#like i wrote this in maybe an hour

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

"nobody wants to work anymore" but a low paying casual retail job wants you to travel to a capital city you don't live in, which is a considerable distance and time travelled from you (when you actively have a branch of this shop in your LOCAL shopping centre, 15mins down the road); for a group interview assessment centre. they then make you CONGA LINE into the said group interview with party poppers and streamers. like ma'am. I don't care how "ironic hipster millennial and 90s nostalgia" and "life of the party" this brand is supposed to be. but I ain't conga lining into this interview like a fucking clown. fuck some hiring managers and HR depts, honestly.

[citrine-elephant]

i'm right here.

rough concept for a "what if leon had a major panic attack and chris helped him stay grounded" writing experiment..

[slashmagpie]

Scar has had a day.

A fun day, certainly! He would never say that he didn’t have fun. That would be a lie, and Scar is not a liar. (A schemer, a swindler, yes, but a liar? Why, he’d never!) But several hours of running Decked Out, one near-death-experience after another, has him shaking all over. He’s sweating in places he didn’t even know he could sweat, and his heart is pounding even faster against his ribcage than the dungeon’s at max clank. 

But he had fun, and he’s achieved his goal of two new cards and a victory tome, so he’s about ready to head home to Scarland for some nice relaxing time—

There is something in the hallway with him.

The hair on the back of Scar’s neck prickles, and he can feel the ravager’s breath against his skin, a sudden rush of hot air in the otherwise frozen crypts. He feels his body freeze, lungs ceasing to function without permission, and he needs to run, needs to flee, he’s going to lose—

“You got lucky at the end there. When you were leaving? There was a ravager coming at you across the thing—”

“Oh gosh!” Scar stumbles backwards, heart in his throat, looking up at Tango as he approaches Scar and his shulker deck across the hall. His words spill out of him so fast he stumbles over the sounds, and Tango stops, staring, as Scar nearly keels over backwards from fright. “Jeez, Tango, oh my gosh, I thought you were a ravager, I’m a little still paranoid, it’s been a—a captivating day—”

Scar’s back hits the blackstone rim of the door behind him, and the sudden terror he’d felt at Tango’s presence suddenly vanishes, leaving him sagging against the wall. Tango blinks owlishly, looking around the dungeon like he’s missed something. 

“H-Hi? Do I…?” Tango looks down at himself, like he’s expecting to see something different, like he might suddenly be a beast with shaggy grey fur and deadly horns, and not a Tango in his frosty blue robes. A laugh wheezes its way out of Scar as the relief turns into an odd sort of dizziness. He feels a little sick. “Wow. Scar? You okay…?”

Scar pulls himself out of the corner, towards his friend, because Tango is his friend, and he’s just—he’s just Tango. Not a ravager, or any other kind of danger, just Tango, who’s spent the last thirteen months making this amazing game for all of the hermits, and who Scar is not scared of.

“Y-Y-You get heightened tension, right, when you play? It’s crazy, like—”

“You are on edge,” Tango tells him with a laugh, and Scar laughs along.

“I was on edge!” he agrees, opening his shulker once again so that he can avoid Tango’s gaze. There’s something about his eyes that are just—Scar doesn’t know. He’s not afraid of Tango. Why would he be afraid of Tango?

“Rarr,” Tango jokes, the worst ravager impression in the world, bearing his teeth and raising his hands like claws, and Scar does not jump. “And stuff.”

…Everything is fine, and normal, and Scar just needs—needs to go back to Scarland. And relax. Because his heart is beating too fast, and he’s played a lot of Decked Out, and he’s had a lot of fun, but he’s jumping at shadows, and at Tangos, and that—that simply won’t do.

(And he does not entertain the notion, not even a slightest bit, that maybe it’s not just him—that maybe there is something going on with Tango—because, really, it’s just Tango. Come on.) 

[zukkaoru]

My ninth grade English teacher walks us through the prologue of Romeo & Juliet, explaining how it serves as a synopsis of the play, and how it spoils the ending. Here are our characters, here is where they live, here is why their love is forbidden. You will spend the next two hours learning to love them only for their blood to spill across the stage. This is the only ending they were ever meant for.

There is no universe in which Romeo & Juliet can survive.

jujutsu kaisen, gege akutami || a collection of tragedies, zukkaoru (march 15, 2023)

[id in alt text]

[adhdtsukasa]

prosekai au where everything is absolutely the same except niigo, instead of being a music circle, is a fanfiction writing-ish group. kanade is a writer, mafuyu is her beta reader, ena makes fancomics based on kanade's fanworks and mizuki makes trailers for upcoming fics. and basically that's it. niigo lore but everything revolves around them being wattpad ao3 users

[theperksofbeingstupid]

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit moved into their new house six weeks ago after the tragic death of Roier's son. Roier's partner (what was her name again?) slowly stopped talking to him after that, and they didn't need such a big house anymore so. They move.

It's a nice house, all things considered. One floor, big windows that let in light all day, a porch, nice backyard. No extra bedrooms.

Cellbit has claimed a corner of the living room as his office. He put up a corkboard on one wall and is steadily covering it with newspaper clippings and red string. His desk is cluttered with books and notes and coffee stains, and every time Roier passes by, his footsteps stir up dust that he was so sure he'd cleaned.

The sun sets early now. It gets dark so fast that Roier has to flick on the lights or else Cellbit will ruin his eyes trying to read his handwriting by the dim light of the television they never turn off.

