#and the color green has captivated me this year too

[summer-l0ver]

Is gonna be one week sense I turned 24 soooo yesss, I changed my blog with new colors and pictures and everything

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons: You Are My Sunshine

Current brain rot: Yandere Sheriff from the Wild West. An older man has captivated me.

Jack Henry, the forty year old bachelor and Afab Reader

Yandere Sheriff who’s devoted to locking criminals away. He’s never given relationships much thought. His life was too dangerous for anyone else to be a part of it long term so he’s had his fair share of one night stands but never true love… Jack Henry has lived a hard life and he was getting old. His chocolate hair and stubble was covered in gray hair. And his face and body littered in scars from the outlaws he arrested. Jack knew he was a terrifying man to gaze upon. His face alone struck fear into people.

Yandere Sheriff who meets the new resident in town. A sweet young woman with big eyes filled with innocence. A shy expression on her (skin color) face as she introduced herself to him. The lovely woman was named (your name), a pretty name for a pretty girl. She was a lamb amongst wolves… Jack was immediately smitten with her. He’d be her shepherd dog that would keep her safe in this wild world… wait. Why did he like her so much? She was just a lass…

Yandere Sheriff who would often see (your name) at the post office or at the general store. He caught himself constantly sneaking glances at her whenever he was in town. Jack thought she was attractive… maybe he could talk to her?Jack ignored the flirtatious stares of old flames in favor of talking to the young lass who was the apple of his eye.

Yandere Sheriff who began to court (your name). Jack is sweet with his words and he does his best to be gentle and soft for her. He brings her flowers and meals from town. His green eyes are filled with so much adoration for her. He swore she was sweeter than molasses. The more time they spent together, the more he wanted to be with her. Jack has never felt this way in his life. He wanted to protect her from everything. Jack wanted to come home everyday from work and see her waiting for him. For the first time in his forty years of living, he craved domesticity.

Yandere Sheriff who tries to take things slow but he starts to get touchy. Jack often holds her soft hands in his large, calloused ones while he shows her the town. His green eyes never leave his sunshine. The stubble on his chin tickles her shoulders when he rests his face on her shoulder while she wears his sheriff hat. Jack loves her… he loves (your name) so very much, it hurts.

Yandere Sheriff who can’t get her out of his head even when he dreams. Her face creates butterflies flutter in his stomach and her smile… her smile was just like sunshine. She was his sunshine… and he never wanted her to be taken away. The fear of his enemies harming her started to keep him up at night… he had to make it official so they could get married and he could keep her locked away and safe.

Yandere Sheriff who took (your name) out on dates on the weekends. Jack enjoyed taking her on rides on his horse, Gunsmoke. He adores how much smaller her body is than his. Their bodies fit together so perfectly… it was when Gunsmoke brought them up a hill where the sunset looked most beautiful that Jack felt like he should confess his love for her. The setting sun made her look like some sort of goddess on earth… a goddess he wished to worship until his final breath.

Yandere Sheriff who is shocked that she doesn’t feel the same way. They spent so much time together… why didn’t she love him too? Jack was upset that she didn’t feel the same way. Couldn’t she see herself with him? He saw an entire future with her… he saw children and a wedding. They were meant to be in his eyes… and he would teach her to love him.

Yandere Sheriff who doesn’t budge when (your name)’s fists beat against his chest while he kissed her. His stubble tickled her face and she could taste cigar smoke on him but his arms firmly held her against him. Jack was on cloud nine from the kiss. He sore lightning shot through his very being… she was so perfect. How could she not want this? How could she not want him? It wasn’t long before his lips moved to her neck to press hit kisses all over the soft, tender skin. His sweet whispers of love made her skin crawl.

“I love you… I love you so much.” Jack whispered into her skin, his hot breath tickled. “Let’s get married... my sunshine.”

[irndad]

double vision in a rose blush -s.r.

a/n: first fic in like a year and my first spencer fic! please let me know what you think!

summary: she is the best part of his days, his life, these days, really. the only problem is she never touches him. s/o to @bitesizedgremlin for writing the most adorable touch starved spence fic that got me 🥰

wc: 1.6k

He loves looking at her. 

It feels hedonistic, like drinking a too-expensive wine. Looking at her brings a warmth that spreads all throughout him, like threaded gold embedded in her movements. It’s a lovely kind of ache, how she can bring the most open, the most raw parts of him to the surface. She is captivating, the way she laughs, the way she moves, the slightest intonation of affection she offers him in her tone. 

Tonight, she sits across from him at the team’s favorite bar. She’s wearing a deep emerald green top, the kind of thing that makes her look like something out of a dream. 

It’s not like it shows how much he likes her. He hopes it doesn’t. 

Sure, people tease them. She’s a consultant with their teams, one with a desk right next to his one. He initially thought he’d hate the company, but even on their first meeting, she was relentlessly kind. She had sat next to him, wearing a beautiful periwinkle sweater, and somehow he was talking for far too long about how the original blue pigments were sometimes made from toxic materials and how much modern effort it took to make a sweater that color.

He’d felt a familiar humiliation, the knowledge that a beautiful woman had sat down next to him and offered him kindness, and he’d met her with his own personal brand of anti-charisma.

But she hadn’t interrupted him. In fact, she granted him maybe the most welcoming, kind smile that he’s ever seen in his life.

And she’d asked more about the pigment. 

Spencer- he’d never known the kind of affection she offers so freely. It almost reminds him of Penelope- how open she is, how kind. Objectively, he knows she likes him at least a little bit. He’s a profiler, and he can tell at least that much. 

The hitch is, he’s the only one she doesn’t touch. 

Morgan gets shoulder brushes. Penelope hugs, and he even remembers her once giving Rossi a warm squeeze of her hand. But not him. Even now, she sits across from him after having held Morgan in a long hug of greeting. 

He looks up at her, her pretty fingers wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. She moves with such grace, no matter what the action. The way she tops her head back, how a lovely grin spreads across her face. He’d give anything not to be her exception. To be one of the people she touches. 

“What you thinking there, wonder kid?” She says, and somehow her voice carries across the crowded bar. He thinks he could pick her voice out anywhere.

“Nothing really,” he says back. He never likes the way his voice sounds around her. He wants to be confident, smooth, like Morgan. She leaves him too weak for it. “How are you feeling?”

“I am wondrous, Spencer.” She’s leaning into his space. Her tone is just a little shaky, influenced by the alcohol. He’s near enough to smell the lily-scented perfume she wears, and it’s everything in him not to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He’d gotten it for her for Christmas. 

He remembers her reaction to it, unwrapping the bow and wrapping he’d sent an hour trying to make perfect. It was one of the few times she touched him, however brief- a squeeze of his hand and that earnestly grateful look- the image kept him warm all year. She’d worn it to work more often than not. It brought him a shameful sense of satisfaction. 

She carries me with her. She has a piece of me with her wherever she goes. 

I want to be touched by you, he thinks, I want to be the one doing the touching. What is it about him? He knows his limbs are a little spindle-y, and he’s not exactly experienced in most forms of physical expression. But he could be, if he was given the chance. If it was with her. It’s not something he could say, though.

“You look lovely,” he says, unprompted. “I love that shirt on you.”

She flushes, and almost, almost, touches his knee in thanks. He preens at the praise, even though it’s not verbal. She’s just so beautiful. It’s always been about more than beauty for him, the mind behind the doe eyes and sweet smile. 

Still, it’s hard to deny how much of an effect she has on him- how she can glance at him with that honey sweet look, how the red on her lips has him wondering what it would taste like. If there could ever be anything better. Without thinking, he grabs one of her hands; it looks just so pretty in his own. He runs his thumb over her knuckles. It’s like electricity, passing through them. 

There has to be something he’s done. There has to be, if she touches everyone but him. He always notices, but tonight, with liquor and courage in his chest, he wants to ask. If he knows, if there’s something- maybe he can fix it. Maybe then she’ll put her pretty hands on him just like this. Touch him in any way she wants.

It wouldn’t be close to what he wants. But it would be something. 

“Hey,” his voice comes out uneven and shaky, but his eyes are locked on hers, “I-I’m sorry if I’ve done something.”

Her face blooms into an adorably confused expression. 

“I-,” His stutter jumps out but he’s still holding her hand, and it’s so soft and his stomach just won’t stop that flipping feeling and he just cannot let go, “I know you like to touch people. I don’t know if I-I’ve done something, but you- you never touch me.”

Suddenly, the bar feels a good bit quieter, and her eyes feel like they can see right through him. Her hands are the only thing tethering him here. 

“I don’t touch you?”

“Touch is actually one of the most well-regarded indicators of closeness and geniality in personal relationship.” 

“Spencer-“

“It stands to reason that if you touch everyone but me, there should be a reason and it’s like something that I would have done to offend you.”

“Hey-“

“I just want you to like me.”

Her face, the most beautiful face he’d ever seen- softens into a delicate expression of fondness. 

“Spence,” and god, doesn’t that sound lovely, “I thought you didn’t like touching.”

He pouts without thinking, and all thoughts leave his mind when her other hand reaches out to hold his face, her fingers on the junction of his chin and neck, stroking the side of his cheek.

The truth of it is he thinks of her hands on him in every way. Pictures hands laced together, her graceful fingers running through his hair as they lay on his couch. 

He’s imagined kissing her way too many times.

“Not with you. You’re different.”

He’s too honest. But it’s overwhelming. Her hand in his, the other brushing delicately over his face. He leans into it, a little too eager, but the sensation of it is just too much not to. 

“Remember the second day of me being with the team? You told Garcia she’s the only one allowed to touch you?”

“I think so?”

“Well, I like to repeat your boundaries.”

“I like you to touch me.”

She tips her head back, laughing, and she looks ethereal, the kind of smile gracing her face that’d have you believe everything you’ve every worried about in your god-forsaken life was worth it to witness this. 

“I’d like to touch you too, Reid.”

“You can call me Spencer,” he says, realizing how close they are. Lilies. He’s overplaying his hand. He’s a friend at work, he wants to remind himself. He’s the guy who bought her perfume and hands her files and gets her coffee and that does not mean the same thing as a partner. He’s not even the kind of person someone like her would want.

It’s just hard to remember that. 

“Spencer,” she says, more tender than anyone else had ever been with him., “I could be reading this wrong, but-“

It’s actually a small distance, kissing her. If she’d been more than a few inches from his face then he wouldn’t have done it. But she was so close, and she smiles into him, open and warm and his arms are around her waist, hers cradling his face, and it’s more touch than he knows what to do with, far less than anything he’d be willing to give up. 

It lasts a languid second and then ends too soon, her gorgeous eyes meeting his own, her basically in his lap. He knows that this is basically a bar-kiss between two coworkers, and that it is unlikely to be anything but that, but he kind of needs it to not be. Needs it to be more. 

“I don’t-I don’t know if you wanted to do that or if you want me to stop, but I really, really like you, and I know we work together and you might not like me back, I mean, probably not, right? But-“

“Spencer.” Her soft fingers are still brushing against his face, and he can’t help but be grateful for it. “I’m free tomorrow night.”

He’s not usually good at deciphering social cues that don’t relate to serial killers, but this one- it seems intentional. Her hands move from his cheek (and he winces, visibly) before wrapping both arms around his neck. It’s awfully romantic to be anything else. 

“Do you want to be my plans?” 

“Yes.”

[rhadamanthes]

Made with love. Toji x reader

word count : 2,8k

warnings : kitchen sex, fluff, praise, bakery AU, food play, breeding kink, soft toji, forced proximity, single dad toji, slowburnish.

"Thanks for that, I owe you :)" You sigh, reading Shiu's message. You accepted one of his friends to work with you for a time. Toji, your new coworker starts today, you couldn't be more nervous. For the past 4 years, you've been working alone. You own a small pastry shop downtown, key word being small you don't even know how two people are going to fit in. You fidget nervously waiting for someone to show up. Shiu didn't even take the time to send a picture of the said friend. So you're just looking like a creep observing every passerby trough the window of the bakery waiting for someone to stop.

And when they do you can't help but gasp. A black haired man, built like a brick, is looking at the facade. That must be the guy. You open the door and pass your head through the crack.

"Toji?" you call hesitantly.

His head drops to meet your gaze and he nods. You're taken aback by the beautiful shade of his eyes, a deep captivating green. You feel the heat cripping to your cheeks but invite him inside.

"Did you find it easily ?" you start to break the ice.

"Yeah it's the only pastel colored shop in the business district" he laughs

You clear your throat in embarrassment, what's wrong with pastel color ?

"Anyways, so I suppose Shiu told you that I'm specialized in dessert and stuff, do you have any experience with that ?" you ask nervously.

"Not really in sweets, I used to cook for the army."

"Oh nice so you have some basis, I'll give you a quick tour."

The shop is small and only has a few seating tables so it goes pretty fast, pushing the swing door you're now behind the counter, and your fear comes to life. With the way he's built this feels like you're stepping on each other's feet. You open the door to the kitchen in a hurry needing to have some personal space again, it's the biggest room in the shop, and you walk him through it.

"So that's it, if you have any questions before we start don't hesitate and- oh! I almost forgot here is your apron, it's a spare of mine so I think it's going to be small but I'll go shop for others tomorrow." You say handing him the white colored clothes,

Now That you think about it, it also has lace details on the hem, you purse your lips the idea of this mountain of a man wearing a way too small apron with girly little details on it. Toji nods his head accepting the piece of cloth.

"So are you going to watch me change ?" he asks teasingly.

"N-no! Not at all the door here it's the break room, you can change there"You stutter over your word.

You put your own apron on, taking the ingredients that you need out of the fridge.

⠀༺ ✤ ༻

The morning rolls around fast and you're satisfied with Toji's way of working, he learns fast and is independent. The first customers start to walk in and you decide to put Toji at the desk to see how he interacts with them. And it's kind of catastrophic, not a smile in sight, no greetings or basic customer service sentences. You put your hand over your mouth looking at him. You go behind the counter, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"Toji, you know it would hurt anybody if you smiled a bit" you whisper not to expose him in front of the client sitting at the tables. "Look how I do with the next ones, yeah ?" He nods without saying a word.

Waiting patiently for the next customer, you rearrange the displayed goods, telling Toji how you like them to be presented. The bells at the doors ring and you put on your customer service smile, fading quickly when you realise who it is.

"Get out" you hiss.

"That's how you greet your friends now ? I just came by to see how the partnership is going" Shiu answers in his usual mischievous tone.

"It's great, now turn around and go away"

"Hmm i'll have the fondant aux poires please" you roll your eyes at his request serving him anyway.

"You're lucky i don't have tomatoes in here i'd ruin your suit"

"One day you'll thank me~" he says in a singsong voice handing you the cash "So toji how do you like it so far?"

"It's nice," he answers flatly.

You can't help but wonder if he really keeps this monotonous tone, and stone cold expression even with his friends. You turn around to meet his eyes and he's already looking at you, neutral expression, just grazing the scar on his lips with his fingers.

"Well I'll leave you to it then" Shiu says bidding you both farewell.

"So can I threaten the next customer?" Toji says leaning back on the counter.

" "Hello", and "have a nice day" will do, Forget about the smile" you say, hitting his arm lightly, going back to the kitchen.

At the end of the day you show Toji how to leave the kitchen ready for tomorrow, and everything clean. Outside of the shop you're both standing in front of each other awkwardly.

"Well i hope you enjoyed today" you laugh nervously "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, 8 am again ?"

You nod your head.

"See you then" he says, turning around going his ways.

Looking at him disappear, you think that this might not be as terrible as you thought, nobody ever denies a little help. This will do you think, this will do.

༺ ✤ ༻

You quickly get used to Toji, it's not like he's talkative, or particularly joyous but his presence makes you feel less lonely. He's less trouble then he seems, during the lunchbreak the two of you usually sit next to each other in the break area, when you were alone you would always put on some TV reality show to unwind. Now that Toji is here you still do, but he made fun of you for the first few days. Now he silently watches it with you, making comments from time to time.

Work wise you couldn't be more satisfied he quickly followed your rhythm and rarely complains. The only thing is that in such a small space you stopped counting the number of times you bumped into each other especially when behind the counter, he would always make snarky comments about how it's not an accident and you just want to feel his muscles. You always shut him off but he likes to see you so flustered.

One day Toji came to you looking thoughtful. You immediately pick up on it asking him what's wrong.

"Would...it be a problem if my son came to eat with us today ?" he asks, scratching his neck.

You're a bit dumbfounded, he has a son ? Of course Shiu didn't mention it.

"Hum yeah sure no problem" you says realising how few you really know about him

"Thanks, i should have warned you sooner but he only decided it a few minutes ago" he says avoiding your gaze

"It's fine, really, let's get back to work" you shut him off.

For the rest of the morning you can only think about Toji and his son, how old he's he ? Is it the reason why Shiu insisted for you to engage him ? Before you can think anymore about it the door opens, ringing the bell. You can see a small form rushing through the door and an adult following close behind, telling the kid to slow down.

"Megumi!" Toji beams as he takes the kid in his arms "Giving Tsumiki a hard time?" he laughs ruffling the hair of his son. The kid doesn't answer, hugging his father.

Tsumiki, the woman you suppose was following behind, is out of breath.

"Sorry about the cub, did he make you run around town again ?" Toji asks.

"No that's fine" she whispers, slowly breathing back to normal. "Enjoy your meal and I'll pick him up after hmm?"

Toji nods and she makes her way to the exit giving you a warm smile and a wave of her hand. You mimic her still not realising what happened.

"This is my son Megumi" Toji states awkwardly "Megumi says Hello" he whispers in his hair.

The kid turns around waving, not saying a word, well if it wasn't for the fact he's his dad spitting image, the attitude gives it away. You chuckle at the scene before you, leading them to the break room.

Dinner with the father and son duo was fun, they act exactly like each other, but Megumi is a bit more talkative you would say, he went on and on about the dogs he has back home and his friend Yuuji. This is the most information you have on the Fushiguro's. For dessert you offered Megumi a pastry and he happily devoured it. Tsumiki went to pick up the kid and the two of you resumed your shift. Since Toji brought a part of his private life here you allowed yourself to ask him a few questions, you learned that his wife passed away giving birth to their only son, and that Tsumiki is like a big sister to Megumi.

༺ ✤ ༻

Toji is not used to praise, or simply people talking to him without a second thought. To him, your sweetness hides something, so when you're both preparing the sweets of the day and you tell him how good he's doing, he snaps.

