#quill does need a bath...

[temp-unu]

GUESS WHOS BACK with drawin's of da boyfriend ehe.

I've been really kinda fixated on fellswap, so maybe ill draw someone from there soon. :3

[evermoreness]

study session | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x reader

summary: you and regulus are having a study session but both can't focus enough.

obs: reader is james potter's sister.

masterlist

The Hogwarts library was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. You sat at a corner table, your books spread out around you in organized chaos. Across from you, Regulus Black was scribbling notes into a neat scroll, his handwriting precise and elegant as always.

“You know,” you said, glancing up from your Arithmancy textbook, “if McGonagall saw how quickly you finish your homework, she’d probably faint.”

Regulus smirked without looking up. “That would only be amusing if I could get a picture of it. Do you think your brother would lend me his camera?”

You chuckled softly, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger. “I doubt it. James would probably hex you before he even heard the question.”

“Well, that would be consistent with his behavior,” Regulus replied smoothly, dipping his quill into the ink. “Your brother has quite the flair for dramatics.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted with a grin. “But to be fair, you do have a bit of a reputation, Reggie.” You emphasized his nickname, knowing it always earned you a reaction.

The nickname made Regulus’s heart skip, though he’d never let it show. He looked down at his book to hide the small smile threatening to form. “I prefer ‘Regulus.’”

You suppressed a laugh "You always do."

Regulus paused, his quill hovering midair, and gave you a mock glare. “You do realize you’re the only person in the world who can get away with calling me that?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Oh, I know. And I fully intend to abuse that privilege.”

For a moment, Regulus’s usual stoic expression softened into something almost tender. “Lucky me,” he muttered, returning to his essay.

---

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Common Room

James Potter was pacing the length of the common room like a caged lion, his messy hair even more disheveled than usual. Sirius Black sat sprawled on the couch, watching his best friend with a bemused expression. Remus Lupin sat in an armchair nearby, a book in his lap, though his attention had long since shifted to James’s theatrics.

“I just don’t get it,” James exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why does she have to spend so much time with him of all people?”

“Because he’s tolerable, which is more than I can say for you sometimes,” Sirius quipped, earning a sharp glare from James.

“This isn’t funny, Padfoot,” James snapped. “Regulus is—he’s—well, he’s him.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the argument, James. Very compelling.”

“You know what I mean!” James groaned. “He’s a Slytherin, and not just any Slytherin—he’s a Black. What if he’s using her? Or trying to get information on us?”

“Regulus?” Sirius scoffed. “He’s not exactly running back to Mum and Dad with secrets, trust me. Besides, she can take care of herself.”

“That’s not the point!” James said, throwing himself into a chair. “She’s my little sister. She shouldn’t be hanging around someone like him.”

“Someone like who?” a calm voice interjected.

The three boys turned to see Lily Evans standing at the bottom of the staircase, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face.

“Lily, my love” James said, his tone softening immediately. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

Lily sighed, walking over to sit in the arm of James’s chair. Her arms going around his shoulders. “I think you need to trust her to make her own decisions. She’s not a child.”

“She’s sixteen,” James pointed out.

“And incredibly smart and capable,” Lily countered. “Besides, have you ever considered that maybe she sees something in Regulus that no one else does?”

James frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “You’re all against me,” he muttered.

“Not against you, mate,” Sirius said, barely hiding a grin. “Just enjoying the show.”

---

Back in the Library

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “I swear, if I have to write one more footnote for this essay, I’m going to scream.”

Regulus glanced up from his parchment. “If you’re trying to get us kicked out of the library, there are less dramatic ways to go about it.”

“Oh, come on, Reggie,” you said with a playful pout. “Live a little. Be a bad influence for once.”

He snorted softly. “If anyone here is the bad influence, it’s you.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Me? I’m an angel.”

“Angels don’t drag people out of bed at 6 a.m. to study for Arithmancy,” he pointed out.

“That was one time!” you protested, laughing. “And you needed the help.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a rare smile. “Did I?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of someone clearing their throat made you pause. Both turned to see James standing at the edge of the table, his arms crossed and a look of pure disapproval on his face.

“Hello, Regulus,” James said, his tone icy.

“Potter,” Regulus replied, his voice equally cool.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, James. What are you doing here?”

“I was just checking on my little sister,” James said pointedly, his eyes never leaving Regulus. “Making sure she wasn’t being...bothered.”

Regulus’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, you jumped in. “I’m not being bothered. In fact, we were having a perfectly pleasant afternoon until you showed up.”

“Pleasant?” James repeated, looking scandalized. “With him?”

“Yes, James, with him,” you said, exasperated. “Regulus is my friend.”

James looked like he wanted to argue, but before he could, Sirius and Remus appeared behind him, both looking far too amused by the situation.

“Fancy seeing you here, Reg,” Sirius said, his grin widening when Regulus scowled. “Having a nice time with y/n?”

“Go away, Sirius,” Regulus muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Remus chuckled, placing a hand on James’s shoulder. “Come on, Prongs. Let’s give them some space.”

“But—” James started to protest, only to be dragged away by Remus and Sirius.

You sighed, shaking your head as they disappeared. “Brothers,” you muttered.

Regulus watched you, his expression softening again. “You’re worth putting up with them,” he said quietly.

You blinked, caught off guard, but then smiled. “Careful, Reggie. You’re starting to sound almost charming.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, returning to his essay, though the faint smile on his lips remained.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way Regulus quickly masked his moment of softness with his usual cool demeanor. There was something so endearing about him when he wasn’t trying to be aloof.

“I’m serious, you know,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You don’t have to deal with James like that all the time. He’s... protective. Sometimes a little too much.”

“I’ve gathered that,” Regulus muttered. “He seems to think I’m a threat to your well-being.”

“Well, he’s not entirely wrong,” you said with a teasing grin. “You are a Slytherin, after all.”

Regulus shot you a sideways glance. “I’m not sure whether you’re insulting me or trying to be funny.”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” you replied, your voice light. “But, seriously. If it weren’t for James, I think you and I would have a much easier time hanging out in public.”

“I can manage it,” Regulus said with a shrug. “I’m used to... complicated situations.”

You studied him for a moment, your expression softening. “You don’t have to always act like you’ve got everything under control, Reggie. It’s okay to let your guard down sometimes.”

He met your gaze, his green eyes lingering on yours for a second longer than usual before he looked away, clearing his throat. “I suppose you wouldn’t let me live it down if I did.”

You chuckled, but there was a touch of warmth in your eyes. “Maybe not. But you’d have to admit, it’s a lot less exhausting to just be yourself for once.”

Before Regulus could respond, the library door swung open again, and the familiar chatter of students filled the otherwise peaceful room. You glanced toward the entrance and then back to Regulus, feeling a sense of quiet contentment washing over you. The constant push and pull of her relationship with her brother, the Black family, and everything in between seemed momentarily distant, as if it didn’t matter.

In that moment, it was just the two of you in the cozy corner of the library, sharing the rare peace of a late afternoon, without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

Regulus’s voice broke the silence. “You know, you’re probably right. I’m not always as... composed as I seem.”

You smiled, your eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you’re starting to realize that. I think I like you better this way.”

Regulus met your gaze, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I like you better too, y/n”

And for once, as the soft golden light bathed the library in a quiet glow, it felt like everything—just for that moment—was exactly as it should be.

[thevoidscreams]

For Mating Press March: could you write a love-sick Magnus practically making out with the reader's pussy? Like overstimulating her for hours upon hours and then pounding into her afterwards :3

Yes, yes you may :3 Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, over stimulation and getting fucked absolutely brainless.

I love this big dork.

It was like being on fire, or maybe even electrocuted as your fingers buried themselves in the flowing red mane of Magnus's hair. "Maggy, please, it's too much." You moaned. His only reply was to chuckle against your pussy and he laved his tongue between your lower lips once more. His single eye was focused on your suddenly agonized face as he pressed his tongue in again. Perhaps you should have thought it out your challenge a bit more thoroughly before presenting it to him.

He pictured you two hours ago before he'd begun. Closing the book he'd been transcribing to add to his already impressive library. "I want to spend time with you Magnus." You huffed sadly, but before he could speak you sighed again. "And not with a book involved." You gave him your best sad puppy eyes. "Please, spend time with me, Magnus." The primarch smiled indulgently and lifted your chin with the tip of his quill. "And how should I do that then? What would you like most." Your smile was a reward enough and he endeavored to do what he could to ensure he got to see it more for the rest of the day. "Well, I'm fresh from the bath. If I could be so bold, I would like to have some fun in bed with you." Magnus smirked. "If I recall, which I do, as my memory does not fail me, I ate you out last night." You huffed, and your smile was replaced again by that frown that egged him on so terribly. "Yeah but it was only for a little bit. I want more." "I made you come, did I not? Are you such a greedy little thing that you would demand more from me, of all people." You straightened your back and stood tall, he found it utterly adorable. "Well you only made me cum once with your mouth. But I suppose not all men enjoy seeing their lovers fall apart on their tongues over and over." You sighed wistfully, draping yourself over his desk dramatically, as he moved his inkwell and pages away before you did. "I suppose though if you don't think you could make me cum more than once I shall simply have to make do." The challenge tugged at something inside him and he knew you were just trying to get a rise out of him, but Throne damn him it was working. "Oh my dear I assure you I could melt your mind with such pleasures, until you were begging and crying for me to stop." He tone had taken on that agitated quality it often did when he was question on his skills in any field, but you knew you had him as soon as you heard it. "Oh I don't know about that. I guess you'd have to prove me wrong, but I'm sure your scrolls and books are far more important." There hadn't been time for you to react as he reached out and grabbed you by the waist, hauling you up and across the room, even standing at the height of a regular man for ease of handling his scrolls and books, he still retained all of his inhuman strength.

That's how you found yourself on your back as he held you with his arms across your hips and stomach, pinning you to the bed so that you would not wiggle free and escape his dedicated tongue. It'd gone from a simple need to prove himself to you, to something much more in rather short order. Your sweetness filled his mouth as he drank down your wetness from the most recent orgasm. His eye fluttered shut focusing on the heady flavor of your pleasure and drove deeper searching for more even as you dug your nails into his scalp and cried out in mingled ecstasy and raw overstimulated pain. He should do this more often, he thought and he rolled his tongue over your entrance, sucking the soft folds and nibbling the soft mound over your clit. The startled squeak you gave him was a drug of the mind that he craved more of. More of your sounds, your taste, your warmth and the feminine scent that radiated from every pore. It all came together in his mind as a portrait of you, formed from many aspects of your person. "Magnus." The gasp made him open his eye. Taking in the physical image of you under him. Your chest heaving deep and heavy breaths. His mouth rested over your dripping cunt, your juices coating his chin and even soaking the bedding beneath you. "Maggy, please it's too much." He sighed as he kissed your folds a few times. "You are as divine as it is possible to be my starlight. Please forgive me for losing myself for so long, your body was too good a feast to pass up."

He grunted as he adjusted, his body had become uncomfortable at some point but he wasn't sure why. He lifted himself up and reached down to rub at the source before discovering what had caused it and he quite suddenly felt like a fool. His cock was straining against his clothes, fully hard it had been leaking for some time it would seem. Weeping thick beads of precum that soaked through his undergarments. Magnus tugged them off, leaving his body and fully erect cock bare for you to see. "It would seem that there is something more to take care of before we rest." He purred, his hands taking your still trembling thighs and pulling them around his hips as he came to rest over you. The head of his cock nudging your lower lips just as his tongue had been minutes before. He slid in with such ease, the slickness from his hours of eating you like a favorite snack.

Sighing, but this time in relief as his cock fully stretched you, deeper than his tongue had gone. The nerves weren't quite as frazzled that deep. He trembled as your body gripped his cock snugly, and he bent over you. Resting his weight on one arm and leaning down to kiss you. His mouth still tasted of the juices he'd been drunk on for the past hours but you didn't care. You had had his attention for all that time and despite the fire between your thighs it had been glorious.

His hips rolled smoothly into a slow measured tempo as he kept his mouth on yours. The primarch seemed to forget just how much he enjoyed intertwining with you like this. Allowing his mind to fill with so much work that he neglected the needs of his body. He was grateful to you for reminding him .

He still drank you in, this time it was your sounds, the soft moans and gasps as his cock dragged over that special bundle of nerves that had you grasping at the silk sheet under you. "Oh Magnus~ Right there!" He obliged, his eye fixed on the way your face twisted into an almost tortured expression that he knew so well. It was the face you made when you were close to the edge again. The one he only ever saw when he sent you crashing over that wall multiple times.