Roier watches it sometimes. He doesn't know where they left the remote and he can't really be bothered to get up and change the channel. They're always playing some menial drama, or cycling through commercials for products he'll never need. He can never quite remember what the story is about.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit sleep in the same bed every night. Technically.

Roier is tucked in at 10pm sharp every night. Cellbit doesn't drag himself into their bedroom until at least four in the morning and he barely remembers to slip out of his clothes before he's crashing into the sheets.

Roier wakes up at 7am on the dot and wanders into the kitchen to make breakfast. He gets dressed. He cleans the house. He doesn't think about the face he's forgetting, a child he loved and clutched tightly to his chest as he bled out all over his lap. He doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't think about it he doesn't-- Roier clicks on the coffee machine at 1pm and waits for Cellbit to groan awake and stumble into his seat at the table.

They kiss, usually. When Roier is cooking dinner, Cellbit will press up against his back and dig his face into Roier's hair and they're happy. Cellbit will plop a wet kiss on Roier's cheek when he thinks he's being quiet while getting into bed. Roier cherishes each and every one, they melt into his skin like the snowflakes they used to crumple into snowballs to throw at each other. Before, back when--

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit love their new house. It's perfect in every way possible. It has furniture, it has a bathroom with two sinks so they can brush their teeth together in the mornings. It has big windows that let in the light all day, a porch, nice backyard. There is only one bedroom.

They don't have many neighbours, not that they'd know. They stick to themselves mostly, Cellbit in his makeshift office and Roier wandering the house, dragging his knuckles along the bare walls. He thinks he remembers paint, covering marker stains and scratching out height marks and hand prints in three different sizes. But the walls are always blank.

Cellbit forgets to use a coaster, and he keeps knocking over empty coffee mugs all over his papers. Roier hasn't tried reading them in weeks. He wonders if they make as much sense as the books on the singular shelf in their bedroom.

Roier takes care of the house while Cellbit works. It's an equal exchange, especially considering that when Roier cooks Cellbit has to do the dishes, keep them as sparkling clean as everything else in the house. The laundry machine is tucked away in the far corner of the kitchen, with no dryer in sight. He piles it with clothes he didn't bother to sort from the hamper, shoving in towels and socks and shirts all in one load. They always come out fine anyways, the colour bleached out by the rigorous washing cycle.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit got married three years ago in a small venue with close friends and family present. It was a sweet ceremony, they kissed tenderly at the end, Cellbit ugly cried when they exchanged rings, and Roier got frosting smeared all over his white suit.

Two months later they moved into their old place, decorated a child's bedroom, took care not to step on any toys, and lived their happily ever after.

Until they couldn't anymore. But everything is fine, they have a new house now, and it's wonderful. It didn't cost much to buy it, the location is nice, everything is clean and crisp and ready for a brand new start.

Cellbit runs out of red string one evening, but Roier offers him white thread he was using to mend one of his jackets and everything is fine.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit are in love. They do everything for the other, they're family, they're best friends, they're lovers.

They only have each other.

Roier watches tv and cooks dinner, Cellbit sits at his desk and covers the corkboard with more and more pages until it's no longer visible. He gets into the habit of adding milk to his coffee, the taste too bitter and grating otherwise. And every afternoon when he arrives at the kitchen, his splash of milk in the mug grows longer and longer. It's fine, they're changing.

There was a point in time when they were saving up for a car. Something dependable that they could trust to withstand tiny kicking feet and mudstains, that could travel to volleyball practice and then to work with no trouble.

Now, Roier wanders the house and thinks about nothing. He thinks about his nothing walls and his nothing furniture and his nothing dinner. He thinks about his everything husband and his nothing life. He thinks that he might've lost his bandana in the wash the other day, but Cellbit likes it when his hair hangs loose.

Cellbit's hair hangs loose also. It's soft when Roier cards his fingers through the strands and wonders if it was always more white than brown. Was it ever not white? He's always had light brown hair, but something itches in the back of his brain that makes him pause and question whether Cellbit's hair was ever that light also. Clearly he's not sleeping enough, it's just the sunlight from the windows bleaching their hair.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit have a lovely new house far away from the bustle of the city. They love it here.

They don't have to worry about anyone bothering them while they're at home, and their fridge is always stocked with plain yoghurt and tofu and chickpeas. Roier is working on fixing Cellbit's diet.

They eat dinner together, holding hands over the table. They watch mindless tv before bed. They brush their teeth together in the morning. Roier thinks about how much he loves Cellbit, and Cellbit looks at Roier like he hung the moon. They don't worry about crayon lines on the walls or jello splotches on the sofa. Roier doesn't worry about the phantom feeling of a small body cooling in his lap lingering every time he gets dressed for the day. Cellbit doesn't worry about the gasping pain in his chest or the papers he doesn't remember writing.

It starts like this.

Roier and Cellbit love each other, and they love their new house.

Roier and Cellbit don't have anyone else, just the white walls and the white furniture and their white clothes. Why would they need anyone else?

Roier and Cellbit got sold a new house by a man who was also a bear. And they never want to leave.

Roier and Cellbit are happy.

Roier and Cellbit are safe.

