#and modern day traditional wear too

[avemstella]

I'm sorry I forgot to post this here, Itotia I missed yooooouuuuuu.

This art cracks me up because the left half is confusing to those who only read main fic and right half is confusing to those who only read Venti fic pfft.

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

i've got no fucking clue what i was supposed to learn in math today, but i did learn that i can draw alastor half decently from memory

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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[i-cant-sing]

Baldwin's so damn sweet i keep forgetting that he's supposed to be a yandere lol

Can't wait to see what salauddin is like as a yandere though

Thank u, buff hellokitty

he is such a cutie patootie because you know that niqaab where he embroidered a flower on the sleeve for reader? Guess what else he embroidered in? His name on the inside of the left breast because this way he's closest to your heart.

Honestly Baldwin is such a green flag, i mean this man wakes up and as soon as he's seen you, he gives gold every day to be distributed as charity because he doesnt want you to fall victim to any evil eye (yknow, when people look at you in envy) because in his eyes, youre just too damn perfect.

Did I mention that he needs to have at least 1, if not ALL meals of the day with you? And to melt your heart a little more, Baldwin ensures that you take the first and the last bite of his meal (ofc from his hands. He likes to feed you)

As for Salauddin, well he hosts you two a lot at his place and he pretends to be so disgusted at the way Baldwin looks at u with goo goo eyes, but boy is the Kurdish man JEALOUS because ayo why tf is Baldwin looking so fucking content whenever he's with you? Why does Baldwin's smile and eyes remind him of cool breeze in summer when he looks at you? You cannot possible be that beautiful. But how would Salauddin know for sure because you want to always wear a niqaab and hide your face because "Islam and respecting his traditions" but he knows for a fact that you dont adhere to veiling yourself when you return to jerusalem. His spies told him, and on his inquiry they did tell him that youre not that pretty.

Maybe its the way you talk. You do have the gift of gab and you do tell the most interesting stories. And he does enjoy listening to your religious views too. Youre not- not as conservative as someone would be when they possess such a vast amount of Islamic knowledge- almost as much as his scholars and sufis. No, youre quite... modern, open minded. You really do believe in their being "two sides of the coin". And youre quiet the chess player too and from his last game, it was clear that you werent playing the game... you were playing him.

He doesnt know how, but he for some reason Salauddin knows that you will hurt Baldwin very deeply one day. And it scares him a bit because he doesnt know how the young king will react. He's seen Baldwin on the battlefield, he's seen the way he treats traitors, you do not want to get on his bad side.

Meanwhile Baldwin is just trying to convince Salauddin to be Imam (basically a muslim pastor?) to officiate their nikkah and Salauddin is just telling him shut up.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬

ceo!sukuna x secretary!reader, modern au

tags: degradation, daddy kink, sexual indications and language notes: minors dni, listen to "you can be the boss" by lana del rey wc: 1.1k

Once again your Boss, Mr. Sukuna, was staring at you from across the private room at the bar you were drinking. It was almost a tradition that Sukuna invited everyone for a few drinks after an extremely hard day at work. As usual the most beautiful women were seated around him, all of them looking the same – tight pencil skirts and revealing blouses, the only difference being the colors of the said skirts. Yet his eyes were set on you, his secretary.

Feeling pressured, you avert your eyes from him. After all, you weren't blind, your boss was probably one of the most attractive men in the world. Nevertheless, you had resolved never to give yourself to him. Your job was more important than a man whose cock you would love to feel inside you.

There was another point that motivated you to stay away from Sukuna. All the female colleagues hated you. How dare you become his secretary? You. The innocent little mouse who worked in the company for less than three months. Nobody understood why Sukuna chose you out of all the applicants who were eagerly waiting for his acceptance. So engaging in any kind of sexual relationship with your boss would be a death sentence at your workplace.

As your shot glass touched your lips to take another sip, you looked back over at your boss and in that moment your eyes met.

Sukuna was able to get any woman he wanted and he would also be able to get any woman in general. He knew exactly what power he had over women. You, however, were still under his spell, still clinging to some irrelevant moral values. You were a challenge to him and he loved challenges.

Normally, secretaries always sat next to their bosses, but you always occupied the seat furthest away from him and out of sight. This time you were far away, but right at the other end of the table, giving him the perfect view.

Sukuna took in every little detail of your appearance. Your freshly washed hair, tied back in a neat braid. Oh, how he would love to take that hair in his hand and pull it while he thrusts into you from behind. Making you scream and beg for his cock to reach deeper into your clenching little pussy. A loose blouse was buttoned up to the neck, but Sukuna knew exactly what you looked like in tight clothes. After all, your Instagram was public. It would be so easy to stand up and rip off your blouse to take your big tits into his mouth.

"Mr. Sukuna, sir, are you listening?", he heard some woman almost begging for his attention. To be honest, he didn't even know what this chick's name was. Everyone was the same in his eyes, desperate. She pressed her chest against her arm, her tits almost falling out of her top. "You look so good in that suit, is it Armani?" He was wearing his best suit today, since he had something special planned. A bloodred suit with a black shirt underneath, he deliberatly left a few buttons unbuttoned. 

“Ms. y/n”, he called out, "You're staying late today. We have something important to discuss." The entire room fell silent. He sounded so serious. The other women beamed with shameful joy, imagining him screaming at you and firing you. He had completely different things playing out in his imagination though.

Blood rushed to up your cheeks as soon as you heard him call your name, his voice deep and husky. “Y-yes, boss.” You would have loved to run away. If you had known that your boss still wanted to talk to you afterwards, you wouldn't have drunk anything. You were already tipsy, doubting your self-control. Alone with Mr. Sukuna in this private room was both dangerous and seductive.

A few hours have passed and everyone has left, everyone except you and Sukuna. As soon as the room was empty you heard your boss's voice “Crawl over.”

“I’m-I’m sorry, what? I…I think I drank too much.”

“I said crawl over, now.”

Was it because of the alcohol in your system or was it because of Sukuna's deep dominant voice? Your body moved faster than your brain could register the movements and you slowly crawled over to him. Meanwhile Sukuna pushed the table further away from him. He was sitting on the ground, criss-crossed, something that was normal in japanese culture. “What a good little girl, listening to her boss”, he taunted you, his red eyes staring at you.

Ashamed and slightly turned on you knelt in front of him. What kind of situation was that and why the hell did you follow his orders? There was no time to search for an answer because Sukuna had already grabbed you by your throat and pulled you closer to him.

“You need to stop acting all hard to get, little one, it makes me want to ruin you. I know your pussy gets wet for me. Everytime you push your thighs together when I scream at a subordinate or the sudden breaks you need to take after I praise you. You like that, right? Being praised, gets your cunt soaking and seeking for my cock. Desperate slut.”

There was no room to answer once again. As your lips met, a wave of heat surged between you two, igniting a fiery passion that had been smoldering beneath the surface. The air around you seemed to sizzle with anticipation as you surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing you closer.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you in with an urgency that mirrored the racing of your hearts. Your lips moved in perfect synchrony, exploring and tasting, each kiss more fervent than the last. The warmth of your breath mingled, creating a heady mix of desire and longing that filled the space between you.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other, your bodies pressed together in a dance of passion and need. Every touch sent shivers down your spines, igniting a hunger that could only be satiated Sukuna himself.

In that stolen moment, nothing else mattered but the electrifying connection you shared. It was a kiss that set your souls ablaze, leaving you both breathless and hungry for more. And as you finally pulled away, your eyes locked in a daze of desire, you knew that this was just the beginning of an unforgettable journey of lust.

“Here, slut”, a cigarette with a number on it was placed next to you on the table, “This is my private number. Call me. If you don’t, daddy will punish you real good, understand?” And with that he stood up, leaving you needy and hungry. Still out of breath your eyes fixated on the cigarette.

Would you text him or stand your ground?

[writingwithcolor]

What Makes an Ethnic Villain "Ethnic" or "Villainous?" How Do You Offset it?

anonymous asked:

Hello WWC! I have a question about the antagonist of my story. She is (currently) Japanese, and I want to make sure I’m writing her in a way that doesn’t associates [sic] her being Asian with being villainous.  The story is set in modern day USA, this character is effectively immortal. She was a samurai who lost loved ones due to failure in combat, and this becomes her character[sic] motivation (portrayed sympathetically to the audience). This story explores many different time periods and how women have shown valor throughout history. The age of the samurai (and the real and legendary female warriors from it) have interested me the most, which is why I want her to be from this period.  The outfit she wears while fighting is based on samurai armor, and she wears modern and traditional Japanese fashion depending on the occasion. She acts pretty similar to modern day people, though more cynical and obsessed with her loss. She’s been able to adapt with the times but still highly values and cherishes her past.  She is the only Asian main character, but I plan to make a supportive Japanese side character. She’s a history teacher who knows about the villain and gives the protagonists information to help them, but isn’t involved in the main plot otherwise.  Are the way I’m writing this villain and the inclusion of a non-antagonist Japanese character enough to prevent a harmful reading of the story, or is there more I should do?

Why Does Your Villain Exist?

This makes me feel old because David Anders plays a villain with this kind of backstory in the series Heroes starring Masi Oka. 

I think you want to think about what you mean when you say: 

Villainous (In what way? To whom? To what end?)

Harmful (What tropes, narratives and implications are present?)

I’m relatively infamous in the mod circle for not caring too much about dimensions of “harm”. The concept is relative and varies widely between people and cultures. I don’t see much value in framing motivations around “What is less harmful?” I think for me, what matters more is: 

“What is more true?” 

“Are characteristics viewed as intrinsic to background, or the product of experiences and personal autonomy?”

“Will your portrayal resonate with a large audience?”

“What will resonate with the members of the audience who share the backgrounds your characters have?” 

This post offers additional questions you could ask yourself instead of “is this okay/not okay/harmful.” 

You could write a story where your antagonist is sly, sadistic, violent and cold-blooded. It may not be an interpretation that will make many Japanese from combat backgrounds feel seen or heard, but it’s not without precedent. These tropes have been weaponized against people of Japanese descent (Like Nikkei Japanese interned during World War II), but Japan also brutalized a good chunk of Asia during World War II. See Herge’s Tintin and The Blue Lotus for an example of a comic that accurately showcases the brutality of Japan’s colonization of Manchuria, but also is racist in terms of how Japanese characters are portrayed (CW: genocide, war, imperialism, racism).

You could also write a story where your character’s grief gives way to despair, and fuels their combat such that they are seen as calculating, frigid and deeply driven by revenge/ violence. This might make sense. It’s also been done to death for Japanese female warriors, though (See “Lady Snowblood” by Kazuo Koike and Kazuo Kamimura here, CW: sexual assault, violence, murder and a host of other dark things you’d expect in a revenge story). 

You could further write a story where your antagonist is not necessarily villainous, but the perceived harm comes from fetishizing/ exoticizing elements in how her appearance is presented or how she is sexualized, which is a common problem for Japanese female characters. 

