#little palate cleanser

[lenreli]

Day 15 - "And why should I care?"

[AO3]

Hob squirms on his bed, unable to move away from Dream’s thighs around his hips. “That jacket was a favourite,” he breathes, glancing at the torn remains of his brown leather jacket sadly. 

Dream hmphs and grabs onto his jaw, black nails digging into his skin as he watches Dream’s other hand stroke a pale cock, “and why should I care?” Dream growls, body a vice as Hob can feel ― Dream’s entrance, right near his dick, and he pants, shivering as the hand on his jaw strokes down his throat, and Hob realises his hands are tight on Dream’s upper thighs as he squeezes them. 

“Because it’s my favourite, and it’s vintage nowadays,” he points out, and Dream frowns, hand on his throat going down to play with Hob’s nipples, and of course, his chest hair, which Dream has a particular affinity for. 

“I will fix it. Now, relax, my love,” Dream promises ― and Hob wheezes, feeling his cock enter Dream, who moans at the intrusion, quickly taking him to the hilt. 

“Dream,” he chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut, the sound of Dream’s languorous moans and sounds, the hand on Dream’s cock  as he rocks up into Dream’s body blindly, driven by instinct, to hear Dream get even louder, filling the room with it. 

He’s kept still by Dream’s hand on his chest, his hands going up to Dream’s hips to grab onto, bliss spurred on by the silky smooth of Dream’s insides, of the body holding him down with ease, of Dream’s “yes” and “more” ― and he comes with a cry. 

Hob can feel the come leaking from Dream’s hole as he takes heaving breaths, opening his eyes to watch Dream bitten and puffy red lips scream his name, and Hob shivers as his chest, his throat and the bottom of his jaw is coated with Dream’s come.

“Beautiful,” Dream breathes, leaning down to bite at his jaw, licking up some of the white fluid, Dream’s hands going to his collarbones, stroking through the come gathered with a hum. Hob wriggles, feeling himself still inside Dream ― and that Dream’s cock, resting against his stomach, is still hard and leaking. 

Hob laughs, “if you say so,” he pulls away one of his hands to stroke Dream’s hair, tilting his head as Dream licks away more of the come at his throat.

[cinamun]

Previously... | Next

[princehendir]

Adorable little tuxedo cat usually dancing either alone or paired with another male cat during sensual group dance number that is arguably meant to represent an orgy. Which could mean nothing.

[fazedlight]

Almost done with season 1 of Warrior Nun, why did no one tell me it was this good?!?

(Spoilers: Literally everyone did)

[omppupiiras]

oh no! he tried to have a little sippy sip but he fell into the glass :( luckily you managed to save him just in time!

[bruqh]

monets slumber party is so reminiscent of children’s clubhouse shows with the bright colours and recurring goofy characters, watching it feels very refreshing you know

[chihooahooas]

Ari is helping me play New Game + before Dawntrail drops

[zishuge]

Xia Zhiguang as The Most Handsome Little Turtle In the World Please Classmate 拜托了班长 (2021) | Ep. 7

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 7

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 2700 words. Content warnings for this chapter include allusions to Briar's cult-like upbringing, it's implied that Isen did not have a great childhood, and some unwanted romantic advances (though not taken far). Divider from firefly-graphics

Briar is still adjusting to her new position. Cue some world building, and some backstory tidbits from Isen regarding his family.

Previous - Masterlist

Briar’s stress starts to pick up the first time Isen uses the speaking tube. She hadn’t slept late. Not really. But Isen had to be up early for a meeting, and had woken before Briar in a rare instance. 

There’d been a shrill whistle from the tube beside her bed, and Briar had been awake immediately, heart pounding, panicking as she tried to kick her legs free of the blankets. It had taken her several moments to place herself, to identify the source of the noise, and to calm her breathing before opening the valve of the speaking tube and tapping on the metal mouthpiece, nails clacking to signify she was ready for Isen’s message. 

Things grow hectic from there. With Winter's arrival, Isen is busier, attending meetings with the locals at least twice a week. Much of Isen’s time is spent with Dinah Vulsinger, his financier, finalising the budget for the upcoming year. The rest is spent with Arol, Isen’s right hand. The lizard is from the area, and has a large part in organising last minute supplies for the winter, and preparing for the thaw. 