Roier and Cellbit have been missing for six weeks, if you have any information please call--

[kinokoshoujoart]

CORRECT TAGS‼️‼️‼️‼️ @rn0na-lizard you are so so so correct….. my favorite ‘Normal Girl’ in hmds…….i almost never see anyone talk about these aspects of her let alone also love her for them as they should.

i feel like Leona/ DS lumina gets mischaracterized super often which is understandable bc out of all the DS candidates leona is the least like her ancestor (who i also love, for different reasons).

in AWL lumina was the only kid in the valley for a very long time, but many of the DS residents have lived in the valley their whole lives. while lumina had accepted her role as a proper young heiress by chapter 3 of AWL— and when DS begins Leona already at this point of her life— lumina still had a lingering sense of uncertainty and angst and loneliness and doubt, and unresolved worries about her parents. absolutely none of this is present with leona

in this world leona starts with Lumina’s 22 year old appearance, she’s just rich as hell and living her best life (as she deserves), she’s unabashedly shallow, puts herself first always, speaks so politely and affably yet she can be so casually cruel in the most genuine cute way and out of touch with reality and and i fucking love her and i’d die for her. my beloved girlboss girlkeep girlypop

more iconic Leona Moments

when muu/muffy asks for beauty advice leona’s recommendation is “this brand of mail order beauty cream is simply divine! and it was quite inexpensive too, just 100,000 G 🥰” everyone else looks uncomfortable and muu is like “you’re as frivolous as always….”

aside from the 3 who take literally half your money (Witch💖, moi, and thomas) leona and panama (romana) take the most money from you if they carry you home when you faint. just a couple of girl bosses holding on to their girlpire (btw shout out to sebastian, the only resident in the entire valley who carries you home for free)

neither panama nor leona attend the harvest festival, they send sebastian there by himself to test the food first lmao (if you poison it like the witch they’re harboring on their property requires you to do, sebastian is just like “i can’t serve this to Mistress Panama…”)

once again sebastian attacks mukumuku for her sake, this time not to make her a paintbrush but she told him to get her the best slippers and this was apparently the easiest way. sebastian gets fucking mauled btw

leona has hands down the best romance route in hmds. all her scenes are incredible but god the slow burn friends to lovers with your DVD player….

in her purple heart event she shows up at your house because she heard you have a DVD player, asks you to show her how it works, and then just leaves after she’s done playing with it

in her yellow heart event she has sebastian fetch van so she can buy a DVD player for herself but van’s like “i’m so sorry …. Pete… bought the last one….”

leona is so unable to stomach the idea of other people having things she doesn’t that she starts to cry and the only way to placate her is to tell her she can go to your house anytime she wants just so she can use your DVD player. that’s not a setup to a budding romance that’s her final heart event

it’s the most incredible romance arc in the world like girl you have infinite money you can just. buy a DVD player somewhere else?? “i want to watch DVDs at my house just like you!” leona you have three entire bedrooms

“rich girl love interest who has everything except love, win her heart by having genuine conversation with her”: done to death, tired, i don’t have time for that

“rich girl love interest who has everything except a fucking DVD player, win her heart by giving her expensive stuff and ‘relax tea’ and access to your DVD player”: audacious, intriguing, never been done before, innovative

if you deny her god-given right to access your DVD player she is like “Is that so……………Just let me be alone for a little bit.” incredible tragedy i understand. take as much time as you need to grieve darling

oh but her first heart event asks you to pick a side in an argument she’s having with panama and the correct answer is to say “sebastian is the one who’s wrong” (sebastian has said nothing wrong this whole time and yet both of them have just been yelling at him to shut up)

and her blue heart event is “help me find this heirloom necklace… boohoo…” and when you find it she’s like “perfect! now grandma won’t get mad at me. hmm, you seem pretty dependable…♡” augh she’s way too good at this…….!!! i’ll do anything for you!

when you propose she says “of course, i always dreamed of having a romance and a wedding♡” and says nothing abt how she feels about you <3

also if you marry her, once a week she goes to hang out at her ex love interest’s place for 6 hours straight and comes home saying “whew… i had so much fun that i must have lost track of time… i’ll hurry on home”

if you marry another girl she starts flirting with you like “I’m so envious of your wife, having such a fine husband… Pete.” (or whatever your name is)

i’ve become obsessed with her and romeo’s horrible trainwreck soap opera marriage since replaying cute in jp… it’s SO… i have so much to say about them that it should be its own post but i’ll just give the cliffnotes

shotgun wedding vibes. romeo is surprised by his own wedding. they’re childhood friends but he himself has never considered marrying her. her words to him at their wedding are “Make me happy♡” (command)

she understandably can’t stand his terrible table manners or his clothes or anything about him (except that she wants to watch him surf and have his child. but he instead walks in circles all day. coward) and he’s both really good at accidentally stepping on landmines and just ever so slightly majorly terrified of her after marriage (“but surely her angry outbursts are just her way of showing love hahahahaha” you’re going to die. she’s going to kill you). the only positive things they say about their marriage are extremely shallow. they can’t communicate with each other because romeo always says the Dumbest Shit obliviously and leona always responds by cutting him out of her life forever!!!!!! (for 5 seconds) while he has no idea what happened

they are both so melodramatic and they both just do nothing except make each other worse and run away from each other and push each other away but they can’t escape each other. neither of them ever has to grow or change if they marry each other because an elderly overworked man is sustaining both of their existences and neither of them can take care of themselves and i love them your honor

also romeo’s first crush as a kid was apparently her mom, and if leona falls for YOU she flirts by mentioning that sebastian says you look like the spitting image of her dead father. dear fucking god

they’re the epitome of “You're both just enabling each other's mental illnesses. You're both perfect for each other. Never change. Just never involve anybody else in what you've got going on.”

