#its a gift not an obligation.. i want people to appreciate what i do rather than expect it..

[pancake-breakfast]

I'm a day behind because yesterday was more busy than anticipated, but one final recommendation for Trigun Fanfiction Appreciation Week (@trigunfanfic)!

And this last spot I'm giving to Evocatio by @deludedfantasy

Words: 5,029

Status: Complete

Rating: Teen

Relevant Tags/Warnings*: Vashwood, Vash the Stampede, Eriks Vash, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Prayer, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Post-Canon (Stampede S1, ep 12)

Summary: A year after the destruction of July, Wolfwood returns to what's left of the city to pay his respects. He's never had much faith in a god, but there is one person he feels might be worth praying to....

Ok, ok, I'll get to the story in a minute, but first, I need to gush a bit about its author. Because without Dani, two of my fics wouldn't even exist. They're only here because of their request. Granted, the first one was for a gift exchange and so they didn't know the request was going to me specifically, but do you know how encouraging it is to have someone accidentally end up making a fanfic request of you and then purposely make another one?

I'm pretty sure they've read all of my meager offerings, and they comment on them and share them and seem to love them quite a bit. Most of the fanfic I write is for myself, but at this point, when I write Trigun fanfic, I think I might also be writing it for them. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, Dani, for your constant encouragement and willingness to try and spark my creativity! No one is obligated to like or read every work by any author, but the fact that you give so much of my stuff a shot means the world to me. You make me wish I read more fanfic myself just so I could also be so encouraging.

Alright, on to the fic.

One of the more beautiful things I've found in the Trigun stories is how they provide space for their audience to work through religious trauma. I don't say that to imply that's what the author is doing with this fic, as that's beyond my scope of knowledge. Rather, I bring it up because our dear Wolfwood is working through his own share of religious trauma here, and the way he does it might provide some of that same space the original narrative does to its reader.

It's a beautiful story of a man's struggle for hope in a world where hoping often seems meaningless. Wolfwood wants so much to have a reason to hope... in the world, in others, and mostly in himself. He finds that hope in Vash, but what's he to do when Vash has gone silent? How is he supposed to keep the candle burning when the one who lit the flame is gone?

I could write a pretentious little essay chewing on this fic. Wait, no. I could write a pretentious long essay chewing on this fic. But I'll spare everyone that. Especially myself.

If you've struggled with holding onto the hope you feel you're supposed to have, or with the disconnect between what you've been told you need to be by authority figures and how you know you actually need to be, or with feeling like it's just you by yourself in a very dark world... maybe give this one a read. It may not solve your problems, but at the least, maybe it will make you feel not so alone.

Do it for Vash.

*We all know some AO3 tags are added for fun/shits and giggles/because how does one even tag, so I’m just listing some of the basic ones that might be of use to people when deciding whether or not this is for them.

[thedickgraysonrp]

Happy Birthday, Jason Todd!

And on that note, I would like to show my appreciation to a wonderful RP partner of mine - who also happens to be portraying an amazing Jason Todd - @tireironmybeloved. We haven't known each other very long but when you click with a RP partner, you just feel it~

I hope we'll get to write many more stories and verses together, and may our Dick and Jason always get into plenty of shenanigans and be up to no good together! ✨

You can regard this post as standalone Jason birthday piece ofc, no obligation to reply.

Dick fishes his phone out of his jacket's pocket, clicking the power button to turn on the screen, and glances at the time for about the fifth or sixth time in the last five minutes.

11:50 PM. Good.

There were still a couple more minutes; he just hoped Jason wasn't going to be late.

He sighs impatiently as he shoves his phone back into the pocket of his dark bomber jacket, reaching to straighten his deep V-neck undershirt by its hems.

The view from this rooftop wasn't the most gorgeous one, considering the building was stuck in the middle of Crime Alley, but one could see the city skyline from afar and the several skyscrapers dotting its scape. It was late at night, and the light pollution was not as bad as it usually was during the earlier hours of the evening; you could even see several stars dotting the dark sky above. Then again, Gotham always had some smog to it; it's what gave it its very noir charm.

Dick would have asked to meet Jason somewhere higher, or somewhere more extravagant. He wanted to celebrate the man for all he deserved, for everything that he meant to him, but both of them knew it would jeopardize their deep undercover mission. They just had the perfect timing, didn't they? Dick's fingers itch to check the time on his phone again, and he's pretty sure it hasn't been even a minute. He continues pacing back and forth, a pep in his step as he does, his stride quick, and his expression impatient.

The fingers of his other hand messed with the handles of a gift bag, which is rather large in size yet doesn't sound as full as its contents rattle around.

It was only when the door to the roof opened that Dick finally halted, a beaming, radiant smile of joy pulling at his lips as he looked at Jason stepping through the threshold of the staircase leading up to the rooftop story. "Hey," he greets, staying in place as a silent offer to come to him instead of the other way around.

"I... Know this is silly. You don't like any grandiose gestures or parties packed with people and all that; in general, I know the subject of your birthday is a touchy one." As far as Dick remembers, Jason never enjoyed celebrating his birthday all that much. Then again, memory may serve him wrong—he hasn't been there for most of his birthdays, after all. "I believe everyone deserves to have their special day celebrated. Especially you. So, um..." Hesitating for only a moment, Dick reaches inside the bag and pulls out a small, pink-covered new book with the title '100 Love Sonnets / Cien Sonetos De Amor by Pablo Neruda', a little red bow glued to the front cover, and holds the book in both his hands.

"I admit I am not as big of a reader as you are, but I found this book and browsed through it a little, and I hope you'll like it. I thought I'd give you a little preview, if you allow me." He looks at Jason with a coy smile, as if asking permission to proceed. Being given just that, he turns to the book again, opens it on a page he had marked earlier with a folded note, and clears his throat before reading:

" I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love as certain things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers, thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride, so I love you because I know no other way.

than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. "

Done reciting, he closes the book again, letting a moment of silence linger as he stares at the cover. "... I hope you know this is just the tip of the iceberg of how much you mean to me, Jay. I hope that we will get to celebrate many more birthdays together, privately or otherwise. You deserve to be celebrated, and I am happy to be the one who celebrates it with you today. I am happy that you are in my life, and so much more than that." He concludes with a tender, loving smile, before it quickly changes to a surprise.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" He quickly hands the book to Jason before reaching back into the bag and taking out a small box from a local patisserie. "Close your eyes; no peeking!" He urges the other man with a giddy tone.

Dick instructs Jason to open his eyes again, after you could hear the man shuffling things about and struggling with what sounded like trying to light a lighter, and reveals a small pile of gooey, dark chocolate brownies with a large, J shaped candle lit atop of them, holding the box in both his hands for Jason. Dick's phone silently vibrated in his pocket, a set alarm.

00:00, August 16th.

"Happy Birthday, Little Wing." He murmurs softly, his face illuminated by the light of the single candle, emphasizing the affectionate, wide smile. "Make a wish."

[the-vault-apprentice]

I feel the discourse has a lot to do with the russian-ukranian war and its just in poor taste? like maybe the mindset is they should have done this earlier when a war WASNT going on, so it wouldnt trigger players but as far as ive seen, there was a war cutscene in aurora too, so i was just wondering whats the difference, or are people also upset about it too

The only difference, as far as I know, is that rather than a battle, this is a more human side of war. The parts that aren't fair, the parts that hurt people who had not a damn choice in the matter. It's not soldiers fighting soldiers or people fighting monsters, it's cruelty towards ordinary civilians.

I'm not a beta player, so my knowledge of the upcoming season is extremely limited, but that would be my best guess. That it paints a picture of suffering unlike the bodies on the Wasteland's Battlefield- They're already dead, it's over for them. These ones are not dead and therefore still in pain, and they should not be. There's no REASON for it- But war is unreasonable and greed is selfish. The lives of even the ordinary people were ruined by the pursuit of power.

I'll admit with how chaotic and unstable my home life has been, I completely forgot there was an actual war going on on the other side of the world. I've been more concerned with trying to survive the next day at a time myself, but I think it's just an unfortunate coincidence. I highly doubt TGC would do that on purpose- Most likely they'd already had this season planned for after Aurora, and it's not like they could just throw together a whole different one quickly enough, not without a TON of complaints and/or extremely overworked staff. The last few seasons have been alternating between light and dark, and it makes perfect sense to show us the cruelty of the king after the kindness of Aurora.

Besides, I've heard it's going to be called the season of Remembrance, and like.... Yeah. It's important. This happened in their world, and these people deserve to be remembered. I'm not defending the people making memes about the spirit being arrested or anything like that, this is a season that will need to be handled with respect and it's not going to be for everyone. And that's completely fine! I just don't appreciate people coming after the idea of the season itself or acting like it's some kind of huge moral failure on TGC's part. You're under no obligation to enjoy the season or participate in it, but to completely attack it before it's even gone live? Please, some of us use fictional despair to cope with the tragedies we can't change in our own life. Let those of us who want to enjoy the dark underside of Sky's story do so, please. We shouldn't be mocked for being excited about lore, either, cuz they said that too. That people didn't care it was horrible because "OMG cosmetics!!!!" and "✨Lore✨" but... At least there IS lore. At least there IS a story to be told- even a sad one- as opposed to real-life pain which isn't always clear cause and effect and you go your whole damn life wondering why-

Sorry. Got a bit off track. But I think people upset by the new season in beta need to step back and remember none of it is real and nobody is forcing them to play. And I think those of us who choose to play have an obligation to handle the heavy subject in a respectful manner, as well. So while I do plan to play through the Season of Remembrance, I can assure you there will be no ridiculous memes or fruitless attempts at humor. It is a tragedy unfolding in front of me, and I will give it the treatment that calls for. Joy at the life lived and the chance to help these spirits move on, gratitude for their gifts, and yes, sorrow at the suffering.

[bisognamorire]

Beloved and dearly missed A.,

Happy Friday!

I am unsure what you would think of me writing these, because isn’t this kind of ‘not letting go’? But I thought: for me it is in a way, because I’m not asking for a response or acknowledgement and whether I type it out or not is a bit of the same, because I would tell you in my mind, if I wasn’t writing it down. I always want to talk with you. I always miss you. And you know I am always delusional and pathetic.

Two days ago, I had some nervousness inducing conversations with my therapist about me being dissociated most of the time, up to the point that I even dissociate in therapy sessions and can’t really process or understand/accept what is being said to me. And that I feel anxious to ask questions because I worry my therapist might not be honest to me when I ask her to be upfront (which is ofc my own trust issues) or might feel I’m annoying her.

We then looked closer at that cycle of dissociation and anxiety. I felt horrified to see how torn that inner insecurity (almost a grappling for the perception of reality between the “trauma brain/adult brain”) makes me feel and act at times. Sure you remember. And to get a sense of all the potential damage that volatile dynamic can cause others and myself.

This week has started with many people calling in sick to work, so I was obliged to take on more shifts than I originally had. Needless to mention that that isn’t very pleasant. I feel rather knocked out by this week. Patients and coworkers have been rather rude too — it reminded me of the time you worked in the city museum front desk. I, too, experience the general public’s madness everyday. So many bizarre things that I can’t possibly write it all down or remember it. I was once asked out of the blue, mid conversation, by a grandpa whether I was wearing a wig. An other patient complained to me that his taxi was taking too long to pick him up, but he apparently hadn’t even called one (?). Then the general babylonic discourses with russian people who are unfazed at me telling them I don’t speak russian and who proceed to speak russian anyway… 🫨

Im just constantly tired and exhausted— it reminded me of that little sketch you drew of yourself of rotting in bed and saying ‘surely theres a better way to live my life than that’.

Yesterday I rolled over in bed and stared at my wall. My blanket had wrapped around my torso tightly. I remembered you hugging me like that in the bed you had set up for me in your room on that last night and just began to cry horribly.

Not all that I feel can be expressed in words about all that.

I’ve also not slept very well all week and woke up in the middle of the night. I suppose dad and you are haunting me in my subconscious.

But — on to more ‘joyous’ things.

You know how I read up about the Somerton Man (scary) and I was very intrigued by the process of identifying him and just the mystery around that ‘Tamam Shud’ from Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat in his pocket. I had wanted to have a copy of that for myself (there are such nice editions with art nouveau illustrations which you would surely appreciate too) and went to a nearby antique book store after my massage last Saturday. They had a battered 1913 copy (unfortunately without illustrations) of it and some of the poems really resonated with how I feel.

Heres some of my favourites:

Three days ago the rest of my Yamato Cosplay unexpectedly arrived in the mail, so I took some joy out of completing the costume for now. I feel like my inner transmasc oni was turned outward finally! 👹

For my birthday last year Sharon’s boyfriend gifted me a box of Basilur Green Tea assortment from the russian supermarket in front of my house. I usually don’t like green tea, so I only tried it recently. In that assortment they had a few sachets of milk oolong tea, do you know it? I love it now. I drink it with two or three spoons of sugar and a bit of milk. Its not as irritating to the stomach as the Earl Grey I favour, maybe you can try it? ♥️

While we are on the topic of Earl Grey — after I have completed a cosplay of Transmasc Oni Yamato (my alter ego) I am now thinking of doing a Ciel Phantomhive or Pinocchio from Lies of P cosplay, just because they’re both giving off that assholish midget horse-lady Laurent vibes, which — as you know — is also my alter ego 😏

I’ve been doodling a bit in the evenings after work (I’ve not drawn something in so long, and why? for who?), and listening to anime openings etc. Sometimes I wonder if it is a bit cringe that I still gain joy from the same things I had when I was 13, living with my parents back then and feeling utterly lonely (still do). Here are some of the things I’ve drawn:

The first one is depicting how I feel when I am experiencing an episode of mania (also, also, blood thing/our Laurent, self insert?). I called this emotional state ‘Archangel’, because it isn’t actually me, or thats how it feels at least. It is this righteous entity, that is entitled to anger and vengeful feelings. He is 100% sure his feelings are justified. I don’t often experience the archangel or that inner ‘surety’ of my own perception, of reality. But when I do — not only does he feel anger, he also punishes me bodily for — by proxy — feeling anger through him. He humiliates me. It is almost as if I was taking on the persona’s of the people who abused me as a child. Who disallowed me from standing up for myself, and who discouraged protecting myself from them, who disallowed me from feeling angry. I am not allowed to be upset.