My vote always goes to the most interesting story or character. I don’t see any benefit to writing from a defensive position. This is where I'll point out that, culturally, I can't picture a Japanese character viewing immortality as anything other than a curse. Many cultures in Japan are largely defined by transience and the understanding that many things naturally decay, die, and change form.

There are a lot of ways you could conceivably cause harm, but I’d rather hear about what the point of this character is given the dilemma of their position. 

What is her purpose for the plot? 

How is she designed to make the reader feel? 

What literary devices are relevant to her portrayal?

(Arbitrarily, you can always add more than 1 extra Japanese character. I think you might put less pressure on yourself with this character’s portrayal if you have more Japanese characters to practice with in general.) 

- Marika. 

When Off-Setting: Aim for Average

Seconding the above with regards to this villainess’s story and your motivations for this character, but regardless of her story I think it’s also important to look specifically at how the Japanese teacher character provides contrast. 

I agree with the choice to make her a regular person and not a superhero. Otherwise, your one Asian character is aggressively Asian-themed in a stereotypical Cool Japan way (particularly if her villain suit is samurai-themed & she wears wafu clothing every so often). Adding a chill person who happens to be Japanese and doesn’t have some kind of ninja or kitsune motif will be a breath of fresh air (well, more like a sigh of relief) for Japanese readers. 

A note on characterization—while our standard advice for “offset” characters is to give your offset character the opposite of the personality trait you’re trying to balance, in this case you might want to avoid opposites. You have a villainess who is a cold, tough “don’t need no man” type. Making the teacher mild-mannered, helpful, and accomodating would balance out the villainess’s traits, but you’ll end up swinging to the other side of the pendulum towards the Submissive Asian stereotype depending on execution. If avoiding stereotypes is a concern, I suggest picking something outside of that spectrum of gentleness to violence and making her really boring or really weird or really nerdy or a jock gym teacher or…something. You’re the author.

Similarly, while the villainess is very traditionally Japanese in her motifs and backstory, don’t make the teacher go aggressively in either direction—give her a nice balance of modern vs. traditional, Japanese vs. Western sensibilities as far as her looks, dress, interests, values, etc. Because at the end of the day, that’s most modern Japanese people. 

Sometimes, the most difficult representation of a character of color is making a character who is really average, typical, modern, and boring. 

- Rina

[dolliels]

I’VE BECOME THE FIANCÉ OF THE VILLAIN?! pt4

synopsis: going to bed after reading a horribly self indulgent romance novel, you seemed to wake up as an extra of the series. what stories will unfold while on a mission to find a way out?

author’s note: freaky ass chapter lol

[one] [two] [three] [four] [epilogue]

"why do you come over so often?" you asked leaning back against your couch.

leona was comfortably resting his head on your thighs. "you said you liked your house better than the palace." he replied.

"ohhh so that's what the question was for." you said to yourself out loud. leona just grunted and leaned in closer.

it had been about a week since what you would call 'the incident.' (the kiss. don't be embarrassed!) and you found that leona really did enjoy lounging around your house. it was like he was living here again, except he went home after dinner because after disappearing for months (and hiding at your place) he was apparently scolded very hard and had two sets of guards follow him everywhere.

they were the two royal guards that asked you about leona's whereabouts before. it seemed as if only those two and leona were the only ones who knew (and figured out) that you had been unknowingly hiding him and keeping the royal family very vulnerable with leona’s disappearance. (oops!)

you've heard people whispering about the second prince's whereabouts, which was why you were so insistent that he goes back home to the palace. which he did. way later than he should've.

the two guards were named ruggie and jack. you kinda felt bad that they had to stick around waiting for leona all day so every time you cooked a meal, you'd prepare little lunchboxes for them to enjoy, and gift them books you think they might like, free of charge.

jack, apparently, was new to the job. he looked very righteous, definitely a guy who trained to work for the royal family his entire life. he did not look at least one bit bored waiting around for leona all day long. he was also reluctant to eat the food you made, but after seeing leona wolf it down and snag a few from your plate when you weren't looking, jack started to take them a lot more comfortably.

ruggie, on the other hand, seemed to be a seasoned veteran. not in battle though. just dealing with leona.

apparently, ruggie had been on leona's ass since they were teenagers so everyone thought it would be better to just let ruggie stick with leona even after he was promoted to knighthood.

ruggie was fine with it. he claimed it was easy money and he didn't mind sticking with leona. he said it was a lot easier now that you could take care of him (you flushed at this comment) and greedily took the food you offered without a second thought.

you laid your head back. the fire was cackling and the hot cocoa was letting out steam. winter was really near, and the house was often cold so you mostly stayed around the living room or bundled up tightly in bed. you were too scared to leave the fire on overnight to warm the house, so it got pretty chilly at night.

these were the days you really missed modern living with their heaters and air conditioners. summer was pretty hard to deal with as well, heavy heatstrokes hitting your house every second of every hour. but the cold days were the worst. you could just wear less layers during the summer, but the winter meant you had to be prepared. you thanked the heavens that leona was warm and toasty, as you started to often hold onto him for warmth.

you weren't sure what you'd call whatever you and him had. a relationship? a couple? your boyfriend? you shook your head. you had no idea if this world had some sort of courting tradition and leona just threw away the rules and kissed you right then and there, but you didn't really care. you still had intentions to leave this world, even if that seemed to be way far out of your reach.

sometimes, you'd compare the leona who was hogging your thighs right now to the leona you read in the novel. in the novel, leona rarely showed any physical contact with roselia, nor did he kiss her until the very end of the story, where it was left to a happily ever after. he was often shy with his advances and would rather show his affections and love through the sidelines, doing things for her ambiguously. this leona, however, was very, very handsy. the moment you guys kissed, he hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you. hand on your waist, holding hands, little pecks on your face, a hug, you name it, he's done it. he had zero shame.

"hey, do you want to eat out tonight?"

"sure. i'm tired of cooking. where?"

"isn't there a branch of mostro lounge nearby."

"what? that place costs so much!"

"did you forget who I am?"

there was one thing that the novel got right about leona's preferred way to show affection.

both versions of leona loved to flaunt their money.

-

a month into whatever the hell was going on between you and leona, you were skimming through a book about transmigration. the hope of leaving never really left, even if you seemed to be pretty settled (and even in a relationship)

sometimes, when the body's owner wake up in a completely new body in a completely new life without their consent, they tend to almost never find a way out, no matter what they try.

hah, you'd been there.

however, some speculate that the only way to go back home in those situations is through feeling alone. if the transmigrator doesn't have a 100% unchangeable desire to go back home, the chances are zero to none. this is why those who end up settling down at a life in their new world usually have a hard time getting back. especially those who form meaningful bonds. those who are stuck in the middle are called to have a 'transmigration conundrum.'

you thought to yourself. do you truly like it here? like, before you met leona and started liking him like that. were you truly content? you were mixed with emotion.

if the transmigrator really does have a strong desire to go back home, they find themselves suddenly awake in their beds as if no time has passed and no changes had happened at all. those who claimed that they have experienced this state that they were usually able to go back home after they resolved some complicated feelings they had with those in the other world.

your eyes were starting to get droopy. you were relaxed, lying down on your bed, leona right next to you, snoring as loud as a person would possibly be. it was nearing dark and you wanted to wake leona but you got distracted staring at his face.

for a prince, he looked pretty unguarded. but then again, he did have two royal guards standing right outside of your door. 

you kissed the top of his forehead and looked up at your ceiling.

attachments… what were you attached to in this world?

leona, for starters, was very special in your heart. the bookstore was quite special too, you guessed. you've come to grow fond of the smell of vintage yellowed paper pages or the way fresh ink would glide smoothly from your quill.

you were also a little fond of ruggie and jack, and the fresh produce you were able to get (you eventually became friends with the grocer after bargaining with the guy so much) and the delicious foods you were able to make with it.

but you were also fond of the extremely processed, sugar snacks, and the easily accessible internet, transportation, phones and your bedroom.

you truly did have a transmigration conundrum.

you were getting sleepy and felt like dozing off, but you knew leona couldn't sleep over so you slowly shook him.

"hey. leona, wake up."

he growled and turned to sleep over you. you groaned and smacked his back. no reaction.

"leonaaaa wake upppp you know you're not allowed to sleep over and i don't want ruggie or jack to bust into my house again. if they break my door again you better buy me a nicer one."

you sniffed. something was burning.

"leona. do you smell that?"

you saw him scrunch up his nose, then open his eyes.

"something's burning."

leona stood right up and you followed behind.

your house was fine, so you had no idea where the burning smell was coming from. leona probably thought the same as he grabbed your hand and proceed to head to the back door. the door connected to the bookstore.

the moment he opened the door, a rageful fire bursted through and he immediately closed it back. you eyes widened. the books!

letting go of his hand, you ran out the other door to walk out and see your bookstore in full. it seemed as if both jack and ruggie had just noticed the fire as they scurried right behind you.

the entire bookstore… it was in flames. but how? never mind that. you needed to put the fire out!

-

you had never felt so desolate in your life.

by the time you managed to stop the fire (with the help of ruggie, jack and leona– jack especially) the entire placed was screwed over. the books were pure black in ash, the supports were fallen off and the roof was just, not there.

the fire somehow transported itself to your house as well, so some of the area was burnt off. but you still had a livable house, luckily.

leona offered to pay to rebuild the place but you just shook your head. the words transmigration conundrum echoed in your head and you had a subtle urge to try and let go of this place you've come to love.

you still had some books lying around your house. thank the sevens you had stacks of them at home.

but the comfort of a leatherback storybook wasn't there. just a pitted void of what you used to do. you also didn't have a job anymore. so what now?

leona was beside you once again, this time wide awake. he still did look sleepy.

"i have no job, and i'm deadbeat broke most of the time… what am I to do now?" you laughed weakly. you could still see the hints of burnt wood creeping on your walls and you felt even more devoid.

"you could live with me. then you won't have to work at all. or work at the library archive." leona suggested, leaning his head onto your shoulder.

"living with you? in the palace? me? with the royal family? that's insane. you'd need a good reason to house someone perfectly healthy and fine like me."

"what about amalgamation?"

"amalgamation? like marriage? haha."

"yea."

you turned your head. he looked dead serious.

"...what?"

"i'm saying we could be engaged, or something. then you could live in the palace."

that's right… roselia had no reason to worry about food or housing, because the palace took care of that for her… the pros of being a prince's fiancé.

but you had to be smart. you were just a commoner. the royal family didn't know you, the kingdom's people didn't know you, you didn't even know yourself.

you also weren't sure if people would take it to liking when leona randomly announces a wedding engagement.

the words transmigration conundrum still echoed loudly in your head. the desire to go back home seemed to have been ignited brightly once more.

"...no." you decided.

leona genuinely looked surprised. "no?"

"i can't… i just can't." you fumbled your words. you couldn't bring yourself to explain why. you wanted to spill your guts out with reasoning, but you could not find the right words.

