#aksjdhdksjd

[mrsackermannx]

omg has anyone listened to this on Spotify im smiling like an idiot as I walk to class and listen to this, it’s a goofy interview with denji and akis va omg aksjdhdksjd

@meownotgood !!!

[parkerlyn]

How would the ROs feel about an MC that’s always complimenting them in a genuine manner, even for the smallest of things?

Ahhhh somft 🥺 Haven’t done one of these in ages so please forgive the rust on these drabbles askdjfkd (still working on the art prompts slowly in the background)

Written in the early dating phase, thank you for the ask! ❤️

The Healer: "You're amazing."

The Healer laughs, bright and clear, while they bring their hand down from the shelf. "I think I'm just tall in this case."

"Tall and amazing."

“Yeah, alright.” A chuckle echoes through their chest as they hand you the jar with a smile. 

Cool glass greets your fingers, but when you try to open the preserved fruits you’re met with the unbreakable hold of the sealed lid. The metal slides under your grip at another attempt, still not budging, the only evidence of your effort in the pain at your palm.

You sigh and hand it back to them, and they twist it open with an infuriatingly quick 'pop' before handing it back to you.

“Tall and amazing and the best jam jar opener,” you state matter-of-factly as you happily take the jar back. The syrupy sweet smell of honey and peaches accompanies another round of the Healer’s laughter.

“You did most of the work,” they say in assurance before a mischievous smile works its way over their mouth. “But are there any other small things you want done? I’m starting to get used to this string of compliments and I’m kind of curious how many you can remember in a row.”

Leaning the jar against your lips, you hum. “You don’t have to do anything, I can make that list on my own.”

A quirked eyebrow joins in from the Healer as they let you mull over your thoughts.

“Tall and amazing and the best jam jar opener, the best Healer, the best hugger-” They laugh. “-the most genuine, most gorgeous, the best laugh and eyes-haver-” They snort at your phrasing but the eyes in question narrow over their rising cheeks, smile spreading wider as they hold their hand up.

“Okay, yes, thank you, my ego is never coming back down, going to be grinning for days,” they babble back and hold their hand out for you to take as they lean against the counter. With a step forward, you gently place the jar on the wood surface before letting your fingers smooth over their outstretched palm, hands turning downward to intertwine together while you take another step closer.

True to their statement, the smile never leaves, and they bring their free hand up to brush a thumb over your cheek and down the soft skin by your ear.

“My turn to shower you with compliments about all the things I like about you?”

Your eyes close against the touch. “Do tell.” 

A soft exhale follows their thumb as they turn your head to the side.

“Actually, maybe I can show you.” 

The Sage: When you remark on how wonderful they are, there’s the briefest widening around their hazel eyes as the glow from their face fades. But it morphs instantly into a polite and measured “Thank you” while they carefully close their book. Formal and stilted, but not uncomfortable. 

It takes a few more trips of you hovering around the Archival Library to observe that this is their default. Mask on, manners sharp, neutral in all ways, in case the compliments have an ulterior moment.

There’s a pang of sadness in the realization.

A sudden determination carries into your steps, your previous reasons (or excuses) for being in the Library all but forgotten as you march your way to where you last saw the Sage. They hear you coming first, tilting their head upward and letting an excited smile slip through their professionalism.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were still-”

“You’re amazing.”

They gape, blinking, mouth trying to lure a response from their throat. 

You continue before they can refasten their formality.

“And lovely, and stunning, and more brilliant than all the stars in the sky.”

With your added barrage of compliments, their mask seems unable to be placed properly, and they slowly reshelve the book in their hands with their face turned. It takes an awfully long time, you notice, their hand tapping the top of the book’s spine once it’s settled, with a few more pats down its length for good measure despite the already snug fit.

When even they realize that shuffling their fingers over the book is redundant at this point, they let their wrist fall and tap a quick rhythm against the bookshelves.

“I’m not sure I can hold a candle to you but-”

They let it loose now. The delight, the happiness, the quiet exhilaration at your words. They almost raise a hand to their mouth to try and stifle the soft smile, but decide to let it shine outward as their eyes crinkle into a blissful, serene joy.

Instead of trying to restrain their expression, they wrap their fingers around your hand, pulling you closer and a few steps farther between the corridor of volumes. You let them lead you, let them turn and raise your hand to their lips, let them place a fleeting, secretive kiss against your knuckles before dark hazel meets your eyes.

It comes as a whisper. No caution or apprehension. All tenderness and adoration. 

“Thank you.”

Oisein: You can’t help the out-of-place comment, admiring Oisein’s glowing freckles as they scrunch up their nose over a particularly stubborn scuff on one of their leather bracers.

They look to you as the sweet words slip out. At first with an almost fearful shock, until they compose themselves with a breath and an arched brow.

“Alright then, what’re you after?”

“What?”

A smirk twists the corner of their mouth, eyes narrowing and darkened. “Complimenting me while I’m making the most unattractive face I can muster over some rancid bracers? What is it, yours need fixing? You break something? Piss off the Magesmith again?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t take that job from you."

“Good. I’d be devastated.” Oisein gives an exaggerated ‘phew’ with a swipe of their hand over their forehead, light laughter quickly following. Jokes aside, they lay the bracer down and fold their arms. “But really, what’s this about?"

You lift your face from your palm, the weight easing from your elbow on the table. “Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful.”

After a hesitant pause, they make the same face from before, face twisting and freckles shifting on their cheeks as they scratch below an antler. Flickering light spasms through their pointed ears and down their neck, and they curse under their breath. Hands fly to cover their exposed markings, glowing gleefully regardless of their permission.

Their voice comes out a murmur.

“Should’ve grabbed my earring, I can usually hide that, damned things...” they trail off before taking a few steps toward you, that familiar smirk starting to curl through their lips. “Maybe I just need some practice?”

You lean back into your palm and feel the corner of your mouth lifting to match their expression while they close the gap between you, step by fluid step. Lavender eyes bore into yours as they settle their weight against the table, lifting a knuckle to trace from the base of your ear, along your jawline, down below your chin.

A slight pressure raises your face as they lean forward with a whisper on their tongue.

“Tell me again.”

Despite the many chances they have, nothing seems to be able to mute the light cascading from their skin.

The Magesmith: They scoff at your compliment, brushing it aside with the soot from their work, and go back to fumbling with the bits of metal in front of them.

You frown. "I mean it."

Their eyes flash between red and pink. "You don't have to do that."

“What?”

“Do the-” they wave the small tweezers in their hands in your general direction and sigh. “-the thing. You don’t have to always compliment me or do the cutesy talk and-”

“Can I not just compliment you?”

“No.”

The frown pulls further at your mouth. “Why not?”

A sigh sags through their shoulders as they put the tools down and run a hand through their hair. Auburn loosens from the hold of their headband and covers their eyes before their fingers pinch together at the bridge of their nose. Their lips press into a thin line, jaw set, fingers sliding down the side of their face to scratch softly at their chin before they wrap their hands around their neck.

When they don't respond, you continue.

"I'm not just doing a thing because I feel like I have to, if that’s what you’re thinking," you start quietly. "And I have it on good authority that I'm just stating facts when it comes to how incredible you are."

Another scoff sounds at your conclusion, though this one seems tinged with another emotion. Worry settles in your gut when you read the disgust on their face until you realize it's something else.

Embarrassment.

And a swirl of color that reaches the tips of their ears.

You grin.

"You're sure you don't-"

"Don't say it. You don’t have to- ugh," The response is curt as they turn away, reaching to busy their hands with their tools again, hiding their eyes and twisting something in their arm.

But the vibrant smile that breaks through tells you all you need to know.