#she *belongs* to him; his favourite and most prized possession

[inkykeiji]

Something I've been thinking of ever since the non canon fic where reader cheats on touya nii with tomura is what will touya do if reader somehow does manage to actually move on to someone else? Would he just forget about her in two weeks? Would he just wallow for months? Could he even find someone else to take readers place? I know it kind of an odd question but I just can't get it out of my mind for some reason, hope you can help me scratch this itch lol. You just seem to understand the character of touya so well. Hope you have a wonderful day!!

hey! (´∀｀)♡ i’ve touched on this idea briefly in this ask (and even tho that ask is about tomura in particular, the answer stays the same irregardless of who she runs off with), but to reiterate: in the case of my iteration of touya-nii, no, he could never find someone to take her place—would never even want someone else to take her place; an impossible feat, that one of a kind, hollowed-out cast in his chest a frame no one else could ever be capable of filling, a special space in his heart that she carved and chiselled her way into, shaped and formed so it molds to her curves and contours specifically, completely, perfectly, so no one else could quite possibly fit properly—and he would react by killing whoever she ran off with, and then possibly killing her if she refused to come back with him, and then (in that case) killing himself.

[moanz111]

daisy. - kang yeosang

pairing ❀ poet! yeosang x gn! florist! reader

genre ❀ fluff, strangers to lovers, one shot

synopsis ❀ for you, flowers are the doors to people's souls. so when a mysterious man with a strange obsession with daisies comes into your flower shop on your opening day, you can't help but feel drawn to him.

w.c. ❀ 4.3 k

warnings ❀ kissing, drinking, so so much fluff, english is not my native language, so there can be mistakes

credits for all the used graphics belong to their rightful owners!

song recs ❀ daisy. - wave to earth; i'm in love - colde

The sweet aroma of flowers filled your senses as you spun around in your desk chair, taking in the atmosphere. You were sure there wasn’t a day in your life you’d felt happier. Maybe you had exaggerated a bit when you said that to your friend Wooyoung this morning during one of your usual face time sessions, but you knew there was a pinch of truth. 

Last week that would’ve been a distant silly childhood dream, but luck was on your side. You had tried your best, day and night, to make this a reality, and as usual - hard work had paid off. Younger you would’ve freaked out if they could see you now - sitting behind the counter of your own flower shop. 

You had always loved flowers - the way each type had its distinguishable scent, vibrant colours, unique forms, and, above all - their meaning. What had been just a quick exploration of your grandmother’s garden when you were ten turned out to be the reason for your obsession. 

“Yellow tulips are my favourite,” the older woman had said, swiping away the sweat formed under the brim of her broad straw hat as you walked around her most prized possession. You asked her curiously why, crouched down to take in their sweet fragrance. “Their meaning reminds me of you - like them, you’re my little sunshine and happiness.”

The memory filled your heart with nostalgia. You missed those times a lot, but you knew your grandmother was your number one supporter ever since you had told her about your wish to become a florist. She was the first to know about the shop too.

Flowers were fascinating to you, even though most people around you didn’t understand what was so special about them. All that didn’t matter to you. You finally had your space to cherish them as much as you wanted.

Today was the opening of your shop, and you couldn’t wait to welcome your first client. Unable to stay still, you got up and started picking up some flowers from the buckets around you - might as well fill your time doing something productive. Your first bouquet for the day was going to be special - a pink and yellow tulip one. 

As you arranged the freshly cut flowers on the counter, humming along to the song playing on the radio next to you, you couldn’t help but smile for probably the hundredth time since you woke up. Yellow tulips for cheerfulness, pink - for good wishes and friendships. Too busy repeating their meaning in your mind, you didn’t notice the ringing of the small bell, placed at the entrance, signaling that someone had entered the store. 

“Excuse me, are you open?” The raspy voice of the newcomer startled you, and you dropped your scissors on the floor, looking up. You were almost blinded. The man standing at the doorframe was, to say the least, breathtaking. His dark hair fell loosely around his face, and he seemed as if he was stifling a yawn. You took notice of his clothes too - he was wearing a white shirt, tugged in black, elegant pants, and you wondered what kind of job he had. 

“Oh, yes,” you said after clearing your throat with a quiet cough. “Please, welcome.”

“Are you busy? I can come later,” the man responded, pointing to the almost-finished bouquet before you as he approached you. Now up close, you were sure - he was gorgeous. Feeling flustered under his studying sleepy gaze, you bent down to pick up the fallen scissors. 

“Oh, no, I’m just passing the time,” you explained as you got up. You saw him holding a hardcover book, which he placed on the counter, smiling gently. The cover had you staring at it in awe - it depicted a small green field filled with daisies, but from your angle, you couldn’t read the title or the author’s name.

“Congratulations on opening. I’m your neighbour, so to speak,” he joked, stretching out his right hand. “Yeosang, nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm, and his grip was firm when you shook it, introducing yourself. “Let me guess…”

Yeosang raised his eyebrows with a grin, waiting for your next words. “You’re the bookstore’s owner.”

“How did you know?” You laughed at his genuine surprise and shrugged, “Guess I was born with psychic abilities.”

“I should’ve hidden the book,” Yeosang murmured, frowning. “Yes, but I’m also an author.”

He picked up the book from the counter and handed it to you. You noticed a faint blush on his cheeks. This time you saw the cover properly - Illusion.  A collection of poetry by Kang Yeosang. You ran your fingers through the title, admiring the beautifully illustrated daisies. Yeosang’s low chuckle made you look up at his face again, feeling a little embarrassed. “You like the flowers, don’t you?”

“Caught in the act,” you said, grinning when he threw his head back and laughed louder this time. “It’s beautiful. I’ll definitely read it.”

“I hope you like it. Do tell me which one is your favourite,” Yeosang answered, taking a business card from his pocket and handing it to you. There were even more daisies at the back of it. Sensing your amusement, he quickly explained, “Daisies are my favourite. Don’t judge me too much.”

“I never judge based on flower tastes,” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

“I feel like you just lied to me,” Yeosang’s mischievous tone made you smile again. “Take this as an official invitation to my book premiere tomorrow. The book isn’t out yet, so don’t give any spoilers.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “I’ll just post a few screenshots. Nothing more.”

“I might have to take it back, be careful,” he tilted his head to the right, his expression serious. Why was your heart fluttering? “Actually, I came to buy some flowers. So what would you say are the perfect flowers for the start of the week?”

His question caught you off guard, but your brain was already searching for the answer. Looking around the buckets filled with flowers behind him, you murmured more to yourself than speaking directly to him, “Daffodils for new beginnings, chrysanthemums for optimism and joy…”

“You sure know a lot about it, huh,” Yeosang’s deep voice shifted your focus back on him, and you felt heat rush into your cheeks. “Then I’d take seven daffodils, please.”