Briar dutifully follows Isen in this time, keeping her ears open, learning as much as she can about how he governs the Lowlands. 

She learns to write with ease. It’s still slow going, and her vocabulary is miniscule compared to those around her. But gradually she learns new words and their spellings. Numbers come less easily to her, but Lockwood has her practicing different sums each day.  

Isen makes Briar read the documents Dinah sends him. He makes her read everything, for that matter, until the words swim before her eyes, and she no longer parses meaning from the papers. Sure, reading budgets and stock counts help her understand applied mathematics. But there’s only so much she can absorb each day. 

She comes to relish her work as a cleaner and servant. It’s a chance to let her mind wander. To work without being in a state of intense concentration. But the tasks dwindle as she becomes more efficient. With the floors cleaned each day, it hardly takes her half an hour to do them. She could probably change Isen’s linens with her eyes closed. It leaves her with far too much time on her hands – time that Isen easily monopolises. 

Because when she’s not cleaning, or reading, or following him around from meeting to meeting, duty to duty, he’s speaking to her. Chattering about his work, even if half the information goes over her head. Asking how to sign certain things. Gently prodding now and then, about Briar herself. About New Haven. About her aunt. About her life before. 

She’s grateful he doesn’t ask certain questions. Not what happened to her parents. Nor why she is mute. Or how she ended up a sacrifice to the beastly creature of Eastern Highwood. She’s not sure if she’s ready to share those aspects of herself. It’s hard enough talking about herself. She’d been taught from a young age: she was to be seen and not heard. Speaking only when spoken to. Her worth was less than those around her. 

Isen must have been raised differently, she thinks. Despite being a Lord. Despite owning land. Something must have happened to make him different. Why else would he treat all his servants with kindness and smiles? Greet the peasants among them with familiarity, and good humour? Why else would he keep asking her opinion? Touching her hand as he passed? Bumping shoulders when she forgets her guard? 

It confuses her. Flusters her. Unsettles her. But she grows... not quite used to it. But to expect it. The casualness, and the disregard for etiquette. His freedom with touch, and his continuous quips. She’s not sure she’ll ever be completely okay with them, but it gets easier to mask her surprise. Easier to relax her shoulders, and not freeze up completely if he lingers in her personal space a moment too long. He’s proven himself safe to be around. Backing off when she ices him out, or apologising if he notices her discomfort.  

“You look tired,” he comments over one dinner. 

She straightens, suddenly aware of her slouch. Then shrugs. ‘I’m fine.’ 

A smile flickers at his mouth, before he covers it with his hand. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.” 

Is she? She’d woken up to the speaking tube again, letting her know that Isen would be taking his breakfast elsewhere. Hastily she’d dressed and stepped into Isen’s chambers to ask if he wished she accompany him, but he’d waved her off.  

It takes a mental toll, being switched on all the time. Being on standby, even when Isen doesn’t have her working. She’s loath to disappoint, or to keep Isen waiting. He doesn’t interrupt her during her down time often, but when he does, she can’t help but scramble into action, an unwelcome anxiety growing in her, that if she makes him wait too long, he’ll be unhappy. He’ll punish her. 

“Are you following the new lessons Lockwood gave you?” 

She stills her features, masking her displeasure. She’d started learning multiplication and division. It’s a lot to get her head around, but she is picking it up. ‘They’re not easy, but I can do them.’ 

Isen lets the smile show this time. “They’ll get easier with practice.” 

There’s a beat of silence while they both eat. Isen breaks it again. “And the meetings. We haven’t been debriefing as frequently. Did you have any questions?” 

Endless questions. She lets her next frown show. ‘Yes, but...’ she struggles with her phrasing, ‘...I don’t know where to start.’ She also hadn’t wanted to bother Isen. She knows he’s open to teaching her, answering her questions. He does so with patience every time. But she also only asks the most pertinent of questions, not wanting to take hours just to fill in the gaps of her knowledge.  

That and there are questions she literally can't ask. She doesn’t know the signs, or the spelling for several of the concepts that are mentioned in front of her. It’s frustrating. 

