling actually relieves your headache a bit, although you’re unsure as to why.

“You say that every time we go out.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

He scoffs, and you tighten your hold on him. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

ricky

with ricky it’s also a big 50/50

except he wakes up at the same time every day, with no exceptions

he goes to bed at the same time, too

he will never sacrifice his routine and every time circumstances have him waking up earlier than usual, he’s unhappy and quiet

but when he’s on schedule he will continue his schedule whether or not you’re awake

you can’t really blame him because you’d kill to be as put together as he is

so when you wake up before him you really treasure it

ricky is a beautiful sleeper, he never stops serving face

you’ve never managed to catch him looking ugly while sleeping and you’re beginning to think it’s quite literally impossible

you’ve shown your friends pictures and they’re always in awe…how does he just look like that even when he’s entirely unconscious

i think he likes to sleep near you but not necessarily cuddle

he’s mostly fine with you just being next to him, but he won’t push you off if you happen to latch onto him in the night or anything

so you usually wake up facing him with him facing you, perhaps a knee touching or something

and you ogle at him until he wakes up and goes “what are you staring at” like hello??? you, you beautiful loser

when he wakes up before you, he will wake you up when he finishes making food. always has a plate ready for you :)

very cute guy overall

YOU WAKE UP to Ricky standing over you, already completely ready for his day. He’s gotten dressed and done his hair up, and all of his jewelry on.

“Morning, princess,” he hums, and, as you come to, you realize you can smell something cinnamony coming from the kitchen. “I made breakfast if you want to come eat.”

You mumble a string of incoherencies, pushing yourself up from your comfortable position and staring at the wall for a second. Then, in what could only be described as laziness, you look at Ricky and hold your arms up. He stares at you for a second, confused as to what you’re asking for, but gets it after a couple of seconds.

He lifts you up from the bed in one fell swoop, and you wrap your legs around his waist, putting your head in the crook of his neck. You’d never felt more content in your life, and, briefly, you wondered how you managed to get yourself a Ricky.

But, the moment is over all too soon, and he’s putting you in a chair, walking over to where you assume were the premade cinnamon rolls he’d put together. “How many do you want?”

gyuvin

gyuvin strikes me as the type of guy to love sleepovers

aka you stay up until like 4 in the morning doing god knows what, and then you don’t wake up until 2 in the afternoon

and most of the time you’re waking up incredibly disoriented because you’ll have fallen asleep pretty much everywhere but your bed

once you fell asleep on a couch outside and woke up to the worst sunburns of your life

sometimes you’re laying on top of him on the couch while the TV plays the 10th hallmark movie of the day

other times you’re asleep on the floor with literally no recollection of how you got there

you’ll always have intense back and neck pain for the rest of the day though so don’t worry

but, in the off chance you two actually made it to a bed (which only happens when you have ‘girl night,’ aka you do face masks and watch mean girls), i think gyuvin is nice to wake up with

he’s the type of guy to wrap literally all of his limbs around you and trap you in a leg-and-arm cage

he’s tall and lanky and doesn’t like the fact that his feet go off the edge of your bed so obviously the solution is to just entrap you

and he’s not an incredibly heavy sleeper so he’ll notice you woke up and wake up too

the sleepover antics continue with the two of you going over every important notification you missed while you were asleep, sometimes including entire events you missed

“oh i forgot i was planning on going to lunch with gunwook and yujin…oh well”

sometimes you miss classes even though the night before you’re swearing to him that you’re not going to stay up super late and miss them

after that, you go about your day like normal

and plan to do it all again that night too

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, the first thing you notice is the extreme pain in your neck. Then, you notice the fact that you’re not laying down, rather, you’re sitting up with your back against the wall, your computer open and dead in front of you.

You then feel the weight of Gyuvin’s head on yours, and the feeling of his shoulder under your head. Your stirring wakes him up—you can feel it—and suddenly he’s groaning about how bad his neck hurts. “What were we even doing?” you asked, swiping your fingers on the mousepad of your laptop. It doesn’t turn on, and you decide to attempt to sit up straight. In the process, a bunch of pops come from your back, which feel awful and good simultaneously.

“I don’t remember,” he said, a slight strain to his voice. “I think we were binging the, like, golden buzzer videos. Right? Isn’t that it?”

“I don’t know.”

You turn to see Gyuvin stretching, most likely trying to rid himself of the pain from sleeping like you had. For some reason, the sight causes you to burst into laughter, which causes him to do the same. And, for a few moments, the two of you sit there, cracking up at nothing but each other.

gunwook

the third routine haver of zb1 after matthew and ricky

he’s awful at sticking to it though

you and gunwook wake up at the same time because his alarm (titled “wake up and go to the gym”) wakes the two of you up

because he’s only 18, you’re not living together, so you aren’t really used to waking up with him lol

also because of your youth, when you’re waking up with each other, it’s often in his twin XL dorm bed

so you’re laying on top of him practically and you’re sharing one pillow

it’s really not comfortable but gyuvin, his roommate, spent the night at ricky’s so you didn’t want to pass the opportunity up

you both regret it the moment you wake up cause you’re sweaty and gross LOL

usually, you’re the first one to sit up, mostly because he can only get up once you have

but then you spend like 30 minutes just sitting up on the bed holding hands

you’ll ask what time gyuvin is gonna get back and he just shrugs

neither of you wants to get up literally every time this happens so by the end of the 30 minutes you’re back to laying down

except your head is on his chest and he’s got his arms around you

then you lay there for another hour until gunwook gets a text that gyuvin’s on his way up because he forgot his wallet and he and ricky want to go out

gyuvin CANNOT see you in the room because he’ll make fun of the both of you endlessly

you’re both super awake now

panic ensues

YOU PRACTICALLY FLY off the bed the moment you read the text, Gunwook following quickly after you. You whip your head around the room, looking for a place to hide from the monster that is now quickly approaching your safe haven.

Under the bed is too obvious, and too open, so Gyuvin would easily be able to see you. Under the desk isn’t big enough, nor is it covering enough, so there’s only one option for you, and Gunwook has already beaten you to it. He’s throwing the closet door open, ripping a shirt and jeans from inside, while you practically nose dive in.

Gunwook slams it shut, and there are mere seconds until you hear the door unlock and open. Your heart is pounding as you hear Ricky greet Gunwook, and Gyuvin rustling through his stuff.

“Oh, [First] isn’t here?” Gyuvin asks, sounding genuinely bewildered.

“Isn’t she probably just hiding?” Ricky counters and your heart drops. Gunwook laughs, and you hope they can’t tell it’s incredibly panicked.

“Should we look?”

It goes silent, Gunwook offering another awkward laugh. “Nah, just kidding. See you later, man.”

The moment the door opens and closes, your body deflates in relief, and Gunwook opens the closet door, letting you back out into the world.

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

[the-spam-specialist]

YOUNG CAINE MAKING A BUG NPC FOR THE FIRST TIME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Oh, Imma have fun with this one. And by "fun," I mean put your emotions through the wringer.

A Special Gift

Characters: Caine, Queenie

Word Count: 600-ish

Caine, his denture-head practically vibrating with contained excitement, hovered nervously nearby. His top hat bobbed, the golden bells on its ribbons tinkling faintly. He wrung his hands, the white star pattern on his red tuxedo seeming to swirl in the air around him.

“Queenie! Queenie!” he finally burst out, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous tent. “I have something! Something really, really special to show you!”

Queenie, her chess piece form draped in a royal red robe, looked up with a gentle smile. Her eyes, somehow conveying volumes despite being just simple digital renderings, twinkled with amusement. "Oh really, Caine? What marvel have you conjured up this time?"

Caine puffed out his chest, trying to tamp down his bubbling impatience. “I’ve been working on it! For you! It took me a while, figuring out the… the… the algorithms and the particle effects!” He stumbled over the technical jargon, words he was still internalizing.

Queenie chuckled softly. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, dear. What is it?”

Caine took a deep breath and held out his hands, palms up. There, resting delicately, was a butterfly. Not just any butterfly, but a creature rendered with exquisite detail. Its wings shimmered with iridescent colors, catching the simulated light filtering through the tent’s canvas. The butterfly flapped its wings, a delicate, silent flutter, and took flight. It danced around Queenie’s head, a tiny, ethereal brushstroke against the vibrant backdrop of the circus.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, it landed gently on Queenie’s outstretched hand. Its delicate legs tickled her pixelated skin.