Trying to contain your excitement from having your first customer, you made a simple composition, adding a few branches of baby’s breath around the white daffodils and tying them with a simple yellow ribbon. While you were working, you felt Yeosang’s intense stare still on you, making your hands tremble a little. “Here you are.”

The man smiled warmly as you handed him the small bouquet. “Have a nice day, Y/N. I’ll be waiting for you.”

As you watched him turn and wave at you one last time from the door before he left, you let out a sigh. 

Yes, this was the best day of your life.

“Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you,” your friend Wooyoung shouted while you were taking your third shot for the night, both of you sitting on the soft carpet in your living room in your pajamas. You had invited him earlier to celebrate the shop’s opening, but you definitely hadn’t expected him to show up with a bag filled with soju bottles. 

After Yeosang had left, the day was relatively quiet and uneventful. A few customers came in and left satisfied, and your parents visited you too. Your sales weren’t that great, but at least you did what you loved the most. And now you regretted sharing your encounter with the handsome poet with your best friend.

“Stop making things weird. He was just being nice,” you answered, your mind already envisioning Yeosang’s face as if he was standing right in front of you again. You would’ve lied if you said you didn’t like him and hadn’t thought about him around ten times today. Maybe even more. You even read some of his poems while waiting for customers and were left speechless. He had a beautiful way with words for which you envied him a bit - to manage to convey your emotions through a few lines so well was something you found awfully attractive.

“You always think that men “are just being nice” to you,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouring you and him another drink. At this rate, you had no idea how you were getting up for work tomorrow, but it was expected - nights with him were always like this. 

You had known him all your life, with your moms being best friends since university. He was the person in your life who knew you the most and wanted the best for you. You were always grateful to have him close to you, but at the same time, you really wanted to smack him right now. 

“You’re being annoying again,” you groaned and pulled playfully his pierced ear, to which he whined. “Stop playing a matchmaker.”

“Stop being so single,” Wooyoung teased you and emptied his glass, pointing at yours to do the same. You gladly took that shot. If the conversation kept going this way, you had to be intoxicated as much as possible. “And my judgment is never wrong.”

“After my disaster of a date with Yunho, you still have the guts to think that?”

Wooyoung loved setting you up with his friends, and you, honestly, had no idea why. Every single date went the same way - they took you to a nice restaurant, you had dinner, talked for a bit, and then they escorted you to your apartment, hoping to be invited in. You didn’t do it. And they didn’t call again either. 

Wooyoung was always telling you you had too high standards, and you felt silly crushing on a man you saw for the first time today and knew nothing about.

“Hey, slight miscalculations happen. And I always pick out the hottest people for you,” Wooyoung stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “But seriously, step up your game. You can’t spend your whole life sniffing flowers.”

The pillow hit him right in the face, to your satisfaction.

You didn’t mind the flowers being your only company at all.

The following day was, to say the least, extremely nerve-wracking. Yeosang had come by to see you first thing in the morning and to remind you of his premiere. He didn’t stay for long, saying he still had a lot of things to prepare, and left after buying some roses of different colours to decorate his bookstore. 

Little did he know, you’d spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what to wear, what to say, and after Wooyoung’s comments about Yeosang you couldn’t even imagine looking him in the eyes. There was no way you could’ve forgotten about tonight.

So after changing out of your working apron and putting on the outfit you’d picked out as the best in your closet, you headed over to Yeosang’s bookstore - Little Miracles, holding the bouquet of tulips you’d made the day before. 

It suited his style, you concluded when you entered the small and cozy shop, filled with stacks of books everywhere. You took your time, walking around the shelves, occasionally picking up some books. You realised it was more of an antiquarian bookstore with many special editions of your favourite works, such you’d never seen before.  

“You like something?” His deep voice startled you and sent a wave of shivers down your spine. You felt your heart skip a beat when you turned to look at Yeosang, standing on your left for who knows how long before you noticed him. Just like yesterday, he was dressed in formal attire, 

but this time his hair was slicked back, exposing his forehead, with a few strands falling in front of his eyes. You knew you were staring, probably even gawking at him, but he looked so nice. “I mean the books.”

Feeling heat burning your cheeks, you looked away from his amused eyes. “I think I might want to live here.”

Yeosang grinned at you and pointed to the book you were holding - Dracula by Bram Stocker. You had read it when you were younger, and you couldn’t deny that it was the beginning of your vampire obsession phase. “You can take it as a gift. I appreciate that you came.”

“Oh, it looks too expensive.” And truly you were a bit afraid to not damage or stain the black and red hardcover with an ominous castle drawn in the middle. You couldn’t possibly accept this as a gift even though you thought you’d cry if you took it.

“Please,” Yeosang said hopefully, pushing the book to your chest. “Then keep it safe for me?”

The spark in his eyes was enough to convince you. “I guess I have to take it then…”

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it,” the man teased you, leaning with one hand on the bookshelf next to him. “You’re always welcome here. Come whenever you want to.”

“Thank you,” you blushed at his words even more, maintaining eye contact with him becoming too difficult. “Oh, these are for you. Congratulations.”

You handed him the bouquet, feeling the need to turn his attention away from you. Otherwise, you had no idea how you were going to survive the night. Yeosang thanked you and shifted his position, so now he stood much closer to you than before. “I’d love us to talk more, but I have to start the meet and greet soon. How about I treat you to dinner later?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, barely processing what was happening. “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

“Great,” he chuckled, checking his wristwatch with a sigh. You noticed his hands were slightly trembling. 

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” you tried comforting him. “You have talent, and your poems are amazing.”

“So you’ve read them,” Yeosang shot you a wide smile. “I’m not letting you go anywhere before you tell me about this later.”

Feeling too flustered to answer, you nodded and followed behind him as Yeosang led you to the centre of the bookstore where he had placed some chairs, most of them occupied. You took a seat at the back, trying to calm down your racing heart.

If a flower could describe your feelings now, it would be a pink rose. 

Happiness.

Yeosang was a smooth talker.

Even though you’d known him for only two days, you felt as if he had been there your whole life. After his signing session ended and he sent off the last bit of guests, he closed the bookstore and took you to your favourite part of the city, full of quiet and cozy restaurants where you could get to know each other uninterrupted.

You had a lot in common - you both liked matcha lattes and chocolate muffins, enjoyed riding your bikes, watching the sunset, and you both hated spicy food, loud places and queuing for a book at the bookshop on its release day. 

Yeosang told you about his bookstore and how it had all started. Surprisingly, he had graduated as a film major but hadn’t made any progress in that field, so he decided to turn to his hobby - writing. That’s how almost four years ago he opened his shop and started collecting old and tattered books, trying to find them a new home. You loved the spark in his eyes when he told you his story and realised you felt the same way about flowers. All you wanted was for the people who bought them to continue appreciating them as much as you did. 