“Start at the beginning?” 

It’s not very helpful advice. Still. She leans back to consider a topic. Decides on something of current relevance. 

‘What happens during the thaw?’ (Thaw. Melt. Ice change to water.) 

“Oh, the thaw. Well, it floods, of course. You probably haven’t seen the worst of it in Highwood, but depending on the length of the winter, some of the usual settlements become uninhabitable. It doesn't last long, but it can be quite destructive.” 

Briar frowns. ‘Why build there?’ 

Isen shrugs. “Where else? The woods are narrow, populated with humans and beasts. You can live in the marsh if you build on stilts. The only things we can farm in this area practically grow in the water. And there are no main roads, so all imports have to come by river.” 

Briar almost doesn’t ask her next question. ‘Is it worth it?’ 

Isen raises his brows. “What? Living here?” 

‘Ruling here.’ (Ruling. Owning. Working.) 

Isen smiles at that, the expression unusually contrite. “It’s... not a glamourous area, no. But my father bestowed stewardship to me. And people would live here regardless of rule. So, I take it upon myself to do a good job.” 

It’s strange having such a casual conversation with Isen. Learning details about him that don’t come up when he’s on the clock.  

‘Who is your father?’ 

Isen’s expression hardens, if minutely. Still, Briar braces at the change in his exterior. “My father. Lucien Kovit. One of the Collective. He rules over nearly half of the Isles, if you include my and my sister’s territories.” 

Briar blinks. She’d had no idea that Isen had come from such an influential family. 

He winces at her expression. “Don’t. It doesn’t change anything. My father is an arrogant, controlling, unkind male, and I’d rather not be grouped in with him.” 

Still, curiosity eats at her. Her family situation was vastly different from many of the ones she saw growing up; she can’t help but wonder at how Isen was raised. 

‘What about your mother?’ 

Isen relaxes, but not by much. “One of father’s many wives. Their partnership was less political, and more about offspring. A boa and a sea serpent were considered an unstable match, but father wanted a clutch of venomous children. Regardless, I barely knew the female. We were all my father’s creatures.” 

Something about his phrasing makes Briar reexamine Isen. Sympathy creeps through her. Enough so that part of her is tempted to share her own fraught history. A part she staunchly ignores, in favour of more interesting information. 

She hopes it’s a lighter topic. ‘And are you?’ 

“Am I...?” 

‘Venomous?’ She has to mime the meaning, pointing at her teeth when no synonyms come to mind. 

“Oh, no. Well, I’ve no venom I can use in combat anyway.”  

There’s a grey tinge to Isen’s cheeks. Is he... blushing? 

A growing part of her is dying to know what he means, politeness be damned. ‘Not in combat?’ (Combat. Fight.) 

“No,” he says, more firmly. “My sister Zyla, and my brother Starlen inherited deadlier venoms. Zyla possesses an uncommon neurotoxic venom which paralyses her opponents, whereas Starlen has a more traditional hemotoxin.” 

Briar has no idea what several of those words mean, but she knows a deflection when she hears one. Clearly Isen doesn’t want to talk about his own abilities.  

She respects the move, begrudgingly, and shrugs. ‘You have siblings?’ (Brother. Sister. Both. Siblings.) 

He grimaces. “Too many half siblings to count. Literally scores of them. But of my clutch there are three. Zyla, Starlen, and Kylet.” 

‘What are they like?’ 

Isen finishes his food and slouches over his desk. “Zyla is the golden child. She has a whole island under her stewardship. Starlen... has a posting in the Isle military. Kylet is a bit of an entrepreneur. A bad one. Regardless, father still funds their businesses. Encourages them when they fail.” Isen frowns. “That one could get away with murder if they tried.”  

Briar tries reading between the lines. She’s not sure why but it seems like, ‘you’re not favoured?’ 

Isen’s nose crinkles. “Not in the least. Father doesn’t like my style of business.” 

‘Why?’ 

Isen shrugs. “I’m not trying to conquer the neighbours. Or build a monopoly. My name won’t be in history books or written on statues and plaques. He’s obsessed with legacy. Always on my case about making a name for myself. Or how I run the place.” He rolls his eyes. “Just thinking about it irritates me. Can we talk about something else?” 