"so if i asked you seriously and proposed, would you say no?"

you felt tense. "I… I guess so…"

leona straightened up. "then you should've said so in the first place. then i wouldn't have bothered with you or this relationship at all."

he walked out the door, his tail swished left and right rapidly. he was upset, you could tell that easily. but you didn't have the strength to get up and chase after him. you were tired. tired of this world, tired of somehow having the worst luck, and being struck with guilt over everything.

huh, so did leona intend to marry you in this relationship?

that wouldn’t be a good idea. right?

you probably wouldn’t be able to fully commit to it— considering your position right now.

were you not able to or did you just simply not want to?

you saw snow fall outside the window.

transmigration conundrum.

-

it had been two or three days since you last saw leona. you couldn't remember, as you laid in bed all day, mourning over who knows what (you felt as if you got over the whole bookstore thing– the responsibility of running it did take a toll on you. so what was making you so miserable now?) (you knew. it was because leona wasn’t there.)

he visited nearly everyday. this was the longest time you've gone without seeing him since the beginning of your relationship.

relationship? what relationship?! what even were you two? he just kissed you and got all touchy with you. and you, being touch starved and miserable without your friends or family, probably just leaned into the attention! and- not even two months in and he asked about marriage. what is this?! is this world really that weird or is leona just a freak?

you groaned into your pillow. being welled up in your own home was suffocating. this entire world was suffocating. you needed a breath of fresh air.

it was nearing sunset, and you decided you wanted to take a quick walk on a whim.

bundling up in your warmest clothes, you stepped outside to experience winter in this universe for the first time. it was truly beautiful, with its flawless, untouched and pristine white snow, the way the sun dimly makes the shadows appear in dark and warm hues of blue… you wished you weren't so frustrated so that you could appreciate it properly.

stomping in the snow, you huffed and breathed in the cold winter air as it entered your lungs. you were suddenly starting to feel better, and your mind was emptying.

however, due to your enjoyment of simply taking a breather outside, you realized it was nearing nightfall. you have to go home as soon as possible, you had no light source with you.

stomp, stomp you could hear your shoes step into the snow as you trudged through them like the total athlete you are.

you could barely see ahead of you, as it was dark at this point, so you were just following the footsteps in the snow you left. but it was snowing again, and your markings were fading away. you had to hurry.

stomp, stomp, stomp…

gotta hurry home…

stomp, stomp, stomp….

transmigration conundrum?

stomp, stomp, stomp…

you laughed at yourself. no way you're stuck in the middle. what conundrum is there?

stomp, stomp, stomp…

you just want to go home. done deal.

stomp, stomp, stomp…

who cares about anything else?

stomp, stomp, stomp…

who cares about leona king- OOF!

you were too engrossed into your thoughts that you ran into someone.

“I’m sorry.” you said, not bothering to look up. the shoes the guy was wearing looked fancy.

“y/n.”

you finally realized what you were doing and look up in hurry. it was leona.

“why are you here?”

“i followed the footsteps from your house.”

“oh. okay then. bye, i guess.”

psh. you didn’t care about leona either. you lost interest in everything. you wanted to go home.

“wait.”

transmigration conundrum.

leona grabbed your wrist. you turned around, both your faces fleshed in red from the cold. you didn’t want to see leona anymore. the more you looked at him, the more the guilt grew.

ultimately, the only thing keeping you from leaving this so called ‘conundrum’ was him.

if you decided to stay all for the sake of him, like roselia did, instead of going home, then you wouldn’t be able to go back. you’d lose everything you’d ever known. your friends, your family… although you were pretty boyfriend-less in your world, you were still happy because everyone and everything you loved was still there.

you missed your bed, your parents, your friends. you missed fast food and sodas and reading comic books. you missed having a cool AC to fight against the summer heat, unlike now where you had to just deal with it while withstanding a wrist-pain inducing fan.

leona was here, but everything else was there. you just couldn’t give it up.

leona’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving up and down as the winter fog surrounded you both.

“i love you.”

you blink.

“y/n. y/n i love you.”

you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“i-“

“i love you. i love your tryhard cooking, your shitty medical skills. the books stacked around your house— i did enjoy reading them. i love you. why can’t you understand that? what is blocking you from being with me? is it because i’m a prince? is my status scary? i’m not even after the throne. i have no interest. i just want to be with you.”

wow. so your guess was right. you thought that leona maybe lost interest in going after the throne. this was a red flag.

leona lost interest in all his evil schemes when he finally settled and accepted his feelings of roselia. which meant only one thing— he accepted his feelings for you. from how early on he stopped caring for the throne, he’s accepted his love for you a long, long time ago.

“i— i don’t mind settling down in a small town. i don’t care if my reputation crashes. we- we could rebuild that bookstore together. and not through my family’s money. we can actually work for it.”

this was bad. he was willing to lose everything. the leona kingscholar, who only cared about the throne, was now showing the most emotion you’ve ever seen, in person or in novel— for you.

you heart tightened. you truly did believe that leona could work something out. that you guys could work something out together and live happily, a happily ever after, like he originally did with roselia.

no. he didn’t deserve you. going home was still at the very top of your mind now, more than ever before. he deserved someone like roselia, someone who was willing to loss it all for him, like he would for you.

except you weren’t roselia. you could never be her, and you would live the rest of your life with a huge hole in your left because you lived feeling unfulfilled.

you had to put a stop to this. his desperation tugged at your heart. you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“you don’t know me like you think you do.” you started. you let go of leona’s grip on your wrist.

“i’m not from here.” you sighed. “i can’t explain it. but I’m not from here, and i need to leave. that was my objective from the very beginning.”

“i can’t… i can’t be with you because i don’t belong here. not because of you, but me. it’s because of me.”

leona seemed to understand the situation. perhaps your mannerisms, the way you speak, all the books about transmigration, your current avoidance, it seemingly all connected.

he grabbed both your hands.

“i… okay. i understand. at least, i think i do.”

the crisp winter air danced between you two.

“thank you. for everything.” leona said.

you laughed weakly. ‘you’re saying thank you now? what gives?”

“just because. it feels like i’m never going to see you again.”

you wrapped your arms around leona’s back, hugging him tightly. the soft, fluffy clothes protecting you from the cold smushed between you too.

and then you woke up.

to be continued...?

a.n: thanks for anyone who stuck around all the way to here !! if this was ao3 i would expand on it more but i feel like the romance got a little too rushed (i tried to make it evenly paced as possible but that added the whole doc to 20k words my phone cannot handle all of that i WILL lag and screw something up) so i hope its not too negatively silly!!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Thirst for Sunshine

Pairing: Sorcerer!Gojō x Teen!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Bottomline is, Gojō Satoru was a jerk.

Warning: angst, unrequited love, suggested misogyny, jujutsu society stigma, arranged marriage, age gap

Word Count: 1183

2 of 9

It was not everyday that you were allowed to get out of your estate house to visit modern society.  You have been preparing for the day for weeks.  Your hand maidens helped you with your milk and rosewater baths.  Lathering your skin with the most nourishing of products and sealing the moisture with the finest shea butter.

You were like a dream.

With the brightest smile you can muster, you step out of your family car and step into the gates of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College alone.

Your betrothed, Gojō Satoru has been absorbed by the school as a staff the moment he graduated.  You hear that he has been thinking of working as a teacher in the school.  You are not certain how to feel about that.  Your fiancé is nothing short of a child, how would that turn out for his students?

Still, you wonder how he will manage.  It is a good opportunity for him.  To change his pace, mature a little.

You are glad to find out that the school has not changed that much.  When you were younger, your handmaidens accompanied you to watch Satoru in the Goodwill Events against Kyoto jujutsu high.  He always came out as the victor, much to his schoolmates' annoyance as he does not miss to make every single opportunity all about him.

He was too proud sometimes.  Charging alone when it was supposed to be a team effort, not that he loses. In fact, it makes him shine brighter.  Still, you worry that it might be that kind of attitude that will cause his downfall in the future.

To your right, you hear students yelling at each other as they train.  They were older than you but by the carefree smiles on their faces, you know they were only neophytes in the jujutsu society.  How you wish you could be one of them.  In a few months, you will be old enough to enroll in the school.  But your family would never allow it.

They prefer to keep you at home, training you in the arts of house making.  Including how to keep your husband happy and satisfied.

You shake the thoughts away, lest your face erupts to a wild flush.

You take a deep inhale to help in clearing your thoughts and you walk forward to Gojō’s office, with the box of blueberry cupcakes heavy on your arms.

The other staff in the school bow upon seeing you and you dip your head slightly to acknowledge them.  Your geta sandals softly clack against the wooden floor as your kimono swishes against the breeze.  Your family insisted that you wear traditional clothing wherever you go.  You cannot wait to wear ones that are in the colors of the Gojō banners.

As you turn the corner, you hear the rambunctious laughter of Gojō Satoru.

You hear no other voice inside his office and you can guess that he is on the phone, talking with someone.

Halting in your steps a few feet away from the door, you take a deep inhale.  Your hand is flying to your hair to straighten any stray strands.  You fan your face to get rid of the moisture after your long walk from the gates.

You made an attempt to straighten your kimono to check for any crease when Gojō’s voice startled you.

“You coming in or are you gonna stand there all day?”

It was incredibly foolish of you to not announce your presence, knowing that the man you are about to see possesses the six eyes.

“P-Pardon my intrusion.”  You say in a quivering voice.

Gently, you slide the door open and there Gojō was, lounging on his sofa, tapping away on his phone as his right leg was perched above the other, looking so carefree.

“Uhm…”  You hesitate by the door.  Awaiting his acknowledgement so you can enter.  But the man was still grinning at his phone, despite his eyes being covered by bandages.

Quietly and patiently, you stand there so still, the weight of the cupcake was starting to strain your arms.

“Gojō-sama?”  You call softly.

He hums, still not looking up at you.  “Sit.”  He nods at the sofa in front of him.

With much reluctance, you step in and close the door behind you.  Disappointment slowly replaces your excitement.  But you will yourself to sit in front of him.  You look up to find him still on his phone, a grin playing on his lips.  You nervously twirl at the band that kept the wrapping of your gift.

After a long moment of silence, Gojō sighs.  “You can put that by the table and you can take your leave afterwards.”

You look up from your lap, your brows now forming a frown.

“How…How have you been?”  You are desperate to lengthen your stay, trying to stretch it as much as you can.

He scratches at his head as he places his phone by the sofa.  “I’m well.”

You try to smile at him but it comes out a little forced, with your spirits already dampened.

“You can report back to your family that our chat went smoothly.  I’ll tell mine the same thing.”  He says in a matter that made you realize that your presence is not exactly welcome.

“Certainly.  I am terribly sorry for bothering you.”  You rise from the sofa, clasping your hands together to keep them from shaking.

Gojō gave a curt smile that did not reach his eyes.  “‘S fine.”  He made no effort to disagree with you, making you feel more awful.  He is a busy man, being the strongest sorcerer and all.  And here you were, taking up his rest time.

At least he was kind enough to open the door for you.  “Thanks for the snacks.”  He said rather flatly.