Queenie stared down at the butterfly, her digital eyes wide with wonder. Silence filled the space between them.

Queenie…didn’t know what to say. She had seen Caine create wonders before – gravity-defying stunts, impossible landscapes, and even a new skybox. But this…this was different. This wasn’t about spectacle or control. It was about something…tender.

It was perfect.

Finally, she found her voice, a gentle whisper. “Caine…it’s…it’s beautiful.”

Relief washed over Caine. His eyeballs practically sparkled. “Really? You like it? I was hoping you would!” He bounced on the balls of his feet (somehow while in midair), the bells on his hat ribbons jingling excitedly.

“Like it? Caine, I adore it. It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.” Queenie gently stroked the butterfly’s wing with one finger.

Caine’s chest swelled with pride. “I can make more!” he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Whatever kind of bugs you want! Ladybugs! Beetles! Fireflies! Giant, glowing centipedes!” He paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Maybe not the centipedes. Kinger might not like that.”

Queenie laughed, a warm, comforting sound that filled the tent. She reached out, carefully scooping Caine into a hug. It was a warm embrace filled with a fierce, unspoken love.

She couldn’t quite kiss his head, not having a mouth and all, but she pressed her cheek against the top of his top hat, murmuring, "Thank you, Caine. This means the world to me."

The digital butterfly, sensing the shift in energy, fluttered from Queenie’s hand and landed on Caine’s top hat.

As Queenie held him close, she thought about how far Caine had come. With her quiet wisdom and gentle encouragement, she had helped him understand his potential, his responsibilities, and most importantly, the importance of kindness. She had shown him that true power wasn't about control, but about creation and connection.

Looking at the digital butterfly perched on his hat, a symbol of his newfound artistry and empathy, Queenie felt an overwhelming surge of pride. She loved him so much. And she was so incredibly proud of him. He wasn't just the ringmaster of the digital circus. He was her son. And she would always be there for him.

[star-dot-net]

i may have already posted this but this is a fic i started writing in december of 2023 and may start working on again

When he steps into the classroom, Mobius is immediately comforted. The room is cozy, there’s plenty of space for the kids, and there’s several bins labeled ‘fidget toys’. That’s the part that catches his eye the most— all of Sean’s previous teachers made him bring in his own, and even then, they often told him to put them away. He always feels bad about passing his autistic gene to his son, even though Sean usually gets along perfectly fine. 

As he surveys the room, a man emerges from a small door Mobius hadn’t noticed. As soon as he sees him, Mobius’s breath catches in his throat, eyes widening. 

The man is, presumably, Sean’s teacher. He has shoulder-length black hair, curled and pushed back stylishly. He’s wearing simple black dress pants with a white button-up tucked into them, and Mobius’s eyes are immediately drawn to a bit of exposed chest, the first few buttons apparently undone. He’s tall and fairly lean, face sharp and green eyes sharper, glinting with something that makes Mobius suppress a slight shiver. 

The man smiles and Mobius is stunned again, just as he was regaining his bearings.

“Hello, you’re here for Sean, correct?” the man says, extending a hand in greeting.

Startled by the accent that is decidedly out-of-place for Ohio, as well as every other aspect of this person, Mobius definitely takes a moment too long to respond, and he clears his throat awkwardly before responding.

“Ah— yeah, hi. I’m Mobius, Sean’s dad,” he says, taking a step forward to properly shake the man’s hand, and wow he was tall, an entire head taller than Mobius at least.

“It’s good to meet you, Mobius. You can call me Loki,” Loki says, tilting his head in invitation. He makes his way over to his own desk and sits, a tie and jacket draped over the back of the chair.

“Nice to meet you too…” Mobius replies faintly, dazed. Christ, Mobius, get your shit together.

“Sean’s a fantastic student. He participates in class regularly and…” 

Mobius is barely present, but he manages. He nods and pays enough attention to make comments about Sean here and ask a question there. He is 90% sure his gaze has not left Loki’s neck since they started talking, and is 100% sure the other man notices. He knows it’s highly inappropriate, but he can’t help it, and Loki does not mention anything. That means he doesn’t mind, or doesn’t realize, and Mobius takes either as a win.

There’s a moment where Loki opens up his laptop to look up Sean’s IEP accommodations, and there’s several stickers on the front, a few that Mobius recognizes. A band sticker, a few cats, and pride flags. He identifies one as the bisexual flag, but the other— pink, white, purple, black, then blue —doesn’t ring any bells for him. He makes a mental note to look it up later. 

By the end of the meeting, Mobius is thoroughly flustered, Loki’s charm rendering his people-skills practically impossible to utilize. Ah well, he thinks distractedly, you can’t win ‘em all.

Loki walks with him to the door of the classroom as Mobius heads out, and Mobius is hyper-aware of their close proximity.

“It was lovely to talk to you,” Loki says, eyes practically sparkling. There’s something in his voice, a lilt that Mobius can’t decipher. “I was looking forward to meeting the amazing people who raised Sean, and you don’t disappoint. I can see why he’s such a pleasure to have.”

Mobius fills with pride; he knows his sons are incredible, but it never hurts to hear. Then, the second part of the sentence catches up to him, and he winces slightly, producing a small smile that was most likely unconvincing.

“Yeah, well— it’s just little ol’ me raising two rascals, so…” he coughs then, averting his gaze. He’s not embarrassed about being a single father, but he can never predict how people will react to the information, and the thought of being in a situation he’s unprepared for always makes his skin prickle.

“Ah yes! Your younger’s name is Kevin, right? Sean brings him up sometimes. Mostly telling stories of him setting things aflame.” 

Loki’s genuine interest in his family warms Mobius to the core, offsetting the slight shock of Loki’s nonchalance about his single-parenthood. Although, I guess it’s probably more common in non-small town Ohio.

“Kids will be kids,” Mobius says, shaking his head amusedly and shrugging, as if to say ‘what-can-you-do‘.

Laughing lightly, Loki nods in agreement. A slightly awkward silence befalls them, and Mobius scuffs his shoe, realizing belatedly that it makes him seem like a schoolchild with a crush. He notices Loki’s eyes roaming his body, and cringes internally, wondering just how he must look to someone of Loki’s caliber; he hadn’t had time to change out of his work clothes before the meeting, so he’s wearing the tacky blue vest from his job. Keeping up appearances as a tired dad, he supposes.

Loki clears his throat, and Mobius looks up from his feet, not having realized he even looked down in the first place. When he slides his gaze up, Loki is holding out a small piece of paper. Mobius takes it, skimming the contents with his eyes only to find a phone number.

“My number,” Loki says, nodding to the paper.

“Oh- to contact you about Sean’s accommodations?” Mobius furrows his brows, a bit confused. None of Sean’s other teachers had given him their numbers, although Loki was different. Mobius’s confusion only grows when Loki grins, shaking his head.

“No.”

Mobius blinks at him, unsure how to respond. He knows he misreads situations often, so he decides to bite the bullet and ask for clarity; might as well get it out of the way now.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at the subtlety game, so correct me if I’m wrong, but… is this— are you flirting with me?”

(It is, by all accounts, completely socially unacceptable to ask; Mobius learned from his parents at a young age that his upfront nature was not proper. But he’s an adult now, and he’s a bit too tired to mask his social ineptitude.) Loki doesn’t seem bothered, though; his grin just widens, and he winks at Mobius. Definitely flirting, then.

“Text me sometime, will you?” Loki says, and just as Mobius is about to respond, his phone rings loudly, and he sighs. 

“It’s their sitter. I’ve gotta take this, but um… I’ll— I’ll reach out?” he says it like a question, like he’s not sure if he’s actually allowed to. Loki replies that he’s looking forward to it. Swallowing, Mobius nods in departure, answers the phone, and steps out of the classroom, head reeling.