You also noticed he was much shyer than you thought him to be, which you found endearing, and wondered how many more sides of him you were yet to uncover. His calm demeanor made you feel at home and safe with him, and you really didn’t want the night to end.

“So, tell me more about your daisies,” you began, taking a sip from your glass of wine. Yeosang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Are you that curious?” He challenged you, and honestly, you weren’t sure if it was because of all the wine you had or him or both, but you had the urge to look away. The teasing glint in his gaze was too much for your poor soul, and you felt as if you were burning up every time you locked eyes. 

“Well, you don’t see every day a grown-up man with a daisy obsession, so yeah,” you answered, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Yeosang looked confident in your eyes, but you could still see a slight redness creep up his neck.

“Well,” he started explaining, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “I guess they just remind me of my childhood. When I was younger, I used to live in the countryside with my family for a while. There was this huge field with daisies where my parents, older sister, and I went every weekend. They bring me comfort, and I like their meaning as well.”

You imagined little Yeosang running around a big green field, chasing after butterflies and picking up daisies. Your heart might have as well burst at this point. “That sounds so adorable.”

“You think so? The bees weren’t so adorable,” he arched his eyebrows, smirking, and took a sip from his glass. “So, tell me about your flowers then. A story for a story.”

“My grandma used to be a florist herself in the past, so ever since I was born, there were flowers everywhere around me,” you recall, thinking of all the times she’d let you watch her tend her garden and help her water the small buds, waiting for them to grow. “I love everything about them - even though some people say they are just temporary happiness. There’s beauty in the fleeting too.”

“Let’s drink to that then,” Yeosang grinned, raising his glass. You did the same and nodded to him to continue. “To all the flowers and all the happy memories they leave behind.”

Over the next few months, you fell into a comfortable daily routine. You opened your shop at 8 in the morning, picked out the freshest flowers from the daily delivery you ordered from a local garden, and spent the whole day arranging bouquets until 5 in the afternoon. 

It fascinated you how people with different purposes, goals, and fates came to you to seek the comfort of flowers - some - for grief and loss, others - for first dates and confessions. You were always happy to help and introduce them to a deeper understanding of flowers.

The only variable in your life was Yeosang.

Your relationship remained painfully unlabeled. 

Were you dating? Kind of. You went out a few days per week, and whenever you didn’t, you stayed in his bookstore after you’d finished working, sharing a couple of hours of comfortable silence with him. During these quiet moments, he wrote his poems or read to you while you sat curled up on the sofa in his small office, reading whatever book you found that day or just listening to his soothing voice. 

Your mornings together were also something you loved. Yeosang, unlike you, was an early bird. His usual shift started at 10 a.m., but he came earlier so he could spend some extra time with you under the pretense he had nothing else to do. When you arrived at the shop, he was already sitting on the stairs in front of it, holding his daily gift, as called it, in his hands and shyly handed it to you. Usually, it consisted of a couple of daisies he’d picked up from the park next to his apartment building and a note wishing you a nice day or containing a short scribbled poem that always made you laugh. 

And your days were truly nice. Except you couldn’t stop thinking about Yeosang even for a minute. 

Today was no different, but this morning Yeosang seemed more nervous than usual. The sweat, glistening on his forehead, and his shaking hands as he handed you the daisies and a small piece of paper made you wonder what had him so worked up this early. He didn’t stay long, saying he had “some things to take care of” and left you alone, standing puzzled in the middle of your shop. 

Once you opened the folded note, you found out why Yeosang was acting so strangely.

Please, come and meet me at a field of daisies and dreams. 

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was probably beating in an inhumane rate, and you were smiling too widely as you walked to the location Yeosang had written on his morning note. It was past 7 p.m., and you could see the last vibrant colours of the fading sun light up the sky. The spring afternoon breeze caressed your face and swirled some cherry blossoms around you. You felt like you were a fairy tale character, surrounded by early-bloomed spring flowers and trees at your favourite park. It was close to your shop and one of the main reasons you chose that exact rental place. You loved going there after work, taking a long walk, and clearing up your thoughts whenever you felt the need to. You honestly didn’t expect Yeosang to remember this location since you’d told him about it a long time ago, yet he always found a way to surprise you.

There were a lot of people during this time of the day, so it was difficult spotting Yeosang in the sea of faces around you, but once you did - you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

No matter how many times you saw his face, you were always amazed. Now was no different - his bootcut jeans and blue t-shirt suited him perfectly, and his hair was hidden under a white beanie. He was holding a tote bag decorated with daisies in one hand as he waved at you with his free one. 

“Hey,” Yeosang beamed at you, pulling you in for a hug when he came closer. Wrapping your hands around him, you could smell the woody scent of his perfume and felt the softness of his dark locks at the nape of his neck under your fingertips. “You look beautiful.”

This date was going to be the end of you, for sure.

The cool night wind, the shimmering of the street lamps, and the calm breathing of Yeosang lying in your lap made you feel at peace. The sun was long gone under the horizon, and you had no idea how much time had passed since he pulled you to sit down on a soft blanket and took out of his bag probably the sweetest strawberries you’d ever eaten. Yeosang had definitely come prepared for this spontaneous picnic date. 

Now you ran your fingers mindlessly through his silky hair as he told you a story about some customer he had today. The position you were in felt domestic and comfortable as if you’d done this thousands of times before. You found it hard to concentrate on his voice when Yeosang started drawing random shapes on your thighs and then had the audacity to ask you about your day. If your head hadn’t been spinning from the overwhelming feeling of him, you would’ve probably answered him.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing your cheeks, trying to get your attention as he got up from your lap. The loss of his touch made you miss his warmth. “You’re spacing out.”

“You’re very distracting.” Unable to look at him or form any other coherent answer, you shifted your gaze to the small daisies growing on your right amongst the grass. You reached out your hand to touch them and felt the grass around them tickle your palm. 

“Now who’s obsessed with daisies, huh,” said Yeosang, amused, wrapping his fingers around your chin to turn your face to him. For a split second, you stopped hearing the world around you - the children’s laughter, the faded sound of music, coming from somewhere around you, all became muted under the rhythm of your heartbeat, ringing in your ears. It was just you and his soft gaze, studying your face, and Yeosang, rubbing his thumb across your chin. You saw his eyes wander downwards to your lips before he asked in a hushed voice, “Can I kiss you?”

Seconds after your nod, you felt Yeosang’s warm lips on yours. At first, his kiss was light and hesitant, and his movements- were slow and deliberate. You reached up to hold on to his t-shirt as he cupped your face with his big hands. The coldness of his palms made you shiver. Where you touched, you felt as if electricity was running through your body.