I’m sorry if thats tmi and makes you uncomfortable, you know I’m always too open.

The second one is Romano and Antonio in the traditional clothes of the Fallas Carnival in Valencia. This year is the tenth year anniversary of me first visiting the city (I can’t believe it! I have memories of 10 years ago!!) I booked a one week vacation there for March to go by myself and finally see the Fallas! Valencia’s main festival! I’m very excited to drink Horchata de Chufa and draw some Antonio/Romano doodles and take naps. I also booked a tour to see the atelier’s of the artists building the statues, that will surely be interesting. I already wish I could send you a postcard, but I’m not supposed to, am I? Maybe I will get one anyway and just post it here and then add it to your little box of things I keep.

Again, I’m looking forward to rest and play my video game on the weekend, when I am off (I’m currently trying to level myself up to take on that acid monster in the Cathedral of St. Frangelico) 🙄

Thinking of you fondly at the sight of the stars & moon,

your Sabo

[onceuponastory]

normal - steve kemp - chapter two: a monster in plain sight

WARNING! THIS FIC AND ITS DESCRIPTION CONTAINS FRESH SPOILERS. PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILED BEFORE THE MOVIE COMES OUT FOR REAL.

Baby, you got lucky, cause you're rocking with the best And I'm greedy 'Cause I'm so greedy (Cause I’m so) - greedy by ariana grande

Plot: Hunting a new serial killer, FBI criminal profiler Agent Y/N Y/L/N’s boss decides that to catch this new threat, she needs to talk to the one person who can help them understand people like him…the cannibalistic serial killer Steve Kemp, currently in prison for murder. (Fresh x The Silence of the Lambs AU/Mashup) Pairing: It’s not exactly a Steve x reader fic yet, but he keeps flirting with her, and she’s….intrigued by him, let’s say. Warnings: 18+ ONLY PLEASE.  Mentions of death, murder, maiming/mutilation, serial killers, bodies, blood, cannibalism (as well as a discussion of how Steve realised that he enjoys eating people). Also a lot of manipulation. I wanted to show more of how dangerous and narcissistic Steve is, and how he uses and manipulates people to get what he wants, so if you think that could trigger you, please don’t read. If I missed any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Well. I’ve never had as many requests for a story to continue as I did with this one. So thank you so much for your support and enjoyment, and here’s Chapter Two! I’m sorry it took so long, but feel free to consider this an early dark Valentine’s gift. ALSO a huge thank you to @cwbucky​ for beta reading this for me and giving me so much help! It’s much appreciated. 

Read Chapter One here

“Shall we begin?” Steve grins. Gulping, Y/N nods. “Have a seat. I’m sorry, I would’ve asked them for a chair, but they don’t listen to me here, or let me do what I want. I wonder why.” Steve jokes. Y/N gives a short chuckle and nods, remembering her training and how she’s not supposed to aggravate him. Because then he’ll close up, and all her hopes of solving this case are gone. But she still feels...strange when she’s around Steve. Of course, when your job is talking to murderers all day, it’s natural to feel strange when you’re at work. There’s something about him that she can’t understand yet though. In all her years as a criminal profiler, she’s never met anyone quite like Steve Kemp.

Y/N peers down, glancing at the cold stone floor of the hallway outside Steve’s cell. “Go on. It’s alright.” Steve presses, gesturing to her through his handcuffs. “Please.” Her legs shaking slightly, Y/N does as he obliges. “Good girl.” He whispers. As Steve comes closer, peering down at her, his lips twisted into a slight smirk, she wonders if this is what his victims saw last. She wonders how they felt, knowing they were about to meet their end at the hands of someone like The Portland Cannibal. Despite the horror coursing through her veins at the very thought of enduring even a second of what those poor women went through...a part of her feels some kind of excitement about spending her last moments with Steve. About having his face be the last one she sees. About meeting her end at his hands. And that thought makes her stomach churn. “I’m sure you have lots of questions you’d like to ask someone like me. So go on...what would you like to ask me?” Steve asks.

“When did you first start eating people, Steve?” She asks boldly. Steve raises his brows, thinking over the question.

“When I was a teenager.” She opens her mouth to ask another question, but Steve continues before she can. “And before you can ask me why I did it...I was curious. I wanted to know what it tasted like.” He shrugs, sounding strangely relaxed. It’s as if he’s talking about tasting a new flavour of ice cream, rather than human flesh. “And it...was nice.” She scribbles a few things in her notebook, causing Steve to look her up and down, frowning. “You’re writing things down? Really?” She feels heat rise into her cheeks.

“I-It’s just so I remember it.”  She explains. Steve chuckles.

“Why don’t you use that big brain of yours, that I’m sure you have, and remember it in there? I hate it when people aren’t using their full potential.” She picks up on a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. And that makes her want the ground to swallow her whole. Her brain feels like it’s on fire trying to understand her feelings. Here she is, listening to him describing what it feels like to fucking eat people, and she’s worried that writing the things he tells her into her shitty dollar store notebook is making him embarrassed of her. What the hell is wrong with her? 

“...In terms of food or abilities?” She asks, her voice shaking slightly. She feels like she already knows the answer to this. Steve chuckles. 

“Both.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N continues her questioning of Steve for a few more hours. She asks him everything about his background: his childhood, his time at school...everything and anything she can think of that might help her identify what kind of person would become a cannibal like him. But a part of her just wants to know for herself and her own interests. Even though she hates to admit it, Steve does intrigue her slightly, and she wants to learn more about him. She looks up at him, his steely blue eyes burning a gaze into her. He smirks, and it sends another shiver down her spine. In an instant, she remembers why she’s here and she forgets how charming he is and how much she wants to know him better. Despite how normal and handsome he is to her, he’s still a monster. Images flash through her mind. Pictures of blood, of Steve being led away in handcuffs with a smile on his face. She remembers all the things that happened to those poor women. Mutilated. Murdered. Eaten. By the man standing in front of her. The man who’s standing in front of her with a smirk on his face. Her stomach turns again. How on earth could she ever find a man like him attractive? Especially after what he’s done?

She glances down at her notebook, trying to avoid Steve’s gaze. The next question is some bullshit question about his extracurricular hobbies during college. Like that has any effect on the sort of person he turned out to be. How are any of these supposed to help her catch this guy? “Y/N? Are you alright?” She’s brought out of her thoughts by Steve. She scoffs. He’s trying to pretend that he cares about her now. She can still see him eyeing her body. Knowing him, he’s probably sizing her up for his next meal.

“Do you ever feel bad, Steve?” She asks. Steve raises a brow curiously.

“About what?”

“About what you did to all those women.” Steve’s entire demeanour changes. His smile drops, and his gaze gets slightly colder. 

“Y/N, that is not what we’re here to talk about. We’re here to talk about the other serial killer and how awful he is...not me and my feelings. That’s not relevant.” He reminds her. Although his voice is still the same as before, she can tell he’s gently warning her not to push her luck. 

“Yes, it is. I need to know whether people like you feel any guilt for what they did, or if they only think about themselves.” Steve’s face changes again. His eyes narrow.

“Y/N...” He trails off, his voice lower. “I’m not going to tell you again. I’m doing the right thing here by helping you. I’m being a good person, and I’d advise you not to blow it.” She scoffs. She knows she should stop because this is the worst possible way to get people like Steve on her side. But she’s committed now, spurred on by her newfound anger. Anger at being unable to catch the killer, at being shoved in places like this by her bosses time and time again, anger at Steve for being the monster that he is with no regrets or guilt...and anger because she knows a part of her is still attracted to him regardless.

“The right thing? You of all people want to talk about doing the right thing? About being a good person? When was that Steve? When did you do the right thing? Was that when you locked all those women up, huh? Or when you cut off parts of them to eat and sell? Were you doing the right thing then Steve?” Steve’s face darkens.

“Y/N. Stop.” He speaks only two words, but it’s clear he’s simmering with a quiet rage. 

“Cause to me, you never seem to do the right thing. Do you even know what the right thing is?”

“I said, stop.” He repeats. Y/N can’t see, but from behind his back, Steve slowly starts to clench his fists as she continues to talk. His anger grows and grows, ready to boil over. And the next thing she says is what makes it reach that point.

“What, you think that by doing this, you get a pass? That I’ll forget everything you did because you’re helping me solve my case? Well, sorry, but it’s not true. You can pretend to be the good guy as much as you like, but you’re not. You’re a fucking monster who has destroyed so many lives, and you have the nerve to act like you're in the right here? For talking to me? That’s not how this works. God, you’re so full of yourself.”

“I told you to shut up!” Steve shouts suddenly, storming forward and making her jump and scramble to her feet. He glares at her through the bars, icy blue eyes full of rage. There is the inner rage that so many serial killers have...and she’s just awakened it. “You think you can come in here with your shitty little plastic badge and think that gives you the upper hand here? Cause if we’re talking ranks, then I’m just as good as you. I’m a fucking surgeon. The best in my field.” He hisses. “Whereas you can’t even solve a fucking case, so you’re down here with me.” For some reason, his words cause a pang in her chest, making her feel hurt.

“But you-” She tries to argue that he lost his medical license a long time ago, but Steve continues.

“You think your badge means you can act all high and mighty and start calling me names and psychoanalysing me? I know what I am, darling. I don’t need you coming in here to tell me that.” Although his voice is calmer now, she can sense the rage and venom dripping from his every word. She’s still angry and hurt, however, fear is starting to take over now. “And you’re not the only person who can psychoanalyse either. I know you try to act all tough, hiding behind your badge and your agency like it’s a safety blanket, pretending you’re not terrified of me. But Y/N...I can smell fear.” He chuckles. He leans in closer, whispering. “And it’s dripping off of you.” He grins. Y/N gulps. Steve continues his verbal tirade. “You’re trying so hard to be the hero and to solve this case. Instead, you’re just a pussy who’s trying way too hard to live up to her expectations, even though you never will.” He smirks coldly. “Yet you won’t even admit it. And do you know why? Because you’re just as full of yourself as you think that I am. Sure, I am a monster, but at least I can admit to what I am.” She stands in shocked silence for a moment, letting Steve’s words sink in. 

“Well, I-”

“This interview is over. This partnership is over.” Steve responds. Y/N frowns. 

“What? No, we’ve only done one day, we haven’t even-”

“We did do one day. And that will be all until you realise that I am not going to stand here and listen to you disrespect me constantly in the name of ‘helping’ with an investigation. Trust me, I get enough hate mail every week. I don’t need you adding to it...even though you’ve got a pretty face. Now, go.” Steve orders, turning away from her. He ignores Y/N’s attempts to talk to him further. Y/N’s stomach drops. Oh shit. She’s just completely ruined her chances at trying to solve the investigation. How the hell is she supposed to explain this to her boss now? And not to mention that pissing off someone like Steve Kemp is never a good idea. She hears Steve’s voice speak again. “I told you to leave Y/N. I won’t tell you again. If I have to, I’ll get the guards to make you leave...and trust me, you don’t want that. I don’t want that for you either.” For a moment, Y/N looks up at Steve. A part of her wants to stay, to fix the mess that she made, but she knows she has to go. She gives one last glance to Steve, feeling a pang in her chest.

And then, she goes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, Y/N climbs into bed, her mind a mess. Now what the hell is she supposed to do? She’ll likely never see Steve again, which means she might never solve this case. More people might die, and it’ll all be her fault. Groaning, she holds her head in her hands. Despite all the fears she has surrounding the situation, somehow, Steve is the only thing on her mind. His last few words continue to replay in her mind “even though you’ve got a pretty face.” She can feel her cheeks burn as she pictures him saying that to her, imagining his blue eyes looking her over. 

She leans back against her pillows, sighing. Why the hell is she so invested in her relationship with Steve? Why does it matter so much to her that he thinks she’s pretty? Why does she like him thinking of her as pretty? Of course, Steve is gorgeous, she won’t lie about that, but he’s a fucking serial killer. He’s a monster, just like she told him. And yet, here she is, feeling excited and tingly because he called her pretty, but sad at the prospect of losing her connection to him. Why is she so upset by never seeing him again? Sure, the whole ‘he’s helping her to solve a serial killer case’ is a big part of it, but there’s something more to it that she doesn’t understand. 

If there is one positive to this whole situation though, it’s that not seeing Steve again will mean that these feelings should hopefully disappear of their own volition...even if saying those words causes another pang in her chest. She knows that she has to brush those feelings aside. Because they don’t mean anything. She’s just confused and emotional about this case, and she’s projected her feelings onto Steve, creating some kind of warped feelings towards him. Yes, that’s it. That’s why she feels like this. She’s just confused. After all, she’s a psychologist. She knows the human brain better than anyone else. She has to be right about this. And she is...despite how conflicted she feels about the whole thing.

Groaning, she turns off the light and snuggles in closer, soon falling asleep, but only momentarily. She drifts in and out of consciousness throughout the night, too confused to get a good and long night’s sleep. When she finally finds some sleep, her dreams are occupied by Steve. He stands there, staring at her, his piercing blue eyes tracing over every inch of her body. In some of them, he takes a hold of her hands. He runs his hands along her back in others, getting lower and lower. "Come back...” He whispers in her ear, so close she can feel his breath. “Come back to me...” 

Y/N wakes with a start, gasping. She pants, looking around. Steve sounded so close, she expected him to be right beside her. Her heart rate calms down as she realises that she’s still safe in her bedroom, and Steve is far away from her. She lays back down, trying to go back to sleep. Once again, Steve is the only thing on her mind. Realising she’s not going to get back to sleep at this point, Y/N sighs and gets up, heading downstairs for a glass of water. As she leans against the counter, sipping from her glass, Steve’s words replay in her mind once again. And one thought sticks out.