"Stop doing this" he tones. His harsh tone takes you aback, you furrow your brows.

"What are you talking about?" you ask genuinely intrigued

"Your stupid words of encouragement i'm not a toddler i don't need this, or your pity"

"This shop is all i have i don't care about your personal feelings, i care about your performance if you were doing bad i'll tell you too, you know what next time i'll tell you to fuck off when youre done with one of your task" you scoff losing patience.

Turning your back to him, you keep on decorating the cupcakes. The rest of the day was silent. Toji felt stupid for even mentioning that. He won't say it out loud but the silent treatment you're giving makes him miss your voice. He'll accept anything now, even the oversweet words.

༺ ✤ ༻

Today is the end of the week, on friday customers are rare in the afternoon. This is usually the day you take your time to try new recipes. Sitting on the counter you're eating a blueberry crumble with cream on the top.

"Solitary pleasure ?" Toji's voice interrupts you.

The both of you quickly made up after the little fight and everything is back to normal, even his little teasing. Heat creeps to your cheeks at his comment and you clear your throat.

"No just trying some new stuff" you stammers

"And can I have a bite?" he smiles.

You nod, extending your hand. A normal person would have picked up the sweet from your hand but not Toji, supporting your hand with his, he dips his head low, eating straight from your skin. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin makes you shiver. What is wrong with him ? He looks at you through his lashes and you instinctively close your thighs. He straightens his back, licking his lips.

"Don't close your thighs on me darling" he purrs with a smirk growing on his lips.

You hit him with your feet, getting off the counter to wash your hands in the nearby sink. The water runs against your skin and you try to forget what he feels like against you. But he seems to have other plans. Caging you against the counter, Toji takes your hands in his, spreading the soap on your limbs. His chest feels like a wall behind you, he's hot and strong, you relax in his touch and wonder how his tongue would feel on every part of your body. He keeps on massaging your hands as he rubs against your ass.

"Toji stop" you blurt in a meek voice, you're not even convincing yourself.

"You sure you want me to stop? you have goosebumps all over" he whispers in your neck. "And I can tell you want me, everytime i pass behind you you clutch your little thighs or your cute little apron," he adds, kissing your neck.

You moan out loud at the feeling. He stops the water, drying both your hands on the closest piece of clothes. Toji turns you around, locking your lips in a heated kiss. You completely let yourself go at his contact, locking your arm behind his neck as you start to grind on him too. He places a knee between your legs and your clit catches at every fiber of his jeans making you squirm. You can already feel yourself getting wet, as well as he's getting hard under your ministrations.

Lifting your hips, Toji places you on the counter. You shiver against the cold marble. Breaking the kiss you get rid of your apron and his. He rips open your blouse, attacking your nipples with his warm mouth. Your back arch off the counter in pleasure, as his tongue twirls against your sensitive bud. With his free hand toji reaches for the bowl of cream you used for your cake he places the cold mixture on your other tits lapping hungrily at it.

"Fuck Toji" you cry at the hot and cold sensation.

You're getting wetter by the second and want to feel him inside of your pussy right now. You let your hand travel to your pants working the zipper down. Toji lifts your lower body off the counter so you can properly take it off. He does the same for himself and you pat him through his boxer. Fuck he's big, you bite your lips.

"Scared ?" he asked with a grin.

You bite hard on his neck as an answer, he chuckles. You stroke his cock a few times and spread your legs when you feel he's hard enough. The tip of his cock runs against your folds and you clench his shoulders. Slowly entering you, you let your head fall backward at the stretch feeling.

"God that tight little pussy" he rasps in your ear

"You like that? you taunt petting his hair

Letting your back hit the counter once more, he hides his face in the crook of your neck as he begins a slow pace in your cunt. His big cock pushes your gummy walls all the way. It's been a long time since you've been fuck like that. The faster he gets the louder you moan.

"Shit Toji, just like that, good boy"

His hips stutter at your words and he groans.

"Say it again" he growls.

"You're a good boy," you say, kissing his jaw.

"More"

"My good boy" you purr right next to his ear.

A defeated sound escapes his mouth and picks up the pace ramming into your pussy full force. Each thrusts lock you harder against the counter while you dig your nails into his muscular back. Turning you around Toji places you in a doggy style position. Your hair is firmly locked in one of his hands while he pounds into you. He's close you can't tell. you're not far away either. He keeps rutting into you, the knot in your belly is getting closer to snap with each thrust.

"Make me cum Toji please be good to me" you moan on the verge of your orgasm .

A few more thrust and you cum undone, face pressed against the cold counter. Your muscles squeezing around his length make him shoot all of his cum deep inside of you. YOu're both moaning, and breathing heavily. His head rests against your sweaty back, you can feel his dick twitching inside of you.

Catching normal breaths you straighten your back.Toji is locking you against his torso in the process, his beefy arms resting on your belly. You're glad he does because your legs feel like jelly right now. Catching a few of the whipped cream with your finger you raise it to his mouth he licks it looking at you in the eyes.

"What a good little boy, you want more ?" you taunt

He squeezes his arms tighter around you and you apologize, laughing a bit. Guess you really have to thank Shiu for that.

[slowcatsworld]

Oliver Aiku has a droopy eyelid.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This is just a headcanon, but it makes so much sense for me. I’ll attach a pic at the end, but he pulls that face one too many times so I’m calling it.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s always his left green eye too. Whenever he relaxes his face or is preoccupied with something, that eyelid of his gradually begins to lower into being half open. (Sometimes it makes me feel as though he got one identical eye from both parents, shape and color included.)

Oliver wasn’t aware of his droopy eye as it wasn’t entirely noticeable until his former junior high coach brought it to his attention.

“Now son, I don’t think it’s affecting your performance on the field. You’re still our best defender and have an innate talent for dropping advances from your opponents,” His coach started off, “I just think it might be best to let your parents know in case this will become something of a problem later on.”

Pfft, it’s not like he was infected with a disease. Oliver did ask his mother about it, and she claimed she had always known about his little droopy eye tendencies. However, it never caused harm so what was the reason to point it out? Oliver then brought it up to his friends the next time he saw them. They looked at his face and all shared a moment of silence.

“Oh, your eyes are opening at different heights. Adds to your aura I guess.” On of them said simply. And that was that.

You, his current fling (though he told you yall were serious, don’t believe this hoe of a man) a few years later, however, find his eyes captivating. Always one to compliment on their different colors, Oliver noticed how much you adored his droopy eye too.

It did lead to some cute moments though.

Like that one time he was watching a play back of his latest soccer game on his phone when you came waltzing through the door to his room. Oliver mumbled out a small, “hey, baby.” In acknowledgement. His eyes never left the screen. You sat down in front of him and took in his features, noting his eyes.

“Your eyes make it seem as though you’re tired, but the rest of your face looks as intense as ever.” You chuckle. Oliver snapped up to look at you, confusion doting his features. Ah, the eye, he assumed.

A slanted smirk that matched his scraggly beard made itself known before he spoke, “You make it seem as though you’re not my favorite thing to look at.” You roll your eyes before advancing upon his lap to give him a soft kiss.

Your favorite memory of his face though, and the primary reason why you like his eyes so much, is because it adds so much character to his face at the wrong time.

It was a semi-formal ceremony for Japan’s U-20 team before the start of the season. Oliver stood a little ways away from you, his personal invite, calmly surveying the team. Before you could make your way over to be by his side once more, a commotion broke out on the other side of the room.

Sendou voice could be heard along with the shriek of a lady. Squinting, you could see a young woman-probably some upstarting model-wearing a gorgeous grey dress with a splash of purple running from her chest to her lower abdomen. Sendou was cowering beside her, with one hand in his hair and the other holding an empty cup.

Oh. Just as the realization of what had occurred hit you, the damsel strutted through the exit with great fervor . Sendou stood frozen as though he was bit by a poisonous snake. You grimaced at the sight. You turn to your right, and a pair of blue and green eyes meet your gaze. You take a moment, then start chuckling. A chuckle turns into a laugh, and you have to hide your mouth behind your hands while Oliver makes his way over to you.

“Might I ask what’s so funny lil miss? Poor Sendou over there just ruined the mood, that chick’s dress, and his shot at getting laid tonight.” Oliver inquired with faux malice lining his voice, a playful grinning coming on.

“Your face.” You huff out. He blinks at you. Huh? He looks the same as when you first turned to him. A look of confusion and boyish charm is all that stands before you. Totally did not match the vibe, well at least before Sendou ruined it.

Seriously who wouldn’t find this cute face a little silly

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

7.29.24

My unloyal hubby smh

[dhorrl]

First Time

Izuku/Reader

Nothing NSFW, just Deku doing his research before his first time with you 😭 I wrote this for my bot and it’s just so good. I keep reading it over and over it’s so so sweet.

For almost a year now, Izuku has been captivated by you. He has a special notebook dedicated solely to you, where he writes down every little detail about you - your favorite colors, flowers, and snacks. Sometimes when you're not looking, he'll take out the notebook and flip through it, smiling at all the things he's learned about you. And whenever you catch him, he'll blush and quickly close the book, promising to keep it for himself.

Izuku has always been on the shy side, but lately things have been getting more physical between the two of you. What started as innocent kisses and cuddling has turned into intense make-out sessions and heavy petting. However, every time things start to escalate even further, Izuku pulls away in a panic. It's not because he doesn't want it - his throbbing cock and blue balls prove otherwise - but his lack of experience makes him feel unprepared for what comes next. He knows it's your first time too, and he doesn't want to disappoint you or make a mistake that could ruin everything.

Izuku stood frozen outside Katsuki's door, fist hovering inches from the wood. His heart hammered in his chest. Could he really go through with this? Asking Kacchan, of all people, for sex advice? He squeezed his eyes shut and knocked before he lost his nerve. The door whipped open a second later.

"The fuck do you want, nerd?" Katsuki snapped, crimson eyes narrowing. "This better be important."

"Hey Kacchan..." Izuku swallowed hard, voice shaking slightly. "You've had sex before, right? I was hoping... could I maybe ask you a few questions about it?"

Katsuki blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then he sighed and stepped aside, jerking his head for Izuku to come in. "So, you and what’s-her-face, huh?" He shut the door and crossed his arms. "You sure you're ready for that? You’re gonna get eaten alive."

Izuku perched on the edge of Katsuki's desk chair, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "We've gotten close a few times, but I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted, face flushing. "I'm worried I'll mess it up somehow."

"Tch, you're overthinking it like always. Sex is supposed to be fun, not some exam you gotta ace." Katsuki tossed a notebook at Izuku. "Here, take notes. First off, talk to 'em. Ask what they like, make 'em comfortable."

Izuku flipped to a blank page and started scribbling, cheeks growing hotter by the second. "Okay, got it. What else?"

"Take it slow at first. Figure out what turns you both on." A faint smirk tugged at Katsuki's lips. "And don't you dare skip the foreplay, Deku."

"Foreplay?" Izuku glanced up, head cocked quizzically.

Katsuki leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, idiot. Kissing, touching - all the stuff that gets you both in the mood before you actually fuck." He watched in amusement as Izuku's hand trembled, pen scratching furiously across the page. "Also, ignore the shit you see in porn. Focus on reactions instead, like reading your opponent in a fight. Well, not an opponent, but... you get it."

"Right, that makes sense..." Izuku nodded, writing as fast as the thoughts registered, muttering under his breath. "Be open and honest, go slow, lots of foreplay, no porn moves. Okay."

"Oh, and condoms! Fucking wrap that shit up, you hear me?? Last thing we need is a mini-Deku toddling around before you're fucking ready." Katsuki watched Izuku write, then shifted slightly, expression sobering. "Look, you're gonna be nervous. That's normal. I was too, my first time."

Izuku's pen stilled. He looked up, green eyes wide with surprise. "You were?"

"'Course I fucking was! Everyone is." Katsuki shrugged, a touch of vulnerability in the set of his jaw. "Point is, don't let the nerves psych you out. If something goes wrong, just laugh it off and keep going. The goal is for you both to feel good."

Izuku met Katsuki's gaze, feeling a swell of gratitude amidst the anxiety churning in his gut. "Thanks, Kacchan. This… helps a lot."

"Whatever." Katsuki waved a hand dismissively, but his eyes held a flicker of warmth. "Just don't come whining to me if you nut in two seconds. Now, fuck off and go get laid already."

[lupinsera]

INVISIBLE STRING.

James potter x fem! reader!

summary: In which James Potter tries to find his soulmate.

a/n: English isn’t my first language so forgive me if this has many grammatical and spelling errors!!

James Potter was a hopeless romantic. Since he was a boy he dreamt of finding his one true love or his soulmate. He loved the idea of being with someone till the end of their days, he dreamt of his wedding day. Everything was complete at his dream wedding, the flowers, the seating plan, the location, the best man, all of it! Well… Except for the bride. He’s still on the search for his dream bride.

In his whole life, he had loved 3 people. First was Dolly Goldwood. Dolly Goldwood was a family friend her mother was childhood friends with his mother, Euphemia. So obviously, James and Dolly grew up together. Dolly Goldwood is a beautiful girl. She had gorgeous honey blonde hair, her lips plump and soft and pink, her eyes a beautiful green color, and her smile absolutely dazzling…

James had loved her for 3 years. He followed her around like a little dog following around his owner. Dolly Goldwood had his heart. He would give her flowers plucked from his mother’s garden, he would let her borrow his very expensive toys when she and her family would visit their house, he loved her very much. She was his first love.

But then one day, at her 10th birthday party, he caught her kissing another boy’s cheeks, her pale cheeks now very red as the boy gave her a charming smile. James never knew what heartbreak was until he saw Dolly Goldwood hug the unknown boy. He could feel his heart being shattered into thousands of pieces, is this what heartbreak feels like? 10-year-old James potter wondered… And then and there, James vowed to never ever fall in love again.

Of course, he ended up falling in love with a girl a year later.

It was at Hogwarts. He has just been sorted into Gryffindor. He sat down on the Gryffindor table next to a handsome boy, he was tall and his black hair slicked back, his gray eyes shining with joy. He was grinning so wide James was afraid his mouth might break.

“Hi! I’m Sirius!” the grinning boy said, he put out his hand and grinned, expecting James to shake it and introduce himself, and James did just that.

“I’m James!” replied James. And that was the start of a beautiful friendship.

“Lily Evans!” Professor McGonagall called out.

James watched as a gorgeous red-haired girl walked towards the sorting hat. He could tell she was nervous by the way she was fiddling with her fingers and biting her lip. She sat down and closed her eyes as professor McGonagall placed the sorting hat on her red hair.

After a few seconds, the sorting hat cried out “GRYFFINDOR!”l and then all he could hear were cheers.

Lily grinned and opened her eyes, she giggled as she sauntered to the Gryffindor table. She sat down next to James, who couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Hi! I’m Lily! And you are?” said Lily.

“My name’s James!” he replied.

And then she flashed him a charming smile and stared at him with her captivating emerald green eyes.

“Y/N L/N” Professor McGonagall called out and James took a quick glance at the girl. As she sat down and McGonagall placed the sorting hat on her head, their eyes connected. Her warm (y/e/c) met his deep brown eyes. James felt a pull to her, like some kind of string, like something was connecting him to her.

Their gaze disconnected as the sorting house shouted. His eyes follow her as she walks to her house table, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her eyes are full of glee and delight.

James ended up pining after Evans for 4 years. Every day he would follow her, asking for a date or an ounce of attention. Lily didn’t like that, she very much didn’t like his advances or his flattery or his gifts! It was all too much! If there was one thing that Lily Evans very much regrets was ever saying hi to that arrogant toe-rag!!

Meanwhile, 14-year-old James is head over heels in love with Lily Evans, the brightest witch of their age. He would gladly listen to her ramble about everything and anything. He would do anything to see her smile.

Lily Evans quite liked James. He was a nice lad. But God! The constant gift-giving and the constant asking for a date! It was annoying! She liked him as a friend and she had no intentions of getting together with him! She kept on saying that to him but he just won’t listen!!

I mean yeah, Lily could admit that he was quite nice to look at, but she just isn’t into him like that! Or any other boys for that matter… She liked girls!

And when James found out about it, well he was heartbroken. Again. Of course, he doesn’t blame or is angry at lily. In fact, after that, he stopped all of his advances and actually became friends with her! He found out that they were better paired as friends than lovers. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t sad… He loved her.

After lily, he took a break from love, for 2 years until he ended up falling in love with his mate’s brother.

Regulus Black. The Slytherin prince. He was a year younger than them, and James never noticed him until his 6th year.

James never knew that he liked boys. I mean yeah he found some lads quite handsome and attractive but he never pursued anything with them. But when he bumped into regulus black on the way to the great hall, James couldn’t stop thinking about him.

James loved the way his face would light up whenever he was with his friends. He loved his gray eyes full of wonder and knowledge. He loved everything about the little black.

Of course, he never made any advance on Regulus, never gave him any gifts, never asked him on a date or anything like that, instead, he chose to admire him from afar. James knew that nothing could ever happen between them since he was a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor plus he was his mate's brother! But that didn’t mean James couldn’t love him from afar.

Regulus would often spend his free time in the library, James noticed, he would read for hours if he can. And James loved that about him, how he doesn’t notice anything other than the words in his books, how he is so focused on the story that he doesn’t even realize what’s happening in the real world.

James was forced out of his thoughts as someone sat on the table he was sitting at.

He looked at the mystery woman. She had (y/h/c) hair and her eyes were a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). Their eyes connected and James felt like an 11-year-old boy again, like he was being trusted into an old memory. He knew those alluring eyes were familiar but he didn't know how... Until he felt that pull... That connection with her... Y/n L/n

“Hello!” she said while smiling softly at him “I’m sorry. Was anyone sitting here?”

“Oh no,” he uttered. He was appalled. He never knew someone could be as beautiful and elegant as her. It didn’t seem possible. Her. She and her beauty were out of this world. She was what he imagines angels would look like. And the way she spoke to him, with such softness and politeness, she was like an angel, an angel sent to him. His angel.

The sound of a chair being moved forced him out of his thoughts, he looked at the source of the sound and saw that regulus was leaving the library, he already finished the book, it seems. James never noticed.

James snuck glances at the stunning woman. He kept on thinking about ways how he could talk to her, on how he could get to know her but nothing came to mind.