Brian offers Isen a rare smile. It’s small, and strained, and her next signs are hesitant, but she offers as much solidarity as she can. ‘I wasn’t favoured either.’ 

Isen’s next smile matches her own. It’s more of a grimace. “Based on how we met, I’d gathered.” He doesn’t meet her eyes when he next speaks, staring instead at one of the reports on his desk. She gets the feeling that he’s paying close attention, however. “Did you want to talk about it?”  

She lets out a noise of displeasure.  

Isen looks back to her, surprised at the vocalisation.  

‘No thank you.’ 

He gives a begrudging smile. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll listen.” 

She shrugs, and stands, ready to tidy up. She’s collecting dishes and clearing the desk when she notices Isen’s stare. He looks contemplative, biting his lip absent mindedly. 

It’s an effort not to fidget under his gaze, and she wonders if he even realises he’s staring. Until he breaks the silence. 

“I’ve a trip planned later this week. It’s not far, just touring the villages in the Lowlands. Would you like to come with me?” 

Briar blinks. It’s hard to parse an expected reaction when Isen’s face is carefully composed into neutrality. She evades the question, asking instead, ‘Should I come?’ 

Her boss shrugs. “It would be a good opportunity to see the Lowlands. Learn about the villages. See me at work.” 

She imagines he might let her stay behind if she truly wished. But he makes a fair point. Apprehension still fills her. ‘I’ve never travelled before.’ 

He breaks into a gentle smile. “It’s a longer trip from Highwood to here than it is to the villages.” 

She contains a wince. Keeps the sentiment to herself – that she doesn’t remember much of that trip to Riversreach. That she’d been drugged into insensibility and numb with terror. 

But he waits patiently for her answer. Perhaps he’d be amenable towards a few questions... 

‘How long?’ 

He relaxes fractionally at her interest. “A day at the shortest. It’s usually an overnight trip.  

‘Why?’ 

“Why is it an overnight trip?” 

‘Why do you go?’ 

His eyes unfocus as he considers. “This trip is to inspect preparations for winter and the thaw. Arol could do it for me, but I try to visit the locals once each season. Remind them I exist.” 

‘They would otherwise forget?’ (Else. If you did not.) 

Isen smiles, though not at her. “It’s easier to build trust and connections with a person when you know their face, don’t you think? When you can speak with them from time to time. I could delegate the work, but I like to hear the local problems for myself on occasion, too. It certainly makes them more tangible than if I just read about it.” 

She’s surprised at his reasoning. The Pilgrims had taught her that authority (except from their own leaders, or course) was always out of touch. That they did not care for the peasants or their problems. She’d wondered why he’d been so busy with meetings lately. The stream of locals visiting twice weekly had perplexed her. 

“So, will you join me?” 

She’s still apprehensive. But now she can’t help but feel curious. And that curiosity outweighs the fear. Barely. 

She gives Isen a measured nod.  

He smiles. “I’ll let Arol know. He'll sort our transport and accommodation. Do let Lockwood know that you’ll be absent from your lessons, yes?” 

Briar finishes her tidying. Typically, she’d rejoin Isen at the table, reading over his reports, but tonight he waves her off. 

“You’ve done enough today, Legs. Unless you want to keep working.” 

She conceals a grimace at the nickname. Then shrugs. ‘What else would I do?’ 

Isen stills, before frowning at Briar. “I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but you are welcome to leave Riversreach on your days off. Or visit your old quarters to socialise during the evenings. There are shops in the villages too. You might see something you’d like to purchase.” 

She had not been told. She hadn’t even been aware that she had days off. Perhaps Lockwood had informed her, on that first day here. But she’d been too sick with anxiety, too grief stricken over the loss of her home to take in any of the details. She hadn’t even left the castle in her weeks here, nor spent any of her wages. It’s little wonder she has no source of leisure. 

She doesn’t let any of that show on her face, though. Instead, she gives Isen a gracious nod. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ 

He tilts his head, a playful lilt entering his words. “Unless, of course, you’re lingering because you enjoy my company.” 