"You are radiant, my star." He praised, cupping your cheek and watching how his words sent you over the edge. Your back bowed and he picked up his pace, his hips snapping forward with more force as he prolonged your high for as long as he could. He fought back his own pleasure but knew he wouldn't be able to forever. His cock had been aching for this, as had he, even if he didn't realize it. "That's it, good girl." He continued,

He stroked his thumb over your cheek, and allowed his face to rest in the crook between your neck and shoulder. "I know you have one more for me, my radiance, cum for me again." He moaned as he held out, edging himself, needing to fill you to the brim as he made you cum just once more.

"Magnus.. I-I can't.. I." You practically wailed as your fingers threaded through his hair again and tugged. He grunted, nearly cumming as the pain stacked onto the pleasure. "You can, Starlight, be my good girl and cum for me, just once more." His eye glowed in the golden light of the sun setting through the windows, your aura was blindingly bright and he knew you could handle just one more. "Cum for me." He whispered, and your body obeyed as if given a command. Your hands balled into fists pulling his hair as they did. He growled. "Yes, that's it, good girl, good girl!" He rutted into you, his teeth gritting so hard they creaked as your body tightened around him, milking his orgasm from him. You were both left panting, you from the physical demands and multiple orgasms and Magnus from the emotional high. He lifted you in his arms, cooing softly to you and kissing your face and hair as he took you from the bed and to the smaller bath he'd commissioned for the two of you alone to share. "You did so well, my Radiance." He smiled and stepped down into the water. He would wash you and put you to bed. He contemplated going back to his scrolls but after that he wasn't sure he'd be able to clear his mind enough.

Looking down where you rested on his chest he found you fighting sleep and laughed softly. "Bed it is then." He decided, wrapping his arm around you as he cleaned you with the other.

[angelgoeslewd]

🔮 summary: eiland is very good at mishearing his… deeper thoughts.

⚠️ warnings: suggestive content, nothing explicit.

“Did you want to go bathe with me?”

The sentence was so jarring, that it had Eliand’s quill scraping off the page, ink pooling under the tip, splattered across the page like it would… could, across your— no, no, stop, Eiland! He blinked his undoubtedly wide eyes, trying to regain his composure, thankful his back was to you.

His mind was far too dangerous today, he tutted to himself, too much of a liability to be let loose around you. Lately, he’s found to need to have all his focus about him when talking to you. It was prone to wandering… waltzing into places and fantasies that he really shouldn’t be having, especially you.

Naked ones. Bathing ones.

“S… say again?” he gulps, shaking off his dripping quill, dipping it back into the ink to reset his hand, his mind , as he purposely does not turn to look at you. Eiland doesn’t think he could face you. Not with such lewd images running through his mind, worried about flying too close to the sun if he let his eyes rest upon your temple. His own Venus, you were. As much of temptation and distraction, as lovely and comforting. He wanted both, equally, but in such different ways. He would worship at the alter of your body, kisses and touches as offerings of his devotion —

“Uh, the bath house? I was just about to head there. Did you want to come with me? I’m sure you’re just as sweaty and dirty as I am… or, maybe not. You always look put together.”

Eiland’s heart thumped painfully, but he wasn’t sure if it was with dismay or relief. How he wished you would compliment him further, give him some sort of hope to cling to. Yet… what would he do if you propositioned him? If you hinted you returned Eiland’s affections just as much as he wanted for you. Would he ever have the confidence to make such a move? Or would he be struck with indecisiveness for perpetuity, losing you to someone who could move forward without fear, someone as fiery and self-assured as March?

“I-, N-no… go on without me. I have work to finish up here,” he manages to say, cursing the stutter in his voice, and he doesn’t see your reaction, but knows you linger in his tent for a bit longer then maybe is acceptable after the logical end to your conversation. His shoulders rise and hug his ears, defensively, he can feel you want to say something, knows the, ‘What’s going on?’ is coming, preparing some excuse that doesn’t feel like it should come out and present itself to you, but it doesn’t. You don’t say anything. And only when he feels the slight breeze from the chilled summer air, coming into his tent from the flap you must have lifted, does he turn to face where you stood.

Damn.

Sighing, Eiland turned back towards the table, parchment stained with his indecision, resting his face on his now perched elbow, quill turning expertly in his lithe, dirt stained fingers. Dots of ink connected like constellations, darkly contrasting against the yellowish page; fate seemed to bring you here. Maybe it would also bring you two closer.

And maybe next time, he thought, wistfully.

[waitforyrlove]

the aftermath with slytherin ! matt leaves you conflicted.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

the week after your last encounter with Matt was nothing short of maddening. His presence had always been unnerving, but now it was consuming.

every interaction—every glance across the Great Hall, every smirk thrown your way in the corridors—felt charged. It was as if he’d marked you in some invisible way, and you hated that you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the memory of that night in his dorm, the way his lips had brushed against your skin, lingered far longer than you wanted it to. You replayed it against your will, analyzing every word, every movement, trying to decipher what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

but Matt was infuriatingly unaffected. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you squirm.

on Monday morning, you caught him at breakfast, lounging lazily at the Slytherin table, his tie undone and his gaze sharp. When he noticed you looking, he raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if he knew exactly what was on your mind.

by Tuesday, he had escalated to casual teasing. You were in the library, hunched over a Transfiguration essay, when his shadow fell over your desk.

“Still playing it safe, are we?” he murmured, leaning in just close enough to make your breath hitch. “Thought you’d learned how to take risks by now.”

you glared up at him, determined not to let him win this round, “I have. That’s why I’m ignoring you.”

he laughed, low and amused, before plucking the quill from your hand and twirling it between his fingers. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

and then he was gone, like a light, leaving you fuming and more distracted than ever.

by Wednesday, it was worse. You were on your way to Potions when he appeared beside you as if out of nowhere, his stride matching yours.

“Morning,” he drawled, his voice far too casual for your liking.

you didn’t reply, hoping silence would deter him. It didn’t, it never does.

“Aw, come on,” he teased, leaning in slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about our little… arrangement.”

“Upset?” you snapped, finally looking at him. “I’m not upset. I just don’t have time for your games.”

his smirk widened, “Oh, but you make time for them anyway, don’t you?”

and you hated how right he was.

by Thursday it was the breaking point. You were sitting in the common room, trying and failing to focus on a Charms assignment, when one of your friends, Anabella, plopped down beside you.

“You’ve been distracted all week,” she said, her tone light but probing. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied quickly, avoiding her gaze.

she tilted her head, unconvinced, “Is this about that bet?”

you froze, the memory of the dare flashing through your mind, “No,” you said too quickly.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You were acting weird the moment you got back that night. Did something happen?”

your silence was answer enough.

her eyes widened in realization, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper., “Wait… did Matt catch you? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said again, though your cheeks betrayed you, heating under her scrutiny.

she smirked, clearly not buying it, “Right. Because Matt is the picture of mercy.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. But her grin told you she wasn’t done prying.

by Friday, you were at your wit’s end. Every encounter with Matt, every sly comment, every stolen glance, had worn you down. You hated how much space he occupied in your mind, how effortlessly he got under your skin.

but what frustrated you the most was that you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. What game was he playing? And why did it feel like you were already losing?

but you weren’t gonna stay distracted, you need to finish out a essay by tonight, and you still had to sneak at the library.

the castle was eerily quiet at this hour, the stone corridors bathed in pale moonlight streaming through the high, arched windows. You clutched the library book tightly to your chest, your footsteps light on the cold floor as you made your way back to the your common room.

sneaking out for this wasn’t your brightest idea, but the nagging feeling of needing to finish your essay had outweighed the risk.

the quiet comfort of the night was shattered the moment you rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Careful there,” a familiar, lazy voice drawled.

your heart plummeted, of all the people in this vast castle to run into, it had to be Matt.

he was leaning casually against the wall, his tie undone and his green-and-silver robes hanging off one shoulder. His hair was slightly messy, and his lips were curved into that infuriating smirk that seemed to haunt you.

but there was something different about him tonight—his usually crisp, composed demeanor was frayed, and his expression carried a smugness that made your stomach twist.

“Out for a midnight stroll?” he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes flicked to the book in your hands, but he didn’t linger there. No, his gaze raked over you, sharp and piercing.

you straightened your shoulders, trying to hide the flutter of nerves his presence always seemed to spark. “I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back, though your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped. “What are you doing out this late?”

His smirk deepened, and he took a slow step toward you, “I’ve been busy.”

the way he said it, the way his voice dipped, made your breath hitch. There was no mistaking his meaning.

you suddenly noticed the faint trace of lipstick smudged on the collar of his shirt, the hickies im his neck, the slightly disheveled state of his clothes, and the air of satisfaction radiating off him.

your stomach churned, you didn’t want to think about what—or who—he’d been doing. But the thought planted itself firmly in your mind.

“Busy,” you repeated flatly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “With what? Being an insufferable rat?”

his laugh was low and warm, but there was something dark in it, “You’re jealous, and y’ know yourself that and you don’t have the ability to hide it.”

“Jealous?” you scoffed, your cheeks burning. “Of what? Whatever poor girl had to discover how bad you are at fucking someone?”

Matt tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more intimate, “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, I think you are just waiting for your turn.”

your breath caught in your throat. You hated the way he could unravel you with a single look, a single word. It wasn’t fair. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you weren’t even sure when it had happened.

“Anyway,” he continued, brushing past you so close that his shoulder grazed yours. “Don’t let me stop you from sneaking back to your dorm, unless…” He paused, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in the low light. “You’d rather join me for a proper distraction.”

your pulse spiked, a mix of indignation and something you didn’t want to name flaring in your chest. You spun around to face him, your grip tightening on the book. “I think I’ll pass.”

the brunette chuckled, the sound low, as though he knew something you didn’t. “Suit yourself. But if you keep crossing my path like this, we might just have to start calling it fate.”

“More like bad luck,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. But it only seemed to amuse him further

he gave you one last lingering look, his smirk firmly in place, before turning and walking away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

you stood there for a long moment, your heart still racing. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence had a way of getting under your skin. You hated the smugness, the teasing, the games—and yet you couldn’t deny the strange, inexplicable pull he had on you.

with a frustrated sigh, you turned and continued your way back to the your common room, but no matter how far you walked, the echo of his words lingered in your mind.

fate, that’s what he called it.

© waitforyrlove. all rights deserved. do not copy my works. or modify my work.

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— send reqs about him pleasee :)

taglist: @secretlocket @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz @emely9274 @sturniolossss @sturnioloangell @sturnslutz

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 4

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: You tell Feyre about the bond and come up with an idea

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5

You're surprised your pacing hasn't worn a hole in the floor. You had finished your bath and dressed. Eaten the food that had been brought in for you, and even braided your hair. But you couldn't convince yourself to leave the relative safety of this room. Because you knew yourself and you knew that you wouldn't be delicate about it. No, the moment you see Feyre, you're going to just blurt it all out. And you're not sure how she’ll react. You love her as if she were actually your sister. Some days, you feel as if you may love her more than your brother. You're not sure you could stand it if she hated you.  So here you are, pacing like a coward. You suppose you should just do it. A wound doesn’t hurt any less if you know it’s coming. 

You wipe your hands on the pants of the night court attire, trying not to squirm. It was the first time you had ever worn pants and you weren't sure how you felt about the way the material gathered between your legs. It'd have to do for now, there weren't any dresses in the wardrobe. 

You finally force yourself to leave the bedroom, heading for the library. You linger outside for a moment before taking a breath and walking in over to where Feyre sits. You pull the chair out and sit across from her, but the moment she looks up from the paper and sets the quill down, your nerves get the best of you, and you stand back up, starting to pace again. Feyre watches you, curious.

“What is it?”

“Rhys. Rhysand is my mate.” You pick at the cuff of the shirt.

“Oh. Does that mean you're going to stay here?”

“No. I'll still go back to Spring with you when it's time.” You look at her, trying to gauge her reaction, but her face is blank, expressionless. 

“Why?”

“Because I don't want you to have to deal with the fallout by yourself. And because I don't want to leave you there alone.”

“I wouldn't be alone. I have Tamlin.” 

“Feyre…” You barely manage to hold back a sigh. 

“What?” 

“Do you want to marry him?” You reach for her hand, trying to offer comfort, but she pulls her hand away, anger dancing across her features. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” 

“Because I don't think you do.” 

“I think you should stay here.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from flinching, uncertain why the words hurt so much. “Why do you think that?” 

“Because you're miserable there. That's why you think I don't want to marry Tamlin. Because you're worried about me ending up like you. But I won't. Because I love him and he loves me.” You do flinch that time. Were you truly so miserable that everyone knew it? You had thought you had done a good job hiding it around Feyre at the very least, and the realization makes guilt sink in your stomach like lead. 