You were about to reply when loud footsteps heading your way echoed around the room.

“Gojō Satoru!  How dare you take the credit for my mission!”

An angry woman in miko clothing marches to the room, her hands gripping the door angrily.  She is covered by bandages and scratches.

What surprised you was the change in Gojō’s voice.  “Huh?  Can’t you just be grateful that your knight in shining armor saved the day?  Again?”  It was the most playful you have heard him speak.  You almost wanted to stay and watch them banter.

But the woman lunges at Gojō who uses his infinity to keep her away, yawning mockingly before he grins at her.

You cannot bear to stay another moment.

Quietly, you slip away and head towards the gate.  Your kimono held tightly in your hands to keep you from tripping.  Every step felt heavier and heavier as your chest tightened with every breath you take.  Soon enough, tears cascaded down your well powdered cheeks. 

Your handmaidens and guards that waited by the car felt the same sympathy for you and nothing but loathing for your fiancé but to save you from embarrassment, they spoke none about the events.

Gojō Satoru.  You are running out of excuses to stay in love with him.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[amywritesthings]

seven days. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: armin arlert x gn!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Armin gets bamboozled into joining the annual Yeager family beach vacation — and accidentally meets you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), beach house, summer vacation, eventual romance, alcohol, partying, Armin deserves a romcom, Eren & Zeke have zero braincells Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Zeke, you Point Break bitch, did you steal my boogie board?!”

Ah, yes. 

If he was looking for a week of tranquility and peace, then Armin Arlert should have declined the invitation to join the Yeager family for their annual summer vacation.

Time and time again, Eren has begged his best friend to tag along.

As far as he's aware, this has been a family tradition ever since his best friend was a toddler.

One week, the same week, every single year.

Not to mention it's the same beach house merely two blocks away from the boardwalk and sandy shores.

Home away from home.

It’ll be amazing!

(Eren likes to claim.) 

There is so much sick shit we can do!

(His words, not Armin’s.)

You’re gonna sit on your ass and read anyway, so why not do it by a beach?

(...okay, maybe that sold him.)

Then again, nothing is more humbling than standing with your duffle bag in one hand, filled to the brim with ‘maybe’ shirts and ‘just in case’ medicines, and your pillow in another while the Yeager family chaotically dissolves into a panicked army of four battling to even get to said beach in one piece.

Chaos.

It’s their collective middle name.

“Armin, sweetie, do you want any snacks for the road?”

Carla Yeager — doting mother figure and matriarch of the family.

She’s the reason they’re taking two cars this year, too afraid she may forget something important at home.

From fresh tangerines to a plethora of board games, she’s thought of it all.

Shuffling his bag to give his hands some equal soreness — ouch, that's freaking heavy — Armin offers an apologetic smile.

“No, Mrs. Yeager, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Carla?” 

Every time, actually.

Although Zeke very easily calls his stepmother by her first name, Armin can't bring himself to do it.

Blah, blah, raised a certain way by his ever-traditional grandfather, blah.

The awkward blonde merely nods once and watches as Carla shuffles by to throw another box of napkins into the trunk.

“Here,” she gestures, waving her arms while she’s in front of the hatchback, “that looks bulky.” 

It is, but he’s a kindred spirit in the name of overpacking.

“I can find a spot for it,” he promises, but relents when the woman gives him that mom look that straightens out her son and stepson. “I— Thank you, Mrs. — Carla.”

Close enough.

He hands her his duffle bag, careful to spot the bottom of it in a sneaky attempt to help her ease his luggage into the first car.

Boom.

The front door bursts open to reveal Zeke and Eren, shoulder to shoulder, frantically fighting to see who can walk out first.

Grunting, Zeke tries to push ahead with his neon-green boogie board against his torso, but Eren manages to dip at the hip and rush down the steps. 

The momentum nearly knocks Zeke’s oval glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Could you be normal for two seconds?” the blonde groans.

Eren merely answers by sticking his tongue out and holds up a hand, wiggling his thumb and pinkie back and forth. “Fucking loser.”

Carla immediately glares. “Eren, language.”

“Forking, sorry, forking,” Eren corrects with little remorse.

“Seriously?” Zeke laments as he walks by, squinting at his brother. “What are you, ten?”

“Zeke,” a voice chastises softly from the garage. "Be nice to your brother."

Grisha Yeager, father of the year, rolls out a large cooler to bring it towards the second yet-to-be-filled car.

He’s wearing a Margaritavilla button-down, his long hair tied similar to Eren’s. On his forehead is a tie-dye headband.

“We'll be within close quarters of one another for seven whole days," Grisha reminds in that airy tone of his. "We should hold off on the in-fighting until day four at the very least.”

"I'll give it until day three," Zeke mumbles under his breath as he passes by, shoving his boogie board into the first car and smushing Armin's duffle bag down to half its size.

Yeah.

This is what it’s like to vacation with the Yeagers.

Except when your grandfather gets a new girlfriend, and they go to Key West for the summer, you’re stuck without being able to say no to your best friend’s family.

Seven days.

He can handle the Yeagers for seven days.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It took less than three hours for Armin's pale skin to burn like an overcooked egg.

“It’s really not that bad,” chimes in Eren, mouth occupied by the hair tie between his teeth.

Invading his pessimistic mirror space, the taller brunette dips to look at himself while fixing his staple half-up bun hairdo.

The shorter blonde frowns even further as he checks out his tomato-red shoulders, standing shirtless and shoeless in front of him.

“It looks pretty bad, Eren.”

“Nah. Just slap some aloe on it, alright?”

Ruffling sounds behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, a bag of potato chips flies into view as Eren carelessly rips it from the cardboard variety pack — courtesy of the emergency snack stash in the corner of the room.

(The emergency snacks are, quote: So that bitch-ass Zeke doesn't steal the goods.)

The sun-kissed boy walks barefoot to the edge of the twin bed and flops down.

Right.

He forgot to mention he’s sharing a room with Eren, which only makes matters forty times worse.

Two twin beds with doily-esque blankets and flat pillows.

Thank god Armin had the sense to pack his own.

“Besides, the alcohol will make it feel better," Eren adds, chewing on a potato chip.

With a noise of defiance, Armin turns from the mirror to stare at his best friend.

“You do realize alcohol dehydrates a person, right?”

“So?”

“So—” Armin protests tightly, “—it’ll make it worse.”

Eren pops another chip in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“Nah.”

Eloquent as always.

Groaning, he slowly — agonizingly — pulls his pastel blue polo over his aching shoulders and breathes out through his nose.

That SPF 50 was supposed to work, but he must have lost track of time binge-reading his first book of the trip.

A spy thriller, actually, that fell flat right around chapter three and nosedived bad just at the cusp of act three.

The wildly out-of-left-field twist made him so mad that he missed his alarm to reapply another coat of sunscreen, and—

Well.

As a result, human lobster is now on the menu tonight.

Regardless, he promised to go out.

It isn't ideal, but a promise is a promise.

About ten or so blocks away from the beach house is the coveted spot known as The Point.

From what he could gather from Google, The Point is a tiki bar boasting high-top bar tables nestled in sand, recreational volleyball courts, and live music all week long.

It’s about the only lively place in this rather family-friendly beach town.

While not technically a dry town, bars are few and far between and there are approximately a whopping zero nighttime entertainment venues, so The Point was about as wild as any college kid stuck on vacation was going to get.

Earlier, Eren spent most of the car ride to the house hyping it up.

Zeke, in surprising fashion, seemed to hold the same sentiment.

(It’s probably the only thing the brothers could agree upon.)

Plus, Zeke apparently had some surfer friends he’d met online that were going on the first night of vacation, so that solidified the night’s plans.

After showering, dressing, and having family dinner with the parents, it's go time.

A little past nine at night, the three boys walk on the sidewalk in a triangle unit, with Armin trailing behind.

Ever a wallflower he keeps quiet, observing carefully as the two brothers figure out their game plan.

Zeke is anti-shots.

Eren wants shots or nothing at all.

“We’re on vacation, why the fuck wouldn’t you do shots?”

“Because,” Zeke explains, “if you start with shots, then you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“Yeah, if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Eren, you just turned twenty-one.”

Eren’s nostrils flare. “So?! I had plenty of practice at university!”

“Is he a lightweight, Arlert?”

Wait.

What?

Oh, shit, they’re including him.

“Be honest,” Zeke adds over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, Armin blinks between the brothers. “Uh… sometimes?”

“What?!”

The yell out of his best friend is piercing.

“You goddamn turncoat!”

“You’re not exactly somebody with an iron stomach, Eren,” the blonde reminds softly as if calming a petulant child, only to wince when he's met with a look of pure anger. “But that isn't to say you can't hold a shot down.”

“Or five,” Eren challenges.

“Three at best,” Armin relents.

“Three and a half.”

Armin squints as they turn the corner leading towards the entrance of the bar.

“In what world does half a shot cou—”

“Wait!”

Eren yelps, holding out an arm to stop Zeke in his tracks.

Armin subsequently also stops — as does his wearing patience.

“I have a solution.”

Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And what’s that?”

“Look at me, dude.”

The boy with the man bun demands attention, using his pointer and middle finger to gesture between him and his half-brother. 

“You know what I’m thinking. Give it nine seconds.”

Right.

Not ten, because Eren’s favorite number is arbitrarily nine.

Zeke squints with about as much confusion as Armin’s feeling, but Armin knows by now how this is going to go.

Although they’re born with two different mothers, they’re eerily in sync with one another when they want to be extra annoying. 

Some kind of Yeager sixth sense tying them together; they fall silent, staring—

Then the thought strikes.

Like two brain cells clicking together, they simultaneously grin at one another.

“Jagerbombs.”

Great.

So even worse than a shot or a beer.

That’s all it takes for the two to become best buds as they stroll into the tiki bar like they own the place.

The blonde and brunette zero in on an open spot at one of the several pop-up bar locations at this venue—

—leaving Armin in the dust to fumble out his I.D. to the bouncer.

It's nothing new.

Cover charge? Paid.

Hand stamp? Accomplished.

Careful not to get any sand in his sneakers, Armin treads carefully across the uneven landscape towards the same lively bar as his best friend.

Music thumps right into his ribcage. 

Flashing lights threaten to blind him if he so much as looks over his shoulder to the west.

It’s more than he’s used to.

More than he wants, really.

(What happened to the leisure part of vacation again?)

“We got you one!”

Eren.

Blinking back into his body, Armin glances at the shot glass filled to the brim of Jagermeister waggled in his face. Immediately responding with a grimace, he steps back.

“No, I’ll just grab myself a drink, alright? You two enjoy — that.”

“What?” Eren’s frown is immediate. “Seriously? How else are you gonna get wasted with us?”

I’m not, is what he’d like to argue, but he knows Eren by now.

“What do you mean us?” Arnin shouts over the music. “I don’t see Zeke!”

“He got a text from one of his dumbass surfer bros and ditched,” Eren answers, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m thinking of playing the field tonight.”

“The what?”

“The field!”