She does want to go back to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The following day, Y/N enters her office, chugging a coffee. Ever since the revelation that she would go back to Steve in a heartbeat, she was unable to go back to sleep, her mind consumed by him. She opens her computer, sighing as she sees emails from the police chief popping up, no doubt wondering how close she is to finding more information. How is she supposed to tell him what happened? Sure, she can use her prior experience, but Steve and his...insight would still be a great help to her. Groaning, she lays her head on her desk. 

She’s soon interrupted by a knock on her door. She lifts her head up, and a face pops in. “The boss wants to see you in his office right away.” Her blood runs cold as she gets up to walk towards her boss’s office. Steve probably told him what happened and that he doesn’t want to see her anymore. And that means she’ll have to explain why the hell she decided to antagonise the one person who could help them solve this case. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the door to the office. When a voice calls her to enter, she gulps and steps inside, ready for the biggest dressing down of her career.

“Y/N! Just the woman I wanted to see. I have something to tell you.” Her boss begins, and Y/N gasps, ready to explain everything as best she can. But before she can, her boss continues. “Apparently, you’ve made quite the impression on Steve Kemp.” Well, that’s a fucking understatement.

“Well, he’s made quite the impression on me, sir.” She admits, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush on her cheeks.

“The prison warden has been in touch with me, and-” Her stomach twists. Here it comes. “-he told me that Steve seems to be very impressed with you and your tenacity. He’d like you to go back and see him as soon as possible, preferably right now.”

“Um, well...yes, sure. I can do that just now.” She nods before being dismissed. As she makes her way to her car, Y/N frowns. What? This makes no sense. Steve told her that he didn’t want to see her anymore, and not even twenty-four hours later, he wants to see her again? What is he planning?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as she arrives at Steve’s cell, he turns to face her, as if he’s been waiting for her this whole time.

“Hello Y/N. It’s good to see you again.” He smiles.

“What’s going on? Why did you ask me to come back?” She asks.

“I just wanted to see you. Is that really such a crime, considering all I’ve done?” His words from her dream echo in her mind: “Come back...Come back to me...” She gulps. Steve, or her subconscious, wanted her back with him...and now here she is. Hopefully, her dreams don’t come true in any other way. 

“Well, no...it’s just because of what you said yesterday. I thought you didn’t want to see me again.” 

“Ah yes.” Steve chuckles. “That. Well, I meant what I said about you, you know. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I want to help you with your case. Our little...disagreement yesterday doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He looks her over again, biting his lip slightly. Her heart rate rises. “But, going forward, there will be some changes. Please, come in so I can explain.” Steve asks. It’s then she realises that his cell is open, and he could come closer to her at any moment. Her blood runs cold.

“I’d rather stay out here, thanks.” Steve smirks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want? Or is that what they tell you to say?” And for a second, Y/N realises that she doesn’t know the answer to that question. “Unfortunately for you, both our supervisors have already authorised this, so you don’t have a choice. And it means that going running and crying to your boss about how you had to stand in the same room as the big, bad serial killer with no protection isn’t going to do anything. Sure, you could scream...but I don’t know how well that’d work out for you.” He jokes. Her blood runs cold. Why the hell would they authorise something like this? Even when she’s met worse people than Steve Kemp, there’s still been some form of protection there, most notably a cell door. And now, there’s nothing there to protect her from him. She feels more at risk than she’s ever felt before. “But after all, I was happy to give them the idea. I just said something about how being in such close proximity to me would help you understand my behaviour more, which would help solve this case. They agreed almost immediately.” He shrugs. “Because that’s all you want to do, right? Solve the case and finally live up to your expectations?” 

“Steve, you did this? This was your decision?!” She gasps. He said that he wanted to protect her, and yet he’s done this to her. In reality, she has no idea why she’s surprised. Steve’s a serial killer and a master manipulator. It’s what people like him do all the time, and she’s no different. Even so, her mind goes back to the first time she met Steve, and how normal she thought he looked. She’s pretty sure she questioned how someone who looks like him could be responsible for so much suffering. But now, she’s seeing the real Steve Kemp, and suddenly the fact that he can’t be responsible for something like this is not so hard to believe. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you, I hate it when people aren’t using their full potential. And now, I finally get to use you to your full potential. Well, aside from the usual way I use people. And you get to work with me and get my insight again, which I see as a win-win situation.” He looks over her body, biting his lip. “I’m not going to lie though, I have been thinking about tasting you. I won’t tell you about those ideas. You can probably guess how it’ll end for you though.” He laughs. His laugh sounds slightly maniacal, and she can tell he’s relishing in her fear. Then again, considering the kind of person he is...that’s not too surprising. Another chill goes up her spine, and she can feel herself start to hyperventilate. Sure, she wanted to go back to him, but not like this. Never like this.

“B-But Steve, I can’t do this. It’s not safe, I’ll be at-”

“At what? Hmm? Risk?” Steve cuts her off. “Oh yes, because I’m a monster, aren’t I? That’s what you said yesterday. And now, you get to see exactly what kind of person I am. Up close and personal.” Y/N worriedly glances back down the hallway, considering running far away and never coming back. “Oh, you’re going to run, are you? I mean, by all means, be my guest.” And just as she considers doing just that, Steve’s words stop her. “But just know that if you do...you won’t have a chance at solving this case without me. I’m the best hope you have. But if you want to throw that away and get even more blood on your hands, and be responsible for the death of more innocent women...be my guest. After all, I’m the one behind bars, they won’t blame me for this. It’ll be all on you.” Sighing, she turns back to him. He’s right of course. The last thing she wants is to cause further death from her lack of actions. And so, she nods, taking a step closer to Steve. A step closer to the devil. He stares at her the whole time, leering at her. He clearly knows that he’s got her wrapped around his little finger...and he knows how to use it to his benefit.

“Okay Steve. I’m here.” She nods. Steve moves his head to the side, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Come on. Come closer. I don’t bite...not right away anyway.” Still afraid, she stays where she is. Steve sighs, rolling his eyes. “There’s no need to worry. The door will stay open the whole time, and you’re free to leave whenever you want. He turns, showing the cable attaching him to the wall. This is also a new addition. It means I can’t come too close to you, as long as you stand behind the line.” He gestures to a line painted on the floor. As a demonstration, he takes a few more steps forward, stopping in the middle of the cell as the cable reaches its limit. “Come on.” He repeats. She realises it’s not a good idea to challenge Steve anymore. Gulping, she steps forward, into the cell. Steve grins.

“Good girl. Welcome to my humble abode. Like what I’ve done with the place?” He jokes. Warily, Y/N glances around the room as Steve explains further. Although he’s moved back towards the corner of the room, having him so close to her is terrifying. He’s still too close for comfort. “Well, despite our little disagreement yesterday, I’d like to continue our meetings. But there’s going to be some changes, some of which you’ve already noticed. You can ask me whatever you’d like. Within reason, of course. In return, I’d like to know more about you. A quid pro quo, let’s say. No information from you, none from me. Understand?” Y/N nods. “And you won’t misbehave, because you need me, right?” She shakes her head. Steve scoffs. “I’m going to need you to do better than that. Say it.”

“…No.”

“No, what?” He hisses.

“No, Steve. I need you.” She says, her voice trembling. Steve smiles. 

"You’re absolutely right. Now. Let’s get to work.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

TAGLIST: @buckysboobs, @sebastianstansqueen, @lavendercitizen, @amanda-says, @enchantedbarnes, @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer, @kristophalis, babebr, @nerdypinupcrystal, @marve2014 and @sgt-seabass If you want to be added, please let me know.

[hexavexen]

A Gift for Toby (FINALE)

Continued from HERE, contents are based on a text rp with @ask-vulcan-and-toby​

After passing Toby the potted wither rose, Hex is invited for a chat. It’s not his specialty, but he obliges.

(Long post - click “Read more!”)

“Where did you hear it was my birthday?” the enderslime asks. Hex produces the letter, commenting that he wasn’t aware of the flower’s potency. Toby sighs, explaining that it was sent to him months ago. He’s disappointed, but at least positive that he was remembered by his creator. 

Despite her lack of overall care, he expresses that he can’t hate the person who brought him into the world. Hex, who much rather would have been abandoned like Toby, could only listen with growing disgust.

“JUST BECAUSE THEY CREATED YOU DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO LIKE THEM,” he hisses with every ounce of effort in his body.

“I guess you’re right. I’m soft-hearted. I don’t like to hold anger toward people who were wrong to me in the past....if I held it all in, I probably wouldn’t have you sitting here next to me after all you’ve put me through.” Toby diffused Hex’s hostility, sensing pain. Hex refused to elaborate on his circumstances, so Toby brought the topic to something they could both appreciate - flowers.

“Flowers have meanings,” Toby beamed. “My favorites are dandelions...they stand for growth, hope, and healing. I’ve got a lot of growing and healing to do, especially from a rough childhood and broken heart. The scars are always part of me, but they don’t control me anymore.”

A flower for his pain. Hex instantly diverted his attention back to the rose in his hands. Toby had never seen it before, but its behavior was enough for him to guess. “Perhaps....it means anger, death, loss, and pain?  It has a lot of malice in it, but maybe it comes from something negative. It sounds a little like what I know about you.”

Hex had been a tough sell so far, but his face soon lifted with delight. He pointed to the flowers he wanted Toby to talk about, which....was pretty much all of them. Daisies were for innocence. Sunflowers represented loyalty and happiness. Luck and fortune for alliums. And at last...a flower with drooping white bells.

“Lily of the valley,” Toby said with confidence. “A beautiful flower that means devotion, rebirth, and transformation. It’s lovely, but poisonous.”

Hex’s mind was awash with visions of his old Nether home - the dismal soul sand valleys. It didn’t grow there - almost nothing did. It was the same bright white color that he was. Cautiously, Hex grabbed for it, explaining his own home as best he could. Toby was mortified by his nonchalant attitude toward the atrocities of the Nether but the good vibes were infectious. “THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE FLOWER,” Hex declared in a discordant echo.

Toby smiled, too. It felt strange at first to fraternize with someone he thought was always going to be his enemy...but they weren’t unlike each other in the end. They had different ways of expressing their inner pain. Perhaps the future would be full of gardening tales instead of biting steel.

((END))

[van-zieksy]

mx. zieksy i cannot recall if you have been asked this question before but its two-fold: a) is bvz a pet names/terms of endearment kind of guy and if so what would he call iris and b) what do you think iris would call bvz (in the style of hurley/runo/susie/ginny)

Hi, anon!

Thanks so much for your ask. I have never been asked this question before, so I definitely appreciate it. And thanks for your patience, but due to my surgery a few days ago, I haven't had the capacity to respond sooner, but I intend to slowly get back to posting more.

A) While I do see Barok as someone who used/would use terms of endearment, he certainly never did, nor would, go overboard with it. He reserves such names for his closest family. As a gentleman and someone who has been raised as an aristocrat with certain expectations (social situations, mannerisms, codes of conduct, etiquette etc.), it would be inappropriate for him to use terms of endearment for anyone other than very close family. It had been deeply ingrained in him from birth that he has to maintain a proper facade at all times. He does have a certain image to uphold. In fact, I do not even think he had special names for Klint, the person he has always been closest to, because Klint was his older brother who was deserving of his respect, and Barok has always been a stickler for rules and etiquette. At most he called him "dear brother" or "beloved brother".

As for Iris, initially he will only call her "Miss Iris" or "Miss Wilson". The latter will definitely hurt him because of her true blood/heritage, but it's the respectable nothing to do, so he will oblige. After they have become aquaintaned and friends, he may want to call her just "Iris", but she has to be the one to initiate it, as it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to make such a bold proposal. Once she knows he is a blood-related family member, he will start calling her "dear Iris", "my beloved Iris", "my dearest Iris" etc., because at that point it becomes acceptable for him - the older parental figure - to assign endearing names to her, but he will definitely ask for her consent. He reserves those terms of endearment for when it is just the two of them. He would never dare to call her anything but "Iris" or "Miss Iris" while in company of other people.

B) Most nicknames Iris has come up with are based on people's first names (Susato- Susie, Ryunosuke - Runo, Gina - Ginny, Herlock- Hurley), so she would certainly find a nickname based on the name "Barok" once they have become closer aquantainces. What always stood out to me is that Iris has been drawn to Barok from the moment they first truly interacted (she blushed when he spoke to her and when he thanked her; she prepared a birthday gift for him etc.). She was never afraid of him unlike other people, yet she also showed respect for him in typical Iris fashion (as a child + having grown up around Herlock, she doesn't know enough yet about what it means to respect other people's boundaries, so that scene in Barok's office was nothing that happened out of disrespect btw). The way she showed respect was by referring to him as "Mr. Reaper" and such, which to her was like a title. While definitely not nice and shouldn't be acceptable, she didn't think anything of it because Herlock and others did the same. She could have easily ditched the formal title for something else, as she didn't hesitate to come up with alternate names for Ryunosuke and Susato during their first meeting. She even referred to Gregson as "Gregsy", despite the fact that he was an older gentleman and a police official. Yet, as one can see, at least the nickname is based on his last name. It was her way of showing Barok that she had a healthy dose of respect for him as an adult, as a professional and as a person. Of course she respects her friends, but it is a different type of respect, which was earned rather than given intrinsically of her own freewill.

So what will Iris call Barok? Initially she will still be with him on a last name basis, so "Mr. van Zieks" or "Lord van Zieks" are her preferred choices. It will be hard for her to abandon the "Mr. Reaper" name, but she knows it is inappropriate, so she will make an active effort to stop using it (my HC is that she will also get Herlock to stop using that name). She won't come up with a cute nickname until they are friends. Further down the road, he will offer her to just call him "Barok". But Iris being Iris, she will definitely come up with a different name. It seems "Barry" is a name quite a few fans have come up with, and I certainly think it would be an appropriate name. Other names I could imagine she may use (based on the pronunciation of his name being "baroque" - "bah-roke"): Baroky or Roky. Disregarding the English pronunciation of his name (and instead taking inspiration from the German pronunciation of his name "bah-rock"), she may also come up with "Rocky", which I think would be cute and fitting. He is huge, has a hard shell, is multi-layered, is like a rock that can withstand the forces of nature (a strong person who still stands despite all the pain he had to endure), and is someone you can rely on, but he easily crumbles to pieces when his beloved Iris comes into play (that girl knows how to break his hard exterior and soften him up). So "Rocky" would be my preferred choice.