“Is that enough for you? Is the life he will allow you enough? Planning parties and birthing heirs?” 

“Do you think your life here will be anything different?” Her words sting. Rhys was nothing like Tamlin. 

“That’s not the point, Feyre.” You press your palms against your legs, breathing deep, to try to keep your temper at bay. 

“No? What is the point then?” Feyre crosses her arms, her gaze hard. 

“You're already miserable in Spring, but you're not trapped. At least not yet. That doesn't have to be your life.” You sit down across from her, trying to soften your gaze, eyes pleading.

“You're not trapped if you want to be there. I just… I just need the mating bond to snap and then everything will be better.” 

You nod, chewing your lip, reaching for her hand again. She uncrosses her arms, letting you take it this time. An olive branch, you suppose. 

“You think you're mates?”

She nods. “I do.” 

You force a smile. “Well, now I understand why you got so defensive when I suggested you didn't want to marry him. I'm sorry, Feyre.”

She smiles back. “So am I. I could have told you. So… Rhys is your mate? How do you feel about that?”

You blow out a breath, slumping in the chair. “I… Need some time to wrap my head around it.” 

She nods. “Because of your family?”

You manage to hold back a grimace. Of course Tamlin told her about that. You're sure he left out the part that made him look bad. The reason why Rhys and the previous High Lord had killed your family. 

“Not really. I spent more time in close proximity to our family than Tamlin did. Aside from our mother… They were not good males. They deserved what happened to them.” You notice the way Feyre's eyes widen in surprise. She looks like she has more questions she wants to ask, but you keep talking. “No, I'm not quite ready to move on yet. I need a little more time.” She pulls her hand away, guilt shadowing her face. You can see it as she retreats into herself. You stand from your chair, walking around the table to kneel in front of her, taking both of her hands in yours. 

“I will never, ever, blame you Feyre. You never have and never will be to blame for what I lost. I wish you could have come into our lives another way, because you have become like a sister to me and I am so glad that I have gotten to know you.” 

You're both tearing up, but Feyre is smiling, and you do too. 

“You've become like a sister to me too. Can I ask you something?” 

You nod. “Of course, anything.” 

“Would Andras want you to be miserable? Or would he want you to move on?” 

You stare at her not saying anything, but your silence must answer for you, because she nods, squeezing your hands.

“That's why you should stay. So you can move on, because I don't think you can in Spring.” 

“I’ll find a way. But I want to come up with something that keeps Tamlin from wrecking too much furniture.” 

Feyre rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but the smile is still on her face. You stand, letting go of her hands. “I'll let you get back to your letter practice. I found a music room with a piano in it and Rhys said he would get me new music to learn! It's been so long since I've had new music!” 

The guilt that had been gripping Feyre's chest tight ever since she had become your friend, your sister, loosens itself at the way your eyes light up with excitement. 

“I'll have to find you later so I can listen.” 

You smile, squeezing her shoulder as you leave, finding your way back to the music room, just in time to see Rhys laying a packet of music on the piano bench. He turns to look at you when you enter, smiling at the smile on your face. 

“I take it your conversation with Feyre went well then?” 

“It did. We both lost our tempers, said some unkind things, but we also said things that the other needed to hear. She thinks I should stay.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “And what do you think?” 

“I think she's right. I'll never be able to move on as long as I'm still in Spring. There are too many memories there, too many reminders. And I know it's what Andras would want. I know that if the bond had snapped while he was alive, he would have been cautious. Probably would have insisted on being here with me, but he would have encouraged me to explore it. He would not want me to be miserable.” 

Rhys nods, walking over to take your hand, brushing his thumb across the back of it. “We take this at your pace. Whatever you want.” 

“I'd like for us to be friends first. I want to get to know you. The real you. Rhys, not Rhysand.” 

“I think that could be arranged.” He smiles, violet eyes twinkling with stars. 

“And I'd like some dresses. I don't like wearing pants.” 

He laughs. “That also could be arranged.” 

You look over the male in front of you, your mate, eyes lighting up as the start of an idea forms in your head. 

“Tell me everything about Feyre's bargain, bargain tattoos and bargain magic.”

It's nearly the final day when you burst into the library, Rhys following close behind. Feyre jumps, quill scratching across the parchment, startled by your sudden entrance.

“I came up with an idea so that I can stay here. When Rhys takes you back, he’ll tell Tamlin that I made a bargain with him to release you from your bargain. You have to return to the Night Court two more times to make up for the remainder of the three months missed, but once those weeks are over, as long as I remain in the night court, you don't have to return. You and I will also make a bargain, but we'll get into that when Rhys leaves.” You glance at him over your shoulder, giving him a pointed look. He raises his hands in mock surrender, turning to leave, tugging on the bond as he does. You shake your head, grinning. 

“I think overall it's a good idea. Why are we making a bargain?”

“Because I want to know that you're okay. I know you want to be in Spring. And I understand why now. But if anything ever changes, I want you to tell me and we’ll get you. I don't care if it's a week from now or 100 years from now. You'll always be there because you choose to be.”

“And you won't be upset if I do?” 

“Of course not. I hope the way I pushed hasn't made you feel like I would be. I really did think I was helping.” 

“I know you did. What will our bargain be?”

“Rhys said it can be something simple, as long as it remains unfulfilled, or is open ended, the tattoo and the bond that comes with the bargain will remain.” Feyre nods, waiting for you to tell her your idea. “We promise to write to each other once a week for the rest of our lives.”

“You made Rhys leave for that?” She raises an eyebrow.

You grin. “Yeah, I did.” 

She laughs. “I accept your bargain.” 

You feel the tattoo appear on the inside of your forearm, near your elbow and roll up your sleeve to take a look. You smile and the cluster of flowers that appeared on your skin.

“Little lillies?” Feyre asks.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “Alstroemeria. Flowers have symbolic meanings and this one  means friendship, love, strength, and devotion. It's for people who help each other through the trials and tribulations of life.”

“For sisters.” Feyre stands, pulling you into a hug.

You pace in the study, waiting for Rhys to return from taking Feyre back to Spring. It shouldn't be taking this long, should it? You had sent Feyre back with a letter for Tamlin, explaining that you had felt responsible for Feyre's bargain with Rhys, so you had made the bargain to take her place. She would give it to him after Rhys left. 

You tug on the bond, trying to make yourself relax, managing to do so when you find it firmly in place. You would know if something was wrong. He was probably just antagonizing your brother. 

Rhys winnows back in, crossing over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to stop your pacing. “If you keep going you might wear a hole in the rug, and I'm rather fond of this one.” 

“How did it go?” You drop your shields enough to let him in so he can show you, grimacing at what you see. 

“Don't fret, Darling. It could have been worse.” 

“It absolutely could have. I'm just not a fan of the way he pulled Feyre away from you. If he's not careful, he's going to hurt her.” You frown, brow furrowed. 

“If he does, we’ll know.” He taps the spot where your tattoo is. You nod, trying to force yourself not to worry. Part of you still wishes you had gone back with her. 

“So what now? You bring me to your Court?”

He nods. “I do, but not the Court of Nightmares. I bring you to my true court, to my home. I bring you to Velaris.”

A/N: And there it is! It took a completely different path than I was expecting. Unless I get super inspired and write the next chapter between now and Monday, the next chapter will not be posted until the 17th at the earliest. I will keep my requests open, because I'll probably still write, I just won't be editing and posting!

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose

@darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming @bravo-delta-eccho

@sidthedollface2 @oucereeng @jesskidding3 @panther-girl-124 @jiarkives

@thecraziestcrayon @nebarious @nyctophiliiiiaaa

[rom-e-o]

NSFW Alphabet Headcanons (Emmrich/F!Rook)

Well, after waiting 10 years for Veilguard to come out, I’ve been enjoying it! So much so that I’ve gotten very carried away with my F!Rook OC, Belisma Ingvellar. And completely fell in love with her relationship with Emmrich.

@quill-pen had the amazing idea to do this exercise for them, sooo … away we go~ Thank you, and I hope it's a fun read!

Some background: Belisma is a 35-year-old Mourn Watch mage. Bookish and a bit awkward (she’d rather read tomes and dance ballet than lead troops against ancient gods), but she has a kind heart and can’t say no, especially when nobody else deserves the stress of saving the world.

18+ only OC content below cut.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Although she’s usually completely tuckered out after every tryst with Emmrich, Belisma always offers to assist with aftercare and clean-up. However, being the strict gentleman he is, Emmrich will not let her lift a finger.

Does she need a washcloth? He will fetch it, and make sure it’s soft and warm. Does she want water? He’ll get a pitcher. He’s even offered to carry her to the tub (Belisma is a fairly slender woman, about 110 lbs, but even then, she doesn’t love the idea of him carrying her in such an exhausted state.) He’ll do it though, and run her bath too.

Emmrich is a giving and sensual man, before, during and after any and all activities.

"Emmrich, this is too much! You don’t need to …" "Nothing is too much for you, my dearest. And I assure you, when we’re here, like this, I enjoy every moment."

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Emmrich: His favorite body part of hers is her collarbone. Just watching how the cords of her neck lead into those symmetrical, flared clavicles captivates him. He loves to run his lips along the bone, all the way to the acromion bump on the outer edge of the scapula. The delicate but complex bone structure is always something he’d admired during educational dissections, but that fascination takes on new meaning when he feels her skin flutter and flush beneath his lips during kisses. She feels alive. It’s exhilarating.

If asked what his favorite part of his body is, at first, he’d say his hands. But if you really pressed him to be honest, his arms. You don’t hold your limbs aloft and spend hours conjuring the dead with the grace of a musical conductor without getting some nice definition.

These are also the parts of him that he most adorns in jewelry and grave gold via rings and bracelets.

Belisma: She loves his back muscles and spine. Emmrich will say he’s too slender or thin, and that his ribs are too noticeable, but she disagrees. Watching the muscles of his back move and flex, even when he does something as simple as shift in his sleep, hypnotizes her. Those amazing shoulder blades, the contour of his spine … she kisses each point often. Sometimes Emmrich rolls over to return her kisses. Other times, gods forgive him, he feigns sleep so he can lay there and let her do it. Because it feels amazing, and he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming.

She loves her hair. It’s long and braided, and strong as a dang rope from how she tends to it. Also, from her years dancing ballet, she does think her calves are nice (and they are – she EARNED those muscles).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Emmrich is a fastidious and tidy man. That being said, bodily fluids don’t disgust him. They’re natural, after all, especially when specific activities and positions are involved.

After eating her out, the scent and taste of her arousal lingering on his lips and moustache delights him. As does the aroused look on her face when he licks it off.

Belisma, also being a member of the Mourn Watch and also having clinical experience, views bodily fluids somewhat neutrally. They don’t turn her on specifically, but she knows her own wickedness and uses them to her advantage. If he drips or cums on her early or too soon, she won’t clean herself up. Instead, she’ll slide her fingers through it, bring it to her lips, or use it as lube on his cock.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

They could never do it, but they share fantasies of it – having sex at his work desk in the Lighthouse. And not quickies – full, bold, sensual, fully-undressed sex. With the doors open. The idea delights, but no. Even if their companions knew to stay away, Manfred would not. And Hezenkoss would be HIGHLY displeased.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Emmrich is quite experienced. He’s been with ladies and gentlemen, and knows his charms (as well as his likes and dislikes in the bedroom). He’s dated and easily found companionship, but each eventually fell through. He always wanted love, commitment and marriage. He's in it for the long-run.

Belisma dated some, but her only serious relationship was with another mage named Cyril. They separated because, surprise, he didn’t want commitment. And for Belisma, he wasn’t worth the effort.

Neither are virgins, but Belisma definitely isn’t as experienced as he is. He did have a head start, though, haha, to be fair. He groans when she playfully brings that up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Belisma loves to ride him. She gets to feel him proudly jutting up into her, and he gets to lean back and focus solely on grinding up into her. Win-win. After she comes, she switches to more of a bouncing motion, which quickly brings him to whimpering ruin beneath her.

Emmrich gets to admire her face, feel her bum smacking his thighs, and watch her small tits bounce with each thrust. So, it gets a thumbs-up from him too. Doggy-style is also favorite because of how deep it allows him to go.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Emmrich takes romance and sex very seriously. After all, like we established, he is a man who wants love. True love. Marriage. He wants a lifelong commitment and partnership. As such, he takes lovemaking very seriously. He’s not a silent statue during it, of course, but he’s not cracking jokes, haha. He wants to make sure she feels good, is enjoying herself, and is as ‘in the moment’ as he is. He’s attentive.