She gives Isen a flat stare, but it’s not enough to dissuade him from continuing.  

“I’m actually going to bed now, Legs. So, unless you wanted to join me...” 

She can’t help but stiffen; her lips pursing with the effort it takes to bite back her scowl. She decides right then that she’d rather spend the next few hours doing nothing in her room, than deal with Isen’s casual advances.  

‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she signs, before promptly leaving.  

It’s a shame of course, she reflects upon entering her room. She’s confident by now that Isen won’t fire her for leaving so suddenly. That he won’t hold it against her if she denies his advances, or shirks his humour.  

She just wishes he wouldn’t make such attempts. If it weren’t for them, she could almost allow herself to agree with him. To admit that she really does enjoy his company.  

If only a little. 

Next

[pixlerelish]

✨ O Maahi... ✨

[godzexperiment]

"Okay what is an candy corn?"

[gazonartificiel]

I'm gonna make a hilson playlist that's just 25 pale blue eyes by the velvet underground interspersed with some wasabi by little mix and it's gonna be great

[tricks-n-illusions]

[Reaction to this post] - [Lady Ombre belongs to @ask-noonescity]

Alts have been added for smaller text.

Silas pulled his hand away in response, he wasn't expecting rebellion towards his threats, especially one he said with such confidence. The sudden physical contact made him cringe, despite his face being hidden his body language made it obvious he felt discomfort at being touched. He didn't like that, not one bit, her lack of fear was unnerving and the sinister grin she gave made his skin crawl. It felt like the power and advantage he had over her was suddenly pulled out from underneath him. He didn't have control over the situation anymore and that terrified him.

As she leered back everything in his body was screaming at him to run, yet just as before when faced with something much scarier than himself he froze like a deer in headlights. He didn't know how to react, he didn't know what to do and he was so confused by the situation he didn't even realize the unexpected stinging pain that was quickly starting to dig into his fur. It was only when he felt his mask finally beginning to slip that his panic and self-preservation finally kicked in.

"Please stop-!" Silas yelped out in fear, his claws were franticly clawing at the vines but he did little damage to them. It was like all his efforts to escape meant nothing to her, he felt so helpless and scared. Of course, he would die this way, a victim to his own stupidity. His breathing quickly spiralled out of control as he felt the vines begin to tighten, he didn't like this. It all felt so sickeningly familiar to him, the pressure around his neck, the way he gasped for air and panicked, it was all much too close to something from his past. This had happened before? Hadn't it? This was something he was acquainted with, something he knew well. She always did this to him, just another punishment on the long list.

And for some reason, everything in his mind couldn't stop him from melting back into those moments. She was here again, wasn't she? Back from the grave to torment him? Despite everything he knew, every logical thought denying her existence in the present he couldn't shake the thought. In one last ditch effort to ease his anxiety, he opened his eyes... But that only gave him a passing glance of a face he knew well.

Lady Ombre was truly gone, her words falling on deaf ears as she lectured the fox. All that replaced her was the terrifying memory of a ghost here to hurt him once more.

Silas franticly kicked and squirmed in the air, his tiny paws were desperately attempting to tear at the magical energy around his neck. Seance merely looked on in annoyance.

"What are you good for if not? You really don't know how to do anything, do you?" Seance scoffed, her magic was slowly tightening around the fox's neck more. Her grip easily constricted his airway. "I asked you to kill... one person." She held a singular claw up as the tiny Giratina spirit drifted around her, "But you couldn't even do that little fox, could you?" "Why do I even ask you to do things, what are you worried they're going to hurt you?" She laughed as Silas struggled. "You should be more scared of me than some stranger, did you not learn what happens when you don't listen? Was the tail not enough? Do you need another reminder?" "What's next, Hm..." The ghost hummed, pacing around the fox in thought. "How about an ear, or maybe." She suddenly grinned as her eyes darted back to him. "An eye? Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Every time you'd open your little eyes and realize you can't quite see the whole picture, you'll remember me and think about how much you should have listened... How does that sound, hm? Or I could finally just kill you?" Silas frantically shook his head in reply, the air he was able to breathe in was getting more scarce by the second. "You're right. That'd be too merciful, someone as horrible as you doesn't deserve mercy." With the last bits of air he could get the fox gave a broken plead. 