Thanks again!

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[rheawritessometimes]

In Bloom

{ Xiao x GN!Gardener!Reader }

{ Summary } Looking for flowers is more dangerous than it seems.

{ Warnings } Violence, Injury, Mention of Death, Not Even Proofread.

{ Notes } Reader runs on dumb luck and also is kind of like an ecologist or something. Reader is a bit of an airhead. This is probably the most serious fic I've written, with no jokes or additions stricken out. But yeah I just typed this out and didn't even read it over, so if it's bad... Just know this is just a little something while I work on longer garbage. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,112

Appealing to the Vigilant Yaksha was an easy, one could even say effortless, thing for you. You hadn't taken the almond tofu route as others before you had, instead, you left him some Qingxin flowers. These flowers did not come from the peaks of Huaguong Stone Forest nor the Mingyun Village, rather they were among the finest specimens you had grown in your garden. The translucent white petals were soft like velvet and entirely free from blemish.

Your small gift to the adeptus wasn't exactly intentional. In truth, you had left the flowers on the balcony of Wangshu Inn entirely by accident and when you returned to retrieve them they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a pale man with dark hair leaning over the balcony. When you halted your approach, he turned his head towards you, indicating he had heard your footsteps.

Striking golden eyes seemed to gaze straight through you, sending a chill down your spine. His expression was entirely neutral, you couldn't get even a hint as to what he was thinking. Nothing about his outward appearance screamed danger, but the ominous aura you sensed made you take a step back.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you," you squeaked out, sounding a lot less confident than you had intended. You take a step backward, but couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes from him.

"Don't apologize. You're welcome to stay," he replied after a few beats of silence, his tone sounding strained for a reason you couldn't discern.

"Um, okay, thank you," you replied politely, feeling it would be too awkward to leave now. It felt to you as though you were now trapped here for a little while out of social obligation. You stepped out towards the railing, deciding to at least enjoy the view if you had to stay.

The man didn't look at you, but you couldn't help but take in his appearance. He was objectively good-looking with bright amber eyes, dark hair with teal highlights, and his stoic expression. His clothing wasn't outlandish, but it's not the type you would commonly see on the streets of Liyue.

It took a while for the dark mask resting against the man's hip to catch your attention, but once it did you felt like a fool. It was not common knowledge, however, the fact an adeptus resided at the Wangshu Inn was not exactly a secret. One which you were privy to. The mask was the most obvious indication of his status as an adeptus. Not just any adeptus, not that any of them were anything to look down upon, but one of the Yakshas. The last of the five Yakshas.

"Alatus," the name escapes your lips as a whisper before you can think to stop it. Immediately your eyes widen, but before you could issue an apology the man just sighs softly. It doesn't sound particularly angered, but rather weary.

"Xiao. My name is Xiao," he says without turning to look at you. That's all he says before vanishing in a cloud of black mist and falling feathers of anemo energy. The mist and feathers are both quick to dissipate, leaving you standing with your mouth hanging open.

After that encounter, it had become a regular occurrence, at least once weekly, for you to pick one of the finest flowers from your garden and bring it to Wangshu Inn to leave on the balcony, or give directly to Xiao should he show himself. Most often you brought him a Qingxin, but occasionally you would substitute other flowers as not to end up plucking every Qingxin you had grown. You never picked the very best flower, either. Even for an adeptus you couldn't bring yourself to pick the best examples, rather letting them grow in peace for your prolonged enjoyment.

It wasn't until the third time you had come to the inn with a flower for Xiao that he was waiting for you on the balcony. Seeing the yaksha there made you pause, heart skipping a beat in surprise. He turned from his place looking out across the landscape to see you, certainly not as surprised to see you as you were him.

The way he looked expectantly at the flower in your hand has you realizing you had been standing there frozen. You moved, extending the flower out to him in offering. He took it delicately from your hand, looking it over for a moment.

"Thank you," he said softly, so quiet you almost didn't hear it at all. You could only nod stiffly in response. He scoffed at you before turning around again to lean against the balcony railing.

Just as it had the first time you met the yaksha, it felt wrong to just leave. So, you decided to survey the landscape of Liyue with him in silence. After the first few minutes, the atmosphere became rather comfortable between the two of you. Still, by the time he disappeared in a cloud of black mist and anemo feathers, neither of you had spoken a word.

This morning you were out early in the morning to explore the wilds of Liyue. You were no adventurer, though. Your purpose was to analyze the populations of certain flora and fauna. These were trips you made often to various parts of Liyue, wishing to preserve the life of endangered species, and always alone. Bringing people along to the locations of such rare organisms, be it plant or animal, was a dangerous thing. In many instances, rare means valuable and there are those who would do anything for some Mora.

Today you found yourself in Dihua Marsh to check up on the Glaze Lily population. Based on your counts, the number hadn't fluctuated greatly since your last visit, there were even a few new blooms. This brought you great relief, Glaze Lilies seemed to be somewhat of a symbol of Liyue and it would sadden you to see their wild population disappear, even if they remained in Qingce Village and at the Yujing Terrace. It wouldn't be the same.

Once you had sung a few songs to the flowers, not worried about anyone hearing you in this rather secluded area, you made your way back to one of the main roads. The long walks back to the harbor always ended up with you lost deep in thought, which wasn't always a good thing. Lost deep in your own mind, you didn't notice the slow advance of a small group of Treasure Hoarders until it was too late.

There was no time to run away as they surrounded you, it was unlikely you could have outrun them anyways. Fortunately, it didn't take very long for the Treasure Hoarders to discover you had absolutely nothing of value on you, and while they may be thieves it wasn't often a Treasure Hoarder was a murderer. Of course, they had roughed you up a bit before ultimately leaving you alone. There was a nasty scrape on your cheek and you were sure you would be bruised in the morning, but you weren't seriously injured.

By the next day, your muscles ached and bruises had appeared in various places on your body, but the scrapes had stopped bleeding and it was nothing that would stop you from bringing your usual offering to Xiao. You spent some time perusing your garden, looking for the perfect gift. You settled on a Silk Flower, there was some worry in your mind that Xiao would dislike it because they did grow right outside of the Wangshu Inn, but you hope the exceptional fragrance and color of this specimen would gain his appreciation.

Mindful not to fiddle with the flower as to preserve its pristine state, you worried the whole walk to the inn. Even if the adeptus wasn't present, if he rejected the offering you felt you would know. Maybe you would find the flower sitting where you left it on your next visit, or maybe Verr Goldet would tell you about the silk flower she found laying on the balcony. Your heart clenched at the thought and you couldn't help but wonder when you had started seeking the yaksha's approval.

You hadn't even realized you arrived at the inn until you were stepping off the elevator, lost in thought again. Shaking your head, you thought it would be good if you started paying more attention. Getting ambushed by again was the last thing you wanted, the next time it could be worse than petty thieves.

Pushing the negative thoughts from your mind, you climbed the stairs to the balcony you so often visited. Your muscles ached in quiet protest, but the pain was mild. Peeking over the stairs, you spotted Xiao.

For the first time, he was already facing you, leaning with his back against the railing. You wondered if he had spotted you on your way to the Inn, offering him a polite smile as a silent greeting. You extended the Silk Flower to him once you stepped out onto the balcony.

"What happened to you?" Xiao asked immediately, tone stern. He took the flower from you without even sparing a glance down at it. Did he not like Silk Flowers?

"Oh, um, I just bumped into some Treasure Hoarders yesterday. Nothing serious," you answered after finally processing his question, bringing your hand up to the scrape on your cheek without thinking. His frown deepened with your response and the adeptus crossed his arms over your chest.

"You were hurt," he pointed out bluntly. You felt small under his hard stare.

"Oh, it's nothing, um, serious," you assured him with a nervous laugh. He only furrowed his brows at your response.

"If ever again you find yourself in any danger, call my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be there when you call."

At his words, your cheeks heated up. Was this some sort of special treatment, or did he offer this to anyone? It felt wrong to receive such kindness from an adeptus if it was only for you.

"Promise," he pressed when you didn't answer.

"Okay, I will. If I'm ever in danger, I'll call you," you agreed meekly, feeling a great weight put upon you under his amber gaze. He huffed before disappearing in his usual manner, and it was impossible for you to tell if he was upset with you.

The next time you visited the inn, Xiao hadn't appeared. This wasn't unusual, but the worry that you had displeased him seeped into your bones. You tried to ignore this feeling, going out often to check on wildlife populations and spending extra time tending to your garden. Keeping busy was the best way to take your mind off your worries and stay productive.

A week after your meeting with the Vigilant Yaksha, you were back at Dihua Marsh checking on the Glaze Lilies. You were sitting in the middle of the lilies, singing softly to the patch of flowers when the sound of shouting reached your ears. Looking up, you noticed two hilichurls accompanied by a mitachurl with a stone shield who was charging your way.

There would be no time for you to get up and out of the way, so you closed your eyes and braced for the impact. You could only pray it wouldn't kill you, but even if it didn't you would probably be unable to escape death by the hilichurls soon after.

The impact never came, instead, a gust of wind blew past you and you wondered if the mitachurl had somehow run past you. When you opened your eyes, you saw Glaze Lily petals swirl into the air, dancing around the familiar figure of the Vigilant Yaksha. The mitachurl was already crumbling to dust, returning to the Abyss with it's hilichurl companions.

Xiao turned to face you, mask dematerializing from his face and reappearing at his hip. When he extended his hand down to help you get up, you furrowed your brows wondering why he had been here. Was it incredible luck, or had he perhaps been following you?

Taking his hand, you let him pull you up onto shaky legs. He didn't let go, looking a little worried you'd fall. You finally looked up to his face, scanning golden eyes.

"Why are you here?" you finally asked, throat feeling a bit scratchy.

"I told you I would be there when you called."

His words only confused you further until it dawned on you, the scratchy feeling in your throat was awfully similar to that which came with yelling. Had you truly called his name without even thinking, without even realizing?

"Thank you, Xiao."

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 10 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was only made aware that Wen Ruohan had fixed things when he realized that two weeks had gone by without anyone saying anything about him personally and had, out of a sense of morbid curiosity, asked one of his teachers about it.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” his teacher asked, nose deep in one of the musical scores they’d put together for the array project, hunting for the flaws. “The sworn brother business was just part of one of his schemes to gain additional power amongst the Great Sects.”

Having been involved in it, Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure about that. “What do you mean, honored teacher?”

“He’s been finding ways to form new ties with all the Great Sects, not just ours,” his teacher explained. “It’s all come out; some very clever people figured it out. There’s a new trade agreement with the Jiang sect that both sides were keeping hushed up, something going on with the head of the Nie sect that the Nie sect disciples are being especially close-mouthed about, and, of course, his new connection with the Jin sect…it’s really not that surprising that he decided to find a way into our Lan sect by trickery.”

His teacher said it casually, as if of course Lan Qiren's sworn brotherhood had been formed by a slightly underhanded maneuver rather than torture or rape or anything like that, and while of course that was in fact true, Lan Qiren was stunned by the fact that what passed for common knowledge in the cultivation world had been flipped on its head in such a short time.

Truly, Wen Ruohan’s cunning was boundless. It was a little frightening.

“Say,” his teacher added. “As his sworn brother, you’ll be attending the wedding, won’t you? You should bring back some stories!”

Lan Qiren stared blankly. “…what wedding?”

It turned out that Wen Ruohan’s new connection with the Jin sect was through a marriage. The bride wasn't surnamed Jin, that would be too much for most people to tolerate without some sort of excuse; she was instead from a powerful subsidiary sect that swore allegiance to the Wen sect, in keeping with Wen Ruohan’s preference for his own people above anyone else, but her mother was a branch cousin of the Jin sect and everyone said that it was obviously meant as a way to bind the sects together. They said Wen Ruohan had spoken openly of his desire for sons – as usual, no one mentioned the names of those of his descendants already in his sect’s memorial hall – and that there were high hopes associated with the union on both sides. The Jin sect was said to be already parading around the marriage as their newest political victory, trying to use the connection to their best advantage.

“How long has this been planned, do you think?” Lan Qiren asked Lan Yueheng, mostly out of lack of other people to ask; unsurprisingly, Lan Yueheng shrugged.

“It’s an engagement,” he said disinterestedly. “My cousin says the negotiations for an engagement can be as long or as short as everyone wants it. But surely no one would make a lifetime decision like that lightly? Not to mention an alliance between sects, however implicit. It must have been planned a long time ago.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. There was always the ambiguous situation between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie to consider, and given the way Lao Nie had spoken during his visit, it sounded as if he had encouraged Wen Ruohan to come up with some clever way out of the situation, rather than suggesting that one already existed.

Moreover, he wasn’t sure that Wen Ruohan considered a marriage to be a lifetime decision. Hadn’t he been married before, had sons before? It was only that they had all died…

“Lan-er-gongzi!” A runner came up to him, saluting. “The Sect Leader asks that you report to the hanshi at once.”

“That’s probably your invitation,” Lan Yueheng said, sounding mildly disapproving – undoubtedly he thought weddings were a waste of time compared with doing experiments. Taking inspiration from his work with Lan Qiren in merging math and music, he’d recently expanded his interests from mathematics to alchemy, and Lan Qiren grimly foresaw many exploding furnaces in the Lan sect’s immediate future. At least they had some out-of-the-way places for him to work, or else there'd also be a lot of punishments for violating the rules about too much noise in Lan Yueheng's personal future. “It’ll probably make you miss the first week of this season’s classes, too…well, try not to be too bored.”