He might smile and laugh afterward, when they’re laying together in the afterglow of it all, but in the moment? He is very serious and focused.

Belisma is also quite serious when it comes to their time in bed together. She’s a little awkward and bookish, and she knows that. If she tries to joke or force levity, it would ruin the mood and come across as less than genuine, and she values him too much for that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

We know Emmrich is meticulous about grooming, bathing and shaving.

He’s got some salt-and-pepper chest hair that matches the thatch between his legs, but he’s not overly hairy otherwise. Pretty sparse, to match his in-game model. He bathes daily (and after any workout/battle) and always takes care to present himself perfectly with the poise and grace expected of him.

Belisma will get so engrossed in work that she’ll accidentally go days without bathing, but she wouldn’t sleep with Emmrich in those moments. She’d bathe before any intimacy. For her hair, she washed and makes sure to condition, oil, brush and smooth it properly. Her hair, ideally, is braided. If it’s braided and up, she needs to wash it. If she’s donned a hood, it’s … been a rough/busy week. She does shave her legs and under her arms. Between her legs, she keeps hair trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Emmrich and Belisma are slow, sensual lovers. Nothing is fast, frantic, or quick. They always take their time with foreplay and undressing. LOTS of slow kissing, sighs and words of affirmation. The romance of every encounter is very important and non-negotiable for them. Both are very likely to set up their rooms or even decorate.

For example, if Emmrich plans to bring Belisma to his chamber, the bed is made and cleaned, a fire is roaring with cinnamon-scenter timber. There will be wine, music and a gradual build-up to their coupling.

Belisma will do the same. If he comes to her quarters, she makes sure to clean the entire room beforehand, and make sure everything is perfumed. She also makes dinner for him frequently (rarebit is a favorite), and always makes hazelnut torte for dessert. She even has sleep clothes and a dressing gown for him (in lilac, his favorite color) at the ready.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

One they’re a couple, they do experiment with watching each other masturbate and seeing who gives in first and crosses the room to the other. (They keep a playful tally – a straight tie, right down the middle. The ‘loser’ from the previous time owes the other a drink for next time.)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Emmrich: Very light bondage, wax play (all those candles come in handy, and the dripping wax is exhilarating) and praise. This man yearns for sweet, sweet words.

Belisma: Praise. Praise, praise, PRAISE KINK all day long. She’ll try anything once (the candle wax is fun, she’ll admit).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Their bedrooms, mostly because they know they won’t be interrupted. By people, or by Manfred. Thankfully, even with gloves, his skeletal hands aren’t dexterous enough to turn a key in a locked door. Obviously, their first time was in the coffin in the Necropolis, which was also nice and private (but a bit cold).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

At the dinner date with Rook, he admits that it’s been a while since he’s enjoyed anyone’s company. Handling semesters of students, keeping matters at bay in the Necropolis, and teaching Manfred takes time, after all.

Emmrich really doesn’t need a ton of motivation, honestly. He’s been waiting for this forever – finding someone to love and cherish. Someone to read with in bed, or dance with at the end of a long night when gentle music enters through a cracked window.

As for what turns him on, he will admit that he loves to watch her dance. Belisma was a ballet dancer for many years after all. She’s graceful, and the art shows off her skeletal and muscular forms quite perfectly. Seeing her jump and twirl so effortlessly, hair spinning behind her, her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat forming across her chest and face? Color him very interested.

Belisma gets turned on, honestly, by seeing him happy. He’s so reserved usually that seeing him get giddy or ramble about a new discovery or relic just makes her want to take his face between her hands and smooch him silly. Also, when he’s focused at his work desk, that also makes for quite a lovely picture. She’ll bring him tea and find him looking at thesis submission from student, glasses perched on his nose, head down, gaze focused. It’s a dreamy picture. Then, when he notices her, and his entire demeanor shifts to one of excitement (“Isma, darling! Hello!”) her entire body blushes every time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything non-con or sadistic is a no for both. Also, they are not interested in any third parties. Spectators or participants.

When she is in ANY kid of pain, it causes him immense distress.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Emmrich prefers to give oral. Not that he’ll say no to Belisma on her knees, taking him into his mouth (not at all) but it’s just not his preferred method of intimacy. He can’t see her face as well when she blows him, and honestly, he wants to be able to look at her. To admire the subtle changes in her expression during intercourse. Oral complicates that. Yet, he does LOVE to give oral. The entire time, his eyes stare up at her, watching her blissed out expression. He uses on hand to furiously pump his own cock while he moans and licks into her. The sounds alone are enough to bring him to ruin.

Belisma loves both. She’s a little shy about receiving it the first time, especially since Cyril never liked doing it) so he puts it off. What if she tastes/smells bad? What if she looks weird down there? Emmrich catches on eventually, and asks her:

“Isma, I can’t help but notice … when I’m pleasuring you, my hands and fingers are welcome, but when I lean down, you always stop me. I can only use my hands, if that’s why you want, but I want to be certain.�� “Oh. I’m sorry. Um, yes, hands are fine. I’m used to that. I guess I’m just a little…” “Self-conscious?” “Yes. I’m sorry, that’s immature of me.” “Hardly. It’s a matter of immense vulnerability. Darling, we’ll move at your pace. If you’d like to try it, just say the word. I’ll just add this, if it happens to help; I know there are foolish schoolboys who think women should taste like sugar cubes and smell like roses between their legs. I am a man with no such expectations.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual, all the way. The only time things get ‘rough’ is when they’re about to climax. Emmrich will grab her hips and pick up the pace to something a little more punishing. Belisma will tug his hair and bit his shoulder as her body clenches around him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nope. If there is not enough time for the full wooing process, there is no sex. I really can’t stress how important intimacy and romance is for these two, haha.

Emmrich especially. He’s a man, and his anatomy doesn’t require as much … preparation. Belisma? Without foreplay, things can be painful for her, and that thought sickens him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

They are way more game for experimenting than risk-taking. ‘Experimenting’ implies genuine interest and carnal fascination. ‘Risk-taking’ feels … unnecessary, haha. Like, would they risk having sex in their private theatre box next time they go see the Nevarran Ballet perform ‘Faustina’? No, not during the show. Buuut after the show ends, and they lock the door and pull the curtains? That’s an experiment in semi-public sex. Way more comfortable and controlled for them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

So, Emmrich is 52-55. Belisma is 35. They’re not mating like bunnies, but they have impressive stamina. Both are quick and spry on the battlefield. His refractory period is definitely existent, but that’s fine. They mostly talk between rounds, because frankly, that’s what they love most.

“My, that lilac lingerie was a delightful surprise. Where did you come across it?” “Oh, Neve recommended my to this fabulous boutique! A little pricey, but—” “Definitely worth it, if I may say so.”

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Both of them do, haha. You’re not single for decades without investing in some good tools to tide you over. They’re also both adults. I imagine Emmrich (who seems to have been quite the rambunctious/flirtatious youth) frequented them quite a bit as he found companionship with other ladies and gentlemen.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

They both loooove to tease the other. Flirtatious looks, winks, holding hands under the dinner table. It's fun, and for them, it's getting to enjoy that teenage-esque delight of being cute and in-love for a bit.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

They can be loud, but it’s harder for them. Stealing moments with each other and keeping things slow can sometimes mean their engagements are on the quieter side.

They sometimes need reminders that it’s okay to make noise. It’s okay to sigh, and moan, and cry out the other’s name. Belisma loves when Emmrich grunts or gasps against her. She’s so used to him appearing composed, it’s exciting being the one that makes such a gentleman comes beautifully undone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Emmrich: After he starts seeing Belisma, his morning workouts and exercises become a little more intense. He wants to be able to keep up with her, you know. She’s around 20 years younger, after all.

As for Belisma: She had a stuffed nug from when her parents left her as an infant. It was bundled in her swaddling cloth. She still has it, and even sleeps with it sometimes. She does NOT want Emmrich to know (how embarrassing, she’s 35!) but Manfred finds it one day and brings it to her while she and Emmrich are talking.

“Pet!” “Where did you … Manfred, did you use your allowance to buy a toy? Hm … it looks well-loved.” Then Manfred gives it to Belisma. “Rook! Pet!” “Oh. Is that yours?” Emmrich asks, blinking.

Oh, she could have died on the spot. He just laughs and says it’s sweet. Then lightly chastises Manfred for going through people’s belongings.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We’ve discussed body hair already. As for anatomy, Emmrich looks … decently endowed, honestly. There’s some noticeable cargo down there, even when he’s completely casual.

He’s quite thin and slender, especially with his height. His muscles are decently toned, but there is a softness to him. Nothing is cleanly cut or defined but he is trim. Even a little gaunt, especially around his ribs and hips.

Belisma is also very slender and thin. Even bony in some places. She has s smaller chest (B-cups) and noticeable hip dips.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

SO HIGH. They may not have the energy to mate like bunnies, but they go for hours. And they can jump in and out as needed. For example, they’ll make love, stop to make dinner, eat, then have sex again, then bathe (doing another round in the tub) then finish up with one last round in bed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Belisma always falls asleep first. And she is out like a light, snoozing away. She also talks in her sleep, haha.

Emmrich takes time to fall asleep. It’s just harder for him, but watching her sleep and breathe beside him is an immense help for soothing his own worries. She calms him better than tea and lavender, and he’s at his most relaxed when they’re sharing a bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

[petriwriting]

Baby It's Cold Outside - Theodore Nott X Reader

Based on 'Baby It's Cold Outside' (Various artists). Christmas blurb.

The Nott manor was quiet, too quiet. Theodore had invited you in for the evening to relax and 'catch up on homework' despite there being not a single textbook, journal or quill in sight. He really just wanted an excuse to use to spend time with you. You were cozied up by the fireplace as the snow accumulated outside rather quickly. you had been chatting and playing cards, but the evening was drawing to a close as you yawned one final time before sitting up on the couch. 

"Teddy, it's getting late, I should be heading home." you say stretching your arms. The fireplace was enticing, and you weren't equipped for the snow and cold winds outside just yet. "Love, please stay.." Theodore whined. "I can't, My parents will be worried." Theodore huffed and looked up at you with tender eyes. 

"Plus- what if your father gets home?" you retorted. "He won't be pleased with a stranger in his house."

"You aren't a stranger." Theodore mumbled. "My father doesn't mind you." he said, partially a lie. His father hated all of his son's friends, probably especially his partner. "He is out of the country right now, he won't be anywhere near here for the next week." you sighed. 

"I need to get home, teddy." you said finally, rising from the couch to grab your coat. Theodore follows behind you, popping up in front of you. "Please stay?" he pleads. "I can't," you insist. you lace up your boots and put your coat and scarf on, reaching for your hat, but you aren't quick enough. "It's too cold outside," he begins. "What if there's a yeti hiding in the snow?" he exaggerated. "Then I will use the magic we learned in school and defend myself." you say, reaching for your beanie, Theo is holding it out of your reach. How dare he be so tall. 

You finally wrestle your beanie out of his hands and put it on your head, grabbing your bag to leave. "Please please please stay?" The man begs again. "I could pour us a drink? or run us a hot bath?" he offers. That does sound lovely... 

"Serious," he says, "The weather is awful. It's not safe to be out there. one night won't hurt," he says, inching closer to you. 

you look at him, his deep eyes could convince you of anything if you let them, and you know this. you stare for a minute, before finally giving in. "I guess one night wouldn't hurt." you said finally. Theo is filled with joy, barely containing his excitement. "yeah?" he says, stepping even closer. you nod. He grabs your scarf and pulls you in for a quick kiss. 

"But you have to make us some tea, and I do expect a nice hot bath before bed." 

He chuckles and nods. "Of course my love." he says. "anything." 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1988 mansion in Oak Brook, IL looks like a former hotel or apt. house (it's not). What I like about it, is that it's not white & gray- it's bold. 6bds, 7ba, $2.395M.

The entrance hall. It's been freshly painted and they didn't make it gray. Glad they didn't listen to HGTV. This emerald green is stunning against the black and white.

This floor sure is lively. I don't know if I like the round pattern in the larger squares, though.

Don't like the dull wallpaper, love the blue cabinets, don't care for the too-busy backsplash.

Moody style dining room. But, it gets natural light from the double doors.

Sunken living room with pink and black accents. Love the purple couches.

Ooh, graffiti wall. What does it say? Loyalties?

The guest powder room needs some more decor. The mirror looks like porcupine quills.

Office or library. Like the cabinetry and ceiling.

Huge family/rec room.