romeo really does feel like her stupid lackey. like the karen to her regina. they even had this dynamic in the games they played as kids… she was the Harvest Goddess and he was Servant A/Minion A (they might still be playing this game as adults…he calls her lady/mistress sometimes after marriage…)

btw leona’s best friend (wife) marivia is also just as… there’s an event where they just gossip about all the mineral town ppl and marivia says ann would win a gluttony contest and they both giggle

there’s also an event where marivia casually walks into Witch’s hut and just interviews her so she can write her into a novel. witch is left completely drained by this exchange. leona and marivia both are so chill about the horrible cruel villainess living in leona’s shed who wants the town poisoned and rewards you for killing animals and hurting yourself and is putting curses on everyone (and they’re right. she’s never done anything wrong in her life)

[mihai-florescu]

I posted this on priv last week but imagine being an eichiP. Falling in love with eichi's story of second chances, getting what you want and regretting your actions in the process, redemption, desperation, overcoming fate and asserting one's self into the story, saving a school in a dying industry that saved your life by giving you a dream, an arc fulfilling to the reader at the end of ! era. And then in !! he becomes an idol colonialist

[finifugue]

Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Oh my darling, Your laughter feels like home.

I feel it reverberate deep inside my chest where my insecurities used to lie.

How many years have I spent drowning? Siphoning water fruitlessly through my gils, only to learn that when I breathe you in, it is lungs that blaze with life.

Your words... the cadence of your voice, the earnestness of your passion...I feel it, like the blood in my veins, rushing to keep my heart from ceasing to beat. I feel every enunciation like a stamp, temporarily branding me with your thoughts, your fears, your loves...

It's so easy to fall into step with you... back and forth we go, bouncing one thing after the next off of each other-- two poets weaving threads of wonder into an elaborate tapestry of words.

"I long for you," every moment we're apart is an uncomfortably lacking statement. The sentiment is apt, but lacks the intensity at which I pine for every instant we share.

The numbness of being not quite right has left me cold for so long, and yet you ignite in me an inferno of acceptance and affirmation that has transformed me. I am no longer the cracked shell I once was-- nay, I am a shining entity of love and awe that blossoms in the wake of your brilliance. The pattern of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin, the thirst quenching taste of your breathe mingling with mine...I am not myself without you Edward. I pray that you do not linger for longer than necessary-- for your absence has left me bereft.

[nile-the-empathy-cleric]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022), Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Original Characters, Original Therapist character Additional Tags: Armand goes to therapy, Therapy, Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Autistic Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Mentioned Marius de Romanus, Minor Armand/Marius de Romanus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Slavery, Vampire Turning, Devil's Minion Era Happened (Interview with the Vampire TV 2022), POV Alternating Series: Part 1 of Therapy with the Vampire Summary:

Armand goes to therapy. That's it, that's the fic

@mylu @marmarthehatterverse @calipsan @emeraldinerosefaedragon @captainfanoftheceiling @slapjacq as promised, Vampires go to therapy, a work in progress. Thank you for being interested in my idea!

[yasminhananis]

Kenstewy fic recs please? I've read all the big ones. after something I might have missed...

ooooooh

im assuming you’ve read all of like the scandinavian defense and their other fics, stewyonmolly ofc, and to me depressedbarbie is another huge one

um the last kenstewy i read read i think was this around valentine’s which i remember really liking

scrolling though my history which is incomplete as i only log in half the time but here’s a few maybe you haven’t read <3

moonrocks one / two (actually like all of their stuff so three) wait this one actually

this and others by coldhome

these two and others by a_hand_outstretched (this too)

arbitrary as always

im a sucker for something shorter/mid length but i hope there’s a few here you haven’t read

scrolling though my history and might add a few more but now im just rereading. i could make a proper list one day maybe if anyone wanted that <3

[thrilling-oneway]

i'm not sure if this is me overthinking things or my media gcse is actually paying off but i wanted to talk about this detail from pandemonium that i haven't seen anyone else point out.

(this kinda unravels into a character study halfway through don't question it)

in chapter 5 (subs here), Shizuku talks about a childhood memory where Tsukasa intervened in an argument her friend group was having. She adds that this interaction made her realise that Tsukasa is the kind of person who really values his friends. Fast forward a second and Shizuku has complimented Tsukasa to the point of embarrassment, Rui teases him over it and Tsukasa gets annoyed and asks what kind of person he takes him for.

Specifically what I want to talk about is Rui's response to that, or lack of response, since he never gets the opportunity before the group moves on to their next tour spot. Internally we see that he agrees with Shizuku's take that Tsukasa is the kind of person who loves his friends a lot, remembering that Tsukasa had been looking out for him and encouraging him to make friends during the trip. He ends up coming to the conclusion that Tsukasa's happiness comes from seeing his friends happy, which makes sense, since we already knew it works the same with Saki. As I said though, he never gets to actually say that out loud.

Kind of.

While I wouldn't question it if only Shizuku had mentioned this detail about Tsukasa and the scene had moved on, the fact that they added that little bit on the end with Rui realising that statement is true makes me go into delusional media student mode.