Sadly, Lan Qiren did not think being bored would be an option.

Sure enough, when he arrived at the hanshi where his father and brother were waiting alongside several sect elders, the subject of discussion was the invitation he had received to attend the wedding.

“As Sect Leader Wen’s sworn brother, naturally you must attend,” his brother told him. “We will also be sending a delegation from the Lan sect to attend on our behalf officially, but your position is different. You must be careful not to offend anyone.”

Lan Qiren saluted. “I will do my best.”

“Sect Leader Wen will not be kind if you lose face for him, especially at his wedding, even if it is inadvertent - or even if what you do is perfectly correct by our standards,” one of the other elders, one of the older teachers, the well-respected if sleepy one, said. He sounded concerned on Lan Qiren's behalf, which Lan Qiren appreciated. “You must especially take care not to offend his new bride. Even where the marriage is made for the purpose of power and there is no expectation of love, a man does not like to have disturbances in his back courtyard.”

“Especially if the stories are true and Sect Leader Wen hopes for sons,” the teacher in swordsmanship responded, his voice a little acidic. He was still unhappy with Lan Qiren over what had happened during their visit to the Nightless City; Lan Qiren did his best to avoid him whenever possible. “I doubt Sect Leader Wen will persist in trying to raise one of our children once he has one of his own.”

That explained the sour expressions on the faces of his brother and some of the elders, Lan Qiren thought. They had hoped to use him to manipulate Wen Ruohan, though the exact method of how they would have done so escaped him no matter how he analyzed the words he had overheard that night in the hanshi, and Wen Ruohan had neatly evaded their snare with a countermove of his own – as with weiqi, so with politics, he assumed. A disappointment, as always.

“A brotherhood is for life,” Lan Qiren’s father said, voice distant as always, neutral as always. “There are ten months at minimum before any son is born, and all the years after; even if Sect Leader Wen forgets about his obligations, that does not mean that we must. There will be other opportunities.”

“Provided Qiren does not provide grounds for Sect Leader Wen to abjure the relationship,” his brother interjected.

“I will try my best not to do so,” Lan Qiren said again, stiff as always, though he suspected his brother was simply stating a fact rather than casting doubt on him. “When should I prepare myself to depart?”

“The delegation leaves tomorrow morning,” his brother said. “You will need to give a personal gift to your sworn brother in addition to the sect’s gift. I have selected several options; come with me to pick the one you prefer.”

Lan Qiren saluted the elders and wordlessly followed his brother to the treasury. He liked none of the gifts his brother had selected, thinking that they all seemed a bit too gaudy even for a recipient whose tastes tended toward the luxurious – a bit more Lanling Jin than Qishan Wen, and not at all something he would select for himself – but eventually he chose a heavy golden crown that seemed to be not too far from the ones that he’d seen Wen Ruohan wear in the past.

“Not the dagger?” his brother asked, his voice thick with irony that Lan Qiren did not understand, nodding towards another of the options, a golden-hilt blade so purely polished that one could see their reflection in it.

“Sect Leader Wen has a rich collection which we cannot hope to match,” Lan Qiren said, thinking of those peerless treasure swords rusting away as wall decorations in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom. “Moreover, it’s a wedding, which represents two parts joining together into a single whole, while a gift of a knife implies severing. It is therefore inappropriate for such an occasion.”

“Brothers who have shared blood cannot be separated. It is a suitable gift from a sworn brother.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the options, feeling a little helpless. “If you would like me to change my selection…”

“The guan is fine,” his brother said, and shook his head, seeming almost a little pitying. “You are very good to be concerned with your sworn brother’s feelings, no matter how your relationship came about. Too much goodness can be seen as weakness, you know.”

I thought I wasn’t supposed to be making trouble? Lan Qiren thought to himself. Still, since his brother did not seem inclined to elaborate, he handed the gift to one of the servants to be put into an appropriate box.

In actuality, he had already selected a personal gift of his own, shortly after he had first heard about the impending wedding – it had seemed reasonable that he would need to send a gift, even if he didn't expect to actually be invited, and it had not occurred to him that he would be allowed to utilize the sect treasury for such a thing. He’d gone to Caiyi Town and purchased a small set of drinking bowls, applying the glaze himself as the artisan spun the pots; they had gone into the kiln immediately thereafter, and he was expecting the delivery today – in fact, it was probably already waiting in his room.

He would pack the set up with his personal items and give it to Wen Ruohan anyway, he decided. After all, he’d opted to do the design in Wen sect red rather than Lan sect blue, rendering it useless for his own purposes, and it would be worse to simply throw it away or to let it sit and gather dust. Being frugal is a virtue, after all.

Of course, if he were truly being frugal, he would have told his brother that he did not need an additional gift and left the guan alone, but he didn’t want to reject his brother’s kindness, either, rare as it was. Better to just eat the loss of the funds and have Wen Ruohan think him a spendthrift…

“Sect Leader Wen will undoubtedly have you stay in the Sun Palace during your visit,” his brother said abruptly, and Lan Qiren looked at him: his brother wasn’t looking at him, but into the distance, and his fingers twitched at his side in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. “As his sworn brother, it would be inappropriate for him to put you in the guest quarters, or to fail to allow you free mobility through the Nightless City.”

“That seems likely,” Lan Qiren agreed hesitantly, not sure why his brother was mentioning it.

“He is fortunate that you are not naturally observant,” his brother said. “Otherwise one might fear that you would use the opportunity to learn more about how the Wen sect works – its treasures, its secrets. Its plans for the future.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Lan Qiren said quickly. “Have courtesy and integrity, after all. Even if I were to discover something incidentally, naturally I would be honor-bound not to share it without informing Sect Leader Wen that I had done so.”

His brother sighed, his fingers abruptly unclenching. “Of course you would. How could anyone doubt it…I don’t suppose you’ve ever given any thought to Do not forget the grace of your forefathers?”

“Of course I have. That’s one of the fundamental rules,” Lan Qiren said, now absolutely bewildered. “That we should live up to the expectations of our ancestors, both in our good conduct and discipline, and in supporting our sect so that our descendants may honor them equally.”

His brother shook his head. “Sometimes I really don’t understand you. You were tricked into an oath like a virgin maiden into a sweet-talker’s bed, weren't you?” he said. Lan Qiren really didn’t understand how his brother’s mind worked that he kept changing subjects like this. “I just wonder that you aren’t more resentful of the one that did it, the way anyone else would be. The way you act, you’d think Sect Leader Wen had done you a favor; you’re so considerate of him.”

Lan Qiren thought his brother might be being sarcastic, but he wasn’t very good at determining such things. “Even if the manner in which we became sworn brothers was unorthodox, the oaths have still been sworn,” he said, a little haltingly. “I cannot control his actions, only my own. Just because he might not be a good brother doesn’t mean I can’t be – isn’t that right?”

His brother glared at him. “If you have something to say, Qiren, you can say it directly.”

Lan Qiren was at an utter loss. “I – was?”

“Your teachers say that you’re brilliant,” his brother said, voice suddenly very cold. “I often wonder whether they’re not growing too old for their work.”

“I don’t –”

“Never mind. You’re dismissed.”

Lan Qiren saluted and returned to his quarters, puzzling over the conversation as he packed away his things for the trip. Was his brother trying to warn him against anyone encouraging him to act as a spy? Or was he trying to convince him to act as a spy himself? But if it was the latter, why wouldn’t he just say so? If it were truly necessary for some reason, for the good of the sect…

Was he supposed to volunteer?

But that would be truly breaking the oath of brotherhood – of which he still didn’t know the contents…

Lan Qiren supposed that, at least, was one thing he would be able to fix: very soon, he would be seeing his sworn brother again for the first time since they’d sworn their oaths.

Maybe he’d find a way to ask.

[supremeinlilac]

Three’s not a crowd, especially when it’s us (1)

Summary: Its just part one idk what to say? oh, its a slow burn :) The idea came to me at 4am and I’ve just ran with it, it was initially going to be like 4 parts, and now its probably more like 10.

Word count: 2546

Warnings: mild language 

You weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to get through 2 months of being at Miss Robichaux's without accidently revealing your true ‘power’ to anyone. You thought that Ms Goode, of all people, would see through your bland lie about setting your families house on fire being the reason you’d ended up at the academy’s front doors. Instead, she’d simply nodded at you with a kind smile and a tour of the house.

You’d met all the witches, heard stories about the house and how this was now one of many schools like it that the Supreme had opened since rising. Some of the other houses were for the young witches and were more discreetly placed to avoid the inevitable hate crimes that witches still faced, while some were for the older women who’d always been taught to hide in the shadows and supress themselves rather than flourish. You’d fallen into the middle, gifted witches that were brought to learn under the Supremes’ close guidance and protection.

Your first night had involved sitting beside the fireplace with Zoe and Queenie, who were asking of your abilities and showing their own with stories of before Cordelia’s reign as supreme. You were awed by Queenies voodoo abilities, laughing at the time she’d stabbed her hand with a fork when Madison was being bitchy. You insisted she show you sometime. Madison was back at this point, you’d yet to meet her as she was off on some trip but Zoe had already advised you to stay clear. They weren’t even sure how she’d got back from hell, normally she would be the first to brag about something like that, but apparently she’d kept relatively quiet about it.

You’d met Ms Venable the next day, after hearing hushed rumours from the other girls about her sharpness and generally how they were all scared of her intimidating grandeur. She’d given you your lesson timetable with a quick flick of her eyes down your body at your state of undress when you’d come to the door, barking about having some decency. Her striking features and the perfect peaks of her red hair had you scrambling for something coherent to babble back to her as she turned and left you, mouth agape and staring after the strike of her cane on the ground.

Although Ms Venable had no magical abilities of her own, she was no less admired and feared among the other witches at the academy, her quick wit and sharp tongue more than compensating and aiding in her looming dominance. She prided herself in teaching the girls practical non-magic skills and subjects that they could put to use in due course when their time within the school’s halls ran out.

The girls had whispered and giggled to you about Ms Cordelia having a thing for Ms Venable, because of how she used to flush and stumble over her words in the presence of the woman. You hadn’t noticed in your brief week at the academy, mainly due to not having seen them together an awful lot in that time.

Over the weeks you found yourself watching their fleeting interactions, mentally noting the way Cordelia would shift under her gaze at the breakfast table. How she would be the first to pick up the fallen cane as it clattered to the ground; never using her telekinesis for it either, she would go out of her way to get up and retrieve it, small smile and glances exchanged as she did so.

You understood why the girls had picked up on Cordelia’s feelings for the redhead, but you were surprised at how they’d missed the obvious way Ms Venable would soften when she looked at Cordelia teaching when she’d walk past the open classroom door, or the way she’d grip her cane until her knuckles whitened when she caught one of the girls imitating the Supreme. You thought it was obvious, maybe it was just you. Maybe it was just that you’d grown rather fond of her and liked to observe the small habits that she’d do when annoyed or relaxed.

It was clear they didn’t just like each other, but that they were together, whether they formally declared it or not, to you at least; the lingering touches and glances when they thought no one was looking.

Over your weeks at the academy, you’d grown to appreciate the time you were able to spend alone with either women. You were always the first to volunteer your time in the greenhouse or to carry files for Ms Venable when she walked past a classroom with papers balanced precariously in one arm.

Cordelia had developed a soft spot for you, as an eager and caring student. You’d laugh and mess around with the plants in the greenhouse and share stories of times when your magic hadn’t quite gone to plan. You’d become infatuated with her laugh on one of these nights, when she’d let down all barriers and just enjoyed herself without worry.

Once, and at the time you’d totally thought yourself to be completely pushing your luck, you’d arranged a dinner for the pair of them out there, hauling Wilhemina’s chair outside from the kitchen so that she would be comfortable. You’d known that they’d both been stressed and hadn’t had much time for themselves away from the hum of the girls. Happy as always to oblige, you’d thought they’d appreciate the small moment to enjoy a meal together in the peace of Cordelia’s safe space.

They did, of course. Although it was only the Supreme who voiced her thanks, squeezing your shoulder tightly while Ms Venable shot you a momentary smile and a nod of approval. Since then, you wanted nothing more than her approval again.

***

At the dinner table, Madison had made some offhand remark about your magic which had sent ripples of barely contained laughter down the table. You’d looked up to Zoe who just gave a sympathetic grimace and a shrug, everyone else just continued sipping at the soup, an occasional slurp breaking the quietness. Everyone was so used to Madisons comments and attitude that they just took to ignoring it in uncomfortable silence.

You were not used to it. You didn’t understand why everyone could just sit and let her berate people as she did, you’d been brought up in kindness and empathy. Pushing your chair back, you emptied the contents of your bowl into the bin before quickly leaving the kitchen, guilty faces watching you leave. Cordelia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, knowing as the headmistress and supreme she shouldn’t stand for the way Madison talked to some of the girls, but she knew that aggravating her further would be a worse idea. Wilhemina’s hand came to settle discreetly on her thigh, squeezing slightly and grounding her in a silent way to tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

You’d slipped out into the greenhouse to let of some steam, moving objects around and letting yourself set random balls of paper on fire safely as an outlet for you to bubble your frustrations out through magic. After having done so, you settled into one of the chairs in the corner, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.

It had been Ms Venable who came through the doors to find you, heaving a sigh as she lowered herself into the chair beside you and balanced her cane against the arm. She sat rigidly, as always, hands clasped in her lap and one leg balanced over the other. Allowing herself to observe you, she took in your slumped shoulders and tired face which you hid in your drawn up knees.

“Cordelia sent me.” She stated, straight to the point as always, and you lifted your head in acknowledgement.

She’d lied, Cordelia hadn’t sent her. The supreme had actually wanted to come herself but Wilhemina had said that she’d go, that she needed to talk to you anyway; but she’d never tell you that of course. She had a stature to uphold.

You sat in uncomfortable silence, neither one knowing what to say to put the other at ease. Wilhemina didn’t really know how to start conversations with anyone apart from Cordelia that didn’t begin with a barked command or condescending jab.