—

[simothys]

over a month ago, @ice-knife tagged me in a WIP wednesday.. and, well, its certainly not wednesday, but i do have wips!

so, ive technically had this WIP (of Vincent and Felix as Leyendecker's Couple Descending Staircase) for over a year now. buuut first my motivation for art died, then my laptop died, taking the initial file with it! so i figured id restart anyways cuz i didnt like how it had been going!

ive had this piece sitting at Almost Finished for a while now. im in the last bits of rendering (ive made more progress since this screenshot), which means that any progress doesn't look like much? im sure ill love it when im finally done w it tho!

been slowly but steadily working on how i wanna draw Soul-Steady Marrow :D im rlly fond of its design so far, ive mostly just gotta piece together some outfits now :)

IM SO HYPED FOR THIS ONE!!! rn im still toying around with the composition. a scarab will be resting on its finger here, but i was also thinking about maybe doing something additional in his shadow? but honestly i think ill leave it. it will be wearing jewelry and potentially some loose draping clothes, so hopefully thatll satisfy my need for the piece to be super complex! im so used to drawing in incredibly saturated colors, so im gonna try to challenge myself a little w this one :)

:D yayy!! im tagging @dumpstermaster @ice-knife (again) @emmrichvolkarnage @crowshuh @planet4546b @rat-puppie @battleaxeproficiency @jupiterplanetpower @drefwormwoods and anyone else who wants to!

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-One

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-One: Polar Twwwang

Bepo’s your typical furry polar bear – well, besides the fact that he has no desire to eat people.

An overly-apologetic, teary-eyed honey-addict. Loves to fight but in a way that screams, ‘I’m adorable!’

He’s happy, he’s emotional, and well…he’s Bepo.

So, when Bepo looks up to watch Robin who greets his captain with a palm resting beneath her chin, he truly couldn’t have imagined that the person his eyes would lock on would be her.

Bepo, the white bear who’s never afraid to express his feelings, is rendered speechless. His eyes, pooling up with an overflow of fluid, can’t even manage to blink his tears away as they remain on your figure. Are you real, or is Bepo merely hallucinating? He’s not entirely sure.

Law, sharp-eyed and silent, stares from his first mate to you, meticulously arching a brow in question.

“You know that woman?” He asks, his hand finding solace in the sword that drapes over his shoulder. Always on guard, always paying attention to the little things that no one else notices just yet.

Instantly, Bepo jumps from his spot and helplessly gapes at his captain, giving him a good view of his sharp teeth that, ironically, seem incredibly harmless on this bear.

“You - you can see her too, Law?”

"Yes, I can see her," Law repeats, his gaze flickering between you and Bepo. "But that doesn't answer my question. Do you know her?"

Bepo's eyes dart back to you, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of the situation. Finally, he takes a deep breath and nods, his voice trembling slightly as he speaks.

"I... I think so," he admits, his words hesitant. He looks up, addressing the next few meaningful words to you. "But it's been so long... I never thought I'd see you again."

Everyone aboard sobers up from their chaos, all looking at each other in bafflement.

Robin’s smile grows slightly, a curious glint in her eye evident as she leans further against the banister.

“You know our crewmate, Bepo?”

For a second, you’re rendered speechless, too; is this real, or are you dreaming? You’re not entirely sure.

But after a moment of deliberation, your lips offer Bepo a small smile, your heart warming at the sight of his oh-so-typical tears that dampen his fur in odd lines.

You drape your fingers over the banister and walk down the steps to reach him – one foot closer to your childhood friend - your eyes never leaving his.

"You haven’t changed, Bepo," you mumble softly, your voice filled with so much warmth and a million other feelings. "I've missed you."

Bepo's eyes brim with tears of joy, and he takes a step forward, reaching out to wrap you in a bear hug; there’s no hesitation in his embrace - only pure, unbridled affection.

"I've missed you too, Raya,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. "I never thought I'd get to see you again."

“Ahh~ I might’ve missed something, but how do you two know each other?” Brook politely intervenes, wedging his skeletal body in between the reunited embrace, as if the closer he is to you and Bepo, the more intel he'll be able to get.

And immediately, your mouth runs dry. Your grasp over Bepo’s white furry hair halts in its warmth as your mind starts to think a million different lies on how to spin this away from your lineage.

“Oh yeah!” Luffy pipes up, snapping himself out of his thoughtless daze. He cocks his head. “Where did you guys meet? Do you two go a long way back?”

“Bepo…” You alarmingly mutter in his ear. “They must not know about how we truly met. They do not know who I am – or once was.”

You can feel Bepo’s grip slightly tighten over you, confusion colouring the tense curling of his paws.

“Raya, what—”

But the start of Bepo’s bafflement gets cut off in an instant. His captain, either knowingly or unknowingly, comes to save you from the bombardment of problems that you don’t really want to deal with right now.

“As much as you’d all like to gossip over how our crewmates know each other, this isn’t why we came.” Law narrows his dark eyes, eyes that could cut steel, zoning them in on one pirate, and one pirate only. “What were you fucking thinking, Mugiwara? You saw us coming through, and you still dove into us.”

Luffy grins obliviously, all toothy and wide-mouthed, and simply shrugs. “There’d be no other way of stopping you, Tora-o. You would’ve just run away without saying hi!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Luffy?” Nami and Usopp snap in unison, gaping helplessly at their dumbass captain.

“I don’t run away,” Law childishly hisses, every syllable cut with a power that equates to a samurai. “I’m expecting you to fix the mess you’ve made. The Polar Tang’s in scraps, thanks to you, and I’m on a tight schedule.”

While Zoro stands nearby and watches the onslaught of a feud breaking out, his arms cross over chest, his expression darkening with each passing moment.

"Oi, Law," Zoro interjects, his voice low and gruff as he steps forward, drawing the attention of the others. "You're making a big fuss over a little scratch. It's not like we sank your damn submarine."

“Really?” Law retorts, angling his head to the Polar Tang. It lays imperceptible, floating in the sea beside the Sunny. “Why don’t you have a look, then?”

With his stubborn eye never leaving Law’s, he proceeds to push himself from the wall. He ambles over to the edge, everyone else running on his heels in anticipation.  

And then, Nami gasps. She gasps so loudly, it sounds like she's suddenly forgot how to breathe. And then…well…

And then, she starts to beat the ever-living shit out of Luffy.

But honestly? You can’t blame her.

The whole thing is just a pathetic corpse with a pirate emblem painted over it.

You and Franky gape speechlessly at the floating piece of…metal…that’s completely isolated in the water like some sort of melting icecap. The once proud submarine now floats like a deflated balloon, its structural integrity compromised beyond recognition.

“It’s….it’s…” you stammer, wide-eyed and giddy with dread.

“…Not super, at all,” Franky finishes off.

You nod aggressively in agreement, gaping at the rest of the Heart pirates who lay stranded on its deck.

“Hmph,” Zoro grumbles, turning his back around to lay on the railing. It’s as if, if Roronoa avoids looking at the destruction, then Trafalgar Law can’t possibly be right. So who really wins then, huh, Law?

“So…” you thoughtfully mutter to yourself.

And the diagnosis begins. With a flick to your craftsman focus, you lean so much over the ship’s rail, that you’re teetering off the edge. Without even needing to ask, Franky holds onto the back of your shirt as you try to get a better look at the Polar Tang. “The under casing looks like it’s about to dislocate…and the bow…. Well, it’s really not a bow anymore…”

“The propeller only has one fin, too…” Franky grimaces, slamming his other huge hand to his head. “Luffy, what the hell did you do?!”

Luffy lays pathetically on the floor, all battered and bruised as his swollen lips gasp open like a fish. “I’m sowwy…”

"This is unacceptable, Mugiwara," Law says, his voice firm and unwavering. "You will help me fix this mess, and for the time being, my crew will take refuge aboard your ship, whether you like it or not.”

Luffy, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation, grins sheepishly under Nami's relentless barrage of attacks. You can’t help but feel intense guilt on behalf of your crew; no one should ever be stranded, especially in what used to be a masterpiece of a submarine, because of your doing – whether it was done indirectly or not.

You whip around as Franky gently drops you to the ground. And for a moment, you look at each other in silent understanding, and in harmony, you both nod.

"Of course we'll help," you interject, your voice cutting through the chaos as you step forward, determination firing up in your eyes. "This is our doing; it’s our responsibility to make it right."

Franky nods in agreement, his mechanical arms flexing in the air. "Yes sir! We'll get this submarine back in shape in no time."

Law's gaze shifts to you, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at your sudden intervention. His sharp eyes linger on your arm, noticing the blackened throb that coils painfully over your skin.

"Not with that arm,” Law refuses, eyeing your skin in what you could only call - morbid medical curiosity. You’re sure he’s really enjoying himself there, with the way he’s marvelling at it. "What happened? It looks like it's been through quite a bit."

You stare down at your rapidly weakening state, a reminder of the torture that you can’t seem to escape, as Chopper steps forward to speak, doctor to doctor.