Point #1: HOLY SHIT the Rui character development in this event was insane. That deserves its own post which I will write some other time but I was genuinely not expecting this to be the end of his first character arc. I mean, we still haven't got the last WxS event of the season yet so they might throw in an epilogue, but this felt like a proper conclusion to his character arc. Rui started out as someone who didn't have any close friends, he was lonely, and in this event he's finally starting to make friends outside of other MCs and actually coming to terms with the fact that, yes, his friends do care about him and his wellbeing. To put it shortly, he feels loved.

Point #2 slash Point #1.5: I said kind of. Does he answer Tsukasa's question out loud at the time? No. It was kinda rhetorical anyway but shhhh. But. Does he answer it later? Yes absolutely. Chapter 8 specifically (no fan TL yet so I'm running off DeepL and wiktionary as normal). You see what I said above, about how they could've just left it with Shizuku saying that Tsukasa is someone who cares about his friends and then just moved on? Yeah this is what I mean. The whole event still works if you remove the part with Rui. But including it does add a little set up for chapter 8. What kind of person does Rui think Tsukasa is?

Chapter 8 is where Rui outright admits that Tsukasa changed his life. Without Tsukasa inviting him to join WxS, he never would've gotten close with Nene again, never would've met Emu, never would've had friends. And thanks to that, he's now able to keep making new friends. He's happy. Thanks to Tsukasa, he can be happy now. Ship or not, Tsukasa impacted Rui's life a lot. Going back to chapter 5 of the event, that's where Rui realises that his friends, or Tsukasa specifically, actually cares about his wellbeing and his happiness, something which he wouldn't have been able to say a few months prior in-universe. Again, ship or not, Tsukasa is like. the most important person in his life right now.

Point #3 slash 2 / 1.5 part 2: This one's less media student and more overthinking it but still a media student. But whatever. Anyway, maybe I'm thinking too hard about the fact that Rui specifically outlines that Tsukasa's happiness comes from seeing his friends happy, but like. I wonder if that realisation is part of the reason why he even told Tsukasa all of that. Like. He's not normally very honest about his feelings, hell he doesn't even realise them half of the time. Even in his last WxS event, he never told the other members about the job offer Asahi gave him, he doesn't even realise how much the prospect of leaving WxS was hurting him until Asahi had to take back the offer for him because of how sad and pained he looked when he accepted it. So the fact that he's fully aware that yes, Tsukasa had an impact on his life, yes, he feels like he's loved and cared for by the people around him, yes, he actually wants to make friends, yes, he's truly happy - it really sticks out, the fact that for like the first time, someone didn't have to tell him this to his face. It sticks out that he even admitted it out loud to the person his feelings revolve around.

But trail back up again to where I mentioned chapter 5. Tsukasa's happiness comes from his friends' happiness. Rui is a much kinder character than people give him credit for. I don't think it would be out of the question for him to want to give back some of the genuine happiness Tsukasa gave him. I mean he says it, right? He thanks Tsukasa for giving him the chance to change his life. And it does make Tsukasa happy to hear that Rui is happy; he says he's welcome, but still points out that Rui came to this point by his own will as well. He's happy that Rui was able to turn his life around.

Like literally the very last thing said in the event. Rui finally has friends, people who love and care for him. He's finally genuinely happy.

Fufu. I'm sorry Tsukasa-kun, but …… this is also going to be a fun memory for me! You really make me smile a lot, Tsukasa-kun! And with those smiles, I will make new friends and new relationships.

Bye I'm gonna go cry in a corner I love this event sm.

[hannah-heartstrings]

            “You ever notice that no matter what happens, the stars keep shining? The sun keeps rising, the flowers keep blooming. Either they don’t know the world is ending, or they don’t care, or… or maybe they know everything will be OK.”

[ghastlybats]

Anatomy of a Ghost

Steddie, Steve Harrington POV, angst, not actually that steddie-focused but its there

(this is sort of angst with ambiguous ending, I just have a lot of thoughts about the way people treat Steve in regards to Barb's death, and the possibilities of Steves own misconceptions about it and his lack of support system. Honestly I could write an essay about this.)

wc: 1,859

cw/warnings: themes of survivor's guilt, some of this could be dissociation idk

summary: there's a dead girl standing at the edge of Steve's pool, and he's convinced that his house is being sucked into the water. he hasn't slept in a while.

There’s a dead girl outside, and the house is being sucked into the pool. 

Every night, Steve sat on the floor in front of the sliding glass doors and stared at it, watched the pool get closer and bigger. He didn’t need his bat, Barb never moved. She always stood in the exact same spot, right there in front of him on the other side of the eerie blue water. Her clothes were always dripping. He would watch the puddle below her grow with each droplet. 

When it all started, he might have shrugged it off. Steve used to think he was a reasonable, logical person. Maybe not smart, but he was pretty sure, once, that his house could not possibly be sucked into his pool. The pool was too small to hold the whole house. 

Actually, though, there wasn’t much in a house. Mostly drywall and spongy insulation. Some wood, some granite countertops. Metal, glass. Shag carpet and kitchen tile. Maybe his whole house could fit into the pool after all, once it had collapsed and broken. And as he watched the pool, night after night, the truth became undeniable; like a black hole, the pool was pulling him into it. 

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that the moment he stepped out into the yard, he would be dragged under the water. So instead, he kept the doors closed and locked and he sat on the Persian rug, picking at the fibers and staring out at the pool, knowing that there would come a day that it devoured him. 