“Ignore Madison. That insolent girl needs to be put in her place.” She quipped; lips drawn into a thin scowl before softening as you looked up at her. “From what I’ve seen and been told, your magic is coming along quite nicely. You should be proud of your progress.” She added quickly, suddenly finding great interest in the hanging plants that Cordelia had been tending to over the past few days: a new addition to the greenhouse.

“No. she was right. I’m not upset about Madison; I’m upset because no one knows me. Not really.” You mused, an appreciating smile gracing your lips for a second at her words. It wasn’t that you were overly affected by Madisons words, it had just served as a reminder to how you were keeping everyone in the dark.

“What do you mean?” She asked softly, as soft as you’ve ever heard her talk, hand reaching to draw your knees out from under your chin so you could uncurl to speak to her properly. You inhaled a shaky breath, fingers digging crescents into your knees as you prepared to tell her the thing you’d been hiding for months.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You asked hopefully, knowing it wasn’t something she could, or even would want to promise to you. She shook her head shortly, “you know I can’t promise you that.” Pushing it to the back of your mind, you decided to just blurt it out; now or never so to speak.

“I’ve been keeping my natural power a secret. I lied on my first day. I- I didn’t set my house on fire.” You admitted, head hanging shamefully and tears pricking at your vision. You didn’t need to look at Wilhemina to see the scowl that would inevitably be forming to replace the slight smile she’s had, at your stupidity.

“And you didn’t think Ms Goode needed to know of this?” watching you in disbelief, shaking her head and tutting. “You’ve been here long enough to know better, missy.” She scolded, making to get up by bracing her hands firmly against her knees and reaching for her cane.

You scrambled off your seat, frantically holding your hands up in front of you towards her in an attempt to stop her from going. Your hands found purchase on her wrists and you guided her slowly to sit back down, pushing slightly when she protested.

“No, no please- I mean, don’t go.” You pleaded, eyes wide, squatting in front of her so you could fall to a kneel, making sure your face was in her line of vision and she could see how scared the thought of having to tell Cordelia of your dishonesty was making you. Shuffling in place where you knelt, you quietly muttered your thanks when she settled back against the chair.

She scoffed audibly to make you aware of her distaste at the current situation but made no attempt to move your hands from where they now rested near her hands on her knees, or even to suggest that you move them yourself. Accepting that you weren’t going to let her leave until she’d listened, she let her curiosity pique and, raising her brow in question, she asked you shortly.

“What ability is so embarrassing that you decide to keep it from us all for so long? Lord knows it can’t be as bad as being a human gluten detector.”

You appreciated her dry attempt at humour to deflect from the uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into. Fidgeting your fingers against the fabric of her skirt, you remembered a dream you’d had where you’d told Zoe of your power and she’d turned the whole coven against you. Brushing it off, telling yourself that Zoe would never do that, you continued to admit to Ms Venable.

“I’m not even sure of it myself, I can’t find a name for it anywhere. I don’t even know if it has a name.”

“So it’s rare?” Wilhemina seemed to strike an interest then, straitening up and raising her eyebrows as if to prompt you to continue. She did this until she seemed to remember that she’s meant to be uninterested and she forced herself to scoff and reached to tweak her earring deftly between finger and thumb.

“It will have a name. Incompetence is the reason you cannot find it.” She stated coldly, lips pursed in intolerance. “That or your just looking in the wrong place,” she added, noting the way you looked down at your trembling and twitching fingers when she was mean.

You paused, having a momentary realisation of what you were doing before the thought was swiftly pushed to the side of your mind by the familiar pull of your magic at your fingertips.

“C-can I show you?” you blurted, almost clamping your hand over your mouth at your unexpected boldness.

“You most certainly will do no such thing, it’s not me that needs to be aware of your abilities, it is Ms Goode that you need to show.” She barked, defensiveness coming back out at your request. You tried not to take it to heart, knowing that that was just her way. Not that she would ever tell you, but Wilhemina felt a lot more secure talking about magic with Cordelia present, where she knew she wouldn’t be judged for having a less secure knowledge of the field. She liked to always be the most well versed in the room, hated to be spoken at about a topic she was new to.

“I can’t show Ms Goode without you.” You tried to explain, an itch of annoyance bubbling under your skin when she laughed at you again mockingly.

“I can’t show Ms Goode without you.” She mimicked, face pulled into a grimace which made you scowl, and exaggerating the words to a degree that just felt excessive, even for Ms Venables constant condescendence.

Your mouth fell open. You couldn’t believe this woman’s nerve.

Something suddenly snapped in your head at her incessant mocking and the condescending tone she used, and you found yourself moving your hands quickly from her knees to her hands, linking your fingers tightly before she could even react. You watched her eyes raise in surprise and the cocky smirk fall from her lips as she attempt to pull away unsuccessfully.

“What are you- get your hands off me!” She exclaimed; voice higher than normal in surprise as your quick movements caught her off guard.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the way her hands pulled within yours and the sting of her nails digging into the delicate skin of your palms as she tried to free herself. The heat of your magic burned under your skin, the annoyance you felt only serving as a fuel, directing all your power towards the woman in your grip.

When you felt the snap of your magic release, Wilhemina let out a cry of pain and you almost stopped.

Almost.

***

  Part 2

Just to clarify, your powers do not involve giving people orgasms lmaoo. I will never try to leave anything on a cliffhanger ever again rip.

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[astriefer]

Please have this messy, badly written scenario as a humble gift to you, because I wanted to do something since I reached 200 followers!

Bits of Truth

They stood in front of the Carstairs' townhouse in Cornwall Gardens. Christopher seemed mildly confused about what they were doing there as if he had not been paying attention. James shared one last glance with Thomas before he knocked on the door.

A few bits of silence flew by, in which they had held their breaths. Then footsteps tapped on the floor, and the door cracked open.

A wave of relief passed through James that not Sona nor Risa or any other maid came to open the door. Then he thought what a peculiar thought it was for him to be relieved by. Alastair looked at them, frozen in place, blinking a few times as if he didn't believe they were truly there. He rejoined his composure hastily. He didn't let them in - he stood in the front door and his eyes searched theirs for an explanation. It was like a weird staring contest. Eventually, Alastair spoke first. "Cordelia is not here. You know it fairly well."

He moved to close the door. "We haven't come for Cordelia," he said quickly, which received another incredulous glance from Alastair. "Well, we have. But not because we thought she'd show up here. We came to talk to you."

Alastair narrowed his eyes, expressionless, and considered James. Then he glanced at Christopher and Thomas, noting their desperate eyes. "About my sister?"

"We won't take long," promised James, despite he wasn't sure it's true. Alastair studied him, and James felt himself going rigid. He leveled Alastair with his indecipherable gaze.

Then Alastair had stepped back from the door and ushered them in. "My mother is in her bedroom, resting, and Risa went shopping for supper. So, you have to be quiet. Make it quick.'

~~~~

Alastair took their coats and tilted his head towered the parlor. A kettle whiselted in the kitchen. As he gestured them inside he turned the other way. A fire burned in the chimney, and a book rested peacefully on the armchair. When James examined closer he discovered it was written in Persian. Thomas mumbled something about Persian poetry.

Alastair came inside with a tray and James thought he was, for a change, being hospitable, but he ignored them and disappeared up the stairs. When he got back, empty-handed, James assumed the tea was for his mother. Alastair placed the book on the table as he sat down in front of them. Thomas and Christopher set on a love sofa and James set stoned on another armchair. He didn't waste time being the kind host, James presumed. "What it is about my sister?"

The golden-eyed boy decided the best tactic was started from what he knew. That wasn't much, but it was the most important thing, and he was certain about it, at the very least. "I love your sister."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, amused. "Yes, that's something that tends to happen between married couples, I've been told."

James shook his head. "This marriage, of Cordelia and I," just saying her name on his lips made a treacherous skip of his heartbeat, full of hurt and love. "It was a sham marriage."

Alastair pools of dark marble were fixed on James when he explained, rather awkwardly, the events that led to their marriage. And then events that led to Cordelia leaving the country. He prospected Alastair would be outraged, throw spears at them, maybe even recite some very angry poetry phrases in Persian. Instead, Alastair was very still for very long. When he did speak, the words weren't the James expected them to be. "I knew the marriage wasn't out of love," Alastair said calmly. "But I didn't expect you to tell all that rubbish."

James blinked. "It's the truth."

"Oh, I know," Alastair returned with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I doubt you would come up with such a ludicrous idea on your own, even if just to spite me. and I also know Cordelia wouldn't have slept with you unwedded, no matter how much she loved you."

All the thieves caught their breath when Alastair leaned forward, his month curving in an odd angle. "I also know being married to you was a wish she never thought would come true, and that you cared for her. You claimed her as yours and you defended her. It was good for Cordelia, and so I said nothing."

James snorted, although he hadn't found the conversation funny. Not the least. "I thought I loved Grace at that time. I felt bad when the thought of living with Cordelia was more appealing than I expected." The thought of Grace made his features harden. "And because of Grace, for years I've been blind. Manipulated. I lost my wife and Parabatai. She played with me like a doll; messed with my feelings, messed with my life. This is unforgivable."

He did not notice Christopher who tensed up and fixed his spectacles on his nose. "She did some bad things," he said, surprising them all. "But I don't think she's evil."

James furrowed his brow. "She's like a siren: beautiful and compelling, but going after her will only end in you being drowned."

"I see," Alastair said, turning back to James. "But why? Why did she do it?"

"Does it matter?" James asked. "She hurt so many people. She doesn't even deserve to apologize. It won't matter anyhow - the damage is done. After all she has done...sorry will never be enough. Nothing will."

"It matters," Alastair said. "Because you don't know her side of the tale. You don't know what she thinks. What she feels. You don't know if she had to do what she did."

He was tempted to say Grace has no feelings at all. "I believe I'm allowed to be angry."

"I do agree that what she had done to you is far above a jest or a play with hearts," there was a strange flame burning in the deep ponds of Alastair's dark eyes. "And you have no obligation to forgive her. But why not hear what she has to say? You are the one with the power. You know the truth. She can not affect you any longer."

James shook his head. "You don't know Grace," he said coldly, gravely. "She will try to use me. She will try and make me do as she wishes. I will not be a pawn in her game again. She controlled my life long enough."

Alastair glanced away, pondering over something. Thomas turned his head nervously between James and Alastair. For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Thomas inquired, "Why do you insist James will hear her out?"

"You have no idea of her motives," Alastair retorted. "What she's done - she must know it's wrong. And she will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her days. You are allowed to be angry, James, and rightfully so. But don't let it blind you. That you have been kept from certain kinds of evil doesn't mean everyone else had. You have no clue what led her to those decisions." Alastair looked distanced. James managed to guess he's not been talking only about Grace. "You should talk to her. You may not forgive her, but you deserve to understand, to know why to hear the plain truth. And you should let her mourn what she could have had and lost."

James wasn't sure he fully comprehended. "I wouldn't have loved her. Even without the bracelet issue - my heart belongs to Cordelia."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked. "That not everyone had been kept from evil."

Alastair shrugged. "I met Tatiana Blackthorn only once. She's a madwoman. She doesn't seem like the kind of caring, kind mother to pet her daughter's shoulder. Besides, Grace seemed to be controlled by Tatiana, rather than working alone or alongside her."

"She took the love of my life away from me," James growled. "Nothing can atone for that."

"The love of your life is my sister," he reminded James. "I can hardly find the idea of her being heartbroken a good thing. And the one who caused this pain is not much liked, as well. But you shouldn't think that just because you would've done it otherwise, it was an option for her. You can't know what are the options in front of people. You can't know how they feel unless you talk to them. So talk to Grace, James. Then seek out my sister. If you love her like you claim you do, will you give up on her so easily?"

"No," James stood up, "I will not."

Alastair nodded. "why did you come and tell me about your little schemes? Why now?"

Now, after so much time of lying, why tell the truth? Why not keep it in its cage of delicately made lies?

James cut his gaze to the book on the table. Thomas answered instead in a quiet voice. "She is your sister. You must have been worried about her. We wanted to tell you because - because you deserve to know the truth and understand why things happened the way they did."

What Thomas did not say was what none of them wanted to admit. Cordelia ran away to Paris with Matthew. Even if she'll be back in only two weeks - they all were worried sick. James couldn't blame her, he was awful and blind. All of this was a mess. If she needed time to calm down in Paris, he couldn't deny it of her, even if he had a say in this choice.

Alastair studied Thomas, and James felt the half-Persian hadn't quite believed them. It was true - they needed his help in the future. But it was a start. "Anything else? A ghost friend? Another evil aunt?"

"No," Christopher affirmed.

"Good," Alastair said. James might have imagined it but he thought he saw Alastair sneak a glance at Thomas before standing up. "Now get out of my house. Risa will be here any minute."

~~~~

I- how?? Thank you so much, everyone!! 🙈 Thank you, you can't understand how much it means to me. 🥺

This is mind-blowing. Truly. For whatever reason you follow me, know that I love you <3

Tagging some of my mutuals, you are all wonderful and make my time here so much better (not all of them because my brain is all wonky, but I mean all of you): @kit-12 @littlx-songbxrd @pink-party-dino @shadowhuntertrash @gummybears-4u @itsdaughterofthemoon @mcrrythievcs @fictionally-fantastic @reyna-herondale I'll tag more but I don't want to bother anyone so... thank you!! I don't know what people find in my blog, but I am grateful, and I appreciate all of you endlessly.

[onf-headcanons]

ONF and their high maintenance S/O (mostly about makeups and manicures)

dislcaimer : I dont support the mentality of aegyoing/manipulating/sabotaging your partner to buy you stuffs. Gifts are gifts but its not their are not full responsibility. It is also not a duty/obligation for your partner to recognize delicate makeup product when they can't and buy you your makeup product as well.

What i am saying even though here is that bf gifting lipsticks it does not mean guys should do it and also does not mean that if your own bf could not do it then they dont love you. ok let go to hcs.