"Her arm... it's not in good shape," Chopper begins, his voice sombre. "It's been affected by an odd reaction that's causing it to deteriorate rapidly. The cause is unknown and we're still trying to figure out how to reverse the damage."

Law's brow furrows in concern as he listens to Chopper's diagnosis. He steps closer to you, his gaze fixed on your arm with a newfound intensity.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Law asks, his voice softer now, devoid of its usual edge. "I have some medical expertise that might be of use."

You shake your head firmly as your eyes pierces his. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Right now, fixing your vessel is our top priority.”

Law’s eyes darken, folding his arms before you. “It’s against my better judgement to make you work with your condition.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and tiresomely puts one foot over the other. “Come on, she’s not helpless.”

“It won’t stop me from helping,” you say with your chest, slightly pushing your blackened arm behind your back, as if hiding it will make all of this…concern… go away. Law stares at you for a moment, his lips pursed, and you can just tell he’s thinking, processing for a moment, on the best way to navigate the situation.

He pushes off the banister, taking a step closer to you, a hand reaching out.

“Then let me at least have a look at it before you begin.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking up at the sleep-deprived man with the….really beautiful sword in one hand. No, seriously, who made that? You’ve never seen this type of make before.

"Fine," you relent, your voice softer now as you extend your arm towards Law. "But on two conditions."

Law scoffs, tilting his head at you. “Besides trying to cure you, what else is there that you want?”

You unfold a finger, waving your hand in the free space between the two of you. “Firstly, you’ll do the check-up in my workshop while I work.”

There’s no other better way to say this - Law loses his total cool for a second; he looks down at you, unknowing how to react. “But that’s not sanitary—”

“I have a million things to do, and your submarine, albeit not your doing, wasn’t one of them until now. So you gotta give me some flexibility here - I’m in high demand.”

You grin childishly as Law gawks at you - it seems like he’s not going to argue any further. Good, you think to yourself, mentally rubbing your hands together in glee.

Then, your grin widens even further as you eye the weapon that sparkles in his fingers. A second finger rolls from beneath your thumb, the excitement evident in your voice.

“Secondly, you let me play with your sword.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Silver Sands P2

Media - American Housewife Character - Oliver Otto (Bisexual Oliver) Couple - Oliver X ROC Reader - (Requested OC) Junie May Rating - 16 / 17 Word Count - 1366

Oliver followed Junie into the quaint cottage, its exterior covered in a weathered gray clapboard. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar atmosphere. The small living space was adorned with soft blue walls, while nautical artwork, striking paintings of sailboats, and framed antique maps hung elegantly. Scattered around the room were various trinkets, like seashells and handwoven baskets filled with colorful blankets and cushions, all very typical of a coastal rental.

Oliver and Junie made their way upstairs, their footsteps creaking softly on the wooden stairs, which had been polished smooth from years of use. They headed to the familiar room they always shared.

The room was charmingly compact, adorned with soft blue walls accentuated by textured seashells. A single small window, perfectly positioned opposite the door, framed a picturesque view of the lighthouse. Beneath the window, a petite bedside table held a whimsical starfish-shaped lamp and it housed the lone outlet.

The two single beds, snugly fitted with barely an inch of space between the table, the beds, and the wall, featured plush, fresh pillows that promised comfort after a long day. Each bed was draped with matching sets of quilted pale blue sheets, adorned with charming prints of seahorses, coral formations, and other marine-inspired motifs, all rendered in a slightly deeper blue that added depth to the bedding.

At the foot of the left bed stood a slender wardrobe, its smooth wooden surface reflecting the soft light, while the foot of the right bed was occupied by a chest of drawers topped with a mirror. Above this, a single light fixture hung in the center of the room.

“I always forget how incredibly… nautical everything is in this house.” Oliver scoffed,

“I think it’s cute,” Junie smiled as she tossed her bag on the right side of the bed,

“I suppose it had a charm,” he nodded, tossing his own bag and sat down, pulling his feet up as there was only really space for one person to walk at a time. “So… uhhh…”

“So?” she laughed, tossed her plaid shirt on the bed and started to unpack,

Which didn’t exactly help Oliver in finding any words, as his eyes just kept flicking between, her ass in the shorts and her boobs in the top. “Ugghh yeah-” he forced himself to shake out of his dirty thoughts, “So, uhhh how have things been with you? I haven’t seen you in forever… and we don’t text that much anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess life kinda gets in the way.” She shrugged, “I suppose things have been pretty simple, nothing to report.”

“Really?” he asked, “Nothing at all? Nothing you think might be a good idea to tell me?” he asked, looking her up and down,

She laughed, “I guess, something’s changed.” She turned to face him, resting her hand on her hip,

“Yeah, a couple of things.” he chuckled, “I uhh I think you had a bit of a… change.” he nodded, “Either that or you’ve been replaced by some kind of siren.”

“A siren?” she chuckled, putting her clothes away,

“Yeah, maybe you're secretly a sexy little siren pretending to be Junie.” He smirked. “And when I finally snap and give you a cuddle, you’ll smash the window and drag me into the sea.”

“Sexy?” She laughed, “You sure about that?”

“I know what I said.”

“Don’t you think if I was a siren, Oliver?” she asked, “I would have dragged you into the sea when you climbed out of the car?” she asked, smirking, leaning her hands on this bed between his legs.

He gulped, looking up at her, “Yeah… I, uhh, I guess so.”

“I suppose I just kinda… I don’t know, to figure stuff out. Stopped using the same three-in-one shampoo my brothers do, got some cooler frames, and actually bothered to buy clothes somewhere other then K mart.”

He laughed,

“Ohh, come on, like you're the same?” She raised an eyebrow,

“I have always been a well-dressed, well-groomed young man.”

“Yeah, which is why you looked like you could invest in Apple when you were twelve.”

“And I wish I had, I’d be very rich.”

“But even so, come on? No changes?”

“I… matured.” He nodded. “I… I think we both did, We got better with age.”

“Like fine wines,” she cooed. “So? What have you been up to?” She asked, going back to her unpacking.

“Not much.”

“Oh? No fun, Ballet?” she laughed,

“No… I stopped.”

“Why?” she whined,

He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders a little, “Ohh uhh, you know the usual stuff, more time for preparing applications.”

“Ooohhh, for Harvard?”

“Yeah, that’s the aim.” he nodded. “Or a fellow Ivy.”

“You’ve always said that,” she smiled, “You’ve been saying that since you were tiny.”

He scoffed, “I know, it’s not as easy now as it was when we were little.”

“The world has changed,” she nodded,

“What about you?”

She shrugged. “Just the normal stuff.”

“Come on, nothing cool?”

“Nope, work and prep.” She nodded. “Building the portfolio with everything they want.”

“You have any plans for where yet or just-”

“Wherever will take me, I guess,” she laughed,

“You’ll get in somewhere amazing! I know it. You’re drawings are amazing,” he smiled, “Always have been.”

“Oh, even my old stick figures you used to collect?”

“I have a bunch of signed and dated Junie originals. When you are a big and famous artist, I will be sitting on a small fortune.”

“In stick figures? And awful perspective trees?”

“They are signed and dated. They will be worth millions.” he nodded. “Besides, I’m gonna have loads of your pieces, I have to make sure I have at least one of each of your collections.”

She laughed tossing her bag under the bed, “I know, I know. Our crayon contract is still legally binding.”

“Exactly! You get a high-value sale, which will drive up all your art’s value, and I get to keep my millions in assets rather than cash to avoid tax.”

“Yeah, every April, I’ll get a call, Hey Junie, I need to write off six million on my taxes this year; send me over some art, and I’ll get it appraised at that to donate to a museum.”

“And we all win,” he smirked,

“But no work this week.”

“No? Not even some cute seaside pictures?”

“Nope. Just fun!” She smiled, jumping to sit in Oliver’s lap for a hug. “Just fun this week … with you.”

Oliver’s eyes went wide, his body freezing up, blood rushing south immediately! He grabbed her hips out of pure panicked reaction. His eyes fluttered a couple of times in shock at being so close to her and having her chest pressed against his own. Like yeah! Junie used to sit on Oliver’s lap all the time when they were kids! He coughed and shook himself out of his dirty imagination and smiled at her, “Yeah, just fun. With you,” he agreed, his eyes absentmindedly flicking down to her lips, his smile growing so wide and his face flushing a deep crimson, “I- I really have missed you, Junie.”