Before he could stop himself, he uttered “I’ve read that book”

SHIT!! No. James never read that book. James never reads books. James doesn’t know anything about books!!

She looked at him surprised. “Really? Was it good?” she asked him.

“Oh yeah! Fantastic” James said, he mentally slapped himself as he uttered those words. Why couldn’t he stop!!! “I love the author. He has very good books” FUCK

She glanced at her book and looked at James in confusion “The author is a woman…”

“Heh, of course… Silly me!” I wanna pitch myself off the astronomy tower.

She started to smile at his nervous laugh.

Wow… She has a beautiful smile… James thought

James never felt that pull with anybody else. He never felt the string connecting him to them. Never. Until Y/n.

And now he knew. He knew that he found his soul mate, his bride that he’s been waiting for for years. It was her. After all those failed relationships and heartbreaks, he had finally found the one.

[bhaal-battle-beer-bard]

Astarion x Tav

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

request: for @aristenfromwarsaw

Fangtastic days of our lives

➹summary: a comforting day/evening in the life of Astarion and his love Aristen after post-game settling down, takes an unexpected turn as Astarion while enjoying his new found life and love, sees something of interest…

➹pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Aristen by @aristenfromwarsaw)

➹content/tags: fluff, comfort, romance, smuty flirting, fun, slice of life, little tiny bit of angst and guilt

➹word count: 5,036

➹cameos: @evander-jane Devana Lysander @alpydk Ragnar @goromimii @pinkberrytea (by order)

➹a/n: another belated birthday present for @aristenfromwarsaw  Thank you very much for all the great photoshoots you always did for me, just like that. Such things really fill my heart with joy. I hope you like it. Thank you for trusting me with your Tav Aristen. I take writing other OCs really serious, because an OC is very personal thing and it is way harder to get them in character. I used the infos/backstory you gave me once about Aristen for the best I could.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

Fangtastic days of our lives

Teak, mahogany, oakwood, dried tobacco with the hidden essence of vanilla. From somewhere the sweetness of honey and roasted nutmeg.

These were impressions of antique wood, boiling kettles, clanging beer mugs and laughing voices that filled the Elfsong tavern.

It was like a honey-colored, subterranean, starless sea.

A sea of ​​people, scents, voices and music.

A sea of ​​life that would envelop the coming evening when the sun would have completely disappeared, making way for the aurora again after the starry night.

Astarion was acutely aware of his surroundings. Perception meant survival.

But not today…not anymore.

He could simply explore and enjoy his surroundings while he waited for his beloved:

Aristen the storm sorceress and former daughter of Bhaal. She was able to walk in the sun and as a vampire spawn he had to wait until the sun had made the rays that were fatal to him disappear.

That didn't matter to Astarion. He was used to the night.

But he never wanted to go back to that cold, lonely life.

The Sorceress, along with the other companions, had freed him from slavery once and for all. But it was she alone who had given him back the vision of his eyes, of his entire senses. Astarion could sit in the tavern and just be, taking in the surroundings of life.

No more looking for victims. No more fear. Never again.

The Elfsong Tavern was full of life and he was part of it.

So after hundreds of years, Astarion could finally taste life again. See it. Hearing it with his pointy ears and feeling and smelling it warmly with the scent of pumpkin, butterscotch and spicy beer.

A quite pretty bard with white freckly tattoos on her face and braided crimson hair beneath her Tiefling horns played the lyre on the Elfsong stage. Astarion noticed dagger-shaped earrings on her pointed ears. The Avernus fire of her origins blazed in her blue eyes as she sang:

“Empty kisses, shallow words,

Fiery passion only hurts

When the sorrow takes an oblivion hint

Will you cure and begone with the wind…”

Astarion continued to look around while the sadly whispering voice reached his elf ears.

“I hope someone sings a song like that for me too. Such expressions of love really manage to make me weak,” sighed a tall black-haired woman, whose face bore at least as many tales of adventure as freckles.

"Me too. But I really hope that the ballad has a happy ending,” replied a long-haired beauty at her table. The human woman's wavy, light hair framed a gentle face with captivating blue eyes.

“Oh you heard that? Oh no! ", the adventuress, ashamed, put her hands on her head with her side-braided hair and covered cringing with embarrassment one of the green eyes. "I should stop talking loudly to myself."

The other woman laughed a little and her wavy hair swayed on the shoulders of the long, light dress with floral embroidery: “It’s all good. I won’t tell anyone else.”

She winked briefly.

“But tell me…” she took her hands away from her face with the little different eyes, “…you’re not from Baldur’s Gate either, right? You also speak with a different accent than me.”

"Correct. I come from the East..."

“What did she say? Sêlune guide me?”

Astarion was distracted by an almost desperate voice that sounded at least as concentrated and angry as it was beer-soaked.

He saw a barbarian sitting at the next table, holding his beer mug almost too tightly.

The raised dark blonde hair did not distract from the piercings and black war paint, which Lae'zel would certainly have approved of.

“Okay, can I memorize this Sêlune prayer or not?” he muttered to himself and downed the beer in one gulp.

Astarion had seen him before and that evening he had stared at Shadowheart the whole time. Was the barbarian building up – or drinking up - the courage to speak to Shadowheart next time?

The vampire was distracted from the barbarian when a pale woman walked past his table accompanied by a brown-haired man. He noticed them because they both had scars on their faces. But no, that wasn't it at all. Something else drew his attention to them...they smelled somehow, almost reeked of...swamp? No magic.

That same hidden scent of feymagic that came from the black haired adventuress with the freckles.

The woman's pale face was friendly, almost cheerful. She enjoyed the music and the sad ballad. Did she know the feelings and sad love that the Tiefling woman sang about?

Astarion was all the more struck by the face of the dark-clothed man with the scarred hands who accompanied her: he was rigid and joyless and his eyes had an almost malicious shimmer. He didn't seem to suit her. He walked rigidly like an aristocrat or a trained soldier, or was he rigid because of the blade - that was clearly visible to the Rogue - that he wore under his clothes?

The man's gaze fell on the bard's dagger earrings. But not only the brown-haired human looked at the earrings, but also a white-skinned, tall elf who walked behind him. Astarion didn't know what was more noticeable: his large deadly sword, the long white hair, the black tattoos on his face, or...or the earrings in the shape of a dagger that hung from his ears.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to the bard and she returned his nod briefly.

Frowning, Astarion averted his gaze and looked around the taproom.

Many of the guests listened attentively to the ballad. Couples in love held each other tightly and some wiped a tear from their face.

“…in the dark of the night I see your tears

Rubies glisten full of pain

Rage and misery

Don’t get lost in brandy, bergamot and rosemary”

The ballad finished gently and the bard stood up.

"Thanks! And now for the bard duet!”

With a wave of her hand, she invited her partner onto the stage.

Wild white hair adorned the scarred drow face. It looked like survival for Astarion.

She could be young and old at the same time, that's how it was always with the elves. Young pretty faces and centuries behind them. Sorrow, suffering, joy. Everything was possible.

The narrow waist with the subsequent curved hips and thighs with short pants was adorned with a weapon belt with a sword and a flute.

The skilled hand whirled out a shiny silver flute and the duo began to play:

„Two bards do the trick, because bards do it better

Drow or Tiefling, it doesn’t matter

Shiny white hair, or wagging tail

Their persuasion will never fail“

They quickly changed the melancholic mood and the silver flute had a captivating sound, as if it were a homage to a goddess.

“One plays the flute, the other smashes lutes

Buy us a drink and we’ll tell you who is who“

A Tiefling whose rosé colored hair matched her white pink frilly clothing cheered enthusiastically to the tavern song.

Astarion heard her applaud with a giggling laugh. Cute little laughs with a sweet smile upon her light face.

It was that kind of sweet laugh that told the vampire how innocent, unspoiled, kind and naive the person was.

Yes, the delicate Tiefling woman was a sweet, innocent thing, Astarion could tell that with just a sideways glance of his red eyes. The sweet and naive kind of girl that immediately fell for him. Who he easily ensnared and seduced for Cazador. Or was she one of the people he would have avoided because they were so naive...innocent, undeserving of it? He would probably have avoided her if possible because such a sweet, lovely person didn't deserve to fall victim to the vampires.

Astarion closed his eyes briefly and grimaced at the emerging memories that he immediately wanted to repress.

Thanks to his beloved Aristen, he no longer had to do this.

He was free.

Cazador dead.

All of Baldur's Gate saved, saved from the Empire of the Netherbrain and the Mind Flayers.

Yes, thanks to the blonde adventuress whose fate was forever intertwined with his and all her other companions, he had escaped his fate as a slave. Their courage and their determination, with the help of the other fighters, allowed him to defeat Cazador.

But not only that, the storm sorceress had also given him love and patience. And the confidence to be better than Cazador. He didn't need blood-soaked, soul-eating power to be safe, to be worth anything.

Astarion would never have to hurt innocent people against his will again.

All thanks to her.

And yet Aristen did not consider herself to be good, nor to be lovable.

She loathed herself for her actions as a born Bhaalspawn, which she only dimly remembered. No one could hate her more than she hates herself.

And perhaps it was even worse for her, imagining every day what atrocities she had committed in the name of the God of Murder instead of knowing for sure.

She didn't see herself as a lovable hero, a savior. Astarion wished so much that she could see herself through his eyes just once. Then she would finally forgive herself.

The problem was that the sarcastic vampire had never said that to her and perhaps never would. There would always be something gnawing inside him, at his battered heart, that would prevent him from casually revealing his innermost, deepest feelings. What if he did lose her to someone else one day?  If it would not be an arrow or observer to steal her from him? How could he then pretend that his vain heart had not been destroyed for all eternity?

Darkness crossed Astarion's face at all the thoughts and he shook his head with his white curls to drive them away.

Once again he let his gaze wander over the audience, while his pointy elven ears only casually listened to the singing of the bards. It was only thanks to his beloved Aristen that he was able to recognize the diversity of the guests gathered. To be recognized again.

It had once been a faceless mass. At some point, after all the years of slavery under Cazador, the people in the taverns had become nothing more than a uniform mush to him. Victims, cattle like sheep, to his master. Criminals who hurt him and whom he hurt in return and they became victims of the vampire lord.

Dark, blank faces.

Without eyes, without soul. Just like Astarion himself had felt.

But after Aristen came into his life - with the craziest tentacle adventure of his life - everything had gradually changed.

First he recognized her blue eyes, then her face. The smile of her lips plagued by guilt and bloody ghosts of the past. The same smile as his own.

Then he saw all the faces, the people, their stories and lives again.

He saw the colors. The differences and the similarities. He heard the voices, the laughter, the music. He noticed the scents and smells again. Astarion saw joy and life again.

A scent that stood out from the rest of the tavern's smells suddenly tickled Astarion's nose.

Orchid drifted discreetly from the front door.

A slightly tickling shiver ran over the tips of his elf ears, while Astarion was already peering towards the door with large, round eyes.

Like the true epiphany she was, a blonde woman made her way through the elven song. Her appearance truly stood out from the rest of the tavern's audience:

Her delicately pinned hair and a ladylike, sweeping blue dress made her truly look like a lady of name and rank.

Astarion smiled as he looked at Aristen's appearance.

She always made an effort to look chic and beautiful, no matter what the circumstances. Like a true lady who belonged in a ballroom and not a tavern.

A ballroom, not a bhaalroom.

But Aristen loved all facets of life and also sat in the meadow under a tree in the forest with her fancy dress on.

If Astarion had his way, then very soon she would be pressed into the grass beneath him with the dress rumpled.

He chuckled dirtyly to himself as he couldn't help but think of that thought. And before he even thought about the first visit to his grave together, he shook his head and pushed it all away from his white curls.

"Darling..." Astarion stood up after Aristen made her way to him, having spotted him with a smile beaming with joy, "...you give me all sorts of ideas as always."

“What do you mean?” the high elf asked in surprise and blinked in confusion because she couldn’t follow him.

“Nevermind little love,” Astarion grinned mischievously and briefly kissed her delicate hand in greeting. He gently stroked Aristen's hand again as he slowly lowered it.

“The sun has already set enough for you to go out, Astarion,” his lover informed him. She would pick him up when it was safe for him outside.

"I've already run errands from a few merchants," Aristen spoke as the two left the tavern.

"Nice. Then we can now buy the rest together. Have you got everything so far?” asked Astarion.

The blonde nodded as they stepped outside.

Astarion sucked the air outside the elfsong into his lungs. Had breathing changed since he became a vampire? After all, he was undead.

Astarion didn't know. He couldn't remember, it had been too long.

In addition, the past no longer counted - smiling, he glanced furtively at Aristen who was carrying the basket with the purchases - only the present and the future counted.

“Yes, I did the grocery shopping that wasn’t of interest to you,” the blonde laughed and winked knowingly. “There was wonderful blossom honey, I couldn't resist,” enthused the sorceress, rolling her eyes heavenly at the thought of it and licking her lips in anticipation of the taste of the honey.

“Then I can taste it from your lips and tongue,” Astarion whispered seductively.

"What?"

“Oh, nothing…” the pale elf just grinned again.

His pointed ears were suddenly tickled by the brush of her lips as she leaned in very close to him.

“I heard you very well, my dear,” she whispered to him, her blue eyes sparkling meaningfully at him after she leaned back and gave him a knowing smile.

The vampire laughed. It was a serious laugh. It went from its sonorous, seductive, dirty murmur to a deep rumble before dying out in a high-pitched spike.

“I saw such a beautiful pair of earrings in the window at the Glitter Gala,” sighed Aristen languidly after she continued the story.

“So why didn’t you buy it, darling?”

Aristen shook her head: “Because it’s not necessary. I prefer to save our money for important things. After all, magical artifacts are expensive and the most important thing is that we find something that makes you immune to the sun.”

Yes, that was the ambition and current mission of Aristen and Astarion: to find a way for the vampire spawn to walk in the sun again.

Their friends also kept their ears and eyes open.

Gale read every book that might contain useful information.

Shadowheart, as well as Lae'zel on her travels through the astral planes, always sent them messages when they heard about mysterious artifacts.

And Halsin and Jaheira also reached out to all their acquaintances from near and far.

"If you hadn't used so much of our gold to rebuild the city and help its people, then you could afford any jewelry you wanted," Astarion nudged her with his shoulder and winked knowingly. The slightly accusatory tone was just an act.

“You know I wanted to try to somehow make amends for my actions when I was under Bhaal's control. This will never work, I know that. I can't bring back the people I killed. But I can at least try to help those left behind. It's too little. It’s no consolation…but at least it’s something.”

There was sadness in the blonde's voice. The look in her blue eyes was sincere before they slid slightly to the ground.

Astarion didn't like that, so he decided to cover up the whole thing: "I don't know what you're doing with this penance and compensation anyway."

He casually folded his arms behind his head and sounded as indifferent as he could.

“But…” he grinned playfully at the blonde Sorceress, “we could visit The Counting House again with Minsc. Then we have enough money to play benefactors and buy jewelry and beautiful clothes.”

Aristen raised an eyebrow with an amused grin: "You want to volunteer to do something with Minsc, really?"

“Now that you mention it…argh…better not. You may find him amusing, but he's always bursting in to chatter about his hamster at the most inopportune times. The guard almost caught me picking the lock of the Tabernacle when he suddenly stood loudly behind me, screaming my name and his hug almost broke every bone in my body.”

“What did you want at the Stormshore Tabernacle outside of opening hours?” Aristen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing!” Astarion quickly dismissed the topic. Too fast.

“What’s next on the list for today?”

“We really have to go to the Devil's Fee. It has finally opened since the devastating battle against the Netherbrain and the reprocessing. If there are special artifacts or information about them anywhere, it’s there!”

Astarion nodded eagerly and the two elves walked quickly through the streets of Baldur's Gate.

"Oh no! No no no!” Helsik shouted from afar as her eyes saw Aristen.

The Sorceress blinked in confusion at the violent reaction and she looked around to see if anyone else was behind her, as the shopkeeper thought she might be.

“Not you!”

"I? But…"

“Nothing but!” Helsik cut her off. “After last time, I already told you that it was too hot to be seen with you and that the store was off limits for now. After the fuss you caused with your little friend and the black-haired fuzzy head.”

Astarion grinned briefly. He knew exactly who the saleswoman was talking about. After all, they had learned of Bhaal's daughter's past and how she had been involved in the Grand Design.

“I have new business partners, so I don’t need loud attention, after all, hell operates quietly.”

“We don’t want to cause any problems, I swear!”

The vampire let his eyes wander over the lavish and devilishly mysterious display while Aristen soothed Helsik.

“We just want to buy an artifact or information. Nothing improper, nothing complicated, nothing dangerous. Just good old Mammon.”

“Child, you will never have as much gold as I want from you so that I can burn my fingers again because of you.”

"Are you sure? I'll pay any price...whether it's gold or otherwise. We're just looking for a way to break the vampire curse of being vulnerable to the sun. Please."

Helsik laughed briefly, compassionately, not maliciously: “Deary, at the Devil’s Fee we don’t break curses, it’s more about the other way. That should be clear to you from the name.”

“My Love…” Astarion slowly tore his eyes away from the display cases and stood next to Aristen again, “…let me talk to her. I think I can convince them better with less…emotional involvement based on old stories.”

“Are you sure?” Aristen asked, unconvinced.

“Of course, baby…” he was already pushed the Sorceress toward the exit, “…you go do the other errands in the meantime and leave this to me.”

Aristen left the devilish business and made her way to the large square of the lower city wall. She visited the arms dealers and her thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that if even devils couldn't find a way to free Astarion from his curse, who would?

She would never give up hope. Anyway, Helsik was probably right: if it was about help, then hell wouldn't be a good negotiating partner.

Maybe they should trust in nature, magic and clerics. The gods may not have heard Astarion then, but perhaps they could now request divine intervention?

The vampire could walk in the light of the Moon Maiden, perhaps Dame Aylin and Shadowheart could ask even more of Sêlune. Maybe she could expand her moonlight.

Perhaps…

“STOP IMMEDIATELY!”

Aristen was snapped out of her thoughts and the blacksmith who was stationed across from Sorcerous Sundries just handed her back Astarion's freshly sharpened dagger.

“COME BACK IMMEDIATELY!”

From the direction of the Devil's fee came rumbling, loud voices and, above all, lightning and sparks.

“Stop the criminal scum!” shouted a city guard. “Subject, let him stand still!”

“Where for?”