"Ugh, Seriously?" She groaned.

Silas hit the ground with a loud thud, the sudden allowance of air instantly threw him into a coughing fit. Seance however just stared down in irritation, her ears twitching with every sharp cough. "Are you fucking done now?"She asked in irritation, she obviously felt no remorse for her actions. "Stop the dramatic coughing fit, you're not getting any sympathy from me. You want sympathy then why don't you crawl your way back to your human, hm?" "I'm sure she's stupid enough to reward your misbehaviour with pets and kisses. You always did like being a little pampered pet, didn't you? Having a soft bed and food in your bowl~" She mocked. "Disgusting really, you pets are all the same." Silas only continued to cough before he made a weak effort to stand.

He only looked down in shame, despite her scolding, tears quickly began to fill his eyes. But there was no sadness, no emotion to go along with them all he felt was a disconnect from his surroundings as he drifted back into reality. [ . . . ] It seemed Lady had let go of him long ago, but he was too stuck in his head to have noticed. He only sat there in silence as his hand cautiously wandered to the place where the vines were. The presence of pressure still lingered even if the vines were no longer there. He seemed confused, unsure why Lady Ombre didn't simply kill him when she had the chance.

Just as she left the fox made a frantic scramble for his mask. Tears were beginning to well up in his eyes, all he could mutter out was faint repetitive apologies as he shakily took the kitsune mask in hand.

Once he felt it in his hands a faint calmness washed over him... He took a long moment to stare at it in silence. His claw was gently scratching at the smooth surface of the mask, a feeble attempt to help ground himself in the present day. He still seemed extremely shaken up from the interaction with her. His hands were unintentionally trembling, and he couldn't stop his tears from worsening as moments passed. He was so tired of this, he was so tired of showing weakness and letting strangers have power over him. He was getting so tired of people treating him badly, pushing him around, finding new ways to get under his skin and bring him to the pathetic tears he struggled to hide. "Everything is fine..." He muttered before he finally flipped the mask, completely set on using it to conceal any leftover tears.

"Why do I always do such stupid things…"

-> Oh? What's this? Seems Silas will remember this interaction. Lady Ombre has been added to the relationships page. -> Silas has been... slightly injured and will have minor scratches going forward.

[ariadne-mouse]

For the prompt "a kiss neither person expects"

Shadowgast, 748 words

“Has anyone seen the green paper ribbon?”

A voice cut through the wedding hubbub to reach Caleb’s ears.  Essek was weaving in and out of the chaos with the dexterity of a dancer — he dodged two handymen carrying a vase of flowers big enough to fit a small halfling family inside (they had checked for Luc, just in case), a parade of chairs headed out to the ceremony area, and a gaggle of servers balancing hors d’oevures.

“The green paper ribbon?” Essek tried again, peering in every open box, on shelves, and even, humorously, under a table, all with increasing urgency.

“Nope!” Beau swung through, carrying an ungainly box that should have been too heavy for someone of her size.  She balanced it on one hand to waggle a roll of paper streamers at him.  “I got blue.  You want blue?”  

“No, no — Jester clearly specified it must be green.” Essek ran his hands through his hair, ruining his elegant coif.  He raised his voice, moving on from Beau. “Has anyone seen the green paper ribbon?  Green!”

He vanished from the room, and Caleb could hear the query being repeated.

Caleb looked down at the seating placards he was organizing, rubbed his chin, then stood up to poke around while the wedding preparations swirled around him.  He remembered seeing — on the refreshments table — ah yes, here.  The roll of green paper streamers, meant for garlanding the pavilion outside.  It was hiding under the open lid of a box of sugared pastries.

“The green paper ribbon?  Have you seen—?”  Essek was outside the door again.

Veth answered, her voice slightly strained, like she was carrying something. “No, but can you make this thing lighter?”

“Yes, fine—” There was a whiff of ozone.

“Thanks!”

Essek strode back into the room, his hair now in total disarray, eyes darting around.

“Did you need this?” Caleb asked, holding up the green ribbon.