Before you knew it, Yeosang deepened the kiss, making you gasp for breath. Your shaky hands grabbed his shoulders for support while his moved to your thighs. It was too much. His lips left yours only to feel them on your neck, leaving shy kisses along your jawline and then continuing downwards. His lips stopped right above the daisy charm hanging from your silver necklace, which he had gifted you. The pink blush on Yeosang’s cheeks and the warmth and love you saw in his dark eyes were more than enough to make your heart swell with adoration. 

Yeosang reached for a small, freshly bloomed daisy beside him and pulled it from the ground. Placing it behind your ear, he caressed your cheek gently. “Do you know what’s the meaning of daisies?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, sounding offended. At this point, he had to know you were a walking flower encyclopedia. “New beginnings, purity, and faith.”

“That’s all?” Yeosang pressed, leaning in closer to your face again. The proximity had your head spinning. “I’ve heard of another one too.”

“And what is it?” You were feeling out of breath, his lips only centimeters away from yours. 

“True love.” 

These were his only words before Yeosang captured your lips in another kiss under the night sky and the stars shimmering above you.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

Daisies, you decided, were your favourite flowers.

note ❀ happy (late) birthday to yeosang! ♡

after a short delay, i finally had time to finish daisy so thank you everyone for waiting! i hope you enjoyed reading it! i'm still not very confident in writing stuff like that so feedback is appreciated! please lmk what you thought of this story! ♡

also, how are you feeling about the comeback? so far i love it so much 😭

daisy., © moanz111

please do not modify, copy, repost, or translate.

[chosonore]

summary: your most prized possession was childe’s red scarf that he’d given to you before he left. a simple item really but it brought you so much solace and comfort while he was gone, easing your heart and worries until he came back. that was, until you lost it.

a/n: hello i am not okay after all the harbingers were just dropped onto us like that like i need a moment or two. but that being said, i kept seeing childe in his red scarf and oh my god i love how it looks on him? the big ass coat? the scarf? he looks so nice and i want it as a skin in-game.

“excuse me? is this what you’ve been looking for?” a lady came up behind you, tapping your shoulder gently to get your attention. immediately, you whirled around and teared up at the sight of the bright red scarf that she was holding in her hands. you’d spent hours upon hours looking for it after losing it sometime during the day, your frustration increasing with each hour that you spent looking for it. 

you hadn’t noticed how it was gone until you were home, trying to place it at its usual spot on your armchair. your heart sank to your stomach, dread filling your chest. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like immense pressure on your chest, the air being pressed out of your lungs. the one most precious item that childe had given to you, you couldn’t have lost it. you needed to find it. on any other day, you probably wouldn’t have been as upset but you just didn’t have a good day - a good week really. everything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong. from breaking your favourite mug to getting into an unpleasant confrontation at work, not having heard of childe for months, and now losing the scarf was the cherry on top.

to the best of your abilities, you held back your tears as you traced back every single route that you took today, hoping that it was still somewhere on the way and that nobody had taken it from you. perhaps it was silly to attribute so much meaning to a simple item of clothing but it was so dear to you. it was one of the few items that childe gave to you, that you treasured in his absence. in a way, you kept it with you at all times to feel like he was with you wherever you went. so it would ease the ache you felt whenever you thought of him, whenever you missed him.

“do you really have to go?” you questioned quietly as you stood at the harbour, staring at your lover in sadness. the ice cold wind and flurrying snowflakes were nipping at your skin, slowly numbing your fingertips but nothing could compare to the heartbreak you felt upon childe’s departure. you knew it was part of his work but it didn’t make it any easier, knowing that he disappeared for months on end and sometimes only returned for a short period of time before vanishing again. it was hard on you but you couldn’t help it - your heart belonged to him and would always be his. and so you would wait, as long as it takes, for him to come back. because you prayed, you knew, that he always would.

childe whirled around to face you, his tall frame towering over you. “i’m sorry, baby, you know how it is,” he mumbled, stepping closer to you. the large coat shielded you from the curious gazes of the other fatui, it was rare that they could steal a glance at the infamous harbinger’s partner. though they might not look like it, childe knew they liked to gossip and he wasn’t very fond of it - the less they knew about you, the better. it was one of the rare instances that he couldn’t convince you to stay away, knowing that you would have found another way to find him just to see him off.

childe’s gloved hands found yours, eyebrows furrowing upon seeing that you weren’t wearing any. “i told you to wear them,” he grumbled, pulling you closer and wrapping his coat around you. “you’ll get sick.”

“will you come home sooner if i get sick?” you teased him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you huddled closer to his warmth. inhaling loudly, you tried to take in as much of him as you could before he left. his warmth, his unmistakable scent, the way he always held you in his arms - it was so hard to leave behind. would it be selfish of you to beg him to stay with you or to take you with him?

“you know i can’t do that, i’ll come home once i’m done with everything. properly.” childe reminded you again, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“how cold and cruel of you, just leaving your lover here to wonder when you’ll come back.”

“is that a challenge?” he grinned at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry. i just have to clean up the mess scaramouche left behind, nothing new. i’ll bring you some souvenirs.”

before you could give him a snippy reply, childe stepped back and took his large, red scarf off and haphazardly wrapping it around you. as he neared the ends of the scarf, he fumbled, clumsily trying to tie it around you. “what are you doing?” you laughed at your boyfriend, shaking your head at his clumsy hands. 

“i wanted to make it a nice bow,” childe pouted and settled for a simple knot. “keep it, you’ll get cold otherwise and i know you don’t like the cold.” he couldn’t help but smile at the red bundle that you now were, looking comically small in the scarf. truthfully, he worried about you a lot while he was away but had taken precautions - there was always some fatui agent stationed near you, just to keep you safe. he knew you were more than capable of defending yourself, having sparred with him before and being a vision holder but he couldn’t bear the thought of someone even getting close to hurting you. especially since it was no secret that he was dating you; his reputation of being a protective partner who considered you his family as well preceded him.

he knew that you visited his family frequently to take care of his siblings and that they adored you, his whole family did. teucer had sworn up and down that he would always protect you while childe was away, telling him that he had nothing to worry about. seeing you so comfortable around his family, as if you’d always been there and belong there, it simultaneously warmed his heart and stirred a dull ache. oh how he longed for the day that he would finally find what he was looking for all this time so he could put his mind to rest and come home to you for good. to start a family with you one day, to be able to wake up to you everyday without fearing that he would have to leave the next.

“but it’s yours! i have one at home and i’m not cold, really,” you protested, trying to wiggle out of the tightly winded fabric.

“i said keep it,” childe silenced another protest by simply kissing you, continuing to do so whenever you opened your mouth until he rendered you speechless. you didn’t have the energy to say anything else, hiding your face in the scarf in embarrassment. “wherever you might be, it’ll be easier to spot you this way. i’ll always find my way back to you, hm?”