Barb knew it too. She stood at the edge of the water and looked down at him. Even when he tried to talk to her, he could find no words, and so he never did. It seemed like she was alright with that arrangement, because she never tried to speak either. She wasn’t the one making his house collapse into the pool. She was just a bystander, the same as Steve. Sometimes, he thought she might be looking at him in pity. 

That night, it was storming. The pool was closer than ever before. It was two forty-seven in the morning, but Steve didn’t know that. Upstairs, his walkie-talkie has been going off constantly for the past three hours, but he didn’t know that either. The rain and the crash of thunder masked the sounds of the house. He couldn’t hear each droplet of water that rolled off of Barb’s hands like he usually could. He didn’t hear the knocking on his door, or the shouts of his name. He did not hear the turning of the lock. 

That night, the edge of the pool was mere inches away from the doors. Steve was wondering what it would feel like to drown. He had actually considered asking Barb about it. He hadn’t bothered, though, had figured she wouldn’t hear him over the sounds of the rain. 

There was a flash of lightning. Silence for several seconds before the roll of thunder. 

“Steve?” Said a voice from behind him. 

Steve flinched violently. For the first time in maybe weeks, in the dead of night, he pulled his eyes away from the pool to look at Eddie. 

“What are you doing, man? Are you okay?” Eddie stood in the doorway to the living room, hair damp and face pale in the lightning that flashed again from outside. That split second of light was enough to see the concern on his face. 

“I’m keeping an eye on things,” Steve told him. Thunder. Eddie stepped farther into the room, until he stood just at the edge of that glowing rectangle of light seeping in through the windows. 

“Don’t want to disturb her, so I leave my walkie upstairs.” Steve turned his gaze back to the edge of the pool. Eddie followed suit. 

“Disturb who, Steve?” He asked. 

“Barb. You’ll see her when the lightning strikes again, she’s kind of hard to make out in the dark,” Steve explained, matter-of-factly. 

The lightning came again. 

“Steve, I… I don't see her. I don't think…” Eddie said quietly. The thunder rumbled. 

“Just wait. Maybe you missed her.”

Eddie didn’t speak. Steve didn’t look at him. The pool was still only inches away. 

“Have you been doing this every night?” 

Steve began picking at the rug again. “The house is getting sucked into the pool,” he explained. 

Eddie said nothing. 

“It’s not her fault, she’s not the one doing it. The pool gets closer every night. Its only a few inches away now.” 

“Steve, it's… it's the same as it always was.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed. “No. It’s— I can see it getting closer,” he insisted. 

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you slept?” 

Steve didn’t have an answer for that. Days kind of started blurring together, he hadn’t kept count of nights.  

“If the house is collapsing into the pool, then we need to get you out, okay? Let’s get you some clothes and a toothbrush and you can come stay with me for a while, the van’s outside and it should even still be warm,” Eddie murmured, and put a gentle hand right between Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“I can’t leave her this time,” Steve said. 

“Do you think she wants you to die?”

Steve stared out at the girl across the pool. 

“I don’t know. I think that if I was her, I would.”

Lightning. 

“Why?”

Thunder, loud enough now to shake the fine China in the cupboard to their left. 

“Because it's my fault she died. It’s my pool she died in.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. 

“I don’t think it was, for what its worth. You couldn’t have known, Steve. Nancy brought her to your house, Nancy was the one to pick you over her. You had no connection to Barb, right? That’s what you told me,” Eddie said. He paused to gauge Steve’s reaction. 

“It was my pool,” Steve said again. 

“Jonathan was the last person to see her alive. Why shouldn’t he shoulder this guilt?”

Steve had nothing to say about that. 

“I’m not blaming someone else in your place. All I’m saying, Steve, is that this burden never should have been yours. And you know very well how I feel about Nancy putting it onto you.” Eddie sighed, and stood. “I’m going to pack you a bag, alright? You’re going to sleep at my place tonight, and when you wake up, we’re going to figure out what to do next.”

Steve didn’t respond, again. He heard Eddie walk away, his Reeboks squeaking against the hardwood floors of the entryway, then the quiet thumping of footsteps as he climbed the stairs and headed into Steve’s room. 

For the first time, Steve was having trouble making out the shape of Barb in the darkness. He stood and, holding on tightly to the doorframe, unlocked the glass door and pushed it open. 

He wasn’t dragged immediately into the pool. He was careful, very careful, as he walked around the odd shape of it, to not slip on the narrow ledge. Only a few inches between the house and the pool. It felt like miles on the other side. 

Now, he stood opposite to the house, between the pool and the woods, rain soaking his clothes and chilling his skin. It was darker there, he felt. He reached out into the darkness, and found nothing but rain. 

Panicked, he stumbled forward and again, found nothing. He stood exactly where Barb would have been standing, should have been standing, and looked back to the house, and the open glass door, and the single lit window just above it where he saw Eddie rushing back and forth in his room. His hair was plastered to his forehead now, his hands hung limply at his sides and he felt the droplets running down his arms, drip-drip-dripping off his hands. The sound of it overpowered the rain and thunder. He hadn’t even noticed the lightning strike. 

He felt stuck to that spot, staring in through the door at the spot he had occupied on the floor, god knows how many nights he spent there. He wondered if maybe, one of those nights, he should have offered to let Barb come inside. 