“That way!”

“Or rather there?”

“I thought I saw something in that direction…”

“Then I here, you there,” the steel armored guards rumbled.

The clatter of steel armor slowly faded from the blonde Sorceress's ears, but a perfume that differed from her own scent of orchid and rose reached her nose.

Aristen smelled cherries, musk, palmarosa, black pepper and…

“Does this belong to you, little mouse?”

…sulfur.

Raphael's slightly tanned complexion stood before her. His brown hair was done to perfection with meticulous work, as were his clothes. Large, sparkling brown eyes regarded her, both sublime and mischievous.

The devil in human disguise had the white-haired vampire in tow, holding him by the collar like a naughty schoolboy.

"Raphael..."

“So you still know my name. Ah…very good. Tell the wizard of yours that too. Hopefully he’s still looking for my crown?”

Aristen nodded: “We defeat the brain. The crown will then be at your disposal. That’s how it was settled.”

“Excuse me…” the vampire groused

The devil released Astarion, who grumbled and moved his shoulders.

“Stealing from a shop that has connections straight to hell, very very naughty.”

As was his style, Raphael moved his hands theatrically while his voice whispered mellifluously. The reprimand was more than just played as amusing.

“Anyway, you were there in vain. There is nothing to buy there that could solve the vampire's little “problem”. Otherwise they would all be walking around here freely in the sunlight. Or not?”

The devil made a sweeping gesture and looked around ostentatiously before laughing.

“I'll talk to Helsik and smooth things over, after all you don't sleep well in unmade beds like in clover. But tell your magician that it is my crown. When he finds it, he has agreed to hand it over to me immediately. Not to Mystra and he certainly shouldn’t get the foolish idea of ​​using it himself.”

“He is not my magician,” Aristen clarified briefly, “Gale belongs to no one but himself. Mystra also has nothing to command him.”

“Does he see it that way too? Or does he like to be walked on a leash? He always just does what others tell him. After all, his own decisions are the stupidest I've ever seen...and I've literally seen it all."

“You mean as stupid as wanting to rule the crown of Karsus?”

“Haha…careful, little mouse,” laughed Raphael. “Just make sure I get the crown as quickly as possible.”

“When Gale finds it, you get the crown. That was the deal. We stick to that. But you'll have to be patient. It wasn't intended that the crown and the stones would be lost again, but it was hard to prevent it when the Netherbrain fell into the sea during the fight."

“I'm surprised you're so relaxed about this. You can't put me on a leash as easily as you can put the vampire spawn on a leash. Or was it rather the other way around and you Astarion put the former Bhaalspawn on a docile short leash?”

Mischief sparkled in the brown eyes of the human-shaped Cambion. There was a subtle, biting, malicious provocation in his words, which he spoke with a sonorous purr, as always.

Astarion's face contorted a little and the vampire barely suppressed a roll of his ruby-colored eyes. For a moment he seemed like a disgruntled cat.

"I think I liked you better when you just rhymed all the time," Astarion replied sassy.

Raphael laughed briefly, unimpressed: “Whatever. Less dawdling and making long fingers, but more diving for the crown,” reprimanded the devil with a raised eyebrow.

The devil wrinkled his nose slightly at the vampire spawn before turning back to Aristen and giving her his full attention.

“By the way, greetings from your fiery friend Karlach and her rapier-wielding colleague Wyll Ravengard.”

“Why are you ordering greetings from Karlach and Wyll? Have you met them?”

“Well, those two made themselves quite a name all around Avernus,” Raphael smiled in his smug way, “furthermore, I greatly welcome their actions against Zariel’s forces.”

He made one of his swinging hand movements with his manicured fingers: “I would like to invite you all to my House of Hope to linger, relax and chat. So you can catch up. You know, the Crown of Karsus is the key that grants you access. And until that happens…fare thee well, little mouse. I hope I will see you soon, knocking on the door of my house.”

As was his style, Raphael bowed expansively and his scent of leather, cedar, lily, rose, oud, vanilla and sandalwood disappeared into a swirl of sparks and sulphur.

“He hasn’t forgotten his flair for great performances. I don't know whether I should admire it or whether he's starting to get on my nerves with it," Astarion sighed briefly before straightening his shoulders and straightening his doublet with a quick tug.

"Anyways..." the vampire turned to another topic, "...I think it would be a good idea if we get out of the immediate area while the city guards are wandering around here."

The elf touched Aristen's elbow to encourage her to leave.

“What did you want to take from the store anyway, in the first place?” Aristen wanted to know from Astarion, curious and skeptical.

“Well…” he started to press and scratched the back of his white curls, “…I saw something…”

"And what was so terribly interesting that you would risk to be arrested by the Flaming Fist?"

“Well...it reminded me of you...and...I thought you should have it. But Helsik is really a cutthroat bitch with exorbitant prices.”

Aristen smiled good-naturedly: “Oh Astarion…”

“However…here…”

The vampire held out a white silk scarf to the storm sorceress.

Aristen's eyes widened. You could see from the shimmer and the way the fabric fell that it wasn't just silk that was woven there. It was definitely the weave itself and more that was at work there. Depending on how it fell and how you moved it, a golden blue shimmered.

“The scarf reminded me of the one you told me about. You know, the scarf with your name on it that you were found wearing as a baby in the Bhaal Temple. It’s one of the few memories you have left.”

The vampire took out a borealis blue thread from his pocket and began to embroider “Aristen” into the scarf.

“I wanted you to have something that you could never lose, that could never be destroyed, that had your name on it. Because if something ever happened again that made you forget...that made you forget yourself, at least you would always have your name with you. Then you know that you are Aristen. Not the daughter of the murder god. Not the chosen one of Bhaal. No Bhaalspawn. Just you. You are Aristen.”

The vampire began to embroider an “&” sign into the scarf.

“And well…” Astarion began to shuffle uncomfortably again and focused entirely on his work so that he didn’t have to look his lover in the eyes, “…if you ever forget something again, then you’ll know that we belong together. I don't want you to ever forget me. And so you also always carry my name with you.”

The vampire finished his work and the white scarf now embroidered with new memories read: "Aristen & Astarion"

“There is nothing in the world that would ever make me forget you, Astarion,” the high elf spoke softly.

She closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Astarion. The elf slowly closed his eyes as their lips met. His cool, hers warm. He felt her breathing life into him as they kissed.

"Thank you so much," the blonde said after they pulled away from each other, "you can't imagine how much this means to me. I love you, Astarion."

Aristen held the silky, white and blue scarf in her hands, stroked the pale elf's blue embroidery and smiled. "I think this used to be the color of your eyes too."

She smiled softly, as soft as the silky fabric of the scarf felt on her soft hands. Hands too soft for the crimes they had probably committed earlier in the name of Bhaal. In a previous life.

Aristen raised her eyes, which were also blue, and caught Astarion by surprise. Speechless.

That rarely happened.

Very rarely did the vampire find himself without words.

“Ah, I…” he took a breath to say something, but he lacked a suitable response, so he could only hold his breath, taken aback.

The gentle look in his lover's eyes and her words had triggered something in Astarion that he still couldn't handle: affection, sincere love.

Towards him and in his own heart.

The white-haired vampire exhaled and smiled just as gently at his beloved Aristen.

He reached out his cool hand to her and placed it against her rosy cheek. The blonde nestled herself a little in the vampire's hand and her gaze lingered lovingly in Astarion's now ruby-colored eyes.

“You never stop surprising me,” his whispering voice sounded sincere and just as genuine was the smile he continued to give her.

It was a smile that acknowledged how happy he was, partly surprised, partly just realizing that he wasn't really surprised anymore. And perhaps that was what surprised Astarion the most.

It was a day like any other.

A day like any other.

One day in the rest of their life.

Their life together.

And it was beautiful.

And he would never want it any other way.

📜🪶📜🪶💙🎻🫧🌹🌸🌹🫧🎻💙🪶📜🪶📜

➹a/n: i just gave my own Tav Saulus a little cameo guest appearance  😉 in the style of AU I also inserted aristenfromwarsaws other OC Devana, like a little, what are all the other tavs doing when not being the main character

the great Tavs of my lovely mutuals also did a tiny cameo:

Nala Hartwick of @evander-jane

Thomas Rosewood and Nana of @alpydk

Lovely Vierith of @goromimii jamming with my Saulus, best bardic duo

Mavka of @pinkberrytea

I hope I did the slice of life good justice and you all could taste, feel, smell, hear the life through all the description of scents, etc.

[soulofapatrick]

Take A Chance - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You decide to take a chance of a lifetime at Alex's New Years Eve party

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None really

Notes: Sorry for any typos!

Y/N’s POV

The tent is a dazzling spectacle of lights, laughter, and sparkling fairy lights. My brother, Alex Claremont-Diaz, has outdone himself once again with his New Year’s Eve party. The fairy lights, coupled with the vibrant disco lights, transform the space into a pulsating sea of color and energy. The room feels alive, loud and boisterous, with music blaring from the massive speakers, sending vibrations through the floor.

As I stand by the bar, nursing a rum and coke and feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer exuberance of the festivities, Alex bounds over. His infectious smile is both proud and encouraging as he claps a hand on my shoulder. 

“Y/N, little brother!” He shouts over the music, voice brimming with excitement, “This is your night! Take a chance, alright? It’s a new year, fresh start!” 

I just nod, swallowing thickly as I hate being in large social gatherings, only being here for one person. Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor… or just Henry. Alex has always been the fearless one, the one that grabs life by the horns. He knows how I feel about Henry, and he’s been urging me for ages to make a move, unable to understand the face that Prince’s aren’t allowed to be anything but straight. 

And then, as if on cue, the room seems to hush for a brief moment. All eyes turn towards the entrance, where Henry is standing with Percy. My heart skips a beat as I catch my first glimpse of him and the partying goes back to how it was making me unsure if there really was a hush. Henry is resplendent in a suit that exudes regal elegance. His blond hair is styled to perfection, and every step he takes is graceful, like a prince from a fairy tale. His emerald-green eyes are alight with warmth and charm as he steps further into the room. It’s as if the entire atmosphere has shifted, focused solely on him… I’m focused solely on him. 

I can’t help but feel a rush of emotions. My pulse quickens, and my palms grow sweaty. The way he carries himself, the effortless charisma he exudes, it’s all incredibly magnetic. Henry has always had that effect on people, but for me, it’s something deeper. He moves through the crowd, greeting guests and flashing his charming smile. I watch, captivated by his every gesture. It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that someone like Henry is so close yet so far. He makes me feel alive, but I’ve never had the courage to act on my own feelings. 

Alex’s words linger in the air as he spots Henry making his entrance and with an enthusiastic wave and mischievous grin, he calls out, “Henry! Percy!” And beckons them over. Henry turns towards Percy and together they make their ay through the crowd, charming smiles in tow. 

My heart flutters nervously as they approach. Alex gives me a knowing look and, with a wink, he immediately grabs Percy’s arm and drags him away, leaving me standing there with Henry. It’s as if the universe itself conspired to put us together, alone in a sea of revelry. Henry’s eyes meet mine, and his smile is nothing short of enchanting. It lights up his face, crinkling the corners of his bright eyes, and I’m momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze. His presence is magnetic, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. 

“Y/N,” he says, voice warm and inviting, name rolling of his tongue in a way that has my face heating up, “It’s been too long. How have you been?” 

The sound of his voice sends shivers down my spine, and I’m stumbling over my words, “Good! I’ve been… good. Just caught up with all my lectures, you know the usual.” 

Henry's smile remains as he steps closer, the distance between us diminishing until he's right beside me. I can feel the warmth of his body, and the proximity is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. It's closer than friends would stand, and it's enough to steal the air from my lungs, “You’ve always been such a hard worker, Y/N. It’s admirable.”

Leaning casually against the bar, he turns his attention to the bartender and orders two glasses of champagne. The bubbles in the crystal-clear liquid seem to dance in anticipation, much like the butterflies in my stomach. Henry’s gaze never leaves me, and I can feel his eyes on me like a gentle caress.

The glasses are placed before us, and Henry raises his in a toast, “To new beginnings,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with meaning. I clink my glass against his, our eyes locked and he watches me as I take a sip of mine. His fingers brushing against mine on the bar, a touch so subtle, it sends shivers down my spine and I’m sure I’m imagining it really. It’s as if he’’s testing the waters, gauging my reaction and I can’t stop the small smile. 

Then, just as the champagne begins to work its magic, one of my favourite songs starts playing. The familiar melody fills the air, and I can’t help but grin. It’s a song that is impossible to resist, with a rhythm that just demands to be danced to. 

Without thinking, I put our glasses down on the bar and turn to Henry, my hand reaching out to grab his. His fingers entwine with mine, and I lead him away from the bar and into the crowd of minor celebs and friends who are already hot and sweaty and very drunk, screaming and dancing their hearts out. 

Henry follows me willingly, but as we begin to move to the music, it becomes evident that he’s more accustomed to the controlled elegance of ballroom dancing. His movements are awkward, but endearing in their own way. I can’t help but chuckle softly at his attempts, and I decide to help him out. My hands are finding his hips, guiding them to sway in time with the beat, an intimate gesture, our bodies pressed close as we move to the music with Henry slowly loosening up. 

As the music continues to envelop us, Henry’s initial awkwardness gives way to a newfound confidence. His emerald eyes sparkle with a mix of determination and playfulness, mirroring my own excitement. We move together, our bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step bringing us closer both physically and emotionally. With my hands still on his hips, I guide him through it, our bodies pressed intimately close. The world outside the tent seems to fade away entirely, leaving just the two of us lost in the music and each other. It’s a moment of vulnerability, of shared laughter and stolen glances that speak volumes. 

Amid the pulsating rhythm of the music and the infectious joy in Henry's laughter, I can vaguely hear the countdown beginning. The whole room joins in, voices rising in unison, counting down from ten. But my focus remains solely on Henry, his smile radiant, his head thrown back with unabashed joy. Alex’s words, “take a chance” echo in my ears like a mantra. The seconds tick away, and as we dance together, I feel an overwhelming sense of anticipation building inside me. The countdown is not just for the new year; it’s a countdown to a moment that feels like it might make or break me or Henry. 

“Ten… Nine… Eight…” 

The voices around us grow louder, the excitement palpable. Henry and I slowly stop dancing, our bodies inches apart. I can feel his warm breath against my lips, and the world around us seems to blur into a hazy backdrop. It’s just the two of us, facing each other with the new year about to come into being. 

“Three… Two…” 

“Take a chance.” I whisper, my voice barely louder than a breath, but I know Henry hears it. Our eyes remain locked, and I know we’ve been dancing around our feelings for far too long, it’s time to take that leap of faith. 

And then, as the room erupts into cheers, as fireworks explode in the night sky outside, I close the remaining gap between us. I lean in and press my lips to Henry’s, a kiss that speaks of hope, of courage and of a love that’s been waiting in the wings for far too long. 

Henry’s lips are soft and warm against mine, the taste of champagne on his tongue as he kisses me back with almost more fervour. A sensation that sends a jolt of electricity through my entire body, and a whirlwind of emotions. There’s a rush of exhilaration, like I’m standing at the edge of  a precipice, ready to leap into the unknown. The years of longing and unspoken desires culminate in this one kiss, and it’s as if a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying had been lifted. 

Henry kisses me back with a hunger that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. Our connection deepens, and it’s as if our souls are finally aligning, finding their perfect match in each other. Time seems to stand still as we share this moment of passion and tenderness. The world outside may be celebrating the new year with fireworks and cheers, but for us, there’s only the soft brush of lips and a promise of a future with Henry. 

As our kiss breaks, the lingering taste of champagne and the warmth of Henry’s lips still etched on mine, I watch a mixture of satisfaction and panic dance across Henry’s face. It’s as if he’s teetering on the edge of something profound, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve misjudged the situation. But then, he closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep, steadying breath. When he opens them again, there's a newfound determination in his gaze. He cups my cheek gently, his thumb rubbing across my cheekbone in a loving caress, sending shivers down my spine, ”Take a chance, huh?" he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with tenderness.

I nod, a surge of hope and anticipation welling up within me. "Yeah, Henry," I reply, my voice equally soft, “I wanna take a chance.” 

“Let’s take that chance then.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Red White and Royal Blue Masterlist

TAGS: New Tag List Form

TAGS: @clarks-letterman

[sadruru]

Part 2 of Springfinder. 3) Temptation:

How could she have known where this talk would lead? Unexpectedly, the commander accepted the young tiefling's feelings. Without even thinking, the words came off her lips. Only then came the realization of what had been said. Woljif was silenced by the feelings that came over him. He hugged Melissa tightly, smiled broadly, and laughed softly, either in disbelief or relief. Melissa was embarrassed by the unexpected embrace and froze. This display of affection was too unfamiliar, forgotten. Pretty strange description for someone who was always making obscene jokes and acting out of control, huh? The pleasant feeling burned her heart again. Melissa's hands reached for the boy in response, and for a split second they stopped, trembling violently.

Doubt. Maybe even a little fear. Did she deserve this? Maybe fate wanted to laugh at her again? To give something and then take it away, like always. Wouldn't it ruin everything again?

The temptation to feel at least a little happy and truly needed was too great. Taking a deep breath, the commander quickly calmed herself. No matter what, let it be. No one else would give her a third chance to fulfill all her desires and right her wrongs again. One loving look from Woljif was enough to make her extremely greedy. Now Melissa can only hope that this sin will not kill her.

The cold no longer bothered anyone, for this winter night was the warmest in many years.

4) Capture:

Captivity begins with your own mind, tiefling. In your case, you don't even have to make the extra effort. Your mind and soul are already nearly destroyed. All I need is a little nudge. There's so much you're trying to forget. Your pain, regrets, rage, resentment. Remember, you're being used. They have been, they are, and they always will be. There's no place for you in this world.

Surrender, mortal. You're nothing.

Your end will be as pathetic and lonely as you are. In the end, you'll destroy everything you've achieved. You will lose everything you hold dear, become like a broken mirror and disappear. 5) Healing:

I'm tired of lying helplessly in four walls. That's enough. Nice try, goatface. You're gonna make me apologize to the others for my behavior. Some of them especially... You're wrong about a lot of things, Baphomet. The world really sucks and isn't worth a drop of my time, but I'm not going to just give up at your behest and miss my second chance. There's too much at stake now. I'm not alone. Not anymore.I've made peace with my past and will write my own future and ending. No one else will dare stand in my way: not humans, not gods, not pathetic demon lords like you.