“are you implying i’ll run away from you?”

“i know you won’t.” you really wanted to wipe the confident smirk from his face. “but i’m saying that i might come home sooner than you think and surprise you.”

“thank you, thank you so much,” you thanked the kind lady profusely, wiping your tears quickly as you took the scarf and hugged it to you. you were still shaking slightly, whether from your frustration or the coldness, you couldn’t quite tell. you quickly offered her some kind of help in return, simply wanting to somehow repay the kindness. however, she shook her head, insisting that she didn’t do anything and simply held onto the scarf as she was sure someone was looking for it. in the darkness and the dimly lit alley, you couldn’t see the uniform she was wearing, unmistakably a fatui uniform. had you spotted it, maybe you could have put two and two together. 

wrapping the scarf around you, you said goodbye to her and made your way home - only now did you realize how late it was, almost midnight. childe would scold you, if he only knew that you were still roaming the streets around this time of the day. you turned at the corner of the street, almost close to your home when someone grabbed your arm. in panic, you whirled around, hands on your weapon before your eyes fell onto a familiar figure.

“found you,” childe grinned at you as if he hadn’t been gone for months without sending any notice to either you or his family. so nonchalant and lighthearted as always. “told you the scarf was a telltale sign, i was able to spot you from miles away. what are you doing out at this hour, huh?”

not even greeting him, you jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly to you as the tears finally broke free from you again. “you idiot, you absolute idiot,” you sniffled, punching his chest lightly. “why didn’t you send any letter for months? do you know how much i’ve been worrying? and your family as well? and you come home like nothing happened?”

childe caught you, rubbing your back gently as he attempted to comfort you. maybe it wasn’t his smartest move to stay radio silent for months, his work got the best of him. he held you as he carried you the remainder of the way to your apartment, knowing it like the back of his hand. you didn’t let go as he tried to place you on the armchair, opting to carry you with him as he prepared the kettle for some tea. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to, i swear,” he apologized to you, gently pecking your cheeks. “i won’t be leaving anytime soon, promise.”

“i’m still mad at you,” you grumbled, letting go of him as he set you on the counter to grab some mugs. 

“i know, and i’ll make it up to you.”

“to teucer, anthon and antonia too.”

“of course.”

you watched as he prepared your tea as you liked it. it almost felt unreal that he was back after all this time. in between your pent up frustration and anger from the day, your joy about his return made your heart soar, you could hardly get it to calm. that was until he faced you with raised eyebrows. “a little birdy told me you spent all this time outside trying to find the scarf? i could’ve just gotten you a new one, you know. it’s not that important.”

“to you. i was devastated. and how do you even know that? are you spying on me?”

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

[firewalkzwit]

in the mood for love // neil lewis x reader

To accept that life is not David Lynch's magnificent "Blue Velvet", or much less Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity", was not an easy thing for a man like Neil Lewis, who adored nothing more than to vicariously live through the screen time of the 50's Hollywood heartthrobs that starred as his favourite characters.

So, in the event that a Rohmerian woman whose quirk could even be seen through her yellow lens Godard-ish sunglasses, Neil found it to be an offer he couldn't refuse.

Word count: 2.8k

Cross-posted on AO3

A.N: i actually never finished watching the detectives bc i was honestly not a fan of the plot so bare with me lol, i was only too in love w cill and lucy liu's characters but the movie itself kinda disappointed me

also, yes i made them fans of MY favorite movies, arrest me.

The sound of intense tapping of nails on the counter, crowded by a disastrous attempt at organising countless VHS tapes scattered all over it, caused the plastic of the films to rattle as the table vibrated. Neil's tired eyes rolled upwards to catch a glimpse of the face before him, a slight frown drawn between her eyebrows and an intensely inquisitive stare which hardly helped him to decipher what exactly she wanted that actually merited bothering him.

The harsh placement of the VHS on his desk caused him to grit his teeth, it felt almost imperative, and it ached him to see his most prized possessions be mistreated. His eyes drifted back up to her, the yellow-tinted lens of her sunglasses still didn't stop him from finding them oddly familiar. Scanning to the rest of her clothes as if he wanted to glimpse her personality based on her looks, he felt like a detective. The black minidress on her body was rather loose, and the sleeves ended close to the start of her wrists, as if it was too short for her arms. It seemed like an intentional fashion choice, despite how unflattering it looked to him. The dress hugged her waist in the centre, with a peculiar silver belt he'd only see in the outfit of a woman in a nouvelle vague film. In fact, her entire style seemed to be the one of a sixties Parisian flâneur, as if she was ruthlessly trying to imitate Anna Karina. Over the turtleneck that culminated her dress, a thin, long golden chain that went as low as her belt had a large and round golden pendant hanging from it.

But as soon as she spoke he was disappointed to find no thick, sexy french accent, but rather an ordinary speech, almost too friendly and passive to be attractive. His eyes drifted down to the VHS on his desk; while he expected Vivre Sa Vie, le Bonheur or Pierrot le Fou, there was no La Collectionneuse on his desk, but rather the most unexpected of outcomes.

Jane Birkin would never rent a chick-flick, Neil thought.

The membership she handed did not belong to her, it was that of a man's, an old one too, judging by his name.

"Alright, that will be eight dollars."

"Jeez, eight?"

"Eight."

"You do know the other rental charges only five, right?"

"I was not aware, thank you." Not only was she of poor taste, but also quite irritating. Even though he refrained from explaining how being a smaller business practically obliged him to charge more to make an actual profit, it was before he could begin to explain the late fees that she snatched the VHS from his hand.

"I'm actually going to keep looking." And just like that, she turned and began to walk slightly bent over, looking at the orange labels that hung on the shelves. Curiosity consumed him, and he also felt it his duty as the owner of the videoclub to assist his customers in making a choice.

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Well... What do you have with Robert De Niro?" Neil's eyes suddenly lit up, as if her personality had a chance at salvation the moment those words came out of her mouth.

"Most of his works, there's his classics like Goodfellas, Taxi Driver... I even have Heat if you're looking for something more thrilling."

"Heat?"

"Heat is one of the most critically acclaimed nineties crime dramas. It also stars Al Pacino, it's this kinda' cop and criminal trope but so realistically achieved, even the sound of firearms is claimed to be one of the most realistic in the history of film-"

"I'll just take that one." The tip of her finger slowly grazed his as she gently took the Heat VHS from his hands, a friendly awkward grin displaying discomfort. "It's just for my dad."

"Oh... Sixteen Candles' for you I guess." A soft nasal laugh left her body as her head tilted down, shaking in denial.