This looks like a home school classroom.

The upstairs hallway.

The primary bedroom is very large. Nice fireplace and carpet.

Like the terrace.

Huge en-suite bath.

Looks like 2 separate closets. One for shoes and accessories. This is nice.

Large secondary bedroom decorated in dots and stripes.

Beautiful bath.

This large bedroom has a coffered ceiling and an en-suite.

The bedrooms in this home are gigantic. This one has a terrace.

Nice pool room.

Nice home gym or dance studio.

Sauna in the gym.

Big home theater. I wonder if the chairs come with it.

The patio has everything. Looks like a cabana, fireplace, pergola with outdoor kitchen, and hot tub.

Bathroom for the pool. This is lovely.

1.03 acres.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/107-Livery-Cir-Oak-Brook-IL-60523/4497402_zpid/

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

once again, we've reached a new year, and while I can't guarantee a new me who might actually release new fanfiction with some semblance of regularity, I can promise that I will keep writing and posting as often as my life allows. I want to thank all of you who read, like, respond and especially reblog my work, and I hope that you enjoy anything on this list you may of missed, and keep enjoying the new work I keep on posting. happy new year everyone!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

interlude (ficlet) *** you steal a heated moment with bruce in the lab.

BUCKY BARNES:

keep quiet (ficlet) *** /// against his better judgement, bucky lets you seduce him in a public place.

warm embrace (ficlet) bucky takes pity on you in the cold.

CLINT BARTON:

appreciation (oneshot) *** /// you borrow clint's shirt and he shows you just how much he approves.

make your move (oneshot) /// you discover clint's real feelings for you and dare him to do something about it.

stay still (ficlet) clint comes to your aid after you're injured on the battlefield.

whatever you need (ficlet) *** /// after a mission gone wrong, clint gives you everything you need.

MARC SPECTOR:

bubble bath (ficlet) sometimes, self care includes bubbles.

starving (ficlet) *** marc has alternate plans for dinner.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

smile (ficlet) you distract natasha in the middle of a meeting.

PETER QUILL:

chilly (ficlet) /// you're not quite used to just how cold it is in space.

rom-com moment (ficlet) *** even a storm can't convince quill to keep his hands -or his feelings- to himself.

STEVEN GRANT:

raindrops keep falling (ficlet) a busted umbrella leads to a meet cute.

TONY STARK:

downpour (ficlet) *** tony has his way with you against a window as you watch the rain.

favor (ficlet) you convince tony to finally get some rest.

ink (ficlet) you surprise tony when he finally comes home to you.

missed you (ficlet) tony wakes you up in the middle of the night.

most people (oneshot) /// tony can't believe you're the kind of person who doesn't like hugs.

pride (ficlet) *** tony takes a lot of pride in what he does to you.

voice of reason (ficlet) in a reversal of roles, tony's the one to convince you to go to bed.

waking up with you (ficlet) *** tony has only one thing on his mind in the mornings.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

ladies first (clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader) *** /// natasha has strict rules when it comes to play.

plaything (tony stark x marc spector x reader) *** /// you invite an old boyfriend to help teach your new one a lesson.

SERIES:

just to be nearby (peter quill x reader) *** /// months after the battle of earth, peter is still wallowing in his loss of gamora. he begins to find comfort in you.

just to be nearby

closer still

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) *** /// after the snap, you volunteer to track down clint and bring him home. instead, you join him on his mission for blood and find yourself growing closer to him... prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - more coming soon

tag list: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @trekkingaroundasgard @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @ccbsrmsf1 @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @blue-chup @darsynia @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvelwomen-simp @bombardia @bellarkeselection @hollymac79 @dragon-chica

[saphstories]

Chapter Eight: Prepare the Way

(Index/Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

Sonic yanked the pillow over his head with a groan and curled into a ball in the center of his massive luxurious bed. Go away, go away, go away. He chanted pleadingly. In the back of his mind, he wondered the reason for his reluctance, then recalled what Sarena had said the previous night at dinner.

“The Swords didn’t just choose you as the Three Sovereigns. They used their own Chaos Energy to reach inside your souls and Awaken the dormant power sleeping within.” The Chief Healer had smirked. “The three of you are going to pass out before your heads hit your pillows, I guarantee it.” She’d been right. Sonic had staggered, dead on his feet, through his nightly routine before collapsing on his bed and crashing thoroughly into dreamland.

The knocking had yet to stop. Sonic grumbled in annoyance and snuggled into the warm silk sheets.

THWACK!

Sonic yelped and tumbled from his blanket cocoon onto the chilly hardwood floor in a tangled heap of silk and limbs. Above the blue hedgehog, a gleaming silver longsword with a glowing sapphire within its spherical golden crossguard hovered above him. “Up, Knave!” Caliburn’s fierce disapproval rang so loudly in his head that Sonic wondered if the Sovereign Sword really could speak aloud. Maybe if it did, Sonic could figure out how to shut it up.

Even so, Sonic popped up from the mess of sheets and blankets with a glower at his blade. “What part of sleeping in does no one in this kingdom understand?” He grumbled, surreptitiously rubbing his bottom where the flat of Caliburn’s blade had smacked him.

Caliburn descended to float directly in front of Sonic. “A King rises with the sun to guide his kingdom as the sun guides the world.” He lectured sternly. “And your kingdom awaits you, Knave, so up you get! You have already wasted valuable time, the other Sovereigns are most likely waiting for you! Tardiness is unbecoming of a King!”

Sonic groaned and heaved himself off the floor. He wondered if Arondight or Zirael lectured Shadow and Silver like this. It’s only been a few hours since the Swords’ sentience awakened, after the Beacon alerted Elysia that the Sovereigns had indeed arrived, but Sonic was ready to pull his quills out. Caliburn never shut up; always criticized every little thing Sonic did. He was a Sovereign, a future King, shouldn’t Sonic have the freedom to do whatever he wanted?

“Absolutely not!” Caliburn snapped. “There is much more to being a King than getting your way all the time, Knave, so get that thought out of your head this instant!”

Sonic banged his head against his wardrobe door. “My name’s not Knave.” He muttered and slammed the bathroom door before Caliburn could follow him. No one told Sonic that being Chosen as a Sovereign meant having an uppity sentient telepathic sword griping in his ears all day. Sonic heaved a sigh and dragged his feet towards the gigantic jacuzzi bathtub in the corner of the grand washroom. At least the perks were awesome. His own apartment-style suite in the Imperial Wing of the Palace, outfitted with every luxury Sonic could ever need: a sitting room, small kitchenette, private study, and gigantic bedroom with a huge four-poster bed, all decorated in hues of blue trimmed in gold. Sonic didn’t even care that Shadow and Silver had been given their own chambers in the same hall, or that Shadow had gotten the largest and grandest of the three as the future High King. Sonic had managed to pull strings and get Tom, Maddie, Tails, Knuckles, and Ozzy their own suite in the Wing, citing that as they were his family, they were technically royals, too.

Sonic sped through his bath and morning routine—ignoring Caliburn’s scoff of derision at his outfit choice of a hoodie, jeans, and his favorite sneakers—and strapped the Sword to his belt before hurrying to the door, the knocks on which had not ceased since they’d begun. “Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Sonic snapped, then paused.

A young rabbit girl with honey-colored fur, big brown eyes, a bright orange sailor dress, and a little blue creature with a big red bowtie beamed up at him. “Lord Sonic!” She cheered, then hastily dropped into a curtsy, the little creature bending over in a bow. “My name is Cream, and this is Cheese the Chao!”

“Chao chao!” Cheese chirped happily.

Cream giddily bounced in place. “We’re so happy to meet you, Lord Sonic, and can’t wait until you become King and beat those mean Black Arms and end the war-!”

“Cream, dear,” Sonic glanced down the hall to find his family, Shadow, and Silver waiting alongside a much older female rabbit with the same coloring as Cream, her darker brown hair tied back into a neat bun, who was shaking her head with a smile. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, right.” Cream curtsied and Cheese bowed again. “If you will follow us, milord, we shall escort you to the dining hall for breakfast.”

“Er, thanks.” Sonic followed the little rabbit as she skipped down the hall and joined the older rabbit, grinning hopefully at her.

“How was that, Mother?” Cream whispered loudly.

Maddie hid a grin as Cream’s mother patted her daughter between the ears with a smile. “Very well done, Cream.” The matron rabbit lowered into a curtsy, smiling respectfully at Sonic. “Lord Sonic, allow me to introduce myself: I am Vanilla, the palace governess, and it is an honor to meet you, milord. My daughter is not the only one eager for your coronation in six days.”

Sonic cocked his head. “Governess?”

Vanilla nodded. “I oversee the maintenance of the palace and its grounds and supervise all staff.” She explained. “Cream is training to take my place one day. Should you ever need or want anything, please let either of us know.”

Sonic gave a thumbs up. “Will do!”

Silver’s stomach growled, and he turned hopeful golden eyes on Vanilla. “So, breakfast?” Cream giggled behind her hands, and Vanilla dipped her head and beckoned the group to follow her.

“Miss Ivy makes the best breakfasts!” Cream gushed, skipping alongside her mother. “Her pancakes are delicious, but she won’t tell me the recipe. Says it’s a ‘family secret’, even though I promised her loads of times I’d never tell anyone…”

3S 

Cream had been right. The breakfast served that morning in the dining hall had been incredible. Stacks upon stacks of pancakes oozing with golden butter and amber syrup, heaps of bacon and sausage still lightly sizzling, every method of eggs imaginable, and a variety of juices in tall crystal pitchers, joined by shiny pots of fresh coffee and steaming teas. Everyone present—Shadow, Sonic, Silver, Blaze, Sally, Tom, Maddie, Tails, and Knuckles—helped themselves to the feast with gusto. Even Shadow had enjoyed moderate portions of fried eggs and bacon with seemingly endless refills of black coffee.

“And you thought I had it bad.” Tom muttered to Maddie, pointedly sipping his own mug. Maddie just shook her head at him.

Princess Blaze cleared her throat. “I hope milords and lady rested well in their new quarters?” She prompted, gaining several nods and thanks, which she waved away. Blaze shared a look with Sally, who nodded, and both princesses rose to their feet.

“If my Lords are finished, we’ve important matters to discuss with you.” Sally requested. “Regarding the plans for the next six days until your coronation.” Shadow, Sonic, and Silver exchanged looks of surprise and confusion, but each stood and followed the regents out the door. Sonic waved over his shoulder at his family.

“Guess we all should get going, too.” Tom sighed, then grinned at Knuckles. “Wanna walk your old man down to the Knight Courtyard?”

“You’re sure you can make it to the EORTA offices on your own, Tails?” Maddie fretfully adjusted the backpack on her youngest’s shoulders.

“Course, Mom.” Tails agreed, hugging her. “I’ll see you at dinner; don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

3S

Tails was most certainly not fine. The twin-tailed fox leaned against the wall of some hallway within the Palace, huffing with exertion and absolutely and utterly lost. What was he thinking, not asking for an escort? His mother was going to have his hide, if Chief Rotor didn’t use it for some experiment first! Tails groaned and facepalmed. What a genius he was!

His ears twitched, and Tails looked up. A girl with leafy green hair and pale green skin, adorned in a dress that looked like a blooming flower in the same shades of green as her features, walked down the corridor towards him, carrying a wicker basket of tiny seedlings and humming to herself. “Hello.” Tails greeted.

The girl startled, blinking surprised blue eyes at the fox. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” She apologized. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay; sorry I scared you.” Tails returned. “I’m Tails.”

She giggled and waved at his namesakes. “Fitting.” She approved. “My name is Cosmo; I’m the palace gardener.”

Tails frowned. “The palace is huge; isn’t that too much work for one person?” He pointed out.

Cosmo grinned and set her basket down, waving her hands over the seedlings, which danced and swayed under her fingers. “Not if you have a talent for it.” She giggled at Tails’ awed expression.

“You can manipulate plant life! That’s incredible!” Tails exclaimed.

“It’s a common gift for a Seedrian.” Cosmo shrugged, her cheeks tinting bright green. “Do you have a gift?” She wondered.

His tails drooped. “Not really. I mean, I can fly-,”

“You fly?!”

“With my tails.” When Cosmo gaped at him, Tails grinned and twirled his tails, hovering in the air and zooming around her playfully, eliciting joyful laughter from the girl.

“That’s amazing!” She cheered. Tails blushed, and his tails curled in delight. “Are you going to be a pilot?”

“I’m actually going to be an EORTA apprentice.” He winced. “That is, if Chief Rotor doesn’t fire me first.”

“Why would Chief Rotor fire you?” Cosmo tilted her head.