... Someone - When are you gonna stop drawing the same characters?!!!

Me - ...Yes 🗿 I look at the first art and know what awaits them... I love eating glass *COUGHING HARD*

I wanted a soft green background instead of purple. But I got mad, freaked out, and painted it my favorite color. Well, you know, а little symbolism and meaning ha-ha...

[blueskittlesart]

So, the discussion about Twilight Princess got me thinking, and I can't help but feel like that game was very much trapped in a "We can't do another Wind Waker, that was too cute, we need something dark and gritty and mature and grown up, like the other seventh gen consoles!"-kind of mindset. And how much that mindset limited what the game could have been.

I mean, just look at it: Low contrast browns and greys and greens everywhere? Check. Agressive Bloom levels that will sear your retinas right off? Check. Large but Empty open areas? Check. Story and Characterdesigns that REALLY try to be more "grown up" and "mature" and "gritty"? They are everywhere. Spectacular bossfights against huge enemies that look awesome but often end up rather straightforward? Yep.

I don't wan't to dunk on TP too hard, it still has lots of good elements in it, heck, I actually enjoy most of those bossfights, BECAUSE they look and feel spectacular! Some of the armor and weapondesign in this game is really good (whenever you can actually see the armor and the sea of blurry, low saturation colors, that is.).

Midna is the best.

But it feels so much like a game out of place, that was made as a knee-jerk reaction instead of truly considering what would and what wouldn't work on the Wii.

yeah. all of this. I think that tp definitely suffers from the devs attempts to make an overtly grown-up and gritty game, not necessarily because gritty, dark, atmospheric games are BAD, but because the zelda franchise is not a franchise targeted solely at adults. these games are very often coming-of-age stories centered around children and young adults. they are bright and colorful and very narrative-driven because they're meant to be enjoyed by anyone who is old enough to pick up the controller. children who can't enjoy the more difficult dungeon and fighting mechanics will still be captivated by the story and characters. some of my favorite zelda-related conversations i've ever had were with my three-year-old student who LOVED the vibrant characters and story of botw. (revali was his favorite.) twilight princess, in its quest to read as more gritty and adult, lost both its visual appeal AND its narrative appeal. what story it did have relied on nostalgia and plot from oot, alienating younger fans who hadn't yet had the chance to play that game. in order to compensate for its lack of narrative direction it padded itself with filler which showed off its willingness to go darker and scarier in terms of subject matter (look! we're going to kill this child if you don't rescue him!) so much so that the pacing and cohesiveness of the game noticeably suffered. so many elements of tp feel as though they were just thrown in because they looked cool and dark and freaky (the hero's shade, the bokoblin bridge fights, the aforementioned child-stealing segment, hell even the fucking wolf form didn't have any real narrative weight or significance!!!) with no thought to how they might actually impact the pacing and theming of the story. what results is a game with great dungeon design and boss fights but... not much else to speak of. we're left with a poorly-told, barely-comprehensible story that seems almost as if it was an afterthought, held together by some good dungeons. and it's fine if you like the dungeons and don't CARE about the story that much, but insisting that the game has a well-written narrative is just. wrong.

[syntheticmortal]

I got tagged by the lovely @crownedinmarigolds! Thank you so much mate!! I'm absolutely charmed 🥰

Now my rat bastard spouse stole most of my tagging options on their post so to not double-tag I will add:

@skaerdir, @klaciate, @tzimizce and @vamp-orwave!!

If anyone who sees this wants to be an honourary tagee, then go for it XD

For those who don't know - Hi I am Alex! (He/They) and I'm a writer and an English immigrant to the USA!

3 ships: oh mate all of these are OCxOC with @c-n-i-d-a-r-i-a-n

Victor and Gloria – A Nos and his unbound Ghoulfriend. Making your touchstone one of your mission Ghouls is dangerous af but live fast love hard, lads.

Jeff and Lamb – Another of Vic's unbound Ghouls and the Thin Blood Nos that joined the Warren. Disgustingly fucking cute injected into the den of the rejected and disgruntled.

Ventan/Taakur Rig and Rozanin Rig – My and Daz's SWTOR PCs respectively. A Chiss Cipher Agent that ends up having to go hide with his Mandalorian hireling with her Clan and Roz's unrequited love becomes hella requited and suddenly Ventan/Cipher Five-now-Taakur has step kids??

I love it so much.

first ship: Oh god this takes me back to being little. Probably a Sonic one??

Shadow and Rouge if I had to take a guess??

last song: Temptation by Sean Paul! A proper bop

But honestly massive shout out to the second Nostalgia Synthwave mix by Odysseus on youtube

This thing keeps me sane, and has all the songs marked! – that opening one, Realign by Cerulean, can usually just melt my brain into peace whenever I hear it

last film: Snatch – Like VTMB it's a problematic fave that oozes style and characterisation throughout. Watched it as prep for a Setite I'm going to play in a V5 game >:D

currently reading: Altered Carbon by Richard Morgan as part of genre research. Finished The Vampyre recently too! Really I should pick AC up today, I've been working hard on my editing and outlining of my own pieces and neglecting the reading part of the craft for a few weeks >.>;

currently craving: So I'm drinking far less booze to save money whilst I'm out of work trying to get some Proper Writing done. So when I hit a good worthy milestone I'm getting a bottle of whiskey and I am ready.

fav color: Green! Sometimes purple!

relationship status: Maaarriiied to @c-n-i-d-a-r-i-a-n

last google search: I had to double check the spelling of Taakur for the ship section, so it was 'mandoa' :')

and before that I'm pretty use I searched Scryfall last night to go look at MTG cards even though I have no one to play with right now :'D (at least it's saving me money >.>)

current obsessions: Was tempted to add my own work here but I'll tag that on the very end XD

There's a lot of fandoms I don't leave – World of Darkness and Warhammer 40k predominantly as settings I always have another angle I want to see explored in!

I do however have the Magic the Gathering bug, even though I haven't really played in years and years now – but card interaction as a generation for narrative has always kind of captivated me? Like there's a couple big mean Ogre cards that make Rats more dangerous, but due to the way the systems work they also empower the Ratfolk of Kamigawa, the Nezumi, as they count as 'Rat' cards still. So big Ogre spellcasters improving Rat people as part of a contained bit of narrative kind of fascinates me as a concept.

Plus each deck presupposes a Planeswalker character who's casting those spells – and I was always intrigued by that notion and so most of my OCs are representative of decks I played (or wanted to :P) and then in turn each Planeswalker needs a Plane to come from, probably from a still existing culture on that Plane too, and so it can kind of wonderfully reverberate inspiration.

Like how every VTM Kindred OC presupposes a Sire!

BONUS ALEX SECTION

So if you want to get to know me, let me tell you about what writing I'm working on/have made recently.

Out now!

The Mutilation of Finley Reid

A short story of masculine horror, about a young man by the name of Finley who suffers in the pursuit of having his place as a man affirmed by his peers.

The world of Torranham Nights is an anachronistic reflection of England set in the coastal city state of Torranham, drawing from contemporary culture and folklore as well as the legends and reality of the cultures that came before – without being fetishistic about it like a lot of stories will.

Handle It

A short retail horror, about working the cash register of a butcher's counter, and the customer who orders increasing amounts of ground beef...

Inspired by my own work in a same spot, anyone who's done service work should get a kick out of this – plus it's free and only takes 20 minutes to read! XD

On the way!

Defector – name subject to change

A short story of grief, shame, suicidal ideation, alcoholism, and community. On the moon.

A Special Recon mech pilot, “Crash”, from Earth has defected to the Moon rebels, and now lives in Magnolia City, rotting away in her tiny apartment. Then the Provisional Government sends one of its elite commanders, a former enemy of Crash's, to pull her out.

Elhart: Arrival

The first of a short story fantasy anthology about a city of refugees at the edge of time and space, hiding from the end of the multi-planar universe. A super soldier has washed up with a near-fatal headwound and no memory, and she must learn to live in a far more peaceful world than the one her instincts suggest she came from. But who was she? And can she earn the trust of people who fear her potential to kill?

Neon Sun

A novel! Cyberpunk Vampires! If we're mutuals you can come ask about this but I'm not ready to share things too publicly for this one yet, but the outlining has gone beautifully in my opinion, and the worldbuilding is singing.

Speartip

I'm making a TTRPG!! It's a Powered by the Apocalypse engine game, about serving as the primary field agents of a faction of people who need your support and protection. Because if you're going to be a hero, who are you doing it for if not your kin?

Setting agnostic as hell, excluding some implicit need for magic in the class moves – I'm prepping to playtest this in sci-fi and fantasy settings to see how well my mechanics hold up in both swords and firearms based stories. Plus I'm going to explore a variety of perspectives of what the faction can be – from ethnic groups, to gangs, to guilds, to neighbourhoods.

I'm VERY excited about all this!!

[incorrectpizza]

Hah. So. The one-shot I posted the first day of @sabezraweek? It's uh. Not a one-shot anymore. Behold, the sequel, in which Sabine discovers a record of Ezra's time on Peridea:

Story also down below for anyone who wants to read here.

Ezra’s pod is small, but as Sabine explores it, it almost feels cavernous. There’s things everywhere.

A stockpile of dried and cured foods that the Noti taught him to preserve. Weapons he made from whatever he could salvage: stormtrooper blasters and rifles, wood, a strange metal that the Noti used that never grew cold , even on the rare days when the weather grew sour. And there are books. Made from some sort of animal skin, if her hunch is correct. Stitched together with thin, sinewy thread, pages surprisingly sturdy. 

The first one she finds, sitting on a ledge next to the pod’s tiny, Noti-sized second bed, is  a book of Noti bedtime stories. 

“Youongling’s Fables, A Collection of Noti stories as transcribed by Ezra Bridger.”

There’s a total of three charming little tales, each one accompanied by a symbol - some small splash of color signaling the beginning of a new story. Sabine studies them carefully. One is a simple  green circle with uneven splotches throughout - a planet? Another, a silhouette of a Howler, deep navy blue, just a hint brighter and more saturated than Ezra’s hair. The third, though, catches her breath. It’s a Jedi symbol. She reads this story first. 

It’s about the first Jedi to meet the Noti - not Ezra, but some old man in the distant past. The man died protecting the Noti from The Great Mother, a corrupted Force being the Jedi sentenced to ten thousand years of captivity in the mountains. Did this have anything to do with Baylan’s search? His quest for power? Sabine wonders, setting aside the book. She’ll show it to Ahsoka when she gets back from the hunt.

On Ezra’s little workbench, she finds three more books: all blank, waiting for words to fill them. Near the hatch, alongside a few odd “pots” and “pans,” she finds a “cookbook.” It has a dozen recipes, from “Noti Stew DO NOT EAT” to “Peridean Loth-Pie” to “Actually Edible Noti Soup.” She chuckles a bit and makes a mental note to show Ahsoka this one, too. Maybe they can find something that they can stomach once their ration bars are finished. 

And then, as she’s straightening up the other side of the sleeping quarters, she finds two books sitting by Ezra’s bed. The first one she picks up is a “journal.” Each entry is printed in small Aurebesh - so small Sabine puts on her helmet to magnify the words. Ezra must’ve learned quickly that books are harder to make than they look, Sabine muses.

The first page proclaims the book “Jedi Padawan Ezra Bridger’s Journal of A Galaxy Far, Far Away, Volume Five. Noti Nomadic Village, Peridea. Approximately 10 years after the Liberation of Lothal.”

Each page has multiple entries, almost but not quite daily. Most are mundane, ordinary. Sabine reads every single word of every single entry.

“Day 3,547. Jynt and I came up with a new way to attach the ropes to the pods today. Moving them is going to be a lot easier now.” Always ingenious.

“Day 3,574. I discovered a new species today. A little purple and orange caterpillar. I hereby dub it Sabineus Wrennius .” Sabine laughs and flips the page. 

“Day 3,631. I got to scare two night troopers today.” Still a prankster.

“Day 3,650. I really want to go home.” Sabine closes her eyes and sighs. He’s home now, she knows. She should be happy. And yet-

She wishes he were with her. Here. Or home. She misses him deeply, and it’s only been seventeen cycles. She finishes the book, which breaks off mid-entry. 

“Day 3,674. Nothing excitin-”

Was that when he heard my Howler in the distance? Sensed me in the Force? Or was he interrupted on another day and just never bothered to finish?

She closes the book, vowing to ask him one day about that last entry.

Then she opens the second book, the one tucked underneath. It’s tied shut with a thick cord.

She unties it and flips it open. The first page declares in bold orange letters “PROPERTY OF EZRA BRIDGER.”

“Do not look unless you are Ezra.”

Then, underneath, in small scrawl she can hardly read: “Or Sabine.”

Or Sabine? She furrows her brow, wondering what could be so important that Ezra didn’t want anyone reading it, and why she was the exception. Gently, her fingers grasp the edge of the page. 

It’s full of… starbirds?

A dozen of her symbols lie in front of her. Some sketches, others paintings. Their colors vary brilliantly, from blue to purple to green to (yes, of course ) orange. She flips the page again. More starbirds. But not just starbirds. This page also has a Jedi symbol, more crude than the one Sabine had found earlier, and an Imperial crest - crossed out with red, of course. 

As the pages go on, there’s less and less starbirds and more other symbols. Kanan’s Jaig-eyed mask. The patterns from Hera’s lekku. Zeb’s Bo-Rifle. Her helmet.

His drawings grow more detailed, more artistic as the book goes on until, by the middle, he’s got a definite, recognizable style. In the second half, he grows brave enough to try sketching them, their little family, as he remembered them. Hera and Kanan holding hands. Zeb scowling. Sabine flying around Mandalore, broad smile as she shows off her jetpack. Chopper arguing with AP-5. There are a few details off here and there - in one group sketch, her hair is too long and Ezra himself is not wearing orange, an unforgivable creative liberty, especially considering just how shockingly accurate and real the painting looks. 

It’s the very last image of the book, though, that nearly takes Sabine’s breath away. It’s them, hugging, foreheads pressed together in a keldabe kiss. The background - he painted a background? - has some vague, abstract Noti pods. The Ghost hangs in the sky, and Sabine thinks she might even spot Ahsoka’s ship on the ground. In the distance, a white Loth-Wolf looks on. Her fingers hover, desperate to trace the lines, but not wanting to risk damaging the precious painting. Underneath, there’s a title.

Someday Soon .

The next page has no art. Just words. 

Sabine, I hope you never have to read this. I hope I’m here when you come. But just in case, I want to thank you. For always being there for me. For teaching me about life, and art, and how to be a good friend. I couldn’t have made it this long without you. Even more than I ever realized, I love you.

Sabine hurriedly shuts the book before her tears can mar the pages. 

[sweetbabymantykes]

Actually, Dhelmise isn't a single celled organism, that's a common misconception. Seaweed is a macroalgae, which is a multicellular form of algae. Single celled marine algae are diatoms, too tiny to see with the naked eye and also kinda what glass comes from I think?? I dunno I only know about the big stuff.

That said, research is still being done in regards to what type of seaweed Dhelmise should be classified as. While it seems many will develop a preference for green algae, it's rare for them to consist of that alone; most will still have traces of brown and red algae, and records exist of specimens that opted more for those than the usual green. Oh, but no correlation has been found between algae type and their color, I should mention— trying to figure out how and why exceedingly rare red Dhelmise form is an entirely different can of Orthworms, let me tell you. (Not as difficult as finding a way to ghost and anchor-proof a pokébean container, though...)

The issue is already complex just by virtue of the fact that they technically consist of multiple different organisms in the genetic sense, such as, say, both dead man's fingers and giant kelp. It's like trying to classify lichens. The real kicker is that the species consistently shares the same general body plan and shape, even between populations that primarily utilize entirely different types of macroalgae.

In fact, depictions of them from hundreds of years ago, when they were first encountered by sailors, share a remarkable amount of similarity in basic shape. Though, they did apparently vary in size to a greater degree; some used rocks and driftwood and would be small compared to today's average, usually described as shorter than a human. Others may have made use of entire Wailmer and Wailord falls— perhaps the remains of their unfortunate prey— if some other depictions and descriptions from those times are to be believed. (It is important to take into account the possibility of embellished stories and the like, as interesting as the latter sounds...)

Dhelmise really are quite the mystery, even among other ghost types! It still isn't well understood what causes them to form in the wild to begin with. We know from captive individuals that they are capable of asexual reproduction through fragmentation, similar to many other types of seaweed, but that creates genetic clones and wouldn't explain the diversity amongst wild populations. The prevailing theory involves souls lost at sea, but there is little conclusive evidence to support that.

Ah, I should probably stop rambling on about this now, though. I tend to get a bit carried away, which is weird given how I used to not be interested at all in this sort of thing... What getting reverse chosen by your first Pokémon while visiting family on the coast does to a mfer. Sorry 'bout the wall of text!

I feel like a fraud. I got a fact about aquatic pokemon wrong. It's fine, it's fine, I can still keep my reputation, Dhelmise isn't a water type, it's a grass type. And I actually don't know that much about kelp to begin with, so I guess that's what my problem is, haha.

That aside, man. I could listen to people tell me about other pokemon forever, don't apologize! My sister is really into ghost types but she's not really chatty, either, so it's really nice to hear about them from someone else. Previous Johto anon in a fight with your dad- give this a read! Everyone else, too, I had no idea about their historical 'chains'...

[fratboykate]

Just a desperate anon, politely asking if this was ever posted 👀👀👀 or if it could be added to the potential writer-strike queue if it wasn’t. I am crossing my fingers it wasn’t eaten by tumblr or notes…

https://www.tumblr.com/fratboykate/711128923636908032/papi-we-need-the-stepmom-angst-its-a-matter-of

You must've crossed those fingers really hard because you sent this two weeks ago and are now getting it three whole days before the strike lol. Here's almost 10k of...them. Mom!AU is officially back from the war too.

///

"Do NOT bring those boots into the apartment, Ri. Off by the door. I mean it. You're cleaning it if you track all that dirty slush around."