Hyojin

I think he will ask you to drop the heavy makeup after you two are comfortable with each other. To him it was not your makeup that impressed him to date you.

He is the type that "I don't get make up but ok you look good" type of person, I mean have you watched how he get ready to go out in the Berlin trip? He just do basic stuffs not even a delicate touch XD

I think because he has a sister back at home? But if you think he will at least know a bit of stuffs because he has a sister then you are wrong lol

But he does understand if you wanna doll up a bit. I think he personally appreciates those times when he caught himself felt that you are dazzling.

I think its cute that maybe you only do basic light make up when going out with him but then when you join him with his friends, you wanna look good so you will put on proper make up (not over heavy ones). But Hyojin be like , " oh, come on... Its just my friends XD"

He is the type that waits for you, unless you have really bad time management, he will come over to rush you. "Hey hey hey, we are gonna be late"

Does not interested at make up or beauty stuffs so he would always questions with curiosity when he saw stuffs like.. " Glue? for what? Eyelashes? Won't it be dangerous?" (Especially you are the type that watches make up vids)

Bonus, you are in charge of his skin care, most of the time.

another bonus, the type that laughs at you if you are the type that opens your mouth when you are drawing eyeline

Changyoon

Very similar to Hyojin so I will skip make up and focus on the nail polish

(Also expanding the Changyoon who loves your hand hcs)

He knows of nail polish and the basic stuffs like base, polish and top, but did not pay full attention on manicure and pedicure stuffs

So when the first time you brought out mini UV light to cure your nails, he goes " Woah they got stuffs like that? why no one told me? I spend minutes blowing at my nails to dry during BB era"

Bonus if you work in nail salon or pick up manicure as hobby, i think you might share a bit of design you found online and ask him his opinions. His will comment a bit.

Also you might grasp his hands and try out newly thought designs on his hands

Bonus if he blushes and burst into laughter until you jokingly snap at him, "Ya, its not the first time I do design test out using your hands? Why are you beet red?"

To go deep into his mentality, he does not hate make up, he gets it. But for manicure he acknowledges it as art expression of oneself as well.

I think he prefer short nail manicure, once you get a longer sharper designs and you cant do your task like how you did normally, Changyoon nags you.

Also Changyoon thoughts on fake nail stickers, "Super convenient!"

He would love to try do your manicures if he got the chance. Not just painting plain color, he might also try following designs that your show him.

Seungjun

He is a delicate boy hahahah (watch leaders Berlin trip then you will get it)

Not the type that can recognize different shades of lipstick or foundation, but he still have basic knowledge. I do see is the type that will keep in mind what color you uses and will present you your favorite lipstick color. Or even randomly choose 1 color that he thinks it might look good on you.

I think you two will stand side by side in front of mirror and do make up and help each other check a bit. Especially eye shadow color, and hairstyles (if it is outdoor date day)

The type that notices changes on you but will tease you by keep saying the wrong answers. "Hey you look different? Is it the eyeshadow? Or was it a new earring? eh I was wrong?*devilsh smile"

He has two sisters so he is used and knows that girls and high maintenance people wears makeup. BB cream at least.

Fascinated when he first time sees you do your own manicure, he saw Changyoon paint nails during BB era, but if it is his first time seeing you painting quite complicated nail design from scratch, he goes "OOOOOOH so thats is how it done? 0A0"

I think he might introduce his sisters to you if you are a makeup artist or if you work at nail salon

Bonus if you are the type that do really minimum skin care, because of his (idk if i am using the right word) eagerness of doing facial mask, you might pick that up too lol

Both of you having facial mask on and chilling on the couch watching TV

another bonus, you two bickering because either one of you made the other one laugh too much making the mask cracked if it is dried up cream type.

Jaeyoung

He is like a combination of Hyojin and Seungjun?

Not sure on his skin care stuff but he will do basic stuff and I think he focus on stylizing his hair more? (but unlike Seungjun, Jaeyoung is more on styling using wax and hairspray)

the type who cant tell difference in lipstick shade lol

He thinks light makeup with less procedure/product look good on you. Especially if you are the one who is super insecure and wakes up super early to do heavy but natural looking makeup before work

Owh special mention, natural shade/nude shade themed makeup is his favourite

He has high respect on people who are high maintenance, but if you are too over enthusiastic he will tell you to slow down and go light heart on it, "Its to boost confidence/feel good about yourself right? Its not to impress others by overdoing it right?"

If you are a tiktok-er. I think you might ask Jaeyoung to do the my boyfriend did my make up challenge (To add, you cant trust Hyojin and Seungjun on this cos high chance if their prank mode kick in, rip. Changyoon will do it tho but you need to persuade him. Jaeyoung and Minkyun are the easiest to ask)

If sometimes Jaeyoung caught seeing you watching manicure design vids or you happened to try out a new manicure design from tutorial you saw online, he will sit beside, try hard to not disturb you. But while watching he will goes "Uwa, Shingi hada/ this is intriguing/amazing." (Try watch Mini game heaven season 2 0316, when he is the one holding the word board, the face he make as he is watching the leaders appeared in my head when writing this lol)

bonus, if you are doing really intricate work like placing a small sticker or draw a small design or sticking a small trinket? on your nails, Jaeyoung will also focus with you by holding his breath as he watches you doing your tasks

Minkyun

You trusted this boy to do BF do my makeup challenge and you regret it soon after, but the view results are amazing lol

but i think their S/O might lowkey get trauma lol and always decline Minkyun offer to help do makeup hahah

But again, when he do try to do it properly, he is ok

bonus, you two had to get another mirror because Minkyun is standing in front yours to check himself out every time he styles his hair a single bit, and it delays your pace of doing your make up.

Appreciate effort of you wanna look good, also he is the type who sits behind S/O while waiting them to finish up makeup (others will wait outside, But Minkyun is the type I want see whole process of how their S/O "transform")

Also the one who will sit beside you as you do your own manicure, or, the bf who will sit beside their S/O at nail salon watching the whole process.

But his hands are busy as he is also curious, so he will reach out to check the nail polish bottle or even the UV cure machine

So, he is also the type that will follow you into Sephora or makeup selling shops (is not that the others wont follow, but I want to highlight specifically for Minkyun). Hands busy, checking out stuffs.

Unlike Seungjun, the type that really cant tell if you change new lipstick or switched new eyeshadow.

BUT I THINK THIS PERSON, HE WILL SUDDENLY DROP A NEON EYESHAOW OUT OF BLUE IN FRONT OF YOU WHEN YOU ARE PAYING. You are gonna fluster if you are not the type who do daring colors. Minkyun only giggles and say " You wont know if you don't like it if you try?"

the funny bit, its not even him paying when he wants you to try lol

He is more of skincare type person. Similar to Seungjun, both of you cuddling with sheet masks on.

Yuto

The one who sticks to basic stuffs, skincare mostly

Also the type who will try to do makeup challenge diligently, asking you how should he do it rather than making a mess on your face.

The type that gives you thumbs up and affirming nods when you ask him how do you look.

He won't comment too much or nags/persuade you to stop doing heavy makeup eventually because he respects effort and confidence boost behind your makeup/high maintenance mentality

But he is flustered when you suddenly did a "I did a instagram summer gal makeup and show my bf" (for example) as it was way different and you look different. The moment you suggest to make this makeup theme as your usual, YUTO PANICKED, "Stop, stop, Mon sori yo? / What did you just say?"

IF you are office worker, he will nag at you if you are thinking straight to wear that makeup to office lol

The type that just quietly follows behind you when you are doing your shopping tour at Sephora or makeup shop.

But he will stop you if he sees your eyes gleaming as you stand at lipsticks corner lol (If you are the type who loves to collect and have too much lipsticks)

Occasionally surprise you with your fave lipstick color as well. Especially on early days of the relationship, you think he is the type that does not care. But turns out he is observant (because it is you so he is observant at your favorite stuffs)

Owh... i think he will be the perfume sensitive type person? He will mention what type of fragrance that he think you will go along well with.

Also I think the type who will recognizes if you changed perfume. Also the type who recognizes if you used his.

He might ask you to try on a sample and then you two might get a couple lover perfume/fragrance.

A/n : finally T^T this draft is in draft for like what... 6 months??? T^T

[mysteriouslytransparentwitch]

5 unexpected exercises to regain self-esteem (it's a translation)

Self-esteem ... a bit of a fuzzy psychological concept for most of us. Yet we are all aware that low self-esteem can have devastating consequences in our lives.

Something not to be taken lightly then ...

Especially since it can directly impact your eating habits.

Are there solutions to increase your self-esteem?

Fortunately, the answer is "Yes"!

In this article, discover 5 easy (and rather unexpected) exercises to regain self-esteem.

If you tend to devalue yourself, then trust me, these exercises are a must!

A word of advice ... stick with it until the end because I will offer you a recognized test to assess your level of self-esteem at the end of this article.

This will allow you to know where you are and also to re-evaluate yourself shortly after performing the exercises regularly.

Pin it What is self-esteem? According to Wikipedia, self-esteem is "a term for the judgment or assessment made of an individual in relation to their own worth. ”

In other words, self-esteem refers to "how we see ourselves, how we assess our worth".

When we talk about self-esteem, we are therefore talking about the look and value judgment that we have on ourselves (and which does not necessarily have to do with the skills that we may have. ).

When self-esteem is positive, it allows you to:

➖ Feel good about yourself,

➖ Face the difficulties and trials of life,

➖ Take control over your actions.

You feel capable of accomplishing your goals and getting through to your projects.

You are determined!

A bit like putting on a super heroine costume ...

You are ready to challenge all obstacles!

Whereas negative self-esteem makes it really very difficult to take action and accept your mistakes.

You feel helpless in the face of events in your life. Demotivation sets in ... You feel incapable, weak, basically completely zero ...

As you can see, self-esteem is inextricably linked with the assessment of one's own skills.

If she is weak and fragile, it will be difficult for you to feel competent. Failures in your life will reinforce the lack of self-esteem and increase your feeling of worthlessness ...

And if that weren't enough, if you have low self-esteem, unfortunately you will tend to attract so-called "toxic" people 😬.

You know those “vampires” thirsty for the affection and energy of others?

These people know very well how to spot and take advantage of your weakness, if you are psychologically fragile.

Do you lack self-esteem?

Don't be surprised when you find yourself in toxic and demeaning relationships.

It makes sense when you think about it, since deep down inside you think you don't deserve better ...

So self-esteem is related to others? Indeed, positioning yourself in relation to others is one of the fundamental factors that allows you to adjust your self-esteem.

We all naturally tend to self-assess by comparing ourselves to others.

Whether in the professional or academic field (skills), but also on our physical aspect, in the material field (wealth and social rank), in our emotional and family successes or failures ...

If comparing yourself to others really weighs in with your self-esteem, so does the way others look at you.

Feeling loved and appreciated weighs heavily.

Finally, studies show that skills and performance are not necessarily good indicators of high self-esteem.

For example, students who are popular with their peers often have much higher self-esteem than students who are good in class (even if their academic performance is poor).

Self-esteem is therefore more linked to relationship aspects.

Moreover, parental attitude and style of education play a crucial role in the development of a child's self-esteem.

Supportive and caring parents will help their children to have high self-esteem even compared to overbearing or neglectful parents.

So you know what to do if you want to help your children not suffer from low self-esteem!

Speak encouraging, respectful words, show them affection, care and gratitude when they succeed in certain tasks that they deem important.

The impact of low self-esteem on diet: If you suffer from low self-esteem, you must also be feeling bad about yourself… Logical!

This is unfortunately part of the packaging as we have seen previously.

The risk of falling into depression is also much greater.

If your self-esteem is low, you also risk developing anxiety disorders and addictive behaviors (excessive consumption of sugar, chocolate, screens, etc.)

Feeling bad about yourself, devaluing yourself, thinking that you do not deserve the love and appreciation of others is THE main factor that leads to developing eating disorders such as bulimia, anorexia, or overeating.

The negative impact on all daily life is therefore very significant.

Really, don't take this aspect of your life lightly.

If you think you lack self-esteem, I suggest you perform these 5 very simple little exercises inspired by Positive Psychology, daily.

Do not underestimate them, it could really improve many facets of your life!

How do you improve your self-esteem?

1 / Self-awareness exercise A great sage said:

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift that's why it's called the present" (the mothers here will probably recognize this very ... literary reference! and no one laughs at my references 😂)

Becoming aware of yourself is the first link that allows you to develop your self-esteem. This is why I suggest you start with this exercise.

➡️ Every morning, take time to relax.

Preferably, before checking your emails, Instagram notifications, Facebook etc ... which only pollute your brain unnecessarily.

➡️ Take a notebook or journal.

Take 3 minutes to close your eyes for a moment and reflect on what you are feeling like emotions, sensations and feelings at that moment.

Do you feel sad, happy, tired, energetic, motivated, anxious…?

➡️ Write this in your journal without going into judgment or analysis.

Just try to write down as much detail as possible about how you are feeling physically and psychologically at this moment.

2 / Exercise on self-acceptance: Another aspect that goes hand in hand with self-esteem: self-acceptance.

It is necessary that you learn to support yourself rather than blame yourself. Encourage yourself, value yourself.

To help you accept yourself, there's nothing like asking your loved ones about your qualities and what they like about you.

➡️ Write all of this in your notebook and reread it whenever you feel you are devaluing yourself.)

Also take the time to remember your successes, the highlights of your life.

What are you particularly proud of? What can you rejoice in?

The exercise that I am offering you here to better accept yourself but also and above all your destiny (the Decree of Allah) is therefore to write down every evening 10 things that have made you happy during the day.

10 things for which you are grateful to Allah عز و جال.

By asking these questions to your consciousness, even if you are in a "bad mood", your brain will be forced to search for the answers.

This will force you to focus on the positive rather than your worries and trials, which can often seem more important to you than they really are, if you have low self-esteem.