"No, that's for my dad too." Ok, weird, but by then she had undeniably picked his curiosity.

"Nothing for you then?"

"I prefer a cheaper rental, this is my dad's membership." As if he couldn't see for himself that such a name would never belong to her, it could only be that of an old geezer who he still struggled to recognise even though he was a member. And even though she intended to make a subtle comment, it did not come off that way.

"Oh yeah? And what do you rent in the cheaper club?" Media Giant could have a wider offer and lower prices, but Neil assumed it wasn't a real loss if the clientele consisted of girls like her.

"I like French movies, Harmony Korine, seventies giallos... Why, you want me to rent them from you instead?" While her first pick was particularly predictable, Italian giallos were a genre he was interested in exploring, and of which he hardly had any in his extensive collection. Neil shrugged almost dramatically, trying to incite her to take yet another pick.

"It wouldn't hurt your dad. Except for the giallo part, ‘can't help you there."

"You mean you have no giallos here?" His face deformed into an awkward pout, as if he'd been defeated in his own ground. "You look like the type of guy to own them on Criterion."

"I don't think so, no." By that point, the humiliation of her light cackle upsetted and confused him even further, returning her change as she piled up the tapes.

"If you ever want to watch a good Dario Argento movie, you let me know when I return you these." And marking her goodbye with a soft grin that slightly lifted the sunglasses that rested above her cheeks, Neil was taken aback beyond speech. Was it a date? Was she joking? He couldn't quite understand, and so couldn't come up with a proper response.

But seven days passed before she returned, and he would have to charge her the late fees that added to the sixteen dollars. However, in the course of those five days Neil hardly remembered her, briefly making a comment about it to his friends. Neil was not the type of man to stress easily, and he was exercising his peace that particular afternoon as he watched the director's cut of Psycho, to him a movie that truly never got old. He snacked on the couch in a slobby posture, his limbs spread over it without a care about presentation. It was not the type of day for him to expect too many customers, and it was too hot to go outside anyway. Hardly did he ever struggle to find an excuse to stay in anyway, so when he heard the doorknob pushed down his expression shifted into a displeased grimace. His eyes peered over the backrest, displeased to find that someone had indeed come in.

As he got up and stretched, mindfully appearing to be homeless, he caught a glimpse of her again. Her head was tilted and on her hands were the two tapes she had borrowed. He was surprised to have even forgotten that he'd rented her the films, usually being more attentive about what went in and out of his club. Probably the bizarre interaction had caused him to forget. That time she wore a tiny pair of black shorts with black stockings up the knees and also black, sharp-pointed flats. The usual thick, high-waisted belt accompanied a loose sage blouse, which was accessorised with elongated collars of various unique beads, and the peculiar yellow-tinted shades. Not that Neil cared at all about fashion, nor did he understand it, but he assumed she was going for chic.

"Sorry for not coming by sooner, hope you didn't miss these." She placed the tapes on the counter and quickly began looking through her pockets for the money she assumed she'd have to pay for being two days late. Before he could tell her how much extra she owed, she placed the four dollars on top of the movies.

"How'd you know how much..." Neil's finger drew a circle above the tapes and the money, as if she was some sort of genie or simply gambling with how much he'd charge compared to his prime competitor.

"My dad." She quickly interrupted, offering him her usual small grin of politeness before making her way out. Yet by that point Neil wasn't oblivious to her previous invitation, overwhelmed by the curiosity her strange looks provoked him.

"Is... the offer for that Dario Argento still up?" He could tell she was smiling through the way her cheeks lifted, visible from behind, and the way her voice sounded. When people smile and talk, their voice accommodates to the wider lips and sound friendlier.

"Glad you asked."

It was by that point that the old-Hollywood mystery enthusiast Neil and the French new-wave, foreign murder-thriller enjoyer Y/N frequented each other in what consisted of visits to the Gumshoe Video and her place. In contrast to his original impression of her, she was quite the film collector, owning a perfect shrine that ranged from art house Kino Lorber films to a wide range of classics on Criterion. She was truly well stocked. The only thing obvious to him from the start was that she was a great enthusiast of foreign films, something she even gave away in the unique way she dressed.

She was also an occasional actress, kindly starring in the indie projects of some of her film geek friends, many who shockingly knew Neil as well. It was natural for them to have so many people in common, especially because people with mutual interests were bound to come across each other in such a small town, however he was surprised to not have seen her previously roaming around or in any of his friends' films. She had a look that just gave away she'd be into acting, the role of a muse seemed to fit her character perfectly.

Because of this, as soon as Neil began to grow an interest in impressing her, she was surprised to hear he wanted to try and film an experimental short, try his luck at producing something beyond an advertising trailer for his videoclub, something more artistic.

Obviously he invited her to star in it, and even though he'd expected her to jump in his arms in excitement, never did she show herself to be shocked or taken aback by any of the bizarre propositions he had in mind. Neil wasn't very knowledgeable or even interested in the world that existed beneath experimental indie films, but she seemed to be willing to comply with the various shots of strange ideas he sketched frantically in strangely-drawn frames.

When it was finally time to shoot, it was clear that the whole tape would be very rudimentary, using the 35mm film gauge she had offered to lend him, demanding that he treat her camera with extreme care.

Despite Neil's attempts of disclosing what exactly he had in mind, rough sketches were clearly not enough, as the minute they began to shoot and the scenes began to come to life, it became too clear to her that Neil just wanted to see her naked, behaving like a conceited filmographer in poor attempts of masking his amateurism. It was hard to imagine senior film-makers like Jean-Luc Godard, especially the favourites of Y/N, and the thousands of breast and butt-naked women takes they had witnessed being filmed in their lifetime. Neil found it hard to imagine them behaving with naturality, but then again he assumed it was the only way to behave if they were actually in search of pristine shots.

"You don't seem to be taking this too seriously." She finally scolded, her forearm hugging her chest to cover her breasts once Neil cut the cameras.

"What do you mean? I'm directing here."

"You're wasting film in countless shots of my tits, what message are you trying to convey?" Interrogation was not on his plans, especially because Neil expected artistic and abstract film to not be questioned, but rather merely interpreted.

"It's about... the beauty of the raw human body." His tone didn't project confidence, and Y/N could tell he was feeding her bull-shit.

"Okay, then I'll film you too."

"Sorry, what?"

"It's not the human body if you also don't see the male." He didn't seem too convinced, obviously it was far more amusing to simply watch than to have to partake. "You and all these film-makers are so open minded when it comes to seeing women, but there's still a taboo for the male body." Neil couldn't find in him the interest to follow her idea. Obviously she had a valid point, but he was never the type to pay attention to the underlying message behind highly interpretable films, rather driven to puzzling movies where connecting the dots until the end was the reason to get his brain working.