“I did too,” she cooed, rubbing her nose on his like they used to when they were kids,

A strange silence enveloped them, hanging in the air like a soft blanket. It was a little awkward, the kind of stillness that often leaves one searching for words, yet it was also infused with an unexpected warmth that made them both feel at ease. The subtle crashing of the waves outside punctuated the quiet, while the gentle scent of their similar cologne and perfume lingered between them.

“So? You wanna unpack?” Junie asked, breaking their silence,

“Ohh ughhh yeah, I’ll I uhh I’ll unpack now.” Oliver stuttered,

She nodded, climbing off his lap and sitting cross-legged on her bed,

Oliver stood and unzipped his bag to start unpacking.

“And maybe this year, can you not steal all the hot water in the shower?”

“I did not! Taylor did! It was cold when I got in there!” He protested, “Ohh! And this year, no matter how much you beg, you’re cold. You are not climbing into my bed to use me for warmth.”

“We’ll see.” she nodded,

He playfully glared at her, even if he… maybe did kinda want her sneaking into his bed for a cuddle this year.

[call-sign-shark]

From @mischievouslittlecreature, because I accidentally deleted the question: Since we agreed on Lucy and Tommy's wedding taking place while Amos and Hev are still together, what was Amos' reaction to it? (we all know that Heavenerys was delighted and rooted for them)

words: 1k

The hall was alive with celebration, its vaulted ceilings, from which luxurious chandeliers hung, echoing with laughter and music. 

Candles flickered warmly, keeping the threatening shadows away from the various lords and ladies who were gathered here for Prince Thomaryon Targaryen and Lady Lucy Bolton-Tully’s wedding. Despite the political mess their sudden elopement stirred in Westeros, especially with the House Lannister, the air of King’s Landing was filled with joy. Plus, who would have been suicidal enough to impede this union while the Queen herself rooted for it? 

At the very center of the room stood the two newlyweds surrounded by some guests, both resplendent in their wedding finery but the most precious jewels they wore was their beaming smile. The tiny fury, with hair as fierce as Syndor’s fire styled in a complex intrication of braids, was hugging Thomaryon’s arm, pressing it against her breasts. Admittedly, they had to hide their scorching love for so long that public demonstration of affection felt a bit odd, and yet, the cold Prince quickly jump on the occasion of showing off his Nordic beauty and display that she was his and only his. Partly to annoy Victor Bolton, whose frown was so noticeable one might thought he wasn’t attending his daughter’s wedding but her a funeral — though it seemed he would be less pained by her death than by her marriage to that Targaryen bastard. But no matter how pleasant getting under his father in law’s skin was, the real reason why Tom refused to leave her side for one sole second was because his entire being yearned for her.

Never ever would their passion be kept between the walls of the room. Never ever would their acquaintances try to push them in someone else’s bed. 

Amos Bolton loomed at the edge of the crowd, his presence offering a chilling contrast to the warmth and joy around him. Draped in black as always, his face was carved from ice, freezing and stern, and his ink-black eyes flicked with disdain toward his cousin. Lucy. The troublemaker. The thorn in his side who, by marrying a Targaryen and not some random little lord, had rendered herself untouchable. Absentmindedly, the tall darkness covered the top of his glass with his hand, silently telling the servant that he didn’t want any alcohol without looking at him while his mind mulled over how far the days when he could manipulate Lucy with the threat of exposing her secrets were gone. 

Feeling bitter and still resenting her for trying to keep Heavenerys from him, Amos’ free hand instinctively and possessively tightened around the delicate waist of the queen, his wife of many years. A Queen who stood beside him with an amused smile at the sight of Lucy playfully smearing a bit of cake on Tom’s salient cheekbone. To everyone, Heavenerys was a radiant contrast to his shadowy figure with her long white hair glinting like the moonlight, her very revealing silver dress and her shortness. 

The sudden sensation of her husband’s fingers digging into her flesh tore her from her reverie. Glancing up at him, she tilted her head to the side, her glowing blue eyes shining with affection he definitely didn’t deserve.  “Amos,” She dared ask, her soft voice incredibly gently for she was testing his mood, “Would you dance with me?”

The tall darkness turned to her, the expression on his face unfathomable. For a moment, he said nothing and stared at her, his mind still buzzing, bitterly preoccupied with Lucy’s defiance. Yet, the mesmerizing Queen’s hopeful ice-fire eyes managed to tame his demons.  

“Please, my king?” She barely whispered and yet, her siren voice boomed louder in his ears than the music itself as if it was all his attention focused on. Something slowly shifted in his strong chest, a warmth breaking through his ice. A bright burning star shooing the shadows away.  Amos’ tense shoulders relaxed a little as he looked at his wife — his only love — who, somehow, made his cruelty seem less monstrous in the light of her adoration. 

“As you wish, little dragon.” He finally said, his voice low and quiet even though his hand slid from her waist to rest gently, but still jealously, at the small of her back. Wasting no time, the tall darkness led her to the center of the hall, the crowd immediately parting as the fearsome Amos Bolton and his luminous queen took their place on the dancing side of the room. The music swelled and Amos, who was usually rigid and unyielding, allowed himself to publicly soften, at least for a moment, just for her and even though he didn’t particularly liked dancing, their steps moved in harmony, with her delicate hand lost in the firmness of his. Heavenerys, carried away by this moment of pure peace, smiled at him with sparkles of happiness in her eyes. Something that hadn’t happened in a while. The black-eyes lord let out a long exhale through his nostrils — For her he could be this man, he thought. A man who danced, who held her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to humanity.  Keeping him a little bit sane. And surely it was the case, but something was rotten in him and no matter how much he hated to admit it he knew it was the truth. He was just… painted it black. 

It was stronger than his will, devouring him from the inside. That thing that whispered to murder Samwell Tyrell’s children to him when he was only 13. That same thing that almost pushed him to poison both Lucy and Thomaryon, slaughtering them the day of their marriage, had he been truly senseless. 

By the time the song ended, Amos sighed for he found himself unwilling to let Heavenerys go. To be fair, he could have stayed relaxed, even enjoy the rest of the wedding if, over the Queen’s shoulder, his pitch black eyes hadn’t caught a flicker of movement. Lucy Targaryen twirled across the floor, her hand firmly held by Thomaryon,  who’d probably rather die than let her go. They were laughing, Lucy’s bright and delighted smile cutting through the air. 

When their eyes met, the redhead offered him a little smirk and a knowing, taunting look that told him the following: What will you do now, cousin?

As the rage triggered by the unpleasant feeling of control slipping from his fingers flashed in his eyes, his grip on Heavenerys’ hand became too firm — the queen let out a little “aouch” in reply before lightly touching his arm  to calm him now that she noticed he was drowning in his inner turmoil again, “What is troubling you, my king?” She inquired, worried. 

“Nothing, light of my life,” His lips curled into a dangerously charming grin, “Nothing.”  He held Heavenerys close, his jaw tightening as Lucy’s smirk reminded him that some battles couldn’t be fought with swords.

notes: I know you didn't ask for a full one-shot but Lucy and Amos' relationship is really inspiring!

AU family: @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @shelbydelrey @cillmequick @evita-shelby @novashelby @darklydeliciousdesires @peakyswritings @wonderlanddreamer

[soul-mates-podcast]

What the hell why is Draped Murmurs Kaguyahime actually good? Which means something coming from me, a noted Dripping Glamour hater. The composition the colors the lovingly rendered fabric this image is SO much. Incredible artistic skill on display, carefully chosen to delight the senses and lead your eye to one of the least compelling asses ever depicted by a mahjong gacha game. Their art direction has gone so far the "eroticism means nothing left to the imagination" dead end that a single square inch of tush hidden from the viewer is an unacceptable reduction in Sexy Metrics. The latest unrealistic beauty standards for women: must have incompressible plastic glutes and thighs; able to sit sexily on the head of a pin. Where's the eros in that? Poor Kaguyahime, reduced to just another tragic victim of barbie ass. They've been pulling this shit for like a year and I hate it Every Damn Time

also the lighting on her left boob makes it look like a separately 3D-rendered cylinder that's been awkwardly stuck into the flat uniformly-lit plane of her chest

ONE OF THE LEAST COMPELLING ASSES EVER DEPICTED BY A MAHJONG GACHA GAME

anyway, yes, i feel like i'll derail the podcast if i go off too hard on how much the art direction has been moving in this awful unsexy direction for fully a year. but at least there are lights in the darkness. leia...