Essek’s focus landed on him like a lightning strike.  When he saw what Caleb held, his whole posture collapsed in relief.  “Oh, thank the Light!”  He swooped in like a falcon, seized the roll of ribbon, then seized the sides of Caleb’s face and kissed him right on the lips.  By the time he was adding “Thank you!” he was already halfway out the door and gone.

Caleb stood where he was, poleaxed.

More people passed through, weaving around him with parcels and plates and furniture.  

“Hello Caleb!” Yasha lumbered by with another huge vase of flowers.  Her smile was sweet next to sprays of irises and gladiolus.

“Hallo,” he said absent-mindedly.  Spark, fizzle, went his brain.

A minute passed, and then Essek returned with the same whirlwind of energy he had left, the tail of the green ribbon roll that he still clutched flapping behind him.  He stopped short upon sight of Caleb, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Ah,” he said.  He wet his lips.  “Did I—?”

“Um,” Caleb replied intelligently. “Ja, I think so.”

“Coming through, fresh pastries!  Fresh pastries for the bride!” Caduceus ducked a little to avoid the doorframe. “Oh, hi there, Caleb.  Essek.”  He smiled and passed through, the sound of his footsteps joining others outside.

“Ah.” Essek’s expression had become something like terror.  His fingers were leaving little dents in the side of the ribbon roll. “Ah— sorry?  I don’t know why— I’m sorry.” 

Caleb once more tried to process what had just happened.  His lips felt like they might be buzzing with the memory.  Or, maybe there had been spice in the Nicodranian pastries.  Hard to tell.

“No,” he said, blinking.  His face felt very hot.  “No, it was fine.  Nice.  Ja.  Um.  Nice.”  He pointed at the green ribbon. “Don’t you have to—?”

“Fuck,” Essek exclaimed, and was gone once more.

Caleb blinked a couple more times, staring at the door Essek had disappeared through.  Then, slow as a sleepwalker, he sat back down at his table and picked up the seating cards.

“Okay,” he said to himself.  The names on the cards looked like squiggles of an unknown script after Comprehend Languages had worn off.  “Okay.” 

If the seating chart was somewhat confused when the time for the ceremony arrived, well, everyone sorted themselves out as best they could, and Jester and Fjord still got married at the end of it.  And if Caleb was noticeably flushed when he asked Essek for a dance in the celebrations that followed, and Essek too when he accepted, well, it could simply be the wine — but the way they looked at each other said otherwise.

[ladyloveandjustice]

"Thinking about the enemy murdering me made you mad, right"

(I can't let her know I don't want her to get murdered that will surely reveal my secret love for her play this cool)" I mean MAYBE. I GUESS. who knows really. (nailed it)

[banannabethchase]

Send me a ship and a number and I'll write a ficlet 250 words or less!

"Who exactly put you in charge? So I know where to file the complaint."

"I didn't say it was sexy, I said it could be sexy."

"Was that an attempt at seduction?"

"Warn me next time!"

"Okay, but would you consider doing anything else?"

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal in at least 20 states."

"Which one of you came up with this bullshit? It had to be one of you."

"That's not your car."

"When was the last time your slept?"

"Coffee doesn't count as water, but I appreciate the effort."

"How about you don't do that."

"Oreos are absolutely not the best cookie."

"You got a hair tie? Mine snapped."

"Is...is that a bright purple penis?"

"Can I borrow your shirt? I promise I won't wreck this one."

"That is not how to use a belt."

"Is that sacrilegious? It feels sacrilegious."

"These are vintage!" "Those are ugly."

"Why are you wearing a tiara?!" "Because I'm a pretty princess. Fuck you."

"Don't pull my ponytail like a preschooler. If you want to fuck me, fuck me."

"I'm not scared. I'm concerned."

"You didn't need to jump!"

"Sometimes I wonder if you do these things on purpose."

"Do you think it counts as hatefucking if it's a professional conflict?"

"I would not be surprised if you got struck by lightning right now."

"The battery died!"

"For a hip thrust that was pretty lackluster."

"For a mediocre white man, you really are enthusiastic."

"I know you meant that to be scary but it was actually really hot."

"Ew." "Ew?! That's all you have to say, ew?!"