“Eren, it’s really hard to hear you when they won’t stop mixing Pitbull with ABBA!”

“What?!”

Oh, this is impossible.

He raises his hands to gently push the shot glass towards his best friend’s chest. 

“You take it and show Zeke you can handle it!” Armin calls back at the top of his lungs, his shaggy blonde hair waving in the wind as he nods with encouragement.

That: giving Eren a challenge.

(Works like a charm.)

Determination spreads across his face. Eren nods, hyping himself up for a double-fisted success story. 

Armin simply nods, too, using the chameleon effect to build up Eren’s trust.

(Maybe he shouldn’t be using his psychology notes against his best friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures.)

“Yeah!”

Eren shouts while dropping the shot into the energy drink left perspiring on the bar top.

“I’m gonna!”

“Okay!”

“And then I’m gonna talk to a girl! Or a guy! Or someone!”

Armin’s eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he chooses not to rain on his best friend’s parade because Eren is already chugging the drink, spilling a little of the Jagerbomb down his oversized black tee.

(Good call, wearing dark colors, unlike Armin’s poorly planned pastel.)

Slamming it down on the bar top with a howl of victory, he pats Armin on the arm and trudges forward to the dance floor to do…

Well, that’s between the power of Charli xcx and God.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin mumbles, watching the little man bun bounce in time with the beat of the music until it’s consumed by dancing bodies.

Turning back to the bartenders, the blonde debates.

Agonizes, really.

He doesn’t drink very often.

It’s not really his thing.

But… when on vacation, right?

(Alone, apparently, since Zeke isn’t coming back anytime soon and he’s going to need to deal with dragging Eren’s drunk ass home in the next two hours.)

“Vodka soda, please,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

The bartender behind the counter nods his way before pulling out a plastic cup. 

Within a few seconds the simple alcoholic beverage is concocted, and he leaves a reluctant ten-dollar bill on the sliver of the bar that isn’t covered in condensation or sloshed liquor.

He reaches—

Oh.

That’s not a cup.

Freezing in his place, his blue eyes zero in on a pair of fingers entwined with his, nestled on the very same cup.

He can feel them tense under his own slender digits.

Dread. Pure, existential dread.

Apologize, apologize—

“Shit—”

“I’m so—”

“Sorry!”

A stranger’s voice yelps with his in unison.

Before he can move, their hand rips away from his, leaving his fingers to meet with the cold plastic.

His neck cranes to his left and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

You.

Blinking several times to get his wits about him, he can feel his mouth growing dry.

The way the blinking lights illuminate off of your face completely force his train of thought off the damn tracks.

Flickers of blues, greens, pinks — they compliment your face so nicely as each shade seems to highlight another feature that he hadn’t noticed a second before.

He shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it: you’re drop dead gorgeous.

“It’s okay,” Armin breathes out after holding his breath for some time. “That was my bad. I didn’t see you.”

Your eyes are just as wide as his. “No! No, it was my fault. I thought that was my drink.”

“What did you order?”

“Uh, a hard seltzer? I think?” you answer, scrunching your nose as you respond.

Mayday.

That’s a type of adorable he is not equipped to handle in his sunburnt state.

“You think?” he repeats with a small chuckle.

You move your head side to side, tilting with an uncommitted air about it.

“It’s bubbling, right? Means I’m on the right carbonated track.”

“Yeah, but don’t hard seltzers usually come in cans?”

“Not always at this place,” you correct, before pushing the cup towards him. “I also kind of panicked when I ordered, so sorry for almost being a drink stealer.”

“Trust me, I know a thing or two about panic ordering,” Armin admits with a huff, taking the cup into his hands.

“Yeah?”

You give a carefree laugh that causes his stomach to give an Olympian-grade somersault.

“Is that why you got a vodka soda?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We’ve all been there,” you empathize, briefly pouting your lower lip. “I won’t judge.”

He’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this (see: at all) but that doesn’t mean Armin is going to waste his opportunity.

He may be a wallflower, but he’s equal parts an opportunist.

“So you’ve been here before?” he tries instead, hoping you don’t suddenly snatch your seltzer can and walk away.

You do get your seltzer from the same bartender — a slender aluminum can, nothing fancy — but you don’t walk away.

The opposite: you angle towards him.

Shit, okay.

He can do this.

“My friends love this place,” you tell him over the music. He finds himself leaning closer, angling his chin down, so he can hear you better. “So I just tagged along to make sure no one got black-out drunk or made out with anyone weird.”

“A noble effort,” Armin teases, and your eyes sparkle with amusement. “My friends dragged me here, too.”

“Dragged?” you catch with a growing smirk as you take a sip. “I said I tagged, not dragged.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

Recover.

“I mean, it wasn't — yeah, no, I was definitely dragged here,” Armin confesses, sipping his vodka soda for some liquid courage.

No use in lying to seem cool.

That facade would crumble like a house of cards.

“Partying at The Point not your scene?” you ask without judgment laced in your tone.

Armin nods. “I could be sitting on the balcony reading right now.”

Your brows slide high with intrigue. "Reading?"

Yeah, he should have expected a reaction like that.

The blonde shuffles, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know, lame."

"I don't think it's lame at all," you answer instantly.

His eyes widen. "I— no?"

"Uh, no," you snort. "If I had a choice, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Oh, shit.

Oh... shit.

So he's not lame, and he found a possible fellow bookworm.

Armin sips his drink so fast that a little dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

Liquid courage; he needs it, badly.

"If you could be home right now instead of here, what would you be reading?" he decides to ask, knowing it's the most unsexy question he could offer.

You scrunch your nose again, seriously contemplating the question while bobbing your head to the music.

"I brought maybe two books? I should have brought more."

He nods eagerly, his blue eyes round with interest.

"I have a romance that takes place in the summer — I know. Very on the nose," you relent with a small huff. "And, uh, this thriller? But I'm not crazy about it, so I'm mostly reading the romance book on the beach."

"I brought a thriller, too," he admits. "Bounty Run."

"Shut up, you too?"

"Huh?"

You laugh, and it's a melody that makes the music at this venue pale in comparison.

"I literally bought Bounty Run last month and never got around to it until now! It's so bad!"

To whatever deity is smiling upon him today, Armin has to thank them.

Not only has he met someone who likes reading, but they think Bounty Run sucks.

Maybe he's hallucinating from the burn screaming through his polo right now.

"It's really bad," he agrees breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Like dogshit terrible!"

"I know. What the hell was Tracy thinking in chapter six?"

"Oh my god, when she decided to call the hostage guy?"

"Yes!"

"Like, I'm pretty sure that's not how those situations work."

"Not even close."

You both laugh, and all Armin Arlert wants is to know every miniscule thought of yours.

What other books you may have read.

If you have any recommendations.

If you're single.

Nope.

No.

He's not Eren Yeager.

He is not his best friend— 

"Are you from here?" you ask over the music, breaking his panicked train of thought.

Armin swallows more alcohol, shaking his head. "No, we're not locals. We're just vacationing."

"So are we!"

"With your friends?"

"My friend's family," you correct, leaning closer to stop shouting so loudly.

He can feel his blood pressure spike exponentially.

"I'm with my friend's family, too," Armin tells you. "Our shore house for the week is something like ten blocks from here."

“For the week? Which way’s your house?” you ask, before holding up your free hand. “Not in, like, a mega-stalker way.”

“Oh, I didn’t take it that way,” he promises, earnest intent pouring from his mouth. “It’s, uh… wait where are we — oh! That way.”

He swivels and points, like somehow that’ll triangulate where the beach starts.

Your chin turns, noting the direction. “So near the… beach? No fucking way, our house is that way, too, but more like a seven-block walk from here.”

Oh.

No fucking way, indeed.

"Seriously?" Armin asks, voice cracking just a tad.

"Yeah! Do you guys camp out on the beach by third street, too?"

He nods almost too eagerly. "We were just there this afternoon."

"So were we," you confess with a light laugh. "Small world! We were both being subjected to that god-awful book and could've warned each other to pick a less shitty book."

"Well, I brought about a dozen books if you want one to borrow."

Way to go, mouth.

Armin tenses instantly as the words pour from his mouth.

"I... you know, just in case the romance book doesn't work out! Or if you're a fast reader! Or if you—"

"Promise?"

Your question cuts through like a knife.

He is in awe.

Enamored.

He'll give you all of his goddamn books if it means you'll talk to him after tonight.

Suddenly your chin drops, and your free hand fishes for your phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, causing the blonde to simply wait.

Stare.

Don't go.

Don't go, don't go, don't— 

"Shit, mayday with my friend."

You sigh as if you were expecting a disaster.

Hell, he's expecting one, too, but he's selfishly forgotten about saving Eren or finding Zeke.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, typing back a response. "They pre-gamed before we came here to save money. I told them not to, but... best laid plans, right?"

"I could give you my number?" he blurts, and your attention leaves your phone.

Your eyes round with surprise, and he feels immense shame in even offering.

Yet—

"For the books," he adds hastily. Shakily. "To borrow. O-Or if you ever want to just... talk about them."

"For the books," you agree, biting your lip between your teeth. "Yeah, sure, give me your phone."

His cup is empty, but he almost drops it trying to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Armin holds it out to you, unlocking the screen. He watches as you pocket your own phone and take his, typing your number into a new text chat window.

This is happening.

This is seriously, actually happening.

"Here," you offer, handing his phone back. "I put my name in."

He glances down, memorizing your name with newfound vigor.

"Okay, perfect. Oh — my name. My name is Armin."

"Armin?" You repeat. He nods. "I like that name."

Suddenly, he likes it, too.

"See you around?" he asks hopefully.

With a parting smile, you take a slow step backwards.

"...yeah, Armin. See you around."

You look just as sheepish as he feels when you turn on a heel, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment he stands there, dumbfounded — phone in hand, slack jawed —

Hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Armin Arlert won't hate spending seven days at the Yeager shore house after all.

.

author's note:

Thank you SO much for reading part one of my little summer story! I've been dying to write a proper Armin fic for a while now, and a casual, warm vacation setting felt perfect for him. This is meant to be a cozy read, so I hope you enjoy my love letter to my favorite boy. xo

How are we feeling after part one? Let me know in the replies! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, engagement, etc. Every comment gives this writer wings.)

[writersblockiskillingme]

I Bet You Think About Me | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader (District12!reader)

Summary: On the day of his wedding he had everything... except for the bride that he wanted.

Warning/s: angst, kind of like hurt/no comfort kind of thing, wedding, marriage without love, Coryo is drinking alcohol, reader is basically Lucy Gray in this situation, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I'M BACKK!! I missed writing so much, to be honest. All those Coryo and Lucy Gray edits to this song, plus the music video, inspired me to do this. Enjoy!

3 AM and I'm still awake, I'll bet you're just fine

Fast asleep in your city that's better than mine

And the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree

And I'll bet your friends tell you she's better than me, huh

Coriolanus Snow. The young president of Panem. He truly now felt like he had everything. He did an outstanding job as the Gamemaker. In fact, not long after, his work was praised so much that he could finally take that last step to get what he always, truly wanted. And he, in fact, did it. He was the newest president of Panem, and he knew that that was going to last for a very long time.