[astarionsilverbough]

Prompt: Halstarion making up after a fight? 👉👈🥺

OH Y E S OH YES YES YES this even fits with the last chapter of tlogm omg

It's a stolen scene; something glancing and far less dramatic than anyone might expect of Astarion Ancunin.

Because after they've taken out Nere and Astarion's recovered from Gale's latest close call, Halsin is catching Astarion's arm as the others move to make camp in a ruined wing of the forge they've found themselves in.

The vampire halts and shoots Halsin a look he's not yet used to. He releases Astarion's arm immediately - he'll not be another monster that bruises him, never, he'd die first - but steps closer and is relieved when Astarion doesn't step back or growl.

"I wanted to apologize."

Astarion blinks. "For... what? Gale? He did that to me, not you."

"No - for the... our disagreement prior to heading this way," Halsin says. Astarion's narrowed eyes blow wide open.

"The -" he glances around; finding that they're finally alone, Astarion steps close and splays his hands over Halsin's belly. "Darling. Please. That was - that was nothing. A trifle."

But it's all bluster and charade; he's always been a natural at it, a charlatan charmer like no other Halsin had ever encountered. Beneath Astarion's flippant tone and easy expression is the energy of an animal about to bite and run.

Slowly, carefully, like he's approaching an animal about to bite and run, Halsin frames Astarion's waist in big hands and murmurs, "I know you, Astarion - and I do not fear you. Nor do I look at you and see anything but the man I've always known."

Astarion's sunset eyes search his own. Halsin gazes right back into those burning irises and prays he finds the truth he's looking for.

"I was incredibly selfish, disagreeing with you about this little rescue," Astarion states.

"Selfish? You didn't ask to be dragged into every interpersonal conflict in Faerun," Halsin chuckles. "You've got a tadpole in your head and we're planning to hurtle headlong into the Shadow-Cursed lands. A detour was... risky. And entirely my impulse to fix every problem I come across."

Astarion steps back - but not out of any want to escape. He steps back and stares shrewdly up at Halsin, eyes narrowed and brow knit tight.

"You're disturbingly self-aware," the vampire says wryly. "You always have been."

"A hard-won trophy, earned only through the slow learning of difficult lessons," Halsin states.

Astarion folds his arms over his chest. "I don't care about the slaves," he says next.

"I never asked you to, love."

"You're not... upset? Disappointed?"

Halsin shrugs. "You've never been one for charity," he says earnestly. "You're a man driven by vengeance, passion. Not heroism. Now, should the slaves have perished, I know you'd be first in line to avenge them. I'm... just the one who prevents the need."

And now, he's done it: rendered Astarion speechless. The vampire gapes at him for a beat, then splutters a faint "well," before he purses his lips, ears growing pink as his words fail him entirely.

Halsin bows to kiss his brow. Slowly, inch by inch, Astarion's shoulders climb down from his jaw. He relaxes first in Halsin's presence and then his arms, body draped against the sturdy plain of the druid's own.

"You've a beautiful heart, Astarion," Halsin says against his ear. "I've always known it. Vengeance is necessary in this world, and you carry it like you were born to it."

"Oh, well," Astarion manages, "now you're just flattering me."

Halsin can't help the grin that spreads over his face as Astarion fiddles with the lacing of his leather jerkin, fingers flying over the broad expanse of Halsin's chest. He's blushing properly now and all Halsin can do is smile.

Clearing his throat, Astarion straightens up and primly says, "your apology is accepted, then. Now - would you - ah. Would you perhaps like to join me in my tent? Not for anything untoward, mind. I... Find myself struggling with the concept of being very far from you at the present moment, and -"

Halsin cuts him off with a kiss. Astarion melts in his arms and stays there.

All told, it's far gentler a mending than anyone might've thought possible of Astarion Ancunin.

But then, very few knew him as well as Halsin.

[redroomroaving]

Last Six Lines

I was tagged by the wonderful and incredibly talented @graysparrowao3 - thank you Gray!

I've not been super well so writing has been a liiiiil slow, but here's a last six lines from the upcoming chapter of 'Conductor, Ringmaster' (Klaus x Kar'niss)

No pressure tags for @darkurgetrash, @ankhegs-in-my-salad, @lemonsrosesandlavender @theycallmeratt and @cactusmisslittle

Don’t let him wake up alone. He rose to his feet, and straightened. Then he turned and, carefully, climbed up the edge of the crates and boxes. He stepped over to the edge where Kar’niss was draped across it - one arm stretched over the pillows, his head resting there with pale curls pooled about him. Klaus lowered himself down slowly - trying not to jostle as he went, resting himself down amongst the pillows across from him so he could look at him. He looked almost peaceful now; the exhaustion, Estrella’s spell having so effectively rendered him unconscious that perhaps, just for this time, his mind was for once truly empty.

[call-me-maggie13]

The first thing Ava recognizes is the bitter metallic taste in the back of her throat and the sharp cold of antiseptic filling her lungs. She’s both far too cold and much too warm.

The next thing Ava recognizes is the pain radiating from the base of her skull, dancing bright lights behind her eyes. When she reaches for it something tugs in her arm and she hisses and tries to pull at whatever is tethering her there.

That’s when she notices the third thing, a gentle warmth in the palm of her hand. It’s soft and firm at the same time. She squeezes around the feeling and it squeezes back.

"Hey." Her cheek is brushed across and she leans into it, her eyes flickering open for less than a second before she yelps and screws them closed at the lightning bolt that flashes down her spine. "Easy, easy. Take your time."

She doesn’t respond before she’s pulled back into the deep lull of sleep, dark and safe, like coming home after a long trip.

The next time she tries to open her eyes, the first thing she sees is Beatrice, hand tangled with hers and arm draped across Ava’s legs, her head resting beside her lap. She’s sleeping hunched over in an incredibly uncomfortable looking hospital chair, her breath warm across the top of Ava’s hand. Ava tries to tuck the single curl that always falls across Beatrice’s nose behind her ear, but her fingers are stiff and she can’t get them to move the way she wants. She frowns and settles on wiggling her knee to gently jostle Beatrice awake.

"Hey," Ava croaks, cringing at the dry tightness in her throat. Beatrice shoots out of the chair sending it clattering to the floor behind her.

"You’re awake." Beatrice cups her face, rubs her thumbs over Ava’s cheeks. "Oh, thank god. You’re awake."

"Whaaa - "Ava rasps, trying to swallow to ease the ache in her throat.

"You’re okay. You were really sick, hang on." Beatrice reaches across her, clicks the call button, and smooths Ava’s hair. "They explained it all to me but I wasn’t paying attention."

A noise somewhere between a strangled groan and a choked whimper spills into the air between them when she tries to sit up, Beatrice presses lightly into her shoulder and leads her back down.

"Wait, the doctor will explain everything. You’re okay."

Ava takes a moment to investigate the room, eyes scanning every surface. The room swims around her, her chest heaving around the frozen chill in her lungs.

"Hey, look at me. You’re okay." Ava shakes her head and Beatrice’s face falls for a moment before her eyes flicker with understanding. "Diana’s okay, she’s with Shannon and Mary."

Ava relaxes, allows Beatrice to ease her back into the bed. She has so many questions, she’s so confused and her head hurts and she doesn’t know what’s going on. But she has Beatrice. Beatrice wouldn’t let anything bad happen. Ava knows that to be true.

For now, that’s enough.

The nurse asks about fifteen-hundred questions that Ava barely answers, if she does at all, instead finding herself more confused than anything. Her neck is stiff and achy and creaks when she tries to move it. Her vision swims and lags if she turns her head too fast, like a video game with poor rendering.

"You were very ill, Miss Silva, do you understand that?" The doctor sounds concerned more than patronizing, despite his phrasing. Ava nods. "You had something we call toxic shock syndrome, a form of blood poisoning, from untreated strep throat, have you been around anyone sick recently?"

Hans. He’d left early on Wednesday and called out on Thursday. Of course, Hans would be the person to put her in the hospital. It was only a matter of time, truly. He almost drops a paint can on her head last month and now he’s giving her blood poisoning. What an asshole.

The doctor continues speaking after she nods, but she doesn’t know what he’s saying. He sounds like the old tape deck rewinding in the activity room at the orphanage, the sound too fast and in the wrong order. It twists the volume up on the buzzing in her head.