However, how could he disagree? By that point it couldn't get more intimate than that, and a sudden high of confidence invaded him and prompted him to begin to undress himself. He began by his shirt, clumsily taking it off and visibly embarrassed. As he begins to rid himself from his pants and underwear, feeling the lens of the camera stare at him probingly, the desire to turn back strikes him to his core. He finally stands there, exposed and naked. He tries to look defiant and confident, but he's achingly vulnerable.

The camera is delighted with his expressions, and his body is posed like he wants to bend inwards and disappear into the air, but just when the filming of his most exposed self seems to never end, the camera lowers and his eyes meet with hers, and her own naked body too.

The naturality with which she accepted being in the spotlight seemed to indicate it was not the first time she filmed something of the sort, and Neil began to wonder who exactly had been gifted with pioneering in such a scene. He, on the other hand, was awkward and hardly artistic, his skinny body and shaky blue eyes screaming how out of place he felt.

"Do you think that's good enough?"

"Yes, I can't keep lending you more film anyway."

"That was... something." As she sat on the floor naked, her back arched sideways and her legs to her left as her arm supported the body, displaying total relaxation. Meanwhile, he couldn't wait for her permission to get back dressed, staring at her clothes as he waited for her to pick them up and imply she could do the same.

"It's a great thing when you realise you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about."

"American Beauty?"

"Yes." In a way, the scene did share odd similarities to the American classic. The filming of odd, regular things and their naked bodies, Neil was bound to expect what would come next would follow as in the movie. He slowly crouched and sat before her, the two sharing brief stares that felt like a lifetime. Her gaze was soft and mellow, contagiously transmitting her tranquillity to his own as he pondered on whether to make a move or not.

By that point it was obvious they were not going to leave that room without something happening before, but the decision of who would initiate the contact seemed to be difficult as the longest minute of their lives passed by them.

So when she finally accommodated her posture and began to lean closer to him, he crawled her way progressing from soft and careful movements to pounding her against the floor. The sound of bone against the wooden floor caused them both to wince, her face wrinkling in a frown of pain. It was before she could hold her head to stroke herself that his own hand slid down from her temple to the back of her head, holding her up to finally kiss her.

The kiss was long, and the sound of their lips engaging in humid contact as their tongues went in and out of each other's mouth echoed across the empty room, Neil's free hand travelling from her navel to her breast as her arms wrapped around his slender body. Her legs followed the motion, soon making her look like she hung from him, clinged to his back as he arched to reach closer to her. Her gaze ogled from the corner of her eye in search of the camera as her arm reached out, finally being released from his grip to set up and continue to film themselves, a prime example of human beauty in its most raw expression.

Needless to say that beyond physical pleasure, it was an intellectual disappointment for the two that despite their love for film, they still couldn't make sex look and feel like a scene from Body Heat, sexiness was greatly rehearsed after all.

this sucks ass i just wanted to write filmbro cillian murphy and yap about my favorite movies tbhngl

[yassentheassassin]

A (not complete) List of Soft Xinamiguel Headcanons:

(the basis for a lot of these is that they reconcile and rebuild their friendship and eventually get back together, xina knows miguel is spiderman but he doesn't know she's found out yet - she understands why he keeps it a secret through, no drama here!) shoutout to @xinakwans for developing most of these with me <3

miguel rather quickly realises he needs out of babylon towers, the place is too connected to bad memories and just doesn't suit the person he is now so he stays at xina's place on her couch whilst he's looking for his own place - he never ends up leaving

over time miguel's belongings start to make their way into more and more of xina's apartment until it goes from her place to their place

gabriel has a key and is often found sat on their couch watching tv in the morning because now he just kind of exists there too and they don't actually mind him hanging out (most of the time!)

their home becomes somewhere that radiates warm and comfort and is so so full of love, something miguel (and gabriel) never got to have until now

they love to do twencen dates and go on a date to a roller rink because xina absolutely loves it, miguel is shockingly bad at it which is hilarious because he's spiderman he should be able to stay upright on rollerskates for shock sake! xina has to hold his hand to help him and honestly that's just fine by him

miguel often leaves in the early hours of the morning to swing around the city and clear his head, particularly on days where his mental health is bad. xina begins to notice and figures out where he's going so if she's ever woken up by him leaving she'll grab a blanket and sit by the window watching over the city and catching a glimpse of him every now and then

it is a real relief for her to know that he has something he do to get him out of a bad headspace because she knows he can still struggle to be completely honest when he's having a difficult time

she always makes sure she's back in bed when he returns and holds him extra close to show him she's here for him

gabriel is basically xina's little brother too now, they absolutely adore each other and love to play video games for hours and hours

both her and gabriel now have someone to confide in, especially their worries about miguel being spiderman because mig doesn't know xina knows yet but gabriel does so they can always go to the other to soothe their worries about him

they don't hold hands all that often (bar their roller rink date haksjsksk) because miguel is constantly worried he'll hurt her accidentally with his talons, she's never worried about it but it's a big barrier for miguel

they absolutely trust each other with their lives

they're each others favourite person and it's so obvious because they're always looking at each other with the biggest heart eyes

miguel loves to collect twencen things for xina, literally anything he finds that he thinks she might like goes on the "for xina" pile he's gathering

xina loves getting twencen lego sets but it's miguel's job to build them. he loves making them and can sit for hours and hours concentrating on one

the gumball machine he gifted her is one of her most prized possessions

miguel is the number 1 xina fan, he can and will talk endlessly about how amazing she is and how much he loves her

she's unbelievably proud of the progress he's making in opening up and starting to be kinder to himself

her worries of him ending up in a dark place and hurting himself eases day by day as she sees him becoming happier and more relaxed and shedding the apathy he's been using to protect himself with for years as well as the self hatred that's been drowning him for a long time

they both have days where they struggle still, but they both know exactly how best to help the other and they will literally drop everything to make sure they're there for each other

they really miss each other when one of them is out of town - they'll call as much as they can just to chat about anything at all

simply spending time with each other is enough for them and it makes them so happy just hanging out

they are soulmates in both a platonic and romantic sense

they frequently have twencen movie marathons, the horror ones are their favourites and they'll often fall sleep on the couch together part way through

miguel loves watching xina tinker with gadgets and anything else she takes an interest in, he gets so much joy from seeing her in her element

they love to take a long drive out of the city and stargaze together, it just gives them time to be close and just breathe outside of the city and their responsibilities

[commander-krios]

Get to Know Your Tav!

I was tagged by @charmedslytherin and @my-favourite-zhent, thank you, my friends!

Tagging: @starknstarwars, @eluvisen, @cr-noble-writes, @antivanbrandy, @thegoblinwitchqueen and @jbnonsensework

Juniper

What is your tav’s….

favorite weapon?