He had the title. He had the riches. He never had to starve ever again. He never had to wear poorly made clothes. He had the trust of the people in the Capitol, and he had the control of those in the Districts.

But as a president, everyone expected of him to choose his First Lady of Panem as quicklyaspossible, and he knew that it couldn't be just anybody.

So here he was today. Dressed up in a traditional but quite modern black tuxedo with a white undershirt and a purely white rose tucked into his suit on the right side of his chest. Standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, preparing his wedding speech that he will have to say once he and Livia Cardew are standing on the aisle.

Livia Cardew. She was truly perfect for him. He didn't love her, of course, but that was also his own choice. That's what made her perfect for him.

Once he was forced to find himself a bride because every elite in the Capitol kept pushing, he realized that he truly had no choice. He had to keep up his reputation respectable. So, of course, he knew that his wife, the Future Lady of the Panem, couldn't be just anybody.

Livia Cardew was rich. Her family was too, of course. Their family was respected and considered quite important. Plus, she was pretty. He couldn't really deny that, really.

He chose power, money and reputation that Livia had instead of the love, kindness and compassion that came with you.

He chose it that day that he left you in the woods of District 12. He never knew what happened to you. Did you die? Did you manage to run away in the storm that somehow messed up his head. And perhaps High-as-a-kite-Bottom was telling him some sort of truth when he said that mysteries had a way of driving people mad. And perhaps, if he stayed with you, he would marry someone for love.

Coriolanus let out a groan, shaking his head in a poor attempt to shake those thoughts away. His love for you made him weak. Weak in a way that he never wanted to experience ever again.

Livia didn't have his heart like you did. He doesn't love her. Therefore, he shall never feel weak ever again. He wanted that. He wanted to never love Livia. It was easy, though. It was easy not falling in love with her. Easy compared to you.

But no! He simply refused to think about you on this day. The day of his wedding. He refused the thoughts of you to consume his mind once again. Coriolanus wouldn't let that happen.

So he turned back to the giant mirror that stood in front of him and started to go over his vows once again.

"My darling Livia. You are the most beautiful person I have every encountered." Coriolanus felt his breath shorten at his own lies. "And today, I am honored to be your husband."

It was so fake. It was so cheesy. It was so untrue.

He had to prepare the speech for his bride. For the bride that he never loved.

"Mr. President?" One of the servants came in and addressed him shortly. "It's time."

"I will be there shortly." Coriolanus replied coldly, and the servant closed the door behind him.

Once the door was closed shut once again, he let out a quite loud sigh. In just a few minutes Livia will become a Snow and he will have to proudly show off his little wife that tormented and made fun of him for years during his academy days.

With that thought, President Coriolanus Snow stepped forward towards the door. On the doorway, he lingered. He looked out of the window across his room. He looked out on the city of the Capitol and its glamor and riches and he once again came to a realization that Livia was a perfect fit for his lifestyle unlike you. But he won't ever think of you again.

With the thoughts of you that once again swarmed his head, he loudly closed the door behind himself. Slamming it shut.

Well, I tried to fit in with your upper-crust circles

Yeah, they let me sit in back when we were in love

Oh, they sit around talkin' 'bout the meaning of life

And the book that just saved 'em that I hadn't heard of

After the priest said everything that needed to be said and after Coriolanus, and Livia, did everything that needed to be done the young, freshly married couple walked towards the reception, quickly being surrounded by the Capitol's elite that eagerly introduced themselves like they were one of the most important people there.

Perhaps they were, not that Coriolanus cared even a slightest bit.

Livia was standing in the middle of the circle made by the numerous Capitol's elite while he was standing next to her, a glass of posca in his hand. He knew that drinking that liquid in his glass was not the smartest thing for him considering the fact that the alcoholic drink was perhaps a bit too strong.

Not like he considered it worth giving a damn. He needed something very strong to wash away the feeling of Livia Snow's lips on his once the priest said that he can now kiss his bride.

And now, as he took yet another sip from the tall glass, he still felt disgusted by her. Himself. The whole situation.

A few more minutes, that to Coriolanus felt like hours, passed by. The people's excited chatter. The joy of the new President and the Panem's First Lady was over-the-top evident on everyone's face, except for his.

Livia was bathing in attention that were given to her, smiling, quite pleased with the whole situation. Coriolanus felt like he was going to throw up as he watched the scene unfold in front of him as he, too, had to pretend to be happy with everything.

And perhaps it was to much of the posca that he drowned that night or perhaps it was all of the whiteness of the entire reception that made him think what he thought. Hear what he heard.

As he took another sip from the glass, he could have sworn that he heard that melodic voice that haunted both his dreams and his worst nightmares.

But now that we're done and it's over

I bet you couldn't believe

When you realized I'm harder to forget than I was to leave

And I bet you think about me

Coriolanus watched with wide eyes as you stood a few feet away from him, dressed in the blood-red dress that reached the floor barely as it hugged your frame perfectly. You, in your red dress, stood out so perfectly among the white clothes that every guest was required to wear. You stood out so much, he wondered how nobody but him noticed you.

You stood tall and proud by the enormously big wedding cake, which required the front door to be taken away so it could be placed where it was. Snow remembered watching the staff bringing in the cake, the door laying on the grass behind the servant as they carried the said cake. It was ridiculous.

You turned towards the cake, not noticing his ever so blue eyes trailing on you as you moved.

Coriolanus felt his breath shorten once again as he watched your everlasting beauty. He was suddenly very aware of the cool glass that contained posca in his hand and the cold sweat that was sliding down his spine. Was it panic? Was it anticipation? He didn't know.

He watched you as you stretched your hand out towards the top of the cake as you stood on the gigantic table where it was placed, your red heels clicking as you did so.

Suddenly, you knocked over two figures, one of himself and one of Livia dressed up for their wedding. He let out a quiet, barely audible, gasp as you did so and then slowly lowered yourself to the ground.

A little girl, dressed in white, a guest, appeared you as Coriolanus watched. You quickly froze, standing completely still. After a very short while, you slid your finger over the icing of the cake and put the finger in your mouth, tasting the cake.

The little girl smiled and did the same. You and the girl shared the smile before you struck your hand into the cake, ripping one piece out revealing the red color under the purely white cake before you shoved it into your mouth, eating it. The little girl ran off after getting the taste of the delicious cake as you chewed on your piece.

As you did so, Coriolanus and you established eye contact. You made a grimace that clearly indicated that you were disappointed that you had been caught.

Coriolanus Snow allowed himself to blink for a moment to compose himself, and once he re-opened, you were gone.

You grew up in a silver-spoon gated community

Glamorous, shiny, bright Beverly Hills

I was raised on a farm, no, it wasn't a mansion

Just livin' room dancin' and kitchen table bills

Coriolanus and Livia sat down at the front of the reception as the entertainer did his job. He entered the guests of the Capitol’s elite with the microphone in his hand, tight grip on it, which showed Coriolanus that he was nervous.

Coriolanus brushed it off because, all things considered, he was doing quite a good job. He even found himself laughing along to the jokes that were being made.

After one more joke, he turned to one of the Capitol’s elite to quietly, with a smile on his face, discuss the joke that was made. However, the moment he turned back around, his smile disappeared at the sight in front of him.

You were standing there, in a red suit, with a red microphone on your hands, making jokes.

"And then," you spoke in the fit of giggles. "He left me in the woods to die after he told me he loved me."

You laughed after it, and every single Capitol’s elite followed. Coriolanus felt like he wanted to die at that moment, the look of pure horror planted onto his face.

"And best of all was that he HIMSELF tried to kill me with a gun!" You smiled as you tapped a few times on the table near Livia as you pointed at him with a smile, and every single guest of the wedding reception broke into laughter once again.

This can't be real, can it? Coriolanus thought to himself as he watched you.

But you know what they say, you can't help who you fall for

And you and I fell like an early spring snow

But reality crept in, you said we're too different

You laughed at my dreams, rolled your eyes at my jokes

After that, you, out of nowhere, pulled out a little red box as you made your way towards Livia, who was looking at you with anticipation and excitement.

You handed her your gift as Coriolanus found it harder and harder to breathe.

Livia quickly, but gracefully, opened the box as she removed the ribbon on top.

And as she pulled out the shawl that belonged to Coriolanus' mother, he felt like he was going to scream at the top of his lungs.

It was the shawl that Coriolanus gifted to you back when the two of you took off into the woods. That was the only thing that he found once he started to chase you through the woods. He never found you, though.

Livia placed it around her as she thanked you for the gift. Everyone around you swooned at your sweet gesture as they clapped pleasingly.

You bowed your head down slowly after you drowned the glass of alcohol, falling into the crowd of guests. Disappearing once again.

Now you're out in the world, searchin' for your soul

Scared not to be hip, scared to get old

Chasin' make-believe status, last time you felt free

Was when none of that shit mattered 'cause you were with me

Coriolanus chased after you, trying to catch you. He was suddenly blinded by the light because of the photographer that was taking pictures.

After the photographer went away, Coriolanus rubbed his eyes as his vision, thankfully, turned back to normal. He looked ahead.

And there you were. In a while wedding dress. The back of the dress was trailing behind you. The dress was also graced by white roses all over it. Your hair was in a type of hairstyle that was holding it all up. Your eyes were watching his every move as you stood in front of him.

Coriolanus felt like he couldn't breathe, and so, for a moment, he felt himself longing to cherish every moment of this.

It was just like Coriolanus had imagined it. You as his bride, himself as your groom. It was everything that he truly needed. Everything he ever wanted. Just you and him. You two of you having your first dance as a freshly married couple.

Suddenly, all lights but one went away. The white light above you shined as Coriolanus tried to catch his breath.

He slowly stepped forward, and you immediately followed his lead. Soon, you were standing in front of each other. Chest to chest. So intimate. So perfect.

He slowly reached for your hand, placing it onto his as he soaked up the feeling of your soft skin against his.

He slid his other hand around your waist, bringing you closer to him as you placed your other hand on his shoulder. For a moment, everything stood still. For a moment, the only thing that Coriolanus could hear was his breathing and the beating of his heart.

Coriolanus and you leaned your foreheads against each other, noses brushing. Coriolanus closed his eyes. He never wanted this to end. Then you started to dance.

You were moving with such grace as he spinned you around. His hand in yours as you slided around the dance floor.

"Coryo," your soft voice that whispered in his ear broke the peaceful silence, and his eyes snapped to yours. His eyes. His ocean blue eyes that were always so cold now looked at you with so much gentleness and pure adoration.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, my love." Coriolanus answered without any hesitation.

"Does it make you feel sad that the love that you're looking for was the love that you had?"

Coriolanus was speechless. The look in your eyes caused the lump in his throat to be stuck there forevermore. He didn't say anything. He didn't protest to your claim. How could he? You were right. On the day of his wedding, he wished to marry you, not Livia. He never found in Livia what he did in you, and he, let's be honest, never will.