Eddie was at his side again, Steve vaguely registered seeing him come back downstairs, watching the fear overtaking his face when he saw the open door, and then the way he hid it when his eyes fell on Steve outside. He was steering Steve back towards the house, and they weren’t being careful on the narrow ledge between the house and the pool that time but they made it inside nonetheless. There was a large duffel bag on the ground, stuffed full. Eddie closed and locked the sliding door again. The drip-drip-drip became muffled by the carpet, but he could still hear it. 

There was a towel wrapped around him, gentle hands drying his hair and soaking as much water as possible out of his t-shirt, his pants, brushing the rivulets off his hands and feet. His skin stung with the removal of the constant chill, but he was handed clean, dry clothes right out of the duffle bag, and when he didn’t move to change, Eddie took care in removing his shirt and drying him off again, replacing it with the new one. Then pants and underwear, in a reversal of the way Steve had once looked after Eddie, in the weeks after his death and revival, and long hospital stay. There were no secrets between them, anymore, not really. 

The dry clothes did nothing to soothe the sting, but Eddie wrapped a blanket around him, a fluffy throw from the couch, picked up the bag, and with a hand on the small of Steve’s back, walked them to the door. Steve turned back only once, and even in the bright flash of lightning, Barb was nowhere to be found. The pool was getting farther away again, but it might have just been a trick of the light. 

The drive to Eddie’s wasn’t silent, but Steve didn’t remember Eddie ever keeping the volume of his radio so low. Whatever tape was in the deck was nothing more than a quiet hum over the rain and the rumble of the engine. 

Then they were there, and Eddie was leading him inside with that hand on his back again, and he was being made to lay down on Eddie’s bed, and he tried to ask where Eddie was going to sleep, but he just got a shake of the head and a murmur of assurance, that Eddie would be alright. 

For the first time in what must have been a very long time, Steve began to feel sleepy. Eddie was talking quietly, none of the words meant much of anything, but his voice rumbled like the thunder, now far in the distance, and the rain battered the roof of the small bungalow which Wayne and Eddie called home, and the room smelled like smoke and the sheets like sweat. Steve didn’t dream at all, but that blackness of sleep must have lasted forever.

[gifti3]

hii im posting this old fic for asmo, it was for his bday but i put it off cause i wanted to keep editing it and before you know it its been over year of it just sitting untouched 〒▽〒 so i decided to just post it without a reading over it again its pretty light hearted and silly, its an AU where Asmo is literally a queen and reader is one of those passing merchants (probably) reader is gn here and yep thats it!

----

----

Queen Asmodeus's Birthday

This was the first time you'd actually be present during Asmodeus's birthday. You heard about previous ones in passing during your travels, but now you'd get to experience all the hoopla in person.

You observe yourself in the mirror and smooth the front of your outfit down. It wasn't something you would usually wear on a day to day basis, but today….what the Queen says goes. Like any other day really, but now wasn’t the time to be contrarian. If any day needed to go smoothly, today was that day. So after one more look, you exit your room.

Making your way down the hallway you dodge several servants handling last minute preparations. You head downstairs and weave your way through mingling guests.

When you enter the grand banquet hall--not to be mistaken with the regular one--you whistle to yourself. It always looked nice but today it was at exorbitant levels of presentation. The long tables, the walls and even the ceiling seemed to be covered in the Queen's favorite shades and flowers. Everything was so flowery and pink.

Your eyes fall on the “Esteemed Guests” table and you make your way towards it.

"Hey guys." You greet the group of brothers. You nod at a few faces you weren’t quite familiar with, but they must be important to the Queen if they were at this table.

Before the brothers can say anything you interject. "No need to comment on the outfit. I know," you smile.

Several of them shut their mouths.

You take a seat at the head of the table, Asmodeus's spot. His chair was quite literally the center of attention. In the middle of the room it sat, the most immaculate and eye-catching. It was almost gaudy to be honest. And from here, you'd be able to see him from anywhere in the room.

“So…when does this start?” you ask.

“Hopefully he comes out within the hour,” Satan answers.

You’d think he was exaggerating if he wasn’t currently reading. In all this noise, you weren't sure how.

Lucifer sat back with his eyes closed, probably thinking of work, while Mammon and Levi talked (or maybe they were bickering) about something. Beelzebub frowned while rubbing at his stomach and Belphegor’s head was laid on the table.

Even though they seemed indifferent about being here, you knew they wanted to keep their brother happy. And anyways if they missed today they wouldn’t hear the end of it until his next birthday.

By the time his Majesty is formally introduced to the hall, an hour must have passed and Beel looks visibly famished. He gently nudges Belphie awake though. 

“Ah, the star finally appears,” Solomon says. You had met the sorcerer for the first time today but he seemed decent from the conversation you had. Mostly everyone at the table seemed a bit perturbed by his presence though.

Anyone standing around moves quickly to sit down so as not to be chewed out by other guests for blocking the view.

All attention turns to decorative stairs at the front of the room as the Queen appears. Slowly rose petals magically start falling from the ceiling. Everyone watches as Queen Asmodeus gracefully makes his way down, his (very expensive) skirts following down behind him. 

Mammon sits back crossing his arms and says under his breath. “He does this every year…” 

You wonder if anyone outside his brothers would ever grow tired of it though. You swear you could see tears glistening in some of these guests' eyes.

You manage to catch Asmo’s eye and he winks at you.

The whispers amongst the guests go silent once Asmodeus begins talking to his closest family, friends and allies.