Kate abruptly halts her twelve-year-old daughter’s hasty rush toward the entrance with a firm yank on the hood of her brightly colored parka and deftly transfers the stroller she’s pushing to Ereka. In the same single, graceful, and fluid motion, Kate skillfully juggles the diaper bag, empty coffee tumbler, and cell phone freeing her dominant hand to dig through her purse for her keys. A palpable imperativeness hangs in the air as they make their way down the hallway because Russell, who currently tries to squirm his way out of the stroller straps, is on the brink of a meltdown. With each passing second, his patience wears thinner, and Kate endeavors to avoid him going nuclear in public.

"And take your brother's boots off too, please. You know where the stroller goes. Don't just leave it blocking the door. Did momma text you back about dinner?"

"No...Any day now would be great, mom."

Kate's eyes narrow with stony intensity as she shoots Ereka a dirty look.

"I’ll leave you out here. Don’t try me."

"Top-notch parenting. I'll be sure to add that to the CPS file I'm compiling."

"Mommy, druck!"

Two-and-a-half-year-old Russell unleashes a series of frustrated hollers from within his rolling prison. His annoyance is palpable.

The boy is an undeniable carbon copy of his mother, a living reflection of Yelena. Kate has never once laid eyes on her son and seen anything other than an unmistakable resemblance to her wife. This moment isn’t an exception. Kate can't help but notice the striking parallels between them. Every feature screams Yelena, from how his nose scrunches when he smiles to his green eyes to his vibrant blonde hair to his Short King status. Even his breathing issues, which lend a raspy voice and a crackling laugh, serve as a constant reminder of the deep link that those two share. Kate could complain about the fact that he also inherited her rotten temper, but instead, she finds herself captivated by this portable embodiment of her darling wife.

"Yes, baby. Riri will get you another truck as soon as we're inside."

"I WANT RED DRUCK NOW! RED DRUCK!"

"Okay, woh. Tone, sir. You're the one who threw it out the car window. You're gonna wait until we get inside and give zero attitude because this is a problem of your own doing."

Russell furrows his brow, a visible display of his discontent, followed by an exasperated huff. The air between them hangs momentarily. This could be the moment when he finally loses his cool. Then…after a beat…

"A druck is a wectangle, mommy."

"It is. What shape is this?"

Kate holds up the face powder she's holding.

"Circle! Cuz it wound. Like this..."

The little boy traces a circle in the air with his plump toddler fingers.

"Good job!"

"Oh my god. Do we live in the hallway now? Open the door."

Kate continues digging through her purse while simultaneously turning to Ereka and contorting her face into a humorous expression. Ereka quickly mirrors her mother's mischievous look, sparking a shared moment of amusement between the two. Laughter escapes their lips, affording them a moment of levity amid the chaotic scene. As their chuckles subside, a triumphant glimmer sails through Kate's eyes — she’s finally found the keys!

"There's no reason this thing should be able to swallow my keys into another dimension. It's not that big."

Kate swings the door wide open with a determined push. Without missing a beat, she dumps the bags that dangle from her shoulders onto the table by the entrance while slipping her waterproof boots off. Once her hands, arms, and feet are free, she heads to the jacket closet to begin taking layers off.

"Ri! Come on! You're smarter than that. Take your boots off first, THEN his. Moving around and look at the mess you're making."

Kate is too busy chastising her daughter to notice Yelena's coat is already hanging in the closet.

"You said to take his off too. I'm doing that and you get mad."

"I didn't think I needed to give you a detailed step-by-step on how to do it right, but I'll be sure to next time."

"Next time, I just won't do it if you're going to scream at me either way."

"There was no screaming. Just pointing out the obvious."

"...while you screamed."

Kate offers a vexed eye roll then strides into the apartment, leaving Ereka to wrestle with the challenge of removing Russell's stubborn boots in the foyer. Kate moves with purpose, her footsteps echoing as she navigates through the familiar space. Once Ereka successfully frees her brother’s tiny feet from the damp shoes, she proceeds to unstrap him from the stroller.

"Riri, druck!"

"I will get you your dumb truck, but I need to take this off you so mom doesn't flip a lid." Ereka tells her brother while deftly unzipping the small, purple coat.

"DRUCK NOW, RIRI!"

The little boy squirms as Ereka wrestles with his jacket.

"I will hide all your trucks if you scream at me again."

A deep frown creases Russell’s face, his features contorting into an expression of displeasure and frustration.

"No! Druck Wuss!"

"Yeah, they're your trucks, but I can also put them on the top shelf where you can't reach them if you don't stop being a brat." Ereka slides his gloves off, stands, and heads for the door a few feet away. Ereka opens the closet and immediately catches Yelena's coat. She hastily hangs her brother's tiny parka, throws the gloves into the corresponding cubby, and stares at Yelena's jacket once more before turning to Russell. "Don't move." Ereka darts to the back of the apartment, disappearing momentarily from Russell’s sight. She returns to the hallway that connects the foyer to the rest of the apartment a few seconds later. "Mama's home."

From her position by the kitchen island, Kate gazes at her daughter with confusion etched across her face.

"What?"

"Her coat's in here, so I went and checked and she's in the room. I think she's sleeping though, because all the lights are off."

Kate turns to glance at the clock on the microwave. 5:28 PM. Yelena is never home before them, let alone before 5:00 PM. At least not unless she's feeling unwell. Kate closes the cookbook she perused for dinner ideas and heads for the bedroom.

"Please keep an eye on him and get him one of the trucks from his chest. Thank you."

Kate tells Ereka as she kisses the top of her head in passing.

"Come on, Russellsprout. Let's get you a truck."

Kate suppresses a smile and instinctively rolls her eyes, a reflexive response to Ereka’s talent for assigning people terrible (and often food-related) nicknames. This might be one of the most annoying traits Ereka inherited from her father and Kate can’t help but find it both amusing and exasperating.

---

Kate enters the pitch-black room, stepping closer to the bed as her eyes gradually adjust to the darkness. The air is nice and toasty, meaning the older woman must be running the small space heater she’s permanently moved to her nightstand. As Kate approaches, she can see Yelena is, in fact, in bed. Her back is turned to the door and her shoulders rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm. A wave of concern washes over the brunette as she realizes that her wife must be feeling truly awful to be in bed this early.

"Baby...Yel..."

Kate whispers but gets no answer. She debates letting Yelena sleep but can't resist the urge to be close to her wife, even if it's just for a moment. Kate crawls into bed and nestles herself against Yelena’s warm form. Yelena instinctively responds, her body pushing back into Kate’s.

Kate's lips find Yelena's neck, leaving a trail of soft, affectionate kisses. Her arm delicately snakes around Yelena's overgrown midriff, cradling the ever-growing twenty-two-week pregnant belly.

"You okay?"

Kate whispers into Yelena's ear and places a gentle kiss on her earlobe. Yelena softly shakes her head, indicating her disinterest in engaging in conversation at the moment.

The most accurate way to describe Yelena's pregnancy thus far is: miserable. The first trimester was a nightmare, marked by persistent malaise and bouts of morning sickness that had her bent over a toilet for hours on end, leaving her feeling drained and weak. And those were the good days. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Yelena’s body is rebelling at every turn. Run down any list of pregnancy symptoms (and add a few more most people had never even heard of), and Yelena went through all of them. Her body seems determined to manifest every ailment imaginable and magnify its intensity. The dizziness has become a constant companion. Exhaustion has settled in her bones, claiming all of her energy. Frequent nosebleeds interrupt her daily routine, keeping her perpetually on edge. There’s also the hormonal mood swings that leave Yelena feeling like a stranger in her own body. Crippling headaches punctuate her days with throbbing pangs, constantly forcing her to seek solace in the darkness…like now.

Throughout the madness of this pregnancy, Kate has risen to the occasion, stepping up as a pillar of emotional support and embracing the role of caregiving, devoted partner with unwavering dedication. Day in and day out, Kate has done everything she can to make Yelena's life easier, including taking on the lion’s share of household chores and errands. Additionally, Kate has done everything in her power to anticipate Yelena's needs. She cooks meals to soothe Yelena's queasy stomach, researches remedies and alternative therapies to alleviate symptoms, offers calming teas and massages to ease aches, ensures Yelena stays hydrated and gets enough rest, or is simply around to provide a comforting touch along with words of consolation when Yelena is feeling down about the toll that pregnancy is taking on her body. Kate has become a constant presence by her wife’s side, ensuring Yelena feels loved and cherished throughout this challenging period. Overall, Kate has made it her mission to turn Yelena's difficult pregnancy into a somewhat manageable experience.

With tender affection, Kate runs her palm over Yelena's growing belly.

"I thought we had a deal that you were going to be nice to momma, baby girl. What's going on in there, huh?"

"Your stupid genes...trying to kill me." Kate chuckles, a jovial response to their now recurring conversation. Since Yelena is carrying a baby conceived with Kate's egg and the donor's sperm, Yelena has started to (halfway?) joke that Kate’s genes must be “toxic” to her and that they’re the root cause of Yelena's endless pregnancy woes. "You drive me crazy every day. Why did I think putting a literal piece of you inside me would go any better?"

"I'm sorry. So evil of me. Bad, BAD genes. I'll have a talk with them later." Kate's lips graze Yelena's shoulder, leaving behind a trail of soft kisses. In an instant, Yelena's body surrenders to her touch and loosens up as a result. "What are you feeling for dinner?"

"The last thing I want near me right now is food."

"You need to eat, Yel."

"I need this baby out of me. That's what I need."

Yelena lets out a discontented grumble and Kate's smile blossoms against her skin.

"Three more months. You just have to cook the nugget for three more months and you're done."

"That sounds like forever. Don't like it."

"How about some Mac and Cheese? Would that make it somewhat better?"

"Kate Bishop...are you trying to bribe me out of bed?"

"Maybe. I think there's lobster in the fridge. I think I got some when I went on Monday. If not, I can have some delivered. Lobster Mac. Super ooey and gooey and cheesy and yum."

"Why are you trying to sell it to me like I'm two?"

"It's how I convince your son to eat. Figured it might work on you since you're both grumpy little gremlins." Restless and dissatisfied, Yelena grunts in discomfort and shifts in bed, struggling to find an agreeable position to no avail. Eventually, she ends up half-facing Kate, seeking some semblance of relief in the brunette’s proximity. Kate offers her a warm smile. "That's the face of someone who could do with some ooey gooey cheesy yum in their life."

Yelena's lips curl into a merry smile and she indulges in a slight eye roll.

"I hate that it's actually working."

"My job is to sell things for a living and..." Kate plants a delicate kiss on Yelena's lips. "...I'm good at what I do."

"You..."

The door bursts open, unleashing a flood of light that fills the room. The little blonde toddler charges inside with a whirlwind of energy while proudly showcasing the truck his sister procured for him.

"MOMMA, LOOK! RIRI GOT RED DRUCK!"

Russell hops onto the bed, forcefully wedging himself with determined enthusiasm into the nonexistent space between his mothers.

"Your son...he had the genius idea to hurl his truck out the moving car window on our way here. Blue truck no more."

"Russ...that's dangerous. We don't do that."

"Blue druck went...FRUMMMMMMM"

The little boy offers Yelena an animated demonstration of the flight his toy truck embarked on with uncontainable excitement.

"RUSSPBERRY!"

"He's in here!"

Kate shouts at her daughter, who promptly appears at the door seconds later.

"Sorry. I went to the bathroom and I told him to stay."

"It's okay."

"Did he wake momma up?"

"Your mom woke me up."

"WITH KISSES. It was the most gentle wake-up ever."

"Still woke me up."

Kate shakes her head, purporting to be piqued.

"Come here. There's room."

Ereka's face lights up with a broad smile as she dashes to the bed and jumps onto it, somehow also forcing herself between Kate and Yelena.

"Easy. Momma's not feeling great."

"Sorry. Hi."

Ereka settles herself snugly, resting her chin on Yelena's hip and tenderly placing her hand on the gentle curve of her mother’s stomach.

"Hi. How was school?" Yelena asks with genuine curiosity.

Ereka shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of facetious defiance in her expression.

"Same as every other time you ask."

Kate and Yelena exchange amused glances before bursting into laughter. Yelena leans closer to Ereka, a warm grin on her face.

"Humor me."

Ereka huffs dramatically, her eyes rolling with jocose petulance. A small, roguish grin tugs at the corners of her lips, giving away her underlying amusement.

"Classes are boring. Everyone is stupid. The rules don't make sense. It's always going to be the same thing. So…fine, I guess. Tolerable.”

"Oh, you're going to be a FUN teenager." Yelena responds, her tone lighthearted and teasing.

"If I'm as precocious as everyone says I am, then technically, you could assume I've been a teenager for a while now."

"Yeah, that's it. The moment you hit thirteen, I'm packing your bags and finding you a new place to live, or I'll start graying early.” Kate playfully warns while simulating seriousness.

"Wow. Threatening to rescind my housing for exercising my right to free speech? I'm sure some case worker out there is salivating at the thought of it."

Kate rolls her eyes.

"Mommy, hungwy. I has milk?"

"Have, baby. Can I have milk?"

"Yeah. Can I haves it?” The little boy insists eagerly and with a hint of distress.

Kate chuckles.

"Close enough. But we're having dinner in a little bit, so no milk right now." Kate places a final peck on Yelena's lips and starts to stand. "Mac and cheese for dinner."  

"Yesssss. Can you put bacon in it?" Ereka inquires excitedly.

"If you guys haven't gone through it already, then sure. Last I checked, there were like two pieces left, so not making any promises."

"Tell Lila to make less bacon for breakfast then."

"OR...you could do what I ask and write it on the list when you see we're running low. She already has enough on her plate with you two. You could help out more."

A few times a week, a dedicated housekeeper arrives early in the morning to help with the kids and the upkeep of the house. She quickly becomes a lifeline for the family, offering an extra pair of capable hands and a much-needed boost of organization and support. This arrangement means Kate and Yelena have less to juggle and can focus more of their time on the children.

"You also saw we were running low and didn't put it on the list, so..."

"I did put it on the list when I realized I just haven't gone shopping again. But it wasn't on my last list because YOU, the bacon fiend in this house, didn't put it there."

"Whatever." Ereka grumbles, feigning annoyance.

"Keep her busy...but don't drive her crazy. It's a delicate balance. I'll scream when it's ready. And...I might need you at some point, so don't pretend like you don't hear me calling you when I do."

Kate punctuates her words by tapping Ereka on the shoulder as she stands and walks away.

"I have bad ears." Ereka tries to play it off, but Kate doesn't let her off the hook.

"Not according to the doctor, you don't."

Ereka has gotten so proficient at selective hearing that Kate took her to the otolaryngologist to get her checked, only to prove a point.

Ereka repositions herself to lie on Kate's pillow, her face ending next to Yelena’s. She lovingly presses her head against the blonde’s.

"I like it when you're home early."

Yelena offers a faint smile while keeping her eyes closed.

"Me too."

"WUSS LIKES, MOMMA." Russell exclaims. He has an adorable habit of referring to himself in the third person, which always makes the outlandish things he says objectively funnier.

The little boy clambers up Yelena's body, unknowingly jabbing her sides with the hard plastic of his toy truck. Yelena winces and hisses in pain, prompting her to extend her arms and lift him off.

"Why are all your toys deadly weapons?" Yelena gripes, readjusting Russell so he's lying against her chest and carefully removing the toy from his hand. He immediately snuggles his cheek against hers and allows his entire body weight rest on her. Yelena lets out a groan, a mixture of mischief and genuine fatigue. "You guys are so clingy. Where are we even going to fit a third?"

Yelena fake complains, although deep down, she loves every second of it.

"She can go right here."

Ereke facetiously places her open hand over Yelena's face, covering most of it. Yelena chuckles.

"Yeah. Perfect place to sit a dirty diaper on."

Ereka's chuckles echo around the room as Yelena tries to shake her palm off her face. With a bit of effort, Yelena succeeds in removing Ereka's hand and turns to face her, offering a weak but earnest smile.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling good."

"It's okay. I'll suck it up...but I'm going to complain the entire time."

Ereka snickers and slides impossibly closer to Yelena, their bond evident in their proximity.

"Thank you for a little sister."

Yelena presses a loving kiss to Ereka's temple.

"Are you happy about it?"

"SO MUCH!" Ereka’s genuine excitement and gratitude shine through her words. "...Unless you're lying to me again and it's actually another one of these..." Ereka pokes her fingers all around Russell's body and the toddler giggles uncontrollably. "...in there."

Yelena guffaws.

"Promise it's a girl. For real this time. And she's a very lucky girl to have you as a big sister."

"I think so too."

"We have to work on your modesty." Yelena teases her daughter with a smile.

"I'm the right amount of confident. I know I'm a good big sister. Right, Russpaghetti?"

Ereka looks at her little brother for validation. The boy eagerly nods his head as he pats his tiny hands all over Yelena's face.

"Mama, milk pwease."

"Mommy is working on dinner. No milk right now. Milk later."

"Milk pwease." Russell persists, his fussiness escalating.

"No milk right now, Russ."

The boy begins to fuss and instantly works himself up to the brink of a tantrum.

"MILK, MAMA!” Russell insists, his volume rising.

"No no. Shhhhh...let's all just...Shhh...quiet time until dinner is ready. How about that? That sounds so much more fun and better for my head."

"NO!"

Ereka rolls her eyes at his protest and rises from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To get him milk. He's not going to stop until someone does and it'll make your headache worse if he doesn't. Just a little and he'll chill."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Ereka disappears out the door.

"Milk."

"Ri, went to get you some."

“Milk. Okay." Russell acknowledges, reassured that his request is being taken care of.

"So stubborn. Definitely get that from your other mom, not me. Definitely not me."

Yelena pulls the boy close and covers his body in kisses. His sour mood instantly shifts and he devolves into a fit of giggles.

---

An hour later, the foursome sits around the table, settled into their usual seats. Russell is perched in his high chair next to Kate, who patiently feeds him his meal. Ereka is to the other side of Kate, absentmindedly moving the food around her plate, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Yelena, determined to fend off her nausea, takes slow, deliberate bites, willing herself to keep the food down.

"Can I ask you something? And you'll promise you'll at least think about it before you say no?"

"Uh oh," Kate utters.

"I'm serious, mom."

"Me too. I can't possibly see how this is good, so I was bracing."

"Momma, promise you'll at least think about it."

Ereka turns towards Yelena, her expression brimming with seriousness and sincerity. Yelena meets her daughter's gaze, responding with a warm smile that conveys her openness to listen and engage wholeheartedly in anything Ereka is about to share.

"Whatever it is, mom and I will think about it and have a fair discussion before we get back to you.”