Remember, glorifying Allah عز و جال and praising Him in all circumstances are part of the believer's duty, which will bring her the satisfaction of her Lord but also inner peace.

3 / stop comparing yourself to others Do you want to please me?

Focus on your own goals and stop comparing yourself to others!

You did not start at the same time as the others, nor do you have the same background, the same tests, and even less the same qualities and skills ...

So I am going to offer you a rather funny exercise here, you will see ...

This must have already happened ...

You are busy but silent and then you find yourself talking to yourself (internally or out loud, it depends on the seriousness of your case 😂):

"Bint Fulana is more beautiful, more intelligent, and in addition she kept a flat stomach despite her pregnancies ... She raises her children better than me, and then you have to face reality, she is also more pious because she knows the Koran by heart and not I, she often goes to meetings, while I rarely manage to do so with all my obligations at home… " Does that remind you of someone?

This little voice does not wish you any good! Be aware of this.

She just wants to make you feel guilty.

And if you listen to it, you are going to put pressure on yourself.

You'll never feel up to it and it might end badly.

Because what's the point of comparing yourself to people who have paths and personalities totally different from yours? It doesn't make sense, don't you think?

So ... once you realize this, I suggest you name that part of yourself that is trying to make you feel guilty!

As if she was a whole person… and above all, find him a very ridiculous little name.

The next time you find yourself having this kind of "inner talk," don't hesitate to call him out:

“Here is Medusa (or Cruella) coming!” (no you won't have dissociative personality disorder!)

You will see. This exercise will gradually lessen the weight of that bad voice on your self-esteem by ridiculing it and minimizing its impact on you.

You will also be more able to become aware of these internal discourses which have no benefit for your "sanity".

Don't laugh it really works, trust me!

4 / Exercise to increase self-love: By increasing your love for yourself, it will boost your self-esteem. And for that, you really have to learn to take care of yourself.

Think about ... what actions can you take each day to experience happiness, pleasure or take care of yourself?

So take your nice little notebook or journal every morning.

And, after performing the 1st exercise, think about the moments, actions or situations that have given you well-being and satisfaction during the last 7 days?

How did you feel ?

➡️ Write down what these situations or activities are and try to reproduce them as often as possible.

It can be very simple things like having breakfast in peace when everyone is still asleep, relaxing with a good bath, visiting your sister, spending time with your husband, doing a painting activity with your child. .

You should see a marked improvement in your mental state over time.

5 / Exercise to enhance the self-image: "Self-image is an individual's representation of themselves, including the physical aspect as well as the psychological one."

As this aspect is purely cognitive, it is easy to "reprogram" your brain to further enhance your self-esteem.

In cognitive behavioral therapy, we talk about cognitive restructuring.

Your mental images and thoughts depend on the cognitive process of processing information, although you may not always be aware of it.

By focusing on your cognitive patterns and dysfunctional beliefs, you can try to change the processes that cause you to think badly about yourself.

So my exercise is to try to modify these bad automatic thoughts by finding alternative thoughts that will improve your emotions and your self-image.

I'm talking about the famous positive affirmations!

➡️ Every morning, take your little notebook and after doing exercises 1 and 4,

Write down one or two positive affirmations, which you will repeat aloud at least 10 times, then as often as possible throughout the day.

Remember, we are talking about positive statements, so there shouldn't be any negative words in your sentence.

For example, you can start your sentences with:

"I am …"

"I want …"

"I can …"

"I like …"

Here are some ideas:

"I accept myself as I am",

"I love me as Allah created me",

“I am able بإذن الله to carry out my projects”,

“I am different and unique and this difference is my strength”…

And so you don't forget to repeat your positive affirmations, some apps can allow you to schedule notifications of your favorite positive affirmations at different times of the day.

Warning. This exercise will only be effective if it is repeated regularly, until your brain has fully integrated and accepted these statements as “truth”.

Here are the girls, for the 5 exercises that will help you regain your self-esteem.

Do you want to know if these exercises are really effective?

Ok. I suggest you take this little test which will allow you to assess your level of self-esteem.

This is a recognized test. It was developed by Morris Rosenberg, a sociologist. This scale is the most used by psychologists nowadays to assess the level of self-esteem, so it can be considered reliable.

To perform the TEST, click on this link: [FREE ROSENBERG TEST]

[im-whatchamccallit]

Meeting a Blind Fan During a Fansigning Event//Stray kids

(A/N: It’s kinda bad because wondering how they’d act actually had me stumped but I tried lmao)

Chan

(Back Door Chris has me whipper, I’m gonna cry)

Sad boy hours as soon as he starts asking questions about your blindness. Your conversation would go from a typical fan-idol interaction to a tearful discussion on how you live with your disability without letting it hinder you. Chris is just therapeutic in a way, or maybe like a close friend, letting you express yourself while also showing his genuine curiosity. He’d still crack jokes though, he wasn’t a fan of letting topics get too heavy (he cries easily), but he would always top it off with some heartfelt message about living life to the fullest. It wasn’t something you needed but it was appreciated. I can see him making a comment about being glad you hadn’t seen any embarrassing onstage fails from him because, again, who wants to end a great event on a sad note?

Minho

He’d be scared to hold your hands, treating you as if you’ll break at any moment and ultimately focus on the speaking part of your time together. Unfortunately, fansigning events can get a little noisy with so many people in one area, so he would have to move closer to you in order to give you the experience you paid for, but who knew simply leaning closer and holding onto your hands to balance himself would change the mood of the atmosphere? Minho would feel at ease seeing you actually enjoying yourself, realizing he was overthinking too much and just needed to be himself. His fanservice would go up by a million percent and he’d pretty much forget you were blind, going back to being the charismatic member everyone knows.

Changbin

Changbin would be careful with his words, seeming so unnatural as he spoke. The only things to make him his somewhat normal self (Changbin is kinda an awkward boi, he’s never normal) is to either focus on talking about him and Stray Kid’s music or maybe cracking a few jokes about your disability to let him know it shouldn’t be awkward, but he’s Binnie so you know he’ll still tiptoe around certain topics and words to not offend you and, honestly, who can be mad at that?

Hyunjin

He tries to remain casual but Hyunjin is very expressive with his facial expressions so it’d be obvious to everyone how hard he’s trying to treat you as normal as possible. On the bright side, this would be the first interaction of the day where a fan doesn’t comment on his looks, even if he loved the compliments he would appreciate praise of his rapping better, probably tearing up if you ever say you wish you could see him dance. Just hearing that you love him for his talents, even if it was only one talent of many, he’d be flustered and appreciative.

Jisung

Jisung would try to remain the idol you know: high energy, constantly talking and keeping you smiling before easing into the topic of your blindness. The conversation wouldn’t be long, just him allowing you to explain that you were born blind rather than it happening overtime and him asking to see your eyes. It was a bit weird for you but you obliged, showing your natural grey eyes only to be bombarded with praise. You never heard someone say your eyes complimented your skin and hair well but here you were, hearing it from a boy who stopped holding your hands to slip a bunny headband onto your head and call you cute. Jisung would try to be understanding and respectful, wanting to show he wasn’t fazed by your inability to see but not wanting to completely ignore it since it was part of who you are, but pitying you wasn’t something he’d want to do either.

Felix

TOUCHING WILL BE DONE (Stop thinking what you’re thinking, this is a wholesome reaction)! If you can’t see him, he’ll make sure you can at least feel him. He’ll tell you all about the jokes of his hands being tiny, he’d let you feel his dimples, he’d even let you play with his hair. He’s making the best of a situation he wasn’t prepared for, just wanting you to have the full experience of meeting them with the limitations you had.

Seungmin

He’s honestly the only one that would ask questions about your disability upfront. No awkwardness, no rambling in an attempt to hide his curiosity or concerns, just openness so that he could know you as a fan as much as you knew him as an idol. Seungmin would pretty much forget you’re blind, turning your interaction back into the normal Q&A moments he usually had with fans before sending you off to the next member, leaving you feeling refreshed after hours of people treating your accommodations like acts of pity. Seungmin is just the best boy.

Jeongin

(This was the hardest one to write omfg) So Jeongin isn’t usually shy and quiet but he would be when noticing you’re blind, only because one of his charming point is his mischievous behavior and jokes to his hyungs during these kind of events. Him making funny faces or taking a gift away and using it himself added to his charms as maknae. But if you couldn’t see it, having to wait seconds afterwards to hear from your aid what shenanigans he pulled to be able to laugh along with the others, it wouldn’t be as appealing. He’d be a bit out of place and awkward, trying to find a good way to keep you entertained but coming up with nothing, until he remembers he’s the youngest, that was charismatic on its own. He’d do the whole “You’re my noona” shtick (or “I’m your oppa” if you’re younger), finding a way to use his words to have your time with him enjoyable and fun, no visual aid or descriptions needed.

[drunken-drengr]

🥞 pancake, 🎁 present, 🚆 train, 🌟 glowing star, and ❤️ red heart for Karrie and/or Ragnar! :>

Thank you for the ask! You just know I gotta do both lol (and Happy Yule/Christmas since I'm doing this today!)

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Karrie isn't too picky when it comes to breakfast, she'll eat just about anything, as long as it gives her her needed energy to start the day. While it is true that the Skyhold cooks offer her extravagant foods that she had never even heard of in her Carta days, she craves the simpler foods. Yogurt, cereal, oats, fruits, whatever she could find to throw in the mix. Living on the streets most her life, she really came to appreciate those things. Top that off with a few strips of bacon and she's all good till dinner.

Ragnar is used to having flavorful food. He doesn't ever complain about his meals though, having them is blessing enough, though he finds himself wishing that his porridge wasn't so bland. Honey would be his comfort food for breakfast, or, add-on. It just makes everything taste so much better. Honey + a bit of bread and he's satisfied.

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

Karrie would be happy to receive most anything, as long as she can put it to good use. She likes gifts that can be practical, and that she can get years of use out of. An axe sharpener, furs, paper and pencil even. Ideally, she doesn't want anything that'll sit on her desk collecting dust (aside from Blackwall's wood carvings(she will frequently dust those.)) And no, Karrie wouldn't consider herself good at gift giving, at least. She often has no idea what to get someone, and spends too much time over thinking. In the end her gifts often turn out great, but she herself is not great at it all. Holidays are a time of stress for her.

Ragnar loves gifts with meaning behind them. They don't have to be extravagant or costly, he wants something he can cherish. He's the type of guy to go for the card attached to the present first, rather than the present itself. And yes, Ragnar is an amazing gift giver, if he has enough money. He always has an idea of what to get others, and isn't too keen on the idea of giving anything less than they deserve.

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

Karrie's go-to answer? Do nothing. It isn't her problem, she isn't involved, so why should she involve herself? She'll let nature run its course, she'll tell herself that it isn't her place to decide the fate of others. At least that's what pre-Inquisition Karrie would say. For the most part, she still has that mindset, that she can't afford to meddle in other's affairs. Many times she finds herself walking away from situations that don't involve her. But there's a part of her reminding her of all the times that she did take matters into her own hand, played the hero. But then again, she was obligated to, wasn't she? She had to make those choices, and if she helped, it was because she wanted to make that decision, felt like doing some good. In the trolley situation, she doesn't feel she must do anything. But then again, wouldn't it be a good thing if she switched the tracks? All in all, it's complicated, but her answer depends on her own situation. As Inquisitor, she would be obligated to do something, so she would switch the tracks. But if it really were up to her, she'd most likely walk away. No one's blood will be directly on her hands.

Ragnar has more of a selfless mindset. He'd weigh his options, and while he wouldn't want anyone to die, he'd much rather decrease the casualties. Thus, he would switch the track, despite that chance that he might be held responsible for those people's deaths, the consequences of his actions are those he is willing to accept if that means he did what he did for the greater good.

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

Karrie thinks about a lot of things. She usually associates the night sky with loneliness, as often times the stars were her only companions on the cold nights in the streets of the Free Marches. But not a bad loneliness, a good one, even. The quiet feels nice, and she's left alone with her own murmured thoughts. She thinks about the universe as a whole, the world around her, places she wishes to explore, places she has never heard of. The night sky lets all her worries fade away into the black gaps between the twinkling stars. But, after Inquisition, the stars have a whole new meaning. She becomes more observant, especially after dealing with so many Astrariums. If she stares for too long, her worries will come back to her, she'll start looking for patterns when there aren't any. If anything, she'd be happy to star gaze with Solas. She feels that anyone else wouldn't be able to get on her same vibe. She recognizes him as an observant and insightful man, whose thoughts on the night sky she wouldn't mind breaking the silence.

All Ragnar can think of is 'why?' Why are those stars up there? What are they exactly? How could no one down below go without such a sight? He's filled with wonder when he gazes longingly up into the night sky, yet also sorrow. He's sorry, that he didn't see it sooner, that no one in Orzammar could ever appreciate such a sight. But he's also content with knowing he has seen it, and he can see it whenever he likes. If he were to star gaze with someone, it would be Morrigan or Alistair. Perhaps Leliana as well. Perhaps Morrigan could explain to him the meaning of the night sky with that silver tongue of hers, or perhaps Alistair and Leliana could give him words of hope inspired by what the night sky shows them.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Touch. Karrie is no good at conveying her love other than by physical affection, which means a great deal to her considering she is demisexual. If she allows you to touch her, or she ends up touching you more often, you can take it as a sign of her love, which is very hard to get out of her at all. She won't say she loves you, but the way she leans up against you, caresses you, wraps her arms around you to the point where you can feel her soft breaths against your skin says it all. Her touch can be rough at times, but that means all the more to her. She has been so affection-starved, so touch-starved nearly her entire life, she has many issues with touching people at all. She'll refuse handshakes, get irritated if one stands too close to her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to have touch in her life.

Actions. Acts of servitude, even. Ragnar wants to show those he cares about how much they mean to him, and while he has a hard time doing so, or even saying 'I love you,' he still manages to show it. Actions are the easiest, most natural for him. It's just common sense to do thoughtful things for the ones you love, things that they don't expect anyone to do for them.