Suddenly, before he could stop you, you moved away from him, letting go of his hand and shoulder.

But now that we're done and it's over

I bet it's hard to believe

But it turned out I'm harder to forget than I was to leave

And, yeah, I bet you think about me

You lifted the front of your dress a little bit so you could walk without tripping over. You gazed over your shoulder at Coriolanus before you continued to walk away.

Once you were far away from him, you turned around, quickly causing your hair to fall down your shoulders as you leaned towards him.

All of a sudden, your dress turned red, and as you took a hold of your guitar that he knew all too well (hihi, get it?) the white roses on your dress were painted red.

The white curtain behind you fell, revealing the red light and the Covey as you played your guitar, softly swaying to the music you made.

"I hope you get what you deserve, Coriolanus Snow," you spoke softly, meeting his eyes once more. "But I don't need to worry. You will get what you deserve one day."

With a soft smile, you started to sing.

I bet you think about me when you're out

At your cool indie music concerts every week

I bet you think about me in your house

With your organic shoes and your million-dollar couch

I bet you think about me when you say

"Oh my God, she's insane, she wrote a song about me"

I bet you think about me 🌹

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @10ava01 @regulusblackcore @writesleah @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @caroline-books @runningfrom2am

[xxcrystalinerose]

Next up in the Sabzerus designs: Tighnari and Cyno!

I know this is unrendered, but I already committed to not rendering these two until I finish Haitham and Kaveh's designs which, in hindsight, is difficult atm because I have more ideas about Collei's design over them. With the recent release of Sethos, it seems that it would have to wait until I finish his and Collei's designs when I get to them. I'm writing a fic now lol so it the wait is probably quite long.

Tighnari's is relatively easy and I'm so pleased with the results! He finally looks put together and not... odd, palette-wise (to put it mildly). His clothing is based on the traditional dress of the Kabyle people, an Amazigh ethnic group from northern Algeria, with some modernized touches (I used references from modern-day photos of Kabyle dress!). The highlight is the burnous (hooded cloak), originally a symbol of resistance in the Algerian War of Independence and now a garment worn in special occasions such as religious festivals. I think it would be appropriate of Tighnari to wear one for his Sabzerus dress.

Cyno is so far the most difficult one to design. I have 0 references outside of speculative fashion plates and museum pictures of jewelry. I struggled so much with the outfit components, but I persevered and this is the result. His clothing is based on what Ancient Egyptian high priests of the New Kingdom wear. The long shendyt (kilt) and shawl are made from linen, which in higher social classes are woven so finely they appear as though transparent. Not just luxurious, but also airy for comfort against the desert heat.

Previously on: Nahida + Wanderer | Nilou

As usual, close-ups and some more thoughts under the cut:

Tighnari's canon design is incredibly confusing to me, because unlike some other Sumeru characters I have absolutely no idea which part of Algerian (or Arab, but that's a very wide ballpark) dress it's supposed to be based on. Where is that white fabric wrap even from? However, when I looked at his hoodie, I realized that it's probably supposed to be a "modernized equivalent" of a burnous. Probably.

The belt accessory is actually an article I always see on women's robe kabyle, but never men's. I think they look neat and Tighnari wears belt accessories, so I incorporated them. (If any of you seeing this are Kabyle or Amazigh, do tell me more of the nuances. Are they exclusively feminine accessories? I also read that Kabyle women tie their sashes differently depending on marital status, but does this only apply to sashes or does it also apply to these cord belts?)

It's not very obvious, but the burnous has a split back, so Tighnari's tail can poke out comfortably. It's also pretty fun to try and incorporate elements of his official design, such as the paw-print gloves, the boots, and the turtleneck. To me, Tighnari without a turtleneck is unimaginable for some reason.

I've been tentatively calling Cyno's design "the one time Cyno puts some effort into doing his hair". The little braids aside, his hair is actually in a half-up bun. I really should draw these refs from more angles... and this is unimportant in the grand scope of things, but I gave him some beef. My guy deserves more beef (and I apologize for covering his chest regardless).

The wesekh (wide collar) is made from gold and various precious gems/minerals. This one has gold, carnelian, and turquoise. The narrow golden beads on the outermost layer represents beetles, which in turn symbolize resurrection (i.e. Hermanubis' indwelling within Cyno).

I've always been baffled at the fact that Cyno wears mostly black, but would prefer for my design to contain elements from his actual design, so I kept the sash and helmet black. However, I do know that too much dyed linen (and animal fibers) are inappropriate to wear in temples. Unless you are a funeral priest, where you wear a leopard skin as a part of the rites. Then again, Cyno's biggest inspiration is Anubis, so perhaps he could get some leeway here...

To continue with the flower theming, I chose the Sumeru Rose for Cyno and Tighnari wears the yellow flower on his canon clothes once again. It's never mentioned in game, but I'd like to think the Sumeru Rose is among the national flowers of Sumeru along with the Padisarah, so it's appropriate for the General Mahamatra to wear it.

Lastly, I gave them matching double piercings. Tighnari wears them on his right ear (as per his canon design), and Cyno on his left. Another matching set :)

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Rook Hunt - New Year's Attire Voice Lines

When Summoned: Welcome to the Mystery Shop! Please come and peruse our many beautiful wares!

Summon Line: Happy New Year! It is a brisk day today. The snow is shimmering so beautifully, I have this raw craving to dash out into it.

Groooovy!!: Non, non, it's too cruel to spin the ＫＯＭＡ with such force. You must be more gentle and considerate.

Home: Time to renew my heart and mind...

Home Idle 1: Take a look at all our customers making their way into the store... Their eyes are fiery like those of wild beasts lurking in the darkness. I cannot let my guard down for even half a moment.

Home Idle 2: Your breath turns white as smoke, and swirl upwards towards the wintery heavens... Don't you think that even an unbidden sigh drawn from your lips can be beautiful this way?

Home Idle 3: When it comes to dealing with mistakes or possible trouble, I don't think anyone is better at it than the Chevalier des Roses. He is wonderfully dependable!

Home Idle - Login: Aah, feel the fresh air from the start of a new year... It truly is refreshing. It feels as though my very soul is cleansed just by breathing it in.

Home Idle - Groovy: What is my New Year's resolution? Hmm, well... I think it would be fantastic if I could discover something new and beautiful about you.

Home Tap 1: This fabric resembles the dark sky just before the first sunrise of the year... This truly is a "New Year's Attire." Both my body and soul feel at ease.

Home Tap 2: I can only sigh in awe at Ortho-kun's beautifully crafted new gear. It is an outstanding collaboration of both modern technology and traditional designs!

Home Tap 3: See Jade-kun's graceful movements as he charmingly handles the customers... Aaah, I cannot keep my eyes off of him!

Home Tap 4: If you are in a bind and cannot decide what to purchase during this sale, you may leave it to me. I'll introduce you to some cosmetics that will enhance your beauty even further!

Home Tap 5: Fufu, ahaha! I heard there is a tradition in the East that states that laughter will bring happiness, so I tried laughing there, and it naturally brightened my mood.

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh my, you're trembling... Come to the shop later. We have some thermal wear that I always use whenever I go into snow-capped mountains to prevent cold sweats.

Duo: [ROOK]: Join forces with me, Monsieur Prémédité [JADE]: As you wish, Rook-san.

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[fantasylandblues]

modern lucemond fics have had a real chokehold on me for a while so here's my attempt at a lucemond college au! (wanted to include some minor jacegon at some point but still dont know how's that gonna go lol.) this turned into a whole ass drabble but just hear me out (and pls be nice!!!):

Lucerys Velaryon (22) is an undergrad student majoring in ocean studies. Aemond Targaryen (26) is getting his post-grad in modern-age westerosi politics at the same institution, the Crownlands College of King's Landing, Westeros, of valyrian tradition.

in his free time, Lucerys takes theatre lessons at school. he has a scholarship and makes the best of it, although he wouldn't consider himself to be particularly bright (he also has some trouble focusing). he walks with the determination of someone who's got places to be, though maybe that's just to appear stronger or more confident than he actually is. Luce's got a somewhat tall build now, but years of being undermined by his peers have worn down his shoulders and his joyful, boyish appearence.

his older brother, Jacaerys (24), is the one who got him into theatre in the first place, although Jace now pursues his passion for the martial arts, teaching children and teenagers alike. he's known for being short tempered among his friends and family, but is as good with those kids as he once was with his little brother during their formative years. they currently share a two bedroom apartment and often hang out at their neighbors', Baela and Rhaena's, sisters who sometimes feel like perfect female versions of them.

Aemond lives alone, but often meets up with his confidant and cool sister Helaena (27) at the campus restaurant. Helaena is an English professor there at Crownlands with a passion for teaching medieval histories. she has the study of biology as her main hobby and is often seen carrying a book or two on entomology which she borrows from the library on her free time.

it's not uncommon to catch Aemond at the olympic pool well past everyone's school hours, swimming focusedly as a way to clear his mind. he comes from a somewhat influent family, the Targaryens, and knows he will soon be introduced to the actual world of westerosi politics, so he gets to focus all of his energy on his studies and training, almost as if striving to achieve the best version of himself. back home, he cares for his pet lizard, Vhagar - named after the goddess of war in valyrian mythology, a name only his sister could come up with.

he's lost his eye and gained that terrible scar in a scrap with his brother many years ago, which needless to say went too far. he remembers seeing Aegon with their father's letter opener in hand, and then waking up in the hospital to his mother's worried eyes. there are days in which he proudly wears unnatural, dark-colored prosthetics, and days in which he just puts in a clear one and patches it up.

his brother Aegon (29) works remotely as a manager in their grandfather's company, a job he doesn't particularly like but was left with no choice but to take. he is still recovering from the car accident that left him paralysed from the waist down and with severe burns along his body. with his little daughter by his side, he's been dealing with this new life surprisingly well, as well as finding a new joy for parenting.

despite being bitter for years on end, Aemond could no longer hold a grudge against him after the terrible accident. they have been finding ways to remedy their relationship ever since.

beloved by his colleagues, Lucerys is easy to talk to, somewhat extroverted and ballsy, even, although he would rather shield from too much intimacy. being gay is an issue he thinks he's got handled, thank you very much, if that means getting with guys in seedy corners and never bringing that up in conversation. people know, of course, but it bothers Jace that he's never ever heard a mention of a special name.

that day, he strides out of the school's pool bathrooms with the uneasiness that's left in the bottom of his stomach after one of those types of encounters. a few swimmers are packing their stuff up for the day, and he looks just so out of place in his jeans and t-shirt.