“It’s my first day, I kinda insisted I could find the offices myself, and now I’m lost and late.” Tails confessed, ears flat and tails drooping in shame.

“Don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder comfortingly and smiled at him; his cheeks burned. “Chief Rotor is very understanding and kind. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Her blue eyes brightened, a grin stretching across her face. “Why don’t I escort you?”

Tails gestured towards the basket of seedlings. “Don’t you have work to do? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Oh, these seedlings are going in the Knight Courtyard. If we go another route, we’ll pass right by the Cortex EORTA entrance.” Cosmo snatched up her basket, grabbed Tails’ hand, and tugged him down the hallway. “Come on, I even know a shortcut!”

Cosmo led Tails through the twisting halls, pointing out markers that the fox could use to guide his way if he should ever be lost again. After a few minutes, the Seedrian led him down two flights of stairs, the warm sunshine diminishing the deeper they descended. “The Cortex is the central hub of Elysia.” Cosmo softly explained. “It’s located under the Palace for extra security, because it houses not only the EORTA, but the Ring Port and the ECI, and only the ones with top clearance or are invited can enter there.” She halted in front of a set of sliding glass double doors with the words ‘Elysian Office of Research and Technological Advancement’ printed in gold.

“Thanks for the help.” Tails grinned. “See you around?” He asked hopefully.

Her cheeks turned deep green. “Definitely.” Cosmo smiled back. “Good luck with Chief Rotor.”

“Good luck with the seedlings.” Tails replied. Cosmo giggled and hurried back the way she came, waving to Tails as she vanished up the staircase.

Tails faced the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed forward. The doors automatically slid open for him, and the breath rushed from his lungs.

He’d had a makeshift lab before meeting Sonic and becoming a member of the Wachowski family. His dad, once he saw Tails tinkering in the living room at home in Green Hills, gave Tails his own section of the garage and a workbench for his inventions. But neither of those spaces ever compared to this.

Bright white lights illuminated the large square space and reflected off the white tiled floors and crisp white wall, the one furthest the door painted with a golden phoenix wearing a tripoint crown on its head. Mobians and humans in white lab coats either sat at desks and typed away at computers with eyes glued to the program codes flashing across multiple screens; mixed foul-scented chemicals within glass beakers with protective gloves that extended over their elbows; or bent over circuit boards and other tech with sparking wires and silver tools. Tails knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care. It was chaotic, noisy, and amazing.

“Like what you see, champ?” Tails startled, his namesakes fluffing up behind him, and Rotor apologetically chuckled. “Whoops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” The walrus lifted his black goggles off his eyes to rest on his forehead and grinned at the fox. “I was expecting you a bit sooner, Tails.”

Tails averted his gaze to his shuffling feet. “I got lost.”

Rotor nodded in understanding. “No worries, kiddo. Happens to all the refs. Now,” He clapped his gloved hands together and grinned at Tails, a twinkle in his eye. “Whaddaya say we get to work, huh?”

3S

“You have got to be kidding me.” Shadow glowered at the beast in front of him, arms crossed tight across his chest and body rigid as a statue.

“Sorry, Sunshine.” Sarena apologized, no hint of remorse in her voice. When Shadow snapped his venomous gaze at her, she grinned and patted the horse’s neck. “But it’s expected. The coronation will be held in four days at the Cathedral in the kingdom square, and all Elysia will be crowding the streets to see the Prophesied Sovereigns take their rightful places as Kings. Vector thought the best way to get you three there without anyone getting trampled would be on horseback, and the Court agreed.” Her smile widened. “Besides, it’ll be fun! Why not give the kingdom the chance to properly celebrate the day they’ve all waited centuries for with a parade?”

“I am not humiliating myself riding on a stupid horse when I can think of at least four alternative ways!” Shadow snapped. “And why aren’t the other two here getting this lecture?!”

“Lord Sonic already knows how to ride, and Lord Silver had this natural connection to Fisher over there.” Sarena nodded her head to a handsome buckskin mustang drinking from the trough in the corner of the stable. “One hour of instruction, and those two were prancing around like they’ve been riding together for years. He knows well enough for a smooth ride to the Cathedral and back.”

Shadow raised a brow, momentarily forgetting he was objecting to this ridiculous plan in his curiosity. “Do people normally learn that quickly?”

Sarena shrugged. “Some do. Some have an affinity with animals in general; horses are great judges of character, and Lord Silver is very sweet-tempered…but this seemed like more. I can’t say for certain, but Lord Silver may have a gift that made it easy for him to connect with Fisher. You’ve seen how that flicky of his refuses to leave his side for even a second.” Shadow snorted. “Now, milord, get over here. I’ve got four days to teach you how to properly ride and we’re burning daylight.”

“I’m not climbing on that beast just so it can toss me right back off!” Shadow sneered.

Sarena glared at him. “First of all, ‘it’ is a horse, ‘it’ is a she, and she has a name. Remember how I said horses judge character? You’re displaying extremely poor taste, mister!” The periwinkle hedgehog put her hands on her hips and disapprovingly glowered down her nose at Shadow with scorching teal eyes.

Shadow met that disapproval for all of ten seconds before he cowed. “Fine. I’m not getting on that horse just so she can toss me right back off.”

Sarena immediately softened. “Sunshine, I hate to tell you this, but that’s part of riding. You’re gonna get thrown or you’re gonna fall off.” Shadow opened his mouth, but Sarena held up a finger, silencing him. “But I’ll make you a promise, okay?” She stroked the mare’s pretty blonde mane with a smile. “I raised Peaches myself from a filly, and she’s a very sweet and kind lady. She won’t throw you just to throw you. I’ve ridden her since she was big enough to ride and she’s only ever thrown me twice, both times because something spooked her.”

“I’m not afraid.” Shadow protested.

Sarena furrowed her brow. “Then what?”

Shadow shifted on his feet uneasily, then sighed. “You know what I was created to be.” He muttered. “The Ultimate Lifeform, the key to immortality, meant to be perfect at everything set to me. And now I’m meant to be the High King of Elysia, prophesied to end a war that’s lasted two thousand years.” Shadow slowly exhaled and met Sarena’s gaze with vulnerable scarlet eyes. “How am I supposed to prove any of that if I get thrown like an idiot on the way to my own coronation?”

“Sunshine, no one is ever perfect at anything straightaway, Ultimate Lifeform or not.” Sarena gently argued. “Everything is learned and mastered in its time; even those with talents must be properly taught to hone those talents to achieve mastery.” She snubbed her nose with a smirk. “And it just so happens that I’m one of the best riders you’ll find in Elysia.” She proclaimed. Shadow regarded Sarena and the mare at her side with uncertain ruby eyes, and she smiled encouragingly. “Trust me, Sunshine. I’ll have you riding like a pro in no time.”

“Fine.” Shadow relented.

Sarena beamed and waved him forward. “First thing you need to always remember is that a horse is a prey animal, no matter its size.” She informed him. “So, you need to remain calm and attentive when handling a horse. No sudden movements, loud noises, or general things that may spook them and cause an accident if you can help it. Horses are incredibly inept at sensing their rider’s moods, so if you’re distressed, upset, or angry, they will pick up on that, and it will make their behavior erratic and create a dangerous situation where you or the horse will be possibly harmed.”

“How do I avoid that?”

“Remain calm, confident, and compassionate. Remember that your horse has thoughts and emotions just as you do, only with a different method of expression. Remember that this is a living thing, not a toy or transport to be used then discarded once you’re finished with it. Simply put: treat her like you’d want to be treated in her hooves.” Sarena’s expression hardened to stone. “Listen to me very carefully, Shadow Robotnik: I don’t care if you’re High King or court jester, if I ever hear anything of you mistreating a horse, whatever you’ve done to them, I’ll inflict tenfold on you. Are we clear on that?”

Shadow did not quiver in his skates; he absolutely did not. But he did nod solemnly in response. “Crystal.”

Sarena’s expression smoothed into a smile. “Good. Now, come here and say a proper hello to Peaches.” She patted the palomino mare’s neck, and the mare tossed her head to nibble at Sarena’s hand affectionately.

 Shadow remained where he was. “Hello, Peaches.”

Sarena chuckled. “She won’t bite, Sunshine. Peaches is the gentlest mare we have in the stables. Besides, we gotta get her used to you, and you to her, before the coronation. You’ll be riding her for the parade, remember?”

“I don’t know how-,”

“Hold your hand up to her.” Sarena instructed and pushed Shadow’s arm up at the wrist and turned it, so the back of his hand was aloft just inches before Peaches’ muzzle. “Just like that, then let her come to you. When she does, you have her permission to touch her. Think of it like a handshake: You’re saying hello.”

Shadow swallowed, but remained perfectly still as Peaches gazed at him with curious dark eyes. There was no denying she was a gorgeous animal, with a smooth cream-colored coat, a soft golden mane and tail, and a small white patch between her dark eyes. Her warm breath tickled Shadow’s gloved fingers, and something like wonder melted Shadow’s ruby eyes as Peaches curiously nosed into his palm. “Hello, Peaches.” He whispered reverently, the tiniest of upticks on the corner of his mouth. Sarena beamed and joined him, showing Shadow the best places to stroke and pet her, and the periwinkle hedgehog laughed when Peaches snuffed out her nose on Shadow’s forehead.

“She likes you.” Sarena explained at the concurrent questioning look. “It’s called blowing, and it means she’s happy and likes what you’re doing. Like how we purr.”

Shadow nodded, but with an odd expression on his face. “Right.” He shook his head. “What now?”

Sarena smirked. “Now the real work begins.”  

3S

A tall cathedral of gleaming white stone stood proudly in the center of the Elysian Square, decorated with shining blue tile roofs and glistening golden windows, the pillars and walls sculpted in bricks of quartz. An ivory fountain sat before the marble steps leading to the glittering gold arched entryway, the water shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Four pairs of eyes from across the cobblestone street observed the Cathedral, three with wonder, one with reverence, until the leading otter nudged his companions down the sidewalk. 

“You’ll get a better view tomorrow during the coronation rehearsal.” Scratch promised. “We’ve more pressing matters to attend to.” He pointed down to the opposite side of the kingdom square, where a modest little building, painted a cream white trimmed with baby blue, sat on the corner. “Threads of Grace. The best boutique in all of Elysia.” The otter smirked, his amber eyes twinkling behind his glasses, at the three hedgehogs trailing behind him. “Certainly a fitting place for such an important affair.” He snickered.

Sonic facepalmed. “Don’t quit your day job, Scratchy.”

Scratch chuckled. “You sound just like Sarena.” The otter nimbly dodged a pack of kids bolting down the sidewalk, shaking his head with a laugh once their less-than-melodic tune reached his ears. “Haven’t heard that ditty in a while.” He mused.

Shadow cocked his head, straining to listen even as the children raced away. “… ‘Smeared with oil like David’s boy’?” The black hedgehog questioned incredulously.

“O lei, o lai, o lord.” Scratch sang and barked a laugh at the Three’s perplexed looks. “It’s an old Solennian folk song. ‘There will come three Rulers, whose brows are laid in gold. Smeared with oil like David’s boy, o lei o lai, o lord.’” Scratch raised his brow at Shadow, Sonic, and Silver, an expectant grin on his muzzle. “We weren’t kidding when we told you all Elysia has been waiting for you.” The three hedgehogs exchanged a look, and Scratch waved them forward towards Threads of Grace’s entrance. “Come on, best not keep them waiting.”

A soft tinkling resounded above the wooden door, and a voice with a hidden owner called. “Just a moment!” Scratch grinned and motioned Shadow, Sonic, and Silver inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

The interior of the boutique matched the outside; small, but neat and charming, with sandy wood floors, pale cream walls trimmed in soft blue, and racks upon racks of clothing lining the walls. Men’s fashions on the right, women’s on the left, increasing in age the further along the walls one searched. The center floor was reserved for alterations, with two pedestals on either side surrounded by a triage of tall mirrors and a small section of cozy armchairs each. At the very back of the shop stood the reception desk, with a singular desktop computer and silver bell atop it, and a swinging saloon door beyond.

Scratch winked at the three hedgehogs, strode towards the desk, and tapped the bell. Ching!

“A moment, please!” The same voice requested.

Scratch bit back a snigger and tapped the bell twice more. Ching ching!

“Bellamy Fireheart, if that’s you ringing the damn bell, scram!” The voice shouted. “We’ve got VIPs coming any minute now,” A lovely maiden fox with an irate scowl poked her head around the doorway and shooed him away. “So away with you, mister!”

Scratch leaned on the desk and blinked innocently at her. “Even if I bring clients?”