"Thank you for gathering here to celebrate this special day--my birthday. Seeing everyone's lovely faces smiling for me makes me so happy!"

You hear a couple of dreamlike sighs among the crowd.

"I’m excited for the fun to start so please everyone enjoy the food. The festivities will start right after.”

There’s cheers and Beel’s face brightens as servants file in with various dishes.

Asmo makes his way towards his seat waving and talking to people along the way.

"How'd you like my entrance MC? Wasn’t it perfectly befitting for someone like me," Asmo asks by the time he finally makes it to the table.

Most of his brothers look exasperated but you grin. “It was very Asmodeus-like. You look really amazing by the way. Your dress is very beautiful.”

He smiles at the compliment. “Not as beautiful as me though, right?”

“Heh, of course.”

Satisfied with your answer, Asmo rests a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you all for coming. I hope you all brought presents ❤️"

Lucifer smiles, already prepared with his gift, "Happy Birthday Asmodeus."

“I didn’t skimp out this year so you better be grateful,” Mammon says.

All the brothers take their turns passing their presents for Asmo to open and gush over. And these were no simple gifts. These were items the average person could only dream of having but apparently this was nothing too hard for these brothers to acquire.

You watch Asmo brandish the beautiful sword Santa had given to him. You had never seen anything like it before. Where did he even find that? Maybe you should inquire with him about it later.

During the rest of the dinner, you see a shift in Asmo’s demeanor from fairly pleased to absolutely bored. Finally, he stands and clinks his glass with a fork to get the room's attention.

He takes a drink and raises his glass high. "Let's get this party started!"

-------

It had been 3 hours so far. The beginning of what would definitely be a way too long party.

You hadn't seen the Queen since dinner as he was mingling with the endless party guests.

How many people could one person remember off the top of their head?

Escaping the noise would be impossible even if you wanted to. You could hear Queen Asmo's subjects singing, dancing and lighting fireworks through your room window when you made a quick stop for the restroom.

You take a bite of your kebab, waving at someone you don’t remember the name of. Galavanting from room to room to keep yourself entertained in this overstimulation fest.

Maybe you'd go back to the 'bathing room'. It was always interesting there.

Suddenly, you find yourself wrapped in a warm embrace and surrounded by the scent of fruit and alcohol. 

“Darling I haven’t seen you in so long.” Asmo says dragging out the end of the statement.

“It’s only been a few hours though.”

“Might as well been years.” 

You roll your eyes but pat his arm soothingly. “But you’re enjoying yourself right?”

He hums. “Everyone is here for me, adorning me with gifts and praise. I’d say it’s within the top 3 best birthdays!”

“...Isn’t a good chunk of your usual days filled with that though?”

He rests his head on you. “It’s different though.”

Before you can ask more, several people approach you two to talk to the Queen. Asmodeus hooks his arms with yours before you can walk off though.

----

“Asmo, please let me go. Keeping up appearances for this long is killing me.”

“But I don't want you to disappear again!” He nuzzles into your arm and you let out a sigh.

“Can we at least take a break?”

“Are you trying to get special private time with the Queen?” Asmo gives you that stupid innocent smile that was rarely innocent.

“Er, I mean it would be nice…” You hadn’t been able to spend much time with him these last couple days since he was so busy.

“Okay since you’re one of my favorite guests I’ll give you special attention. But you owe me!”

And with that Asmo drags you away to his room.

As soon as you’re behind closed doors you flop on his soft bed. Even with the sounds of a party as background noise, you’d be able to rest your eyes.

“Wait, did you invite me here just to sleep?” You feel the bed dip beside you.

You mumble incoherently before turning your head to look at Asmo’s pouting face. You couldn’t help smiling at his expression though. 

How did he do it? You probably looked very disheveled right now but there sat your Queen completely perfect as always even though he’d been all over the castle today.

“Hmm, has my beauty stunned you~?” Asmo’s lithe fingers trace a pattern on your cheek.

“Maybe…” you sigh and get up from the bed. “That reminds me. You said I owed you and I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

You beacon him towards his dressing table and retrieve the small box. You planned to give it to him this morning but he wasn’t here. So you left in his room hoping he would find it on his vanity before the day ended but inwardly scolded yourself for the choice when he eyed you at the dinner being the only one closest to him who hadn’t given him anything.

“Happy Birthday!” You hold out the gift to him with a small smile.

Asmo’s eyes widened a bit. Was he actually surprised? His expression turns pleased as he takes and carefully opens it.

“It’s beautiful…” He carefully pulls out the silver necklace and holds it up. It was adorned with several small jewels but the main star was a deep red painite that sat in the middle.

“And it’s very unique.” The merchant in you was screaming for giving away something this rare for free. But making sure Asmo was pleased with his present was much more worth it. 

You help him put it on and watch as he admires himself in the mirror.

“So you like it right?”

“Of course I love it!” Asmo stands, grabs your hand and leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “I might have to show you how much I love it. You always know what to get me…” 

You lean in hoping for another kiss but Asmo places a finger on your chin to stop you.

“After the party. I want to take my time with you….” He gives you a quick squeeze and leads you out of the room before you can complain.

----

The next day when you wake up in Asmo’s arms to the sound of people being unusually loud through his window. That couldn’t be what you think it was.

You stare blearily at the ceiling. "When does everyone stop partying exactly?”

Asmo yawns and cuddles into you. “Hmm, usually in several days.”

“...How are you sleeping through this?”