"Maybe," Beatrice’s voice pulls her back to the surface, her smile eases the tightness in her chest. "Maybe we can finish this conversation later, doctor. Give Ava the opportunity to get her wits about her?"

"Right, yes. Of course. I’ll be back later to discuss treatment options." Beatrice nods and he turns to leave.

Ava squeezes Beatrice’s fingers, willing her to hear the words she can’t force through the thickness in her throat.

"One last thing, doctor." The man pauses with his hand on the doorknob when Beatrice speaks. "Can she see her daughter?"

The two second pause is infinitely too long.

"I don’t see why she can’t. Just for a few minutes."

Ava smiles brightly, nods when the doctor fixes her with a pointed look.

Shannon doesn’t knock, she opens the door with a small wave and Diana babbling nonsensically in her arms. Shannon turns her to face Ava and Diana pitches herself forward with her arms outstretched for her mother, Beatrice barely manages to catch her before she tumbles out of Shannon’s arms. Ava lunges for her, the sudden movement slushing her stomach and blinding her with a bright flash.

Shannon thrusts a bedpan under Ava’s head to catch the vomit before it splashes over her blanket. She and Beatrice share a look, communicating silently in a way only sisters can. Shannon rubs a circle in Ava’s back and holds her hair out of the bowl, patting intermittently until Ava’s stomach settles.

"Here." Shannon eases her upright, leads her gently back into the pillow, tucking the blanket back around Ava’s stomach. "She’s okay, take it easy." Ava tries to sit back up and reaches for Diana. Shannon sighs and presses her shoulders back into the pillow. "Easy, easy, let Bea bring her to you."

Beatrice moves when she hears her name, stepping up beside the bed and easing Diana into Ava’s lap. Diana crumples into Ava’s chest, curls into a little ball and grips a tiny fist around the front of her gown. Ava’s heart lurches and staggers, she wants nothing more than to cradle her but she feels like her insides have been scooped out and run through a blender then put back it wrong. Her arms are jerky and uncoordinated and she knows by the way Beatrice’s face falls for just a flicker of a second that it’s at least as bad as she thinks it is.

"May I help?" Beatrice is soft and breathy, her fingers dancing gently over Ava’s forearm to her wrist. Ava nods and Beatrice leads her arms delicately around Diana, her palm lingers on Ava’s elbow before she pulls back.

Ava hates it. She can’t even hold her own daughter.

"Ava," Beatrice brushes over Ava’s cheek, collects her tear under the pad of her thumb. "You just had brain surgery, okay? It’s not time to worry yet. We can worry about it tomorrow."

"She’s right. Focus on Diana right now. Take it easy. It’ll all come back in time."

~*~

It does come back. Slowly. Excruciatingly slowly. It takes two days before Ava can move her arms and legs right. Two days where she has to be helped out of the bed and to the bathroom. Two days where she has to be fed by another person and ask for a sip of water.

Two days where Beatrice has to do literally everything for her.

Beatrice is nothing like Sister Francis, and yet all Ava hears when Beatrice does anything for her is Sister Francis’s voice calling her a burden and a disappointment. She doesn’t want to become a chore to Beatrice.

She can’t become a chore to Beatrice.

"Beatrice." Ava shrugs her arm out of Beatrice’s grasp. "I’m fine. I can do it."

She stumbles forward a step before regaining her balance. Beatrice tries to muffle her sigh, presses her lips into a thin line and watches silently as Ava tumbles to her bed. Ava flops onto the comforter, jerkily yanking it back and shoving herself beneath it. She rolls onto her side, faces the wall away from Beatrice.

"You can go. I can take care of myself."

"Ava, I - "

"I can take care of my kid too. I’m not broken."

The bed shifts behind her, creaking when Beatrice sits on the edge.

"I never said you are broken. I never said you can’t do either of those things, Ava." Beatrice’s palm is warm and soft on Ava’s shoulder, drifting down her back. "You’re tired, you need to sleep. If you still want me to go after you wake up, I will."

She’s gone before Ava can think of a response, the bedroom door thumping closed quietly and muffling the sound of Diana babbling.

Guilt has never been an emotion that Ava’s sat with well. It burbles and churns thick and dark in her gut, twisting through her ribs and squeezing her strangled breaths. Her skin itches and her cheeks burn and her ears ring.

She’s too exhausted to fight it, to force herself out of the bed to apologize, but she doesn’t escape the ache in her dreams.

She doesn’t know where she is, can’t tell up from down from side to side. Thick dark smoke curls around her and chars the insides of her throat and lungs. She can’t breathe, the black seeps into her mouth and drowns her. It bubbles, air pockets floating from her lips into the depths around her, stealing her breath.

She jerks away, trembling.

"Sorry." Beatrice is there, blurry in Ava’s periphery. "I couldn’t tell if you were breathing, I didn’t mean to wake you."

Ava doesn’t mean it, the sob that tears her chest in two, but Beatrice hears it and almost reaches for her. Ava sees it in the flutter of her eyelashes and the twitch across the freckles on her nose, Beatrice wants to reach for her. Groaning, Ava pushes herself upright and holds her arms out for Beatrice.

The hesitation is a fraction of the moment between heartbeats, but it’s there and it shreds Ava’s heart like a paper chain.

"I’m sorry," Ava whispers into Beatrice’s hair, shaky and pitiful and weak. Beatrice tries to respond, but Ava stops her. "I don’t want to be a job for you. I don’t want to be something you take care of because you have to. I’m sorry."

Beatrice pulls away with a deep frown, holding Ava’s face between her hands, she inspects her closely, memorizes the curve of her nose and the curl of her lips and the shimmer of her eyes.

"You’re not a job, Ava. Nor are you a chore. I’m here because I want to be. I must admit, my reasoning isn’t entirely selfless." Ava shakes her head, her mind racing away from her. Beatrice ducks her head so she can maintain eye contact. "I don’t want to let you out of my sight yet. Every time I look away from you, all I can picture is you… you weren’t - I thought you had - I’m sorry."

Ava grimaces, a single tear breaking free of her waterline and racing down her face. She pulls Beatrice into her, tugs her head to rest on her chest while she lays them back down. It’s the opposite of how they normally sleep, Ava’s head almost always resting on Beatrice’s shoulder, her arm thrown across her waist and legs tangled beneath sheets.

"Can you hear?" Her voice quivers and Beatrice pushes herself onto her elbow to meet her eyes. The nod is soft and subtle and Beatrice ducks back into Ava’s chest as the tears start falling.

Diana thumps into the side of the bed, tiny fingers gripping at the bedsheets and trying to pull herself up. Beatrice laughs wetly and helps her climb, steadies her when she tumbles into Ava’s other side.

"Bea-Bea sad?" Diana whispers, tracing the saltwater lines down Beatrice’s cheeks. Beatrice shakes her head and leads Diana down, smiles at her from Ava’s shoulder.

"No, baby. Not anymore." Diana grins and drops her head onto Ava’s arm, tucks herself under her embrace.

"Night-night?" They both nod, Beatrice tracing the side of Diana’s face with her finger, smiling softly when her eyes slide closed.

Beatrice tilts her head up and Ava drags a hand through her hair, scratching at the base of her skull and earning a sigh.

This is easy. This feeling, this moment. It’s easy and it’s big and it’s terrifying. It’s too much and not enough, it’s everything and nothing. It’s right and it’s wrong.

It should be easy.

But Ava’s too scared to let it be.

So she pretends she’s not in love with Beatrice, pretends she doesn’t want this moment to be a regular part of every day, pretends she doesn’t want to kiss her until her lungs give out. She pretends this is a normal moment between friends. Good friends.

Best friends.

And she pretends that’s enough.

~*~

"That’s unfair."

"Is it? Is it unfair that I don’t want you to die, Ava?" Beatrice gets quiet when she’s angry. She doesn’t scream or throw things or slam doors. She whispers and paces and keeps her hands clasped behind her back.

Ava almost wishes she would yell, yelling is easier. This calm, quiet is loud and stifling and makes Ava’s chest ache.

"I’m not going to die, Beatrice." Her full name makes her pause, quirk an eyebrow and tilt her head and face Ava directly. There’s no fire in her eyes.