“Unless they’re the Three Sovereigns themselves here for their Coronation fitting-,” The fox stepped out and put her hands on her hips, her bushy tail swishing behind her, the evergreen of her off-shoulder blouse and soft blue of her jeans a pleasant contrast from her bright orange fur.

“Funny you should say so, sweetheart, but-,” Scratch stepped aside and gestured a ‘ta-da!’ with a sweep of his arm at Shadow, Sonic, and Silver. “That’s exactly who I’ve brought.”

The fox gaped, her striking green eyes popping out of her head, and Scratch bit his fist to keep from outright laughing. “I-you-my Lords-,” She fumbled, then promptly threw a roll of fabric at the sniggering otter’s head. “Bellamy Fireheart, you scoundrel! Mama’s been working herself into a fit and you just-!” She spun on her heel and marched back the way she came.

“Someone’s in trouble.” Sonic muttered.

Silver furrowed his brow. “Bellamy?”

Scratch shrugged. “Old family name. Jem only uses it when I’ve managed to ruffle her fur.”

“Which you make a habit of doing, young man.” A portly mouse with long whiskers, a streak of silver around his nose, thick round glasses, and a curved wooden cane that he leaned heavily on as he limped around the desk to raise a brow into the hem of the brown leather flat cap resting between his large ears. He playfully jabbed the tip of his cane into Scratch’s chest. “It’ll come back to bite once you marry her, and marriage makes it all the worse, boy.”

“She makes it too much fun, Mr. Grace.” Scratch grinned.

Mr. Grace shook his head, then leveled his blue eyes—enlarged by his spectacles—at Shadow, Silver, and Sonic. “So, you’re the ones, eh?” He hummed. “The Three Sovereigns.”

The three of them exchanged a look. Sonic nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Which of ya did Arondight choose?” Mr. Grace leaned forward interestedly. “No, no, no, don’t tell me.” He waved his paw and hobbled closer, peering at each of the hedgehogs closely, until he paused directly in front of Shadow. “It’s you, innit? The future High King? Arondight’s Chosen?”

Shadow wanted to demand just how this old mouse knew, but the words died on his tongue the longer he held those firm, yet kind blue eyes. He blinked as Mr. Grace’s eyes shimmered with light, and he nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.” Shadow wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could see it plainly: Mr. Grace was a mouse of great respect…and so deserved Shadow’s.

“Thought so.” Mr. Grace’s whiskers twitched, and those eyes twinkled. “How’s that Sight treatin’ ya?”

Shadow frowned. “Sight?”

“What Sight, Mr. Grace?” Scratch demanded.

“Come now, boy. Surely as someone with Vision, you musta seen it in him.” Mr. Grace smirked. “It’s clear as day in his eyes. Our future High King has Sight. What sort, I can’t be sure. But it’s there.”

“Lord Shadow,” Scratch gently pushed past Mr. Grace to stand in front of Shadow and quirked his brow. “If I may?”

“May what?” Shadow narrowed his eyes.

Scratch shot an inquiring look at Mr. Grace, and the old mouse waved his paw dismissively. “Mr. Grace was the General of the Elysian Knights several years back; he’s Antoine’s predecessor.”

“Would still be leadin’ if not for this bum leg.” Mr. Grace tapped his left boot with his cane. “Though Twan’s doin’ a right good job as General.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Shadow?” Silver asked.

“I got a bit of a knack for spottin’ gifts.” Mr. Grace shrugged one shoulder. “Scratch there thinks it’s a gift of my own, but I think it’s ‘cause I’m old and learned what to look for in people over the years.”

“I want to examine your Chaos Energy and see if I can discern what Sight Mr. Grace believes he spotted.” Scratch explained.

Sonic whistled. “I thought you could only see visions.”

Scratch shook his head. “There are many facets to a Seer’s talents, just like any other with Chaos abilities. My most powerful ability is my Prophetic Sight, which does grant me the ability to See through Time, but it’s not the only gift I have at my disposal. All Seers, myself included, have Discernment: the ability to examine another’s Chaos Energy and verify the abilities that person has. Admittedly, I’m not the best at it, but I should at least be able to Discern what Mr. Grace saw.” Scratch raised his brow at Shadow. “Your permission, milord?” Shadow paused, debating for a long moment, before nodding slowly. “Relax and keep your eyes on me.” The otter instructed, tucking his glasses away into his sweater vest pocket.

Scratch’s inquisitive honey eyes met Shadow’s reluctant scarlet. The otter’s irises shimmered and expanded, filling Shadow’s vision with swirling honey speckled with golden pinpricks like stars.

Then, as quickly as it began, Scratch blinked and grinned, slipping his glasses back onto his face and stepping back. Shadow shook his head, ears popping like he’d been submerged underwater, everything returning to the sharp clarity he knew. “Well?”

“First, to make sure I’m right.” Scratch pursed his lips. “Lord Shadow, my full name is Bellamy ‘Scratch’ Fireheart; I'm a survivor of the Solaris Event; I’m engaged to Jemina Grace and we’ll be married this spring; my best friend is Chief Healer Sarena Grace, who is also Jem’s sister and the Grace’s youngest daughter; and I’m called Scratch because of a hideous scar with a rather embarrassing story about climbing a tree and falling over ten feet when I was a pup.”

Shadow blinked, startled at the slew of information, then frowned, narrowing his eyes. “You’re lying.” He accused.

“About which part?” Scratch pressed, brow raised expectantly.

Shadow paused, considering. He tilted his head, scrutinizing the Prophet of Elysia, and his eyes began to glow, the shining ruby of his irises engulfing his black pupils until his eyes were flat scarlet disks, shimmering with power. “You’re not a survivor of the Solaris Event; you and Jemina won’t be married in spring; and you aren’t called Scratch because of a scar with a ridiculous story.”

Scratch beamed. “Well done, milord.” Mr. Grace chuckled at Shadow’s confounded expression as his eyes returned to normal.

“How-?” Silver wondered.

“It’s called True Sight, or more commonly, Star Sight.” Scratch explained. “Thankfully, you won’t need to worry about prophetic visions, Lord Shadow. Instead, Star Sight makes you immune to deception, able to See through any lie to the truth.”

“So, I’m a walking lie detector.” Shadow deadpanned.

“Essentially, but your powers have only just Awakened.” Scratch reminded him. “Which leaves room for growth. There’s no telling how powerful the three of you may become. Star Sight’s a rare gift, even for Seers. The last record of a Seer with it was over a century ago.”

The conversation was stilled by the fox and a female mouse with coal black fur, a neat silvery bun, and a long-sleeved blue dress with a white apron tied around her waist walking out from the back room. The fox marched straight for Scratch and flicked him on the nose. “Ouch!” Scratch wiggled his nose and shot a wounded look at the fox. “Easy, Jem, I only have one of those!” He complained.

“Rascal.” Jem rolled her eyes but kissed his cheek. “Why do you insist on irritating me?”

“Why do you rise to the occasion?” Scratch countered with a grin, then covered his face when she made to flick him again.

“You’re spending too much time around Sarena.” Jem informed him.

Scratch wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “I’ll take you to dinner after their fitting to make up for it.” He promised.

“Jake’s?” Jem hopefully suggested.

Scratch chuckled. “Only if you agree to share the nuggets.”

“Better stay in for supper, then.” Jem decided. Scratch laughed.

Mr. Grace shook his head with a grin and put his hand on the female mouse’s shoulder. “My lords, might I introduce you to my lovely wife, Olivia Grace, and our eldest daughter, Jemina.”

Jemina and Olivia lowered themselves into curtsies. “It’s a great honor to be dressing you for your coronation, my lords.” Olivia dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron, the white fabric darkening in pinprick spots. “Forgive the tears, but…never in our wildest dreams did we think we’d live to see this day.” The elder mouse sniffled but beamed at the three hedgehogs with glistening brown eyes.

Sonic shuffled on his feet and shared an uncomfortable look with Shadow and Silver. “Of course, ma’am.”

“The honor is ours.” Silver agreed. Shadow inclined his head.

Jemina clapped her hands. “Now, two of you pick a pedestal and hop it! We’ve got a lot to do to make you look perfect for your kingdom, so let’s not waste time, eh?”

3S

The cool night air ruffled his blue fur, bristling in response to the chill. Sonic closed his eyes and sighed, leaning on his elbows onto the balcony railing. Beneath him, the lantern lights that dotted the kingdom glimmered like fireflies, warm and comforting. Sonic’s gaze shifted upward, but only saw the deep indigo of the night sky above. Not a single star shone, only the hazy outline of the crescent moon.

The coronation was tomorrow. Sonic knew he should be excited; he was being crowned a King, but…he could feel the weight pressing down on his shoulders, see the bars closing tight around him. To be a King meant responsibility, it meant constriction. Sonic wouldn’t just gain a kingdom tomorrow, but a war. A war that had raged for two thousand years, a war he was somehow destined to end.

“Lord Sonic?” Sonic let out a squeal and jumped a foot in the air, his spines flaring. Blue lightning crackled in his fingers, but when he whirled around, he found a remorseful but amused pink hedgehog with her short quills tied back and her body wrapped tight in a fuzzy dressing gown. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chief Rose raised her hands in surrender and cocked her head at him. “Can’t sleep?”

Sonic forced his heart to slow and quills to flatten. “Not really.”

A twinkle shimmered in her soft green eyes. “Excited?”

Sonic’s own emerald eyes lowered. “Not really.”

Chief Rose bit her lip. “May I join you, milord? Or would you rather be alone?”

Sonic considered it. His thoughts were spinning, faster and faster with no signs of stopping for even a second. “Company would be nice.” He agreed. Chief Rose smiled and strode forward to join him, inhaling the crisp night air and folding her hands on the stone railing.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She nodded to the kingdom below. “A shame we can’t see the stars, though.”

“Why can’t we?” Sonic wondered, then gestured to the lantern light with a quirked brow. “Ambient lighting?”

“No, it’s the Smoke Screen.” She informed him, frowning when his expression turned blank. “Sally and Blaze should have—didn’t they show you three all the classified zones?” She demanded.

Sonic winced. “Yes?”

Chief Rose’s expression fell into a deadpan stare. “You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I was!” Sonic protested. “It’s Caliburn’s fault!” Sonic felt no remorse pointing the blame—because it was Caliburn’s fault! The Sovereign Sword had been in Sonic’s ear during Sally and Blaze’s entire tour, hissing at the hedgehog and making it difficult to focus.

Chief Rose shook her head bemusedly. “The Smoke Screen is the illusion barrier that hides Elysia from the Black Arms.” She explained and pointed at the moon’s hazy outline. “It isn’t a full shield; if the Black Arms were to find our coordinates, the Smoke Screen wouldn’t stop them from passing over the borders. But the illusion obscures us from any sort of tracking technology, including plain sight, but the unfortunate side effect is it also obscures outside visuals from the inside.”

“It blots out the stars.” Sonic murmured in understanding.

“The sun and moon get through because they’re close enough and radiate enough light.” She agreed. “Shame, but there’s no way around it. Rotor tried for months, but I’d rather not see the stars if the alternative is sacrificing our people’s safety.”

“Do you really think we can win the war?” Sonic blurted.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. “But I believe in the Prophecy, and that means I believe in you, and Lords Shadow and Silver.”

“What if it’s misplaced?” Sonic ducked his head. “I’m up for any adventure, and I’ll help in any way I can, but becoming a King and ending a 2,000-year-old war? That’s a tall order. How can you be sure we’re the ones? What if the Prophecy is wrong?”

Chief Rose chewed the inside of her cheek, then hesitantly laid her hand over Sonic’s. “I don’t have any of those answers, and I’m not going to pretend I do. But,” She smiled at him. “I’m sure because I have faith. I have faith in the Prophecy. I have faith in the Swords. I have faith you’ll go into the Cathedral tomorrow a nervous boy and come out a courageous King. I have faith Antoine is going to train the Three of you until you’re better warriors than him. I have faith that the next time you meet the Black Arms in battle, you’ll make them quake in their scales. I have faith that one day soon, you’ll greet Black Doom, then destroy him forever. I have faith that one day soon, that name will be nothing but a memory. I have faith that one day soon, Elysia will finally be at peace. And above all, I have faith that all will be because of you, of Lords Shadow and Silver, the Three Sovereigns of Elysia.”

Sonic stared at her a moment, then grinned. “Yeah. Thanks, Chief Rose.”

The pink hedgehog playfully nudged him. “Call me Amy.”

“Amy.” Sonic corrected himself. A massive yawn stretched his jaw wide, and Amy giggled.