Following Yelena’s reassurance, a brief silence fills the room as Ereka gathers her thoughts. Kate and Yelena maintain their focus on her.

"I don't want to go stay at dad's anymore...ever."

Ereka declares confidently. Kate and Yelena instantly exchange worried glances.

"Did something happen?"

"No. Yes. No. I just...it's not that I don't want to see him. I just don't want to sleep over. Or be gone for days. Whenever I'm there, I'm missing here and Russtachio and you guys. And baby sister is coming soon and I'll miss her too. You always end up doing something fun without me and I hate it. Nothing I'm doing there is better than being here."

"Ri, we can't take days away from your dad."

"Why not?"

"It would...be a problem."

"What problem?! Just tell him I can…I don’t know…come hang out during the day for a few hours and then he has to bring me back."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Why not?!"

"Because we have a court-ordered agreement that we need to stick by. He gets you 30% of the time. That's how it works."

"Fuck court."

"Ereka!" Kate and Yelena exclaim simultaneously.

Ereka responds with a nonchalant shrug, seemingly unfazed by their reaction.

"See? That's what happens when you send me over to dad's house. I learn curse words. Bad influence."

"Honey, your dad loves you. You're the light of his life and he loves spending time with you." Kate tells Ereka matter-of-factly, her tone filled with unwavering certainty.

"All they do over there is be angry, argue with each other, and drink until they make up more reasons to keep arguing. Then it usually goes to fighting and breaking things. I hate it."

"How long has this been going on?" Yelena inquires, her voice laced with worry.

"Since I was little. That's what grandma's house has always been like."

"Who argues and breaks things?"

"Everyone. Everyone is always over for dinner and definitely on weekends. Dad and Uncle Billy get into it every time they start drinking. Aunt Viv drinks even more now that she's getting divorced. Her and dad argue all the time too. And then Aunt...it's a lot of people and I don't want to sleep over anymore."

"Ereka, did something else happen that you're not telling us? Something bad?" Yelena doubles down on her line of questions.

"No. I just want to come back home every night. I want to sleep here. Always."

"You can tell us anything. You know that, right?"

"I'm telling you right now!"

"Okay...hey...let's take a breather." Kate interjects, attempting to calm her.

"Ri, look at me," Yelena asks firmly. "Did anything inappropriate happen over there and you're scared to go back? Because if something did, we will..."

"Oh my god! No one like...touched me or did anything weird! Ew. Don't go there. I just don't like them. That's it. Nothing illegal. I mean, I have seen illegal things, but...nothing illegal involving me. I swear. Truly...that's not it."

"Promise?"

"Promise. It's not that. Really."

Yelena nods, her gaze shifting between Kate and Ereka, silently acknowledging the weight of the situation.

"We'll talk about it and get back to you.“

"There's nothing to talk about. We can't do that."

"We'll talk." Yelena insists, her voice firm yet gentle. "Give us some time, okay?"

Ereka nods and Yelena reaches across the table, placing a heartening hand on Ereka's.

"Thank you."

The girl whispers and finally takes her first bite of food, her appetite slowly returning. The table falls into a solemn silence as they continue their meal, each of them deep in their minds.

---

Yelena lies in bed, her hands absentmindedly caressing her stomach. Her eyes remain fixed on Kate, who moves around the bathroom finishing the last few steps of her nightly routine.

"Yel, we can't take this on,” Kate asserts firmly.

"Why not?"

Kate walks to the doorway, rests her shoulder against the jamb, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Because we went to court for almost TWO YEARS to get the agreement we have now. How do you think it's gonna go over if I call him tomorrow and tell him we're breaking it? Do you really wanna go through whatever that brings up? Now? In the middle of this?"

Kate's hand gestures to Yelena's stomach, emphasizing their current situation.

"My feelings aren't more important than hers. If she doesn't want to go back, we shouldn't force her."

"Yes. You're correct. Absolutely. We should always take her feelings into consideration. But think about it like this, what she's asking is for us to get full custody and he gets SOME visitation rights. Under nebulous circumstances. What is she actually asking for? She gets to see him for two hours every other weekend and then comes home? We don't know what she wants, but whatever it is, I know that we don't have legal grounds to take her away from him. He's gonna fight it."

"And we can fight him."

Kate lets out a tired groan as she switches off the bathroom light. She moves to the bed, slipping under the covers, sitting up, and leaning her back against the bed frame. Her eyes are glued on the darkened TV screen across from her, her mind seemingly lost in serious contemplation.

"You two would fight all day if it were up to you, but *me*...I'm over it. This isn't something that's realistic and as much as I hate making her do something she doesn't want to, no judge is going to take his partial custody away. We don't even have any reason to take him back to court. Nothing's changed."

"She said she's seen illegal things...We should ask what that is."

"Yelena..." Kate turns to face her wife, her expression showing both fatigue and vulnerability. "...I don't have another two years of court in me. I don't have even another second of his tantrums and his shit in my body. I can't do it. Especially knowing we're not going to win. He's been...better???"

"That's a stretch."

Yelena reaches out and takes Kate's hand in hers, intertwining their fingers, and grounding her. Grounding each other.

"It has been better. You can't deny it hasn't. Why do we want to poke the bear?"

"For her. I would poke the bear for her."

Kate's shoulders slump as she exhales a heavy sigh, the weight of their situation bearing down on her. Yelena squeezes her wife’s hand gently.

"What happens when we go through a long, miserable custody battle over this, then she's suddenly sixteen and wants to go sleep at her dad's because we did something to piss her off?”

"Nothing. She goes to sleep at her dad's. Because that's her choice. As long as it's her choice, it's fine. But we shouldn't force her into a situation that makes her clearly unhappy." Yelena takes a beat, thinking. "What if we don't have to go to court? What if we all sit down and talk about it?"

Kate lets out a bitter laugh.

"Yel, please."

"It could work."

"When have you two ever been in a room where the situation doesn't end with me stopping you from killing each other?"

"I can't exactly kick his ass right now, so...different circumstances. I mean, I probably still could, but unless I had to, I wouldn't."

"I love her and I love you, but I'm not doing it. I'm not going to detonate a bomb we don't even need to touch."

---

The next morning. Yelena finds herself perched on a booth in a bustling café, the air filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the animated chatter of the early lunchtime crowd. She grimaces and shifts restlessly, her hand instinctively soothing the spot where her daughter just delivered a formidable fighter-style kick.

"You need to cut it with that."

Yelena mutters, chastising the baby before taking a cautious sip of her decaf concoction. Her eyes remain glued on the café entrance as she anxiously awaits the arrival of the person she's meeting.

Thankfully, Yelena's anticipation is short-lived. The jingling bell above the door heralds the arrival of Tom, who enters the busy room and immediately starts scanning the patrons. Spotting Yelena, he makes his way to her booth. Their eyes meet and they exchange perfunctory nods before muffled, forced greetings escape their lips. Tom drapes his coat over the back of his chair and slides into the padded bench. Yelena's gaze remains fixed on the table, trying to conceal her agitation.

This close to him, Yelena can smell the alcohol on his breath. He doesn't appear visibly intoxicated, yet the unmistakable odor of Vodka taints the air around them, lingering like a cloud and a troubling reminder of his choices. It's barely 11:30 AM. This meeting is already off to a bad start.

"Hi. Thank you for meeting me."

"What's this about?"

"Look, I know things haven't always been easy between us." Tom remains silent and stoic, his expression guarded as he waits to see where this will go. Yelena’s attempts to conceal her unease only amplifies it. She's never been good at masking her genuine emotions or engaging in fake pleasantries, especially in situations like this. "All we've both ever wanted is the best thing for our daughter."

"MY daughter. She's nothing of yours. Ereka is MY daughter."

Yelena bites back her tongue and fights the urge to respond to Tom’s provocatory dig. If they start getting into it less than ten sentences into the conversation, this isn't going to go anywhere.

"All we want is the best for Ereka."

"I know that's what *I* want, yeah."

Yelena's phone screen illuminates, signaling an incoming text. She glances at it briefly. It's from Kate. Aware that her wife is oblivious to the current situation she finds herself in, Yelena decides to ignore the message for the time being, already anticipating Kate's displeasure when she eventually finds out.

Tom's eyes fly to the screen. His expression hardens and he locks his jaw as his eyes zero in on the background image. It's a photograph taken during the pregnancy announcement shoot Kate insisted on having. The still captures Kate, Ereka, Russell, and a pregnant Yelena standing in a vibrant field of fall-colored trees, radiating pure joy. It undoubtedly gets under Tom’s skin.

"What do you want? Why did you call me here?" Tom presses.

"We had a conversation with Ereka last night. More like she had a conversation with us where she made a request. We...I....*I* thought maybe you and I could talk like adults about it and deal with the situation. Parent to parent."

"You're not her parent, so...if there's anything going on with my kid, Kate can talk to me about it."

"Whether you like it or not, the judge granted me legal guardianship too."

"That fucking bitch judge fucked me over. I deserved full custody."

"Tom, I don't want to fight about that. That's not why I'm here."

"Then why are we here? Why is Kate not here?"

"I told you. Because I thought you and I could have a grownup chat."

"The fuck is going on with my kid?"

"I need you to listen to me. Before you respond or do anything, I need you to listen to me. That's all I'm asking for."

"If you don't tell me right now, I'm calling Kate. She'll tell me."

"Ereka wants to modify the custody agreement."

"What?"

"Ereka doesn't want to have overnight visits anymore. She doesn't feel comfortable being in your home, witnessing your family's behavior, and also just being away from us and her siblings. She made that very clear."

"My baby's twelve. She can't want or have a say in anything." Tom pounds his fist on the table violently, rocking everything and forcing all eyes in the room to turn to them for a split second. "If I find out you've been filling my kid's head with crap...I swear to fucking god I will end you."

"Ereka's happiness and well-being should be our priority."

"YOU…" Tom’s pointer finger comes within an inch of Yelena’s face. She musters every bit of self-control in order to not grab it and break it clean. "…don't get to tell me what my priority with my daughter is. She's MY kid and she comes home to me."

"That's not going to happen anymore."

“What? What’s not gonna happen?”

"I'm not forcing Ereka to do something she doesn't want to do."

"Try to take my kid away from me...see how that goes. You already stole my wife. You try to take my kid too and that's the last thing you ever do."

Yelena's demeanor takes on a sharper edge, her expression a mix of fury and defiance. Tom sneers, his eyes narrowing as he fiercely locks his eyes with Yelena.

"Are you threatening me?" Yelena asks, her tone challenging.

Tom leans forward, his voice dripping with venomous assurance.

"I'm telling you what's going to happen if Ereka isn't at my house this weekend. ALL weekend. Just a very clear warning."

"If she doesn't want to go, she's not going to go."

Yelena holds firm, unwavering. Tom's face contorts with rage, his entire body giving off menacing energy.

"If you come between me and my kid, I will fucking end you. I'll fucking kill you."

The remark hangs heavy in the air.

"That's a threat.” Yelena retorts, her voice calm and steady.

"Take that however you fucking want, but Ereka better be at my house at 10 AM on Saturday."

Tom abruptly stands, frenziedly ripping his coat off the back of the chair, and storms out of the café.

---

Kate's fingers fly across the keyboard and the rapid clacking of keys punctuate the silence of her office. She’s fully immersed, pouring her focus into crafting this proposal.

A firm knock on the door jolts Kate out of her flow. She recognizes the cadence of the thumping instantly - it’s her assistant. Annoyance flickers across her face, knowing this interruption will disrupt her momentum.

"What's up, Ash?"

Her assistant pops her head in while offering a courteous grin.

"Your wife is here."

Kate looks at her confused, with her brows furrowed in surprise.

"What?"

"Lobby just called. I told them to let her up so she's on her way. Should I let her in?"

"Yeah. Of course. Yeah. Thank you."

---

A few minutes later, a second knock reverberates through the office. Kate also recognizes this rapping without reticence - it unmistakably belongs to Yelena. The corners of Kate’s lips curl and her face lights up as she watches the door swing open, revealing her visibly pregnant wife standing there.

Their eyes meet and the mere sight of Yelena erases any trace of the stress and preoccupation Kate felt moments ago. She promptly pushes her chair back, eager to greet her wife.

"This is a nice surprise." As soon as the door closes behind her, Kate presses her lips against Yelena's in a tender, affectionate kiss while her hands instinctively come to rest on either side of Yelena's stomach. Kate steals a second kiss. "Hi."

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"I did something...and I could've waited until tonight, but I also didn't know if you were going to get a call or text before that, so I figured it might be best to talk in person."

Kate's smile fades as she reads the somber expression on Yelena's face. Concern fills her eyes as she responds.

"What happened?"

"Can we sit? My back is killing me."

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course."

Kate places an allaying hand on the small of Yelena’s back, guiding her towards the two-person couch opposite her desk. They settle on the sofa and Yelena shifts her body slightly, opening herself up to face Kate directly.

"Not going to lie, I'm kind of very nervous right now. You never just show up at my office, especially not being cryptic."

A touch of humor paints Kate’s voice as she tries to ease the tension. She surveys her wife’s face, searching for answers.

"I talked to Tom."

"You did…what?" Kate asks, aghast at the mere idea.

"I called him and asked him to meet me at a coffee shop earlier. We talked about the custody situation because I don't think..."

"Why would you do that?!"

"Because I don't think she should go back if she doesn't want to."

Kate's voice rises with frustration and disbelief.

"No, no. What you want, what you REALLY want is to 'beat' him. That's what you want...You should've stayed out of my kid's custody business."

"YOUR kid?" Yelena scoffs bitterly. "Are you taking talking points from him now?"

"It was NOT your place to do that." Kate's eyes narrow as she retorts, her tone sharp and accusatory.

"He threatened to kill me."

"Yeah, I'd do the same if someone showed up talking about taking my daughter away from me. What would you do?"

"If I were an incompetent, insane drunk, I would want what's best for my children."

Kate's vexation intensifies, and she stands up, putting distance between them. She walks to her desk and starts to pace in front of it. The room feels tense, the air heavy with unspoken indignation from both sides.

"I asked you to leave it. I told you to leave it alone."

"She shouldn't..."

"You can make unilateral decisions about what kind of jelly you pick up at the store. You don't get to make unilateral decisions about custody shit, Yelena. I can't believe I'm having to even say this to you."

"I was doing what's best for her."

"No. NO, this was your chance to have another pissing contest with him and use her as an excuse. She's not a thing you use to get back at him."

"That's not what happened."

"That's EXACTLY what happened. She's my daughter and you are WAY out of line. Neither of you has claim over her."

Yelena's expression becomes steely.

"I only wanted to fill you in before I went to the police."

Kate's eyes shoot up and widen as she stares Yelena down.

"What are you talking about?"

"He made pointed threats against our family, so I'm filing a police report and requesting an emergency restraining order against him. For all of us. I already called the school and let them know he's not allowed to see her until further notice."

"If you don't wanna be signing divorce papers too, you leave this alone. I'll talk to him and this'll be done. We'll pretend it didn't happen."

"I can't do that, Kate.” Yelena’s resolve strengthens and her voice is firm.

"Yelena, I'm being so beyond serious right now. Drop it."

"I'm sorry, Kate, but I can't in good conscience leave it open for him to harm our family."

Kate's frustration boils over, and she strikes her hand down on the desk.

"WE WOULDN'T BE HERE IF YOU HADN'T PULLED THIS SHIT! I told you...I asked you not to touch it. And what did you do? Go behind my back and blow our entire lives up. For what? FOR WHAT?!"

"For Ereka."

"Don't. Do not use her as an excuse. This is all on you."

Kate reaches for her phone, her fingers negligibly trembling as she taps on the screen. She brings the device to her ear, determined to undo whatever Yelena just set in motion.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling him. Controlling the situation before this gets out of hand."

"Kate, that's..."

Kate interrupts her curtly, her words teeming with aggravation.

"Don't talk to me right now."

The call goes to voicemail. Kate's impatience grows, but she tries once more.

"Katherine."

The utterance of her full name makes Kate glare at her wife, her eyes flashing warning signs that Yelena is willingly ignoring.

When the call goes to voicemail once more, Kate jumps into action. She reaches for her purse and heads to the door, her movements swift and purposeful.

"Where are you going?"

"To find him. And Yelena...if you file that report or a restraining order, you might as well also start looking for a divorce attorney because I'm not playing this game with you. I won’t. We are OVER if you do."

Without uttering another word, Kate stomps out of the office, leaving Yelena alone. The weight of their strained relationship hangs heavily in the air, thickening it with unresolved tension.

---

A few hours later. The front door to the apartment swings open with a burst of energy, and Kate ushers her lively children inside. Laughter and the pitter-patter of tiny feet fill the air, infusing the space with a tangible joy and warmth. Like a conductor orchestrating the symphony of their homecoming, Kate deftly navigates the chaos and issues detailed instructions, guiding Ereka and Russell through their tasks for the evening. As the children settle into their respective activities, Kate makes her way to the bedroom to change into more cozy clothes.

Kate turns the doorknob and freezes in her tracks. Not only is her wife already home, but she’s immersed in an intense flurry of activity. Once a sanctuary of peace, the room is now a battlefield of chaos. Clothes and shoes are strewn haphazardly across the floor, like casualties of a tempestuous storm. Before a symbol of order and serenity, the walk-in closet now stands open, its contents spilling out in disarray, mirroring the turmoil that has taken hold of their lives. The atmosphere crackles with an electric tension, as if the very walls hold their breath, knowing they’re about to witness the unfolding drama.

There, in the thick of the chaos she created, stands Yelena. Her movements are frenetic, driven by an urgency that cannot be ignored. She hastily stuffs clothes into a suitcase, the rustling fabric punctuating the charged silence that fills the room. As their eyes meet, a kaleidoscope of emotions dance across their faces. Upon seeing Kate, Yelena's hands momentarily freeze before she resumes her frantic packing. With firm resolve, the rhythmic zip of the luggage bag serves as an intransigent punctuation mark, echoing with profound finality that pulsates throughout the living quarters.

"What are you doing?"

"When it actually came down to me and him, you picked him." Yelena utters, cold and distant.

Kate explosively thrusts their bedroom door shut and charges over to Yelena, feeling a wave of anger detonate within her.