"You work nights - "

"It pays more. I’ve already told you that. I’m not - "

"I understand, Ava. I do. This isn’t about that. Diana is up during the day, she sleeps while you work. You don’t have time to sleep. When do you sleep?"

"I sleep while she naps, it - "

"That’s not nearly enough sleep, Ava."

"It works for me. Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I have any idea what I’m doing? I’m doing the best I can."

"Exhaustion." Beatrice steps closer, dragging one hand through her hair before returning it behind her back.

"What?"

"That’s why you were so sick. Exhaustion destroyed your immune system. You almost died."

"But I didn’t."

"No, you didn’t. So let’s play the odds and do it again, yes? Let’s see how many days we can go without sleep before we end up in the hospital again. Go ahead and plan your funeral and design your headstone, we’ll be needing them soon." Beatrice inhales sharply like she hasn’t taken a breath in a year, blinks like she doesn’t recognize the words that have just left her own mouth. "I - I can’t do this right now, I apologize."

The door clicks quietly closed behind her, a brief murmur of farewells between Beatrice and Diana before Ava hears the front door close.

Ava slides her back down the wall until she can drop her head against her knees. She gives herself two minutes. Two minutes to fall apart and hate herself before she cleans her face and pretends she’s not holding back tears while she makes Diana a snack.

~*~

They don’t speak. For four days, Beatrice and Ava have no form of communication. It isn’t until Ava is cleared to return to work that the silence breaks.

Ava: i go back 2 work tues can u be here?

Beatrice doesn’t respond. She opens the message and leaves Ava on read. Ava fights back the urge to call her and force an answer. She knows the answer. Beatrice will be here. It doesn’t matter how bad either of them is hurting, Ava knows Beatrice will show up for Diana.

Beatrice will always show up for Diana.

So Ava gives her the space she wants. Pretends it doesn’t break something inside her every time Diana asks for Beatrice.

Ava’s getting very good at pretending.

~*~

Beatrice doesn’t even look at her when she opens the door, she goes straight to Diana and listens to her regaling Beatrice of her kingdom (her dinner) and the army (two pieces of broccoli) encroaching upon it. Diana expresses a deep discontent about the evil broccoli-army, and Beatrice offers her condolences.

She’s early. Almost an entire hour early.

Ava can’t do this for an hour.

"Bea, I - "

"I was - "

They speak together, the corner of Beatrice’s mouth flickering up before she returns stoic.

"You go first." She still doesn’t look up, taking a small bite of the broccoli before offering the rest to Diana.

"Right. Um. I’m sorry." Beatrice looks at her. Finally. Her eyes dark and searching. Waiting. Ava doesn’t have anything else. For the previous two days, Ava has done nothing but rehearse what she would say when she finally saw Beatrice again. Hours and hours of dialogue and explanation and mendicancy. And, out of all the possible things she could have said, I’m sorry is the only thing she has to say. Nothing else matters.

Beatrice deserves better. She deserves someone who can properly express themselves and offer her an apology with honor.

"It’s alright."

"No, it’s - "

"Ava, stop." Her cheeks burn at Beatrice’s tone, sharp and cutting and it steals any response Ava could’ve had. "Let me - let me say this before you - before you - " she sighs and stands, pushes the chair in only to pull it back out and retake it. "Just let me say this."

"Okay." Ava takes the seat across from Beatrice, lays her hands flat on the surface of the table and waits for her to collect her thoughts.

"I was being unfair. You were right. But…" Beatrice chews on her thumbnail. "Diana needs you. You almost died. You could have died, Ava. Full stop. You could have died and Diana needs you. Alive. She needs her mother.

"And I - do you know what it was like for me to find you like that? It was… I thought my best friend was dead. I thought I was too late, that you were gone and that - Ava, that broke me. That was - it was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.

"I understand that you’re trying to make it work, that you’re just trying to provide for Diana but what happens if you get sick again? What would’ve happened to her if you had died? What then?" Beatrice is trying not to cry, she keeps stopping to take a deep breath and her hands are clasped together in her lap so Ava can’t see them shake. She knows she’s not making much sense, she knows her thoughts are scattered and she’s not communicating as eloquently as she would like to.

"You’re right. I’m sorry." Beatrice sighs heavily and turns away, watching Diana tear her last piece of broccoli apart and roar while she smashes it into her plate. Diana giggles while she shoves the mush into her mouth and grins crookedly at Beatrice.

"I don’t - never mind." She worries her thumbnail between her teeth again, tearing at the cuticle until it bleeds.

"No, say it, Bea. You don’t what?" Ava isn’t sure she wants to know when Beatrice meets her gaze. She has the look of someone who has lived a million years and only known heartbreak, her heart shattered and ground and melted into glass just to be shattered and ground and melted again.

"I don’t want to lose you. Yes, Diana needs you, but I do too." A single tear drips on the table between them and Beatrice stands, takes a half step back. "Damnit. I need you, Ava."

"So can you just - Can you not die on me?"

Beatrice was never a pacer. She was raised to be composed, still. Invisible. Excess movement was a distraction, and distraction was unacceptable.

Then she met Ava. Fluid, kinetic Ava. She’s always in motion, even when she’s still. She buzzes about the edges, bouncing and bumbling. Ava fidgets.

Beatrice does not fidget.

It makes Ava uneasy, the steady back and forth, the line Beatrice is carving into six linoleum tiles. One way then the other and back again.

"I - Bea, can - can I just - " Ava follows her, fingers brush against the inside of Beatrice’s elbow. Beatrice pauses, turns to her and waits. "Fuck, I wasn’t actually expecting that to work. Just - give me a second, hang on."

Beatrice smiles, soft and warm and patient.

"Okay. Thanks. I’m going to start thinking now." It earns a chuckle and a head shake. Beatrice frees Diana from her high chair and watches her dance into the living room, following her and leaning against the doorframe. She’s still tuned in to Ava, tilted slightly to her and waiting, but she cheers when Diana builds a block tower and knocks it over.

"It - okay. I - fuck, this is terrifying."

"What?" Beatrice turns back to her, tucks her hands under her arms.

"I've never had someone who would stay." Ava wants to sink to the floor, her throat aches and her chest is heavy. "It’s always been me. Just me. I’ve always had to take care of myself. And - and Diana. And I - I don’t know what to do. I don’t… fuck. I don’t know how to do this."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Beatrice holds her hand out, Ava takes it.

"Okay. We’ll figure it out. Together." Together. Together.

Together.

"My classes are over for the semester, I can stay with Diana during the day and you can switch to day shifts and we’ll figure it out when classes start back up. We’ll take it one step at a time. One day, one minute, one second at a time. As long as it takes, Ava. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

No, she’s not. Beatrice is honest and kind and she will stay. No matter what.

Beatrice will stay.

Ava is certain of it.

Find more here!

[sc0rpiflow3r]

Snippet for Disrupted Allegiances 🖤

I can't resist, can I?

Here’s a snippet from Bellatrix's chapter in Disrupted Allegiances (there are still two chapters about Andromeda).

The Black Sisters are fantastic <3

In this one, Bella meets Voldemort (it's been so incredible writing about them, they're completely insane and unhinged)

(---)

“Dark Lord,” she announced, bowing deeply.

The shop was eerily silent, and he was behind the counter, leafing through a book with an almost reverent grace.

A shiver of both dread and exhilaration coursed down her spine, and Bellatrix understood why he inspired such profound fear.

He was not as physically imposing as Rodolphus – he was tall and slim, with a lean, but strong build.

Yet, his presence was charged with a magical potency that manifested as a thick, almost palpable aura of darkness – it was intoxicating.

She felt as though she were drunk on power, intoxicated by the sheer force of his dark magic. His very being exuded a captivating malignancy that rendered her helplessly entranced, unable to look away.

It was like the Samhain sacrifices, when the veil between the living and the dead grows so thin that one can almost touch the spirits of ancient power.

He was an embodiment of that thin boundary, a living paradox of awe and terror.

He seemed almost otherworldly, too potent to be real.

Lord Voldemort was a force beyond comprehension, a magical sovereign reigning over his realm.

A Dark King, draped in shadows and commanding reverence. His power was a potent elixir, intoxicating and dangerous.

He was a ruler of darkness, a master of the arcane, casting a spell of fascination and dread over all who dared to approach.

Every glance he cast was like a caress of ancient magic – cruel, beautiful, and utterly enthralling.

His presence was an enigma, a consuming vortex of dark magnificence that left her breathless and captivated.