“Bedtime, milord.” She instructed and shooed him with her hand. “Can’t have you fall asleep during your own coronation!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sonic lowered himself in a bow and vanished in a gust of wind, the door to his private suite slamming shut behind him. Amy giggled behind her hand and shook her head. “Oh, we’re in deep trouble, aren’t we?” She gazed out upon the kingdom below, smiling softly. “Prepare the way, Elysia. Sovereignty is finally come.”

CREAM!!!! CHEESE!!! VANILLA!!!! HI GUYS HI HI GUYS!!!!

Cosmo and Tails are so stinking cute I can't with them 😭

The folk song the kids and Scratch are singing is actually a 3S rendition of Soldier, Poet, King. Specifically the sped-up Reno version here. I love the tune of it and had to include it in 3S. 🥰

Thank you so much for reading Chapter Eight, I so hope you enjoyed it! See you next Wednesday, 2/26, for the FINAL chapter of Act One: The Chosen...Chapter Nine: Sovereignty is Come!

[lightninghikaru]

ooooh i have a prompt!

sonic has been feeling down lately and has been hiding out in his room. rouge has been comforting him but went out to get some things that’ll help cheer him up. omega wants to help sonic, and tries going to comfort him.

basically some sonic and omega bonding but with comfort. omega is usually a “violence is the answer” type, but can try his best to be soft and caring for those they love when it’s needed.

Gosh I love writing how Omega perceives the world! This takes place before Day or Reckoning. This is a short explanation as to why Sonic likes to curl into a ball on Omega's shoulder.

Rough lets out a heavy sigh as she closes the door to Sonic’s room. He’d been spiraling for the last few days after his fight with SHadow. The nightmares were plaguing him almost every night and he was shutting down. 

And of course he refuses to ask Shadow for help because Gaia forbid either of these idiots talk through their feelings instead of fighting. 

A part of her feared this was more than just nightmares. The fleshy walls and the genuine fear in his eyes. Could some of the horrors the scientists put him through be displayed in his dreams in strange ways because his fractured memories can’t put them in the right order? 

Regardless, they were running low on food and other basic supplies. She needed to eventually get him into a bath but that could wait until his stomach was full. “Omega?” She called for her teammate who was sitting on their docking station downloading some updates. 

The robot disconnects from the station and walks over to her. 

“Can you watch Blue until I get back. I don’t think he’s in any imminent danger but… I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone right now.” Rouge said, 

“ACHKNOWLEDGED.” Omega said walking into Sonic’s room and she leaves the apartment. 

Omega stands over Sonic’s bed scanning him as he lays curled into a ball. His spines flared out defensively. They perceived zero immediate threats to Sonic’s life so they didn’t understand why he was acting like he needed to protect himself.

They kneeled down closer to the bed. SOnic still hadn’t moved. It was abnormal for the speedster to be so immobile for so long. The thought of Sonic’s health continuing to decline due to his inactivity disturbed them. 

Rouge would always comfort Sonic by patting him on the head between his ears. But in the defensive position Sonic was currently in his head was unreachable. Only a ball of razor sharp quills were available. 

Omega looks at their metal hand. For once their armored exterior may be how Omega can comfort Sonic.   

They reach down and stroke Sonic’s quills following their natural curve in an attempt at a soothing motion. The sudden contact made Sonic let out a startled squeak. His heart rate spiking and curling in on himself even tighter.   

But Omega continues the steady motion, repeating it over and over until they notice a decrease in his heart rate. Notating that unknown touch startles him but continual touch calms him. They will save that to their records. 

“RESEARCH SHOWS PHYSICAL TOUCH ASSISTS IN STRESS LEVELS. I AM GOING TO LIFT YOU.” Omega warned, Sonic’s heart level increases temporarily before settling back down. They take that as an acceptance as they lift the spikey ball into their hands. 

The contact does in fact relax Sonic for a while but unfortunately due to Omega’s metallic exterior there was no heat and the cold caused SOnic to slightly shiver. 

Omega laces Sonic on their shoulder to free their arms. Hedgehogs were burrowing animals and a warm and secure next might help him out as well. He takes Sonic’s blankets and pillows creating a doughnut shape. 

They wait a moment noticing Sonic, even though the cold he had relaxed further on his shoulder. Omega began to try and figure out explanations as to why he would feel more relaxed out in the open but decided to wait until Sonic returned to his non stop talking. 

“BRACE FOR INCOMING CONTACT.” Omega said. Sonic only tensed at the expectant touch before he's guided back onto his bed. The new nest shape conforms to his current ball shape. The final touch was Omega half covering him with his favorite blanked. 

Omega watches as Sonic starts to relax into the nest until eventually he uncurls enough for them to notice that he had fallen asleep. Their nightvision lenses are able to see the barely visible dark circles under Sonic’s eyes. 

They didn’t like this. 

Creatures made of flesh needed necessities to survive. Whatever was causing Sonic to ignore his body's needs was serious. If this continued even with Their’s and Rouges surveillance Sonic’s life expectancy would deteriorate. 

They would not let that happen. 

For now they will wait until Rouge returns. Hopefully by that time Sonic will have gotten some sleep and be more willing to discuss what else they can do to help him. They refuse to let Sonic’s condition get worse. 

At least for now, he’s able to get some sleep. 

[hajihiko]

I got stomach ache so here’s my prompt romp-t question for ya

Who be the one going “I’m so brave cuz I’m not telling anyone about my stomach ache” and who be the other side of the coin going “help me my stomach burns a thousand suns and it’ll eclipse with a shit storm soon”

May I mention that I took night quill as well so the droze might be kicking in

So brave: Fuyuhiko. Gutted himself like a fish and then told people to stop overreacting. Was trying to break open doors with the stitches still in. Tried to keep lactose intolerance a secret and definitely tried to drink milk for the bones way too often. Suffering in silence is basically his middle name and that includes tummyaches, internal or external.

Please help: Ibuki. Hear me out; Hiyoko is a baby about tummyaches but not so crass, and might try to hide it like she hid her lack of bathing. Nekomaru IS crass and does loudly announce when someone should Not Go In There (the WC) for a while because he destroyed it. But he can take care of his own gut flora and doesn't need help.

Ibuki, WHEN afflicted, does in fact go somewhere like "Ibukis stomach is like a boiling pot of milk that no one's watching! IT'S GONNA OVERFLOW, and SOON!!! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING"

[twiksayshi]

A dumb List of some Happy Tree Friends characters that are based on head-canons on how I think they smell and their hygiene

1.Flaky

I don't think they smell TOO bad, but since they're clearly the sporty type and have dandruff, I imagine their fur and quills to be greasy from sweat from playing sports and also oily. I do think they at least try to take care of themselves though.

Mime

He mimes everything he does, including his personal hygiene leading to his fur to be pretty shaggy and smell bad

3.Nutty

All he eats is sweet sugary things so he definitely has bad teeth and breath. He has a very distinct and sickly sweet smell. he does his personal hygiene with sweets and soft drinks instead of actual bathing and dental facilities e.g brushing his teeth with a lollipop, using soda as mouthwash. I imagine his fur is pretty sticky so it picks up clumps of dirt and other stuff.

4.Russel

Smells like a wet dog and fish. He also has scurvy. That's all I could really say

5.Disco Bear

His personal hygiene is pretty good. It's just that he has all these strong colognes he sprays on himself that attracts anything BUT the ladies. 6.Fliqpy

Do I need to say anything?

(I know FLIPPY is the one pictured here but I couldn't find any other image to prove my point)

7.Toothy

Pretty average in terms of hygiene except dental. His teeth is always a sparkling white as he always brush 5 times a day. His teeth so clean when he smiles you can see you're own reflection like a mirror.

8.Petunia

Literally the cleanest critter in tree town as she prioritizes hygiene over almost everything. She smells like a field of flowers, her fur is silky smooth and soft and she never goes out with out washing her paws.

[lemongrass--tea]

Ok ok ok. What are connor's feathers like?? Are they soft or firm(?) how does he clean them? Much needed questions 🤔

I like to think most of his feathers are very downy and soft, especially where they stand in for body hair, but the larger feathers on his chest and tail are a lot stiffer, more akin to flight feathers

But I KNOW that man gets so many pin feathers, particularly in the time where he’s just getting used to letting them show more after settling in town and getting with Elliott (hee hee, thinking of Elliott helping him preen the ones he can’t reach on his back)

Every time he shifts he sheds all the feathers, like a hyper accelerated growth and shed cycle every time he goes between human and birdman, he can’t bear to throw them out so he uses them for bedding for his animals, or if it’s a particularly nice tail feather a certain writer gets new quills

Connor enrichment = him using the ponds on the farm like a bird bath

The ducks do not find him amusing his wings take up like half their pond lmao

[quartzhearted]

(father's day surprise!)

Mr. Morion, your parenting skills are put to the test. Alcryst (close to his 2nd birthday) has been dealt a terrible blow: the loss of his precious toy rabbit. With its floppy cloth body and velvet ears, he loved that thing to pieces. And now it's gone. Gone! Lost in one of the Grand Duke's massive manors, nowhere to be seen even with all the servants looking for it.

Alcryst is devastated. He's been inconsolable since yesterday, clinging to his mother with such desperation that she can't even take a bath without him throwing a fit. Your wife does her best to console him with promises of a new toy, but no luck. And as much as she loves her baby, Alcryst's constant crying and demands for her attention is starting to wear at her nerves. She needs a break, so now it's your turn.

Alcryst is just waking up from a long nap. He sadly mumbles into the tear-stained pillow, "Bunny... bunny..." It won't be long until he starts sobbing again. What will you do?

what will i do? what will i do?

i'll do the best i can, that's what!

dragons almighty. morion blows a sigh that would raise sails as the guard he'd sent out hours prior brings the unfortunate ( yet, sadly, expected ) news: " i've searched the duke's ballroom from top to bottom, but i couldn't find prince alcryst's toy, your highness. "

he understands some aspects of parenthood from diamant, but morion cannot say he knows how to deal with this. his first son was not nearly as controlled by a hair-trigger or, if he was, morion had never witnessed it; it seems like every week brings a new thing for poor alcryst to lose his little mind over. last week it was that he couldn't eat apples like his big brother ( for his little teeth can't handle the way diamant eats them, horselike ), and the week before that was because, no, little one, daddy will not let you help him polish his sword, no, daddy does not need to explain why, it's bigger than your entire body, why are you crying, alcryst, why are you crying.

he loves, loves, loves alcryst to death. but that boy sure can cry.

this week's cause for tears is due to the loss of a dearly beloved plush rabbit. morion had told him that it wasn't a good idea to bring it to the duke's manor, but if there existed creatures more stubborn than morion, it would be his own children. completely expectedly, during the tours of not one, not two, but three of the duke's estates, at some point, alcryst lost hold of his little rabbit and he did not notice until the very very end. and then he started crying. a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot.

alcryst only wanted to be with his mother afterwards. he trailed after her like a sobbing duck no matter where she went, all the while never letting up. the kid had to hydrate BETWEEN sobs. it was the weirdest thing morion had ever seen. eventually the poor woman grew exhausted of all the constant comfort and morion took over, but the problem was still extremely apparent: what is he going to do about the rabbit?

as alcryst cries himself into naptime, morion does some thinking ( in blissful silence ). the rabbit was somewhere at the duke's. it was lost between the time they started at the first house and ended at the last; if he thinks hard enough, morion can probably narrow it down some. only a little bit, though; the duke was really boring about how he showed off his houses and morion really really didn't give a shit at all. what would be the best way to mitigate this...? he thinks about writing the duke again to check on progress...

...but then, morion has an idea.

he rushes to his desk and grabs a quill, soaking the tip in ink. he takes it to a sheet of paper and begins scrawling words upon it, the penmanship so uniquely jagged and terrible that there was no way to tell who had written it ( because, contrary to what some may believe, morion's penmanship is really quite remarkable ). every so often he doodles a picture---a chandelier, a candle, an egg. when he finishes the thing, he folds it once, twice, undoes the second fold and retries, then stuffs the whole letter into an envelope. he licks it shut, slaps a stamp on it, and writes on the front:

" TO ALCRYST "

morion peeks through alcryst's door, feeling tugs at his heart where his poor baby weeps for his comfort toy. this is only to buy time. " hey, buddy, " he whispers to his son, gently knocking on the door before entering. " i got this letter from the duke's house, but he said it wasn't from him. you wanna open it and see who it's from? "

hopefully this " letter from bunny " gives him enough time to just go to the damn house and search himself. if there's anyone the duke can't deny, it's the literal king of brodia conducting a stuffed bunny search.