Aemond knows confidently what he wants, yet is hard to approach for those who haven't earned his trust, and would very much like to mantain that hardened image. but it doesn't bother him that he craves like a human being, that he craves small and he craves grabbable, just enough to leave small bruises where his hands have been, and he would definitely benefit from fisting a handful of those brown locks he's just laid eyes upon. or maybe he shouldn't be thinking that while clad in nothing but tight swim attire.

let me know if this is anything! my askbox is wide open baby~

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; zestial

requested by ; anonymous (13/02/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; zestial

outline ; “can you do general relationship headcanons for Zestial?”

note ; characterisation is likely very shaky as we haven’t seen much of him so far in the series

warning(s) ; some canon typical references to violence, but mostly fluff!

though he may be a terribly imposing demon and an overlord with a reputation and presence that demands respect and fear, when it comes to your relationship zestial is nothing short of a complete and utter gentleman

he’s very traditional in his displays of affection, as one might expect, which means you’ll be on the receiving end of many of the following gestures (amongst many, many others along the same lines): him draping his outercoat over your shoulders if you complain about feeling cold or are wearing something that’s drawing a bit too much attention for his liking, him walking you home from every date just so you feel safe (and because he enjoys your company, of course), him bringing your hand up to his lips to chastely kiss your knuckles or the back of your hand in greeting, him memorising how you enjoy your drinks and either making them for you himself when you visit his home or sending for his servants to do so on his behalf, him walking with you whilst either placing a guiding hand on the small of your back or interlocking your arms just to make sure that all of hell knows that you’re taken, and so on…

he tends to lean towards more traditional pet names and would prefer if you did the same when addressing him — think along the lines of ‘my dear’, ‘my darling’, ‘my heart’, or ‘my love’ (emphasis on ‘my’ as that’s one of the many casual ways that he proclaims his ownership over your heart and being through your partnership)

his dating style is, again, very traditional and gentlemanly with him preferring to take things slow to enjoy the process of courting and wooing you in its entirety — so expect things like: lots of chaste shows of affection leading up to that eventual kiss that happens after a long time of anticipating it, semi frequent dates that involve more walking and pleasant conversation than anything else, the frequent exchanging of letters and gifts that would feel incredibly out of place for anyone but him, and compliments given in earnest that are very sparsely heard from such an intimidating overlord

carmilla is the first person to find out about your relationship and deals with the brunt of zestial’s pining for you whilst also being the only person he goes to for advice on the rare occasion where he feels like he needs it — of course he’s plenty confident in himself but if you happen to be from a more modern time period there are times where he’ll turn to carmilla’s expertise and experience in order to properly meet your needs and expectations for your relationship

usually this means an afternoon spent in her office discussing gift ideas (between his own thoughts, carmilla’s suggestions, and your personal tastes it’s safe to say that you’re never left wanting for anything so long as you’re together) or with her briefing him on modern day dating etiquette, which he rarely ever makes use of unless it’s to make you laugh (truly he believes that his technique and approach is much more romantic but he can see the humour in the attempts at courtship made by younger generations… sometimes, anyway)

whenever there’s an extermination due, he insists on you staying at his home with him so you can ride out the slaughter together — the mood is always surprisingly light and almost tender as you take the time to enjoy each others company, eat good food, and try to forget about what’s going on just outside of your field of view

despite how much of an effort he makes to keep you and your relationship separate to his work as an overlord, it’s only a matter of time before you get to see firsthand exactly why the denizens of hell would sooner set themselves ablaze or take their own lives before risking drawing his attention to them for even a second — and even though his anger and violence is never directed at you (he wouldn’t dream of raising a hand to his partner) it’s still incredibly frightening to witness and it would take some time to reconcile those two versions of him in your mind

but once you know how ruthless he can be, he becomes much more willing to wield that reputation in order to protect you and your relationship — of course he’s already publicly claimed you in every way he could think of, but it doesn’t hurt to drive the message home by making some examples out of a few unfortunate sinners or hellborns that dared to flirt with or threaten you (or even that just happened to look at you for too long or at the wrong time; he’s not that picky about his victims)

it’s his duty as your lover to protect your honour and well-being after all… and it never hurts to drive home how far he’s willing to go to maintain his status and relationship just in case anyone gets any ideas about using you against him

now despite his public claiming of you as his significant other, zestial is still a pretty private person and doesn’t advertise much of your personal life to the world beyond the fact that you belong to each other and you’re content in that fact — he’ll answer questions from old friends and acquaintances (like carmilla or alastor) when asked but he enjoys keeping you to yourself and being able to have a part of his life that is mostly separate to his role as an overlord

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Omg I don't know how I never noticed this but after seeing your diasomnia baton post I realised that I absolutely despise their dorm uniform pants

I used to think that they diasomnia students had drip but I take that back

It just feels wrong to have such baggy pants with the top of the uniform

Idk what do you think? Btw can we have a dorm uniform fit check

[Referencing this post!]

To be fair, we mainly see the upper half of every character so it’s easy to forget what the bottom half looks like. I’ve found that the characters’ shoes are often really wonky (like the weird elf shoes in Broomquet cards) 😭

As for Diasomnia’s pants… I actually don’t take an issue with them at all. Those pants make a lot of sense given the inspiration for the dorm (which Yana has stated in an 2020 interview to be “bodyguards and dragons”). Diasomnia is meant to look militant—and that style of pants, from what I understand, are popular in military uniforms of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

These flared breeches have roots in equestrian fashion, as polo and horse riding were activities favored among army officials, particularly the cavalry. (Note that half of the main cast in Diasomnia, Silver and Sebek, are in Equestrian Club.)

This style of pants is called jodhpurs. Diasomnia’s are more specifically an “old” design (shown above). They may look a little silly, but jodhpurs were considered quite fashionable back in the day. Additionally, the design was very functional for equestrians. Having a looser fit around the thighs allows for more freedom of movement—which is necessary for certain horseback maneuvers and helps with staying on and controlling the horse. The entire leg needs to be covered in fabric in order to protect from friction.

Prior to the development of riding breeches, equestrians would wear tall boots. The drawbacks to this were that 1) the boots were expensive as heck, and 2) the boots were complicated to put on and oftentimes required the help of a servant. When jodhpurs came onto the scene, these problems were resolved. Being entirely made of a non-stretchy fabric, they were much cheaper to produce than the riding boots. The lower part of the breeches is tight and form fitting, making it ideal to pair with short boots (which are easier to put on/take off by yourself).

Modern day or “new” jodhpurs look more like this (pictured above). As you can see, they’re much more slim and have transitioned into a stretchy fabric that still allows for movement. They basically do the same thing as the older iteration, they just look different and are made with a different material!

You’re probably thinking the “old” breeches look weird because you’re much more used to seeing the “new” style! Personally, I think the “old” style makes more sense for Diasomnia’s draconian aesthetic.

Aaand here’s my current personal ranking of the dorm uniforms. (I think I gave my thoughts on them a long time ago, but my opinions may have changed since then.) This is based solely on looks but does NOT account for dorm leader variants (just the standard dorm uniforms mobs wear)!

Heartslabyul — Whimsical, fun. Somehow both casual (sneakers, white T-shirt) yet also formal (vest). I’m a sucker for the Alice in Wonderland aesthetic and asymmetry in designs so this is really my bias speaking.

Pomefiore — So pretty!! Interestingly based on a kimono despite Pomefiore being based on a European tale. Very unique direction to take this uniform. The sleeves are the best part; they remind me of really fancy curtains and I bet they’re fun to watch swishing around.

Octavinelle — Can’t go wrong with a cool and simple suit! It’s elegant… a classic. No complaints other than maybe it’s too “traditional” looking compared to other designs.

Diasomnia — Cool at a glance, but also seems like a nightmare the longer I look at it because of all the straps. It looks like you would be standing very stiffly once it is on, so I get this sense of discomfort and feel bad for the students wearing it. There’s a weird… spiked strip running down the back, which makes it impractical to recline against a chair/couch or a wall. RIP Silver every time he naps 😭 Still giving this a pass because I think it fits the intimidating vibes of Diasomnia so well.

Ignihyde — Nothing to remark on other than it’s one of the least fussy of the designs (though it lacks the class of Octavinelle’s). That works against Ignihyde; the main thing that grabs my eye is the weirdly blocky jacket and that’s not enough to keep me interested when I find the blocky jacket really ugly. There is nothing else for me to look at.

Savanaclaw — Exposed arms… That’s a nope for me 💀 Biker cowboy aesthetic is also a big nope. Colors on this are so odd; the shirt and jewelry are so earthy and then BOOM you got this bright ass yellow sash at the waist.

Scarabia — Exposed arms (again). Also not a fan of the saggy hotpants or the shoes that expose the feet. Y’all are in the DESERT. Exposed skin = more sunscreen and bug spray application needed to protect yourselves. Sounds like a pain…

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Thanks so much for running this blog!! I was wondering if you guys knew of any good arranged marriage fics between them? Preferably with some initial angst that’s later resolved? No worries if not! Thanks so much!

Hey. We have an #arranged marriage tag, so check that out. Here are more to add...

Wicked dance by pirripipi (T)

The kingdom of Heaven and the kingdom of Hell have been at war with each other more times than all of the rest of the lands combined. Mostly due to the fact they hate each other. Therefore when the wedding of the century is announced. An union meant to bring peace. An arranged marriage between Crowley, the youngest heir of Hell, and Aziraphale, the youngest prince of Heaven… they know something is just not right.

Someone by Diminua (M)

This was a kinkmeme prompt and as usual I can't do better than to paraphrase the OP : Aziraphale is a frumpy, middle aged man, who's closing in on 50 : he's spent his entire life alone, mistreated by his family, and living like a modern times hermit in his familiar, reassuring bookshop. He thinks it's too late for passion. But he hopes that, maybe, he could find a companion for his latter days. Crowley has spent his entire life having a wild time: parties, sex, rock n roll, all that jazz. He flew through the 80s, the 90s, the new millennium like a car on fire. He thought he had time, thought he'd be young and surrounded by people forever, thought with fling after fling after fling, someone would find him. Someone would look at him and choose him. But no one ever did. To paraphrase (again) - they turn to an arranged marriage company. And they fit..

third law of thermodynamics by astrhae (M)

“As you may know,” Muriel started, “as a human police officer, I can unobtrusively monitor your marriage without raising suspicion.” Yes. What? Aziraphale stared. “Marriage?” “On whether it’s being,” Muriel hesitated, eyes cast up as they searched for the right word, “consummated properly.” ------------- Or, after the Antichrist cancels Armageddon, Heaven and Hell come up with a peace treaty. Traditionally, treaties involve a marriage between representatives of each side. It goes about as well as you might expect.

Match Made on Earth by ineffable_snowman (M)

The archangels receive a divine message that an angel and a demon must marry on Earth. No one really wants to do it. So why not send the angel who was responsible for the flaming sword fiasco?

Duty and Desire by Purple_Rose_Writes (M)

A Regency-Era GO Omegaverse Human AU Aziraphale Heavens has resisted taking a mate, but when the family hits hard times, he has no choice. His fears about being mated to an alpha he's never met are only heightened when Alpha Anthony Crowley is rather non-traditional. Is he doomed to a life of abuse and mistreatment? Or is there more to Crowley than meets the eye?

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T)

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

- Mod D