"I didn't pick ANYONE. I picked sanity and peace. For them. They will always be my priority." Kate crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the floor, mind racing. A long beat and a million thoughts later, she scoffs. "After everything...'you picked him.' If *this*..." Kate spiritedly points around their room. "If THIS is what 'picking him' looks like Yelena, then I'm curious what you think 'picking you' would entail. Because fuck...WOW."

Yelena crams one last pair of pants into the already overstuffed duffle bag that sits next to the hefty suitcase she just filled. Her tense body struggles to force the zipper halves to meet; its bulging shape evidence of her lack of thoughtfulness while packing. The fabric strains against the zipper, resisting her efforts to contain its contents. After a few firm yanks, the metallic teeth reluctantly interlock, sealing her belongings within. Yelena grabs the handle of the large rolling bag before slinging the strap of her duffle over her shoulder, and a sudden surge of adrenaline propels her forward in the direction of the door.

Before she can make her escape, Kate's hand shoots out as Yelena storms past her. Her fingers find their mark, latching on to Yelena's forearm, their grip like a vice, anchoring her in place. Their eyes lock in a fiery exchange, a tempest of emotions brewing within their depths and threatening to consume them both.

"Where are you going?"

Yelena points to the envelope resting atop the dresser. Kate retrieves it, her jittery fingers slowly tearing it open. Inside lies an emergency restraining order against Tom accompanied by a police report.

"I'm keeping them safe. At any cost." The women glare at each other. Kate takes a step back, willingly putting distance between them. Her heart pounds in her chest as she meets Yelena's gaze. They’re now locked in a battle of wills. "I'm taking him with me."

"You're not taking him anywhere."

"We're just going to the Ritz for a few nights. Until we can figure out what's happening next."

"Yelena, my son's not leaving this apartment."

A clash of emotions thunders through the room, their conflicting desires colliding into a torrent of raw feelings.

"If Ereka is YOUR daughter, then that's MY son. That's how it works, right?"

"You're being petty about this?"

"I'm being logical."

Yelena's words cut through the air, her tone shifting to cold and calculated. Each syllable carries a sharpness that slices through their relationship's already fraying threads, leaving an icy tension behind.

"You're not even in the same universe as logical right now."

"Must be pregnancy brain, I guess." Yelena bites back.

Kate’s patience officially reaches its breaking point. She truculently strides to where Yelena stands, her steps exuding steadfastness. In a display of unyielding and assertive belligerence, Kate snatches the duffle bag from Yelena's shoulder, ripping it away without hesitation. With a single speedy motion, Kate hurls the bag several feet away, the velocity causing the already tenuous hold the zipper had to give way. The contents spill out, scattering haphazardly across the floor.

"Sit." The word hangs in the air, pregnant with authority. What Kate uttered wasn’t a request; it was a command and one that left no room for negotiation. When Yelena doesn’t move, Kate's tone grows more forceful, compelling her to comply. "Sit down." Kate reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She dials a number with exigency. "I'm calling Landers, see if he can squeeze us in as an emergency right now."

"I don't need a therapy session. I need to go lie down."

"Bed's right there. Help yourself." Kate snaps at Yelena with a venomous undertone. "Hi Janey. This is Kate Bishop-Belova. I have a bit of a serious situation and I'm wondering if there's any way Joy can see us tonight? It's an emergency...Uhum...Uhum...Yeah. Please. That would be so helpful...Yeah. This number is fine...You're incredible. Thank you...Okay. Talk soon." Kate hangs up. "She doesn't know if tonight will be possible, but she'll talk to Landers and see if maybe tomorrow morning might work."

Yelena scoffs dismissively, her irritation evident.

"This is stupid."

"Yeah, I agree. Everything you've done today is BEYOND stupid."

"I already made a reservation."

"I couldn't give two shits about your reservation. Sit down. You are not blowing up our lives tonight. I'm not letting it happen."

"You're the one who brought up divorce."

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S BEING INSANE!" Kate screams, her voice cracking with emotion. "I can't talk to you right now, or I might say some things that I don't actually mean."

"Then let me go to the hotel."

"You're not going anywhere." Kate's words carry the significance of an ultimatum as she makes for the door. "I need to figure out dinner. What do you want?" Kate asks in an attempt to shift the focus away from their escalating argument.

"Nothing." Yelena's response is curt and indifferent.

"Pizza it is."

With that final declaration, Kate exits the room and shuts the door with a bang.

---

The sound of rushing water fills the air. Kate stands at the kitchen sink, dangling Russell in front of the open tap as she diligently works to wash away the splatters of paint that have found their way onto his tiny hands. The colorful streaks mix with the swirling water, creating a mesmerizing spectacle and carrying away the colorful remnants of his artistic escapade. Lost in her task and the words of the babbling boy, Kate momentarily forgets the apprehension that saturates the apartment.

But then she hears adult footsteps approaching from behind, disrupting the tranquil rhythm of the moment. Kate turns, her eyes widening as she sees Yelena purposefully making her way to the entrance, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder and her suitcase clutched tightly in her hand. A surge of panic courses through Kate, pushing her to act without a moment's hesitation. She swiftly shuts off the water and sets Russell down, his little feet pattering on the tiled floor as he toddles away, overjoyed that his paint-streaked hands are forgotten for the moment. Filled with a sense of impending doom, Kate compels her bare feet to glide across the kitchen tiles as she chases after Yelena.

"Hey. Hey. Was I not clear?"

"I'm not your child, Kate."

"You're acting like it." Refusing to let Yelena slip away unchallenged, Kate corners her wife in the foyer and plants herself firmly mere inches away from her. "Go back to the room. Pizza's going to be here in forty minutes."

"I'm going to the hotel."

"No, you're not."

Kate’s voice hardens, drawing a line in the sand. They glare at each other.

"Are you going to back me up on this?"

"No. You're wrong, so I'm not. I'm still not letting you leave because you're being beyond unreasonable. I'm not letting this get worse than it already is."

Yelena tries to push to the door, but Kate stands her ground, blocking her path with her body.

"Katherine..."

"I'm trying to stop you from fucking up this marriage."

"What if I don't want you to?"

They lock eyes, each searching for answers in the depths of the other’s gaze.

"Now you're just trying to piss me off. I know you too well. Go lie down. I'll send one of them to get you when food is here." Yelena doesn't move. "Who do I call to get rid of that stupid restraining order?"

"You can't end a protective order I requested."

"Then do it. Take care of it."

"No."

Yelena is resolute. Kate takes a measured, deep breath, making a concerted effort to keep herself centered.

"Yelena…”

"We've done it your way for years. It's never worked. It's about time we try it my way."

"I'm not backing you up on this. Get rid of it."

"No." Yelena repeats, somehow even more unwavering.

"You know what...fine. You want to destroy our lives this bad...be my guest." Kate finally relents. She steps back, giving Yelena all the space she needs to open the door and leave. After a beat of stillness, Yelena opens the door and walks out. Kate stands by, flummoxed, her heart heavy with incredulity and heartbreak. "I want you to be so very clear that you're the one doing this. You're the one walking away. Again. You're leaving a second time." Kate's voice quivers with a mix of anger and hurt. That stops Yelena in her tracks. "You said you'd never do that again. You promised and I believed you, so what is this? You promised."

With a heavy sigh, Kate steps away from the entrance, retreating back into the apartment but leaving the door wide open.

---

As Kate attends to the remnants of Russell's mess, the faint sound of the front door closing reaches her ears, stirring her from her thoughts. She turns her head, her attention abruptly drawn to the entrance. Her heart withers at the conclusive thud that reverberates through the air. To her amazement, seconds later, Yelena emerges from the foyer. Their eyes briefly connect in a charged moment before Yelena clenches her jaw tightly and strides deeper into the apartment, vanishing down the hallway that leads to their shared bedroom. Not long after, a resounding boom fills the air as the door is violently slammed shut, further emphasizing the growing chasm between them.

Lost in a maelstrom of emotions that threaten to engulf her whole, Kate's eyes linger on that hallway. Russell takes advantage of her distraction, seizing the opportunity to indulge himself. In a sudden burst of movement, the boy leans forward with a rascally grin and his tiny hands break the water's surface. The cold liquid splashes in all directions, showering the immediate area, including a generous dousing directly onto Kate's face. The shock of the gelid liquid snaps Kate back to reality with a gasp, her senses jolted by the sudden and unexpected intrusion. The temperature forces her breath to catch in her throat while droplets cling to her skin and drip down her face. It is a moment of undeniable clarity, a gentle reminder that life persists even in the midst of turmoil.

At least there's still a way back. It's cracked but not shattered. There's still a way to fix it.

[teegeewrites]

To the Tea

A while back on my main account, I wrote a concept about Mario and Luigi having cake and tea with Peach after rescuing her from Bowser for the first time. Well, I've decided to write a fanfic about it. I'll post the first chapter here before posting it to AO3 for some potential feedback. It's pretty much the same with a few changes here and there.

Without further ado, here's the first chapter.

Chapter One

“Mama Mia, what’s taking Luigi so long?” Mario muttered to himself as he stood at the foot of the stairs with his arms crossed and his right foot striking the worn cherry wood floor in a rapid clunky rhythm. He quickly glanced at the mini grandfather clock hanging on the threadbare cream-colored wall and shook his head with a heavy sigh before returning his attention to the flight of stairs.

“Luigi!” he shouted, “what are you doing?! It’s almost time for us to go! We don’t want to be late!”

“Hold your horses, Mario! I’m coming right now!” Luigi’s voice echoed irritably throughout the house. The younger twin raced out of his room and tripped before the first step. His body contorted into a human bowling ball as he struck each step on the way down.

Seeing the potential danger, Mario’s eyes and jaws widened in panic as he tried to slide out of the way. However, Luigi was approaching too fast, and his legs picked an unfitting time not to cooperate. Low on options, he instinctively thrusted his hands in front of him in an attempt to halt his wheel-like brother. Unfortunately, his efforts were for naught because Luigi crashed into his chest and sent both of them flying towards the front door. He tightly shut his eyes and clenched his teeth in response to the agonizing sensation his back and shoulders experienced upon slamming into said door. Upon opening his eyes, he witnessed Luigi already on his feet lending a hand with a guilty expression on his face.

“S-Sorry Mario,” Luigi stuttered as he pulled Mario up after the latter squeezed his hand. “You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Mario assured him although his upper back was telling him otherwise. Despite the discomfort, he flashed Luigi a wry grin. “Nothing can stop Mario, not even his clumsy brother!”

“Geez, thanks bro,” Luigi huffed as he awkwardly crossed his arms and gave Mario a view of his back.

“Aww Luigi, I was only kidding!” Mario chuckled as he dusted his overalls. He cocked an eyebrow as his grin grew wider. “What were you doing up there? Putting a year’s supply of wax in your mustache?”

“Ha ha, very funny Mario!” Luigi chuckled himself, followed by him sighing before turning to face Mario. “It’s just that I’m so nervous about everything.” He dropped his head with another sigh.

Mario placed a hand on Luigi’s shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Believe me, I completely understand. It’s not every day two plumbers have cake and tea with a princess.”

After removing his hand from Luigi’s shoulder, Mario took time to reflect on everything that had transpired with them. A mere week ago, they were regular plumbers who were in the middle of examining a few pipes in the Brooklyn sewers. During their investigation, they stumbled across a rather large and unorthodox green pipe emitting a luminous rainbow light before sucking them in and transporting them to the Mushroom Kingdom. As soon as they arrived, they learned of the kingdom’s plight from some citizens. Bowser, king of the Koopas and ruler of the Dark Land, had kidnapped their beloved leader, Princess Peach Toadstool. Not one to stand idly with someone in need, Mario volunteered to embark on a rescue mission much to Luigi’s consternation. Despite his protests, Luigi accompanied him on the quest to, in his own words, ‘make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble’. After a lengthy grueling adventure and an arduous battle with Bowser, the brothers emerged victorious and liberated the princess from captivity. Upon returning to the Mushroom Kingdom, a celebration was held in their honor, and the princess herself rewarded them with medals that hung on the wall in a wooden frame next to the clock.

After the celebration, Princess Peach took some time to learn about them, with most of the inquiries being about where they’re from and how they arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom. She offered them some rooms in her castle until they found a way home since the pipe responsible for their displacement immediately disappeared. As much as they appreciated the offer, however, both brothers respectfully declined because they didn’t want to be a burden. Peach nodded her head in understanding and remembered there was an abandoned and somewhat dilapidated cottage just outside of Toad Town that the brothers could reside in. Thanks to some assistance from some industrious Toads, the Mario brothers had their own residence in the Mushroom Kingdom until they found a way to return to Brooklyn.

Two days ago, the princess invited the brothers for cake and tea at her castle via a mailed handwritten letter. Mario’s heart pounded rapidly against his chest after reading it and taking in its strawberry aroma, and he exuberantly informed Luigi shortly after. Luigi smiled at the news; however, the smile slowly became an apprehensive look as his body reacted as if a minor earthquake trembled under his feet. Mario calmed him down and assured him everything would be fine. Luigi took Mario at his word and kept his worry in check until now. As for the letter, Mario locked it in his personal safe that even Luigi didn’t know the code to. There was no way he would part with such a thing!

Returning to reality, Mario checked the clock a second time and realized the meeting was in thirty minutes. “Mama Mia!” he swiftly grabbed Luigi’s wrist. “We need to leave now!”

Luigi smirked before chuckling in amusement, causing Mario to furrow his brow in confusion. “What’s so funny, Luigi?”

“Oh, nothing,” Luigi teased. “It’s just that I’m the one who normally worries about being on time.”

Mario chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head. “I guess we swapped personalities the last few seconds. Now, unless you have any more jokes, let’s-a go!”

The brothers grabbed their caps from the hooks near the door and placed them on their heads before exiting the house and jumping into the pipe that led them to Toad Town.

---

After mingling with some Toads in the bustling Toad Town, Mario and Luigi continued their short trek towards the castle. As he neared his terminus, Mario – despite visiting before – observed the grandiose model of architecture with significant reverence. With its dark pink roofs with pink pennant flags pointing east on the conic shaped roofs flapping in the breeze, pewter and white bricks filling the walls with cathedral shaped windows evenly aligning the floors, and a large wooden cathedral door, the place was a sight to behold. The item that stood out the most, however, was the large and colorful cathedral portrait of Princess Peach that sat right above the main entrance. The castle was far more impressive than any of the buildings from his world, which was saying a lot considering he has visited places such as the Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Building, and the Chrysler Building.

“Well, here we are,” Mario said as he and Luigi stopped short of the mini bridge over the castle’s moat. “Ready, Luigi?”

After taking a few steps, he noticed from the corner of his eye Luigi wasn’t beside him. He stopped and turned to see Luigi frozen in place quivering wide-eyed. Upon seeing Luigi in that condition, he raced towards him and skidded a few feet short.

“Luigi is everything OK?” he asked in a soft understanding voice.

“I wish I can say it is,” Luigi sputtered through chattering teeth, “but I’m not feeling too confident right now.”

Mario softly shook his head with a small smile. “I completely understand, but we can’t go back now. It would be rather rude to stand the princess up after accepting her invitation.”

“I know, Mario. It’s just that you know how terrible I am around women, especially beautiful ones. Not only is the princess very beautiful, but she is also that: a princess who rules an entire kingdom. I’m a hopeless wreck around normal women; I’ll be even worse around her. I know I’ll somehow embarrass myself in her presence.”

Mario sighed and placed a gentle hand on Luigi’s shoulder. “I can’t blame you one bit. To tell the truth, I’m nervous as well.”

Luigi’s jaw and eyes expanded to the size of Milano cookies. “But you’re always brave and confident! I’ve never known you to be nervous about anything!”

Mario chuckled to himself as he nodded. “While it’s true I appear to be confident, I can get tense on the inside. I just do my best to hide it. I nearly pooped my pants while rescuing Pauline from that huge gorilla, had a severe case of anxiety when we arrived here, and felt like everything I ate last year was threatening to come out on our mission to rescue the princess. You know what kept me going, however?”

“What?”

“The situations themselves. Although I internally felt like gelato in an ice cream maker, my nerves were second fiddle to the people in danger. Admittedly, there were times when I thought I was in way over my head. However, you know I can’t stand still when someone needs help. I’ll do everything I can to make things right.”

Mario chuckled as Luigi stared at him with high admiration. He smiled warmly while rubbing his younger twin’s shoulder. “You know Luigi, you’re brave as well. While you have your anxieties, you push them aside if it means doing the right thing. When I decided to go rescue the princess, you were by my side the whole time despite your fear. You even stood up to Bowser with me and had my back in case things went wrong. Truth is, I wouldn’t have defeated him without you. You’re as much of a hero as I am. I hope you know that.”

Luigi smiled as the bottom of his eyes watered slightly. “Thanks, Mario. I really needed that. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Anytime, Luigi!” Mario smiled as he hugged his brother, which Luigi happily returned. “Now, are we ready to overcome this latest challenge and have cake and tea with the princess?”

“Despite your pep talk, I’m still a little nervous,” Luigi smiled wryly. “Women can be much scarier than fire-breathing dragons.”

“I don’t blame you for that!” Mario placed his hand on his belly as he laughed. “I felt the same way when Pauline and I started dating.”

“Really?!” Luigi’s eyes widened at the confession.

Mario nodded his head. “I only asked her out to shut the guys up at the Wrecking Crew who dared me to do so. She absolutely floored me when she said yes; I never thought in a million years she would do so to someone like me. I was even more surprised we lasted together as long as we did.”

“At least you were in a relationship with someone,” Luigi lamented after a small smile. “I, on the other hand, haven’t been so lucky.”

Mario gently rubbed Luigi’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “Don’t beat yourself up over it too much, Luigi. I’m sure it’ll happen someday. Who knows, the princess might take a liking to you.”

“The day that happens is the day Spike offers his services for free,” Luigi chuckled.

“You never know, Luigi,” Mario chuckled in return. “After all, she invited us to the castle. I’d say that’s a good start. Who knows what could happen.”

“If you say so,” Luigi playfully rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Mario grinned. “We’ve wasted enough time out here. The princess is probably already expecting us. So, are you ready to do this?”

“I’m still not fully sure, but I’ll sure as heck try!” Luigi pumped a fist in the air with a renewed purpose.

“That’s what I want to hear!” Mario laughed as he patted Luigi on the back. “Let’s not keep her Highness waiting!”

Calming his own nerves, Mario stared at the front door before approaching it with Luigi beside him. He looked forward to seeing how everything would turn out.