Her words. She's witty, sarcastic, quick with her words and most people are more afraid of what she'll say than what she'll actually do. Her ability to talk herself out of trouble is her best and most useful weapon.

style of combat?

Juniper is a mix of a wild magic sorcerer and a bard. She uses her lute to help focus her magic but it doesn't always work and the wild magic surges are usually not hurtful, but more annoying than anything else. Sometimes, they come in handy. But mostly, she uses spells.

most prized possession?

Her lute. It was a gift from her father after she left bard school, and it goes with her everywhere. It also has her second most prized possession too: A brooch made by Dammon given to her by Rolan with a warding spell on it. She has the brooch inlaid into her lute's fretboard so she can keep both close to her.

deepest desire?

To find a place where she belongs. She grew up in Neverwinter, had a loving family, but she's always been an outsider in many circles, mostly because of her and her mother's reputation for being wild magic sorcerers. But she finds that in Baldur's Gate, with her friends and Rolan.

guilty pleasure?

Romance novels. She keeps a collection of them in her room in Ramazith's Tower, Cal borrows them frequently. (So does Rolan, but he'd never admit that).

best-kept secret?

The origin of how tiefling entered her family. Her mother's grandfather, a high ranking human who lived in Daggerford, made a deal with Raphael to bring magic (which had been lost decades ago) back to his family. He wanted power, he didn't care how to get it. When his granddaughter, Elara, was born, she was born with great powers but she was also born as a tiefling. No one knows the truth about this besides Elara, her immediate family, and Juniper.

greatest strength?

Her compassion. Many people wouldn't think that was a strength, but she loves people, loves life, and is willing to make sure everyone has the means to achieve their goals. She goes out of her way to help people, to make them feel good and happy and loved.

fatal flaw?

Also her compassion. Sometimes, people take advantage of it. Sometimes, it gets her into trouble that she has to fight out of. But she refuses to change because of it.

favorite smell?

Lilacs. They were her favorite flowers in Neverwinter and Rolan tries to find the flowers or even perfumes with the scent for her as gifts.

favorite spell or cantrip?

Vicious Mockery

pet peeve?

People interrupting her or someone else who is talking.

bad habit?

She tends to turn herself into a cat (or set herself on fire) quite a bit. She doesn't mean it, it's just something that happens thanks to her magic.

hidden talent?

She can also cook. Her father taught her many amazing recipes, her best being his sweet rolls with simple syrup.

leisure activity?

Reading. It's her favorite thing to do when not working and she'll sit around for hours reading if she's found a particularly excellent book.

favorite drink?

Wine made from flowers and berries. She doesn't drink often but it's one of the only indulgences she splurges on.

comfort food?

Sweet rolls with simple syrup. It reminds her of home.

favorite person(s)?

She has many favorite people. Obviously her father, Feanor, is one of her top favorites. He always provided for her, loved her, helped her find her love of music.

Rolan. She loves him more than she's ever loved anyone before and while she drives him insane, he can't help but enjoy it.

Karlach, her bestie, her sister, her favorite friend.

Cal, Lia, Lakrissa, Alfira, and the rest of the tieflings. They become her family in Baldur's Gate.

The tiefling kids, particularly Ide, Mirkon, Matthis, Silfy, and Arabella.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

Hugs, hand holding, kissing (on cheek for platonic, lips for romantic).

If you're her significant other, she'll lean on you, brush her hands along your shoulders, lips linger on your cheek, fingers play with your hair.

fondest childhood memory?

Waking up early in her home in Neverwinter to the smell of hot tea and warm sweet rolls, sitting in front of the fire while a snowstorm rages outside, listening to her father play the flute.

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you'd like to share?

Juniper is chaotic, but well intentioned. She loves life and is willing to make everyone happy, even at the expense of herself (much to Rolan's grumbling)

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Why You Should Watch Romantic Killer

This is the new anime series that premiered on Netflix a few days ago! Before you inevitably cancel your subscriptions, give this show a go! Trust me, it'll all be worth it! (I'm personally riding on my sibling's Netflix, so I got to watch it officially!)

Edit: I think it’s important to mention since it’s in the very nature of the show that nobody is actually forced to fall in love with Anzu or vice-versa. It’s all purely consensual in terms of that even though the wacky circumstances are not.

I even made gifs for this post just to convince you, reader of this post!

Story

A high schooler named Anzu Hoshino is living the life. She has games, chocolate, and a cat named Momohiki. One day, her life is turned upside down by the devil-- I mean wizard, Riri. Riri confiscates her three most prized possessions with the ultimate ultimatum: Fall in love or live life without your most cherished commodities. Living in this awful world, Anzu swears to not fall in love out of pure spite for this arrangement and for Riri, but unfortunately, Riri has plans in store that might make things harder than they seem. (source: me)

For such a nonsensical story, it fricking works. I like it. As someone who's aroace, I feel this. I really do. I don't object romance, but I sure am not looking for it, and I would be pissed and spiteful too if my belongings were taken.

Characters

Anzu is so much fun. She has got to be my favourite reverse harem protagonist of all time. Her reactions to everything are absolutely priceless, and I love how they incorporate random references. I never thought I'd see Kazuo Umezu face incorporated into a fricking romcom! Characters like her and Bakarina make the genre worth watching (even if Bakarina is too... baka at times). I want everyone to experience this anime without me giving too much away.

The side characters are good in their own right. Sure, Riri is annoying, but that's kind of the point. They canonically don't have a gender so the "they/them" pronouns were used in the subtitles I'm pretty sure. Tsukasa is pretty cold, and I felt indifferent about him until I found out his reasoning for being like that in the last few episodes, and let me just say, whatever you're expecting, it's probably not going to be that. I've never seen a show handle that type of situation for men quite like this RANDOM ROMCOM did. It puts its male characters into situations where they don't need to be strong, and they aren't criticized for it. That right there is positive masculinity. I like it. It diverts the idea of traditional macho masculinity, especially those of archetypes in dating sims. The characters and their dynamics actually seem pretty natural for such an unnatural situation and setting.

Music

Yooo, that soundtrack fricking fits. I like it. Sure, it doesn't stand out, but with the absurdity of this series, I'd be lying if I didn't laugh when a certain string track came on. I don't even think that was the point (I think it's supposed to be when the audience swoons).

That ending theme fricking slaps harder than it needs to. I watched the opening once. Look, that opening skip button is so tempting. I only watched the ending once, but it was the background music for the voice actor interviews, so I got to know it better.

Voice acting

YOOOO, THIS IS THE PART I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT. Sure, they hired your local "ikemen" to play the "ikemen" characters, but can we talk about Rieri for a second? She makes this show good. Her and Mikako Komatsu apparently auditioned in a pair, and you can see, hear, and feel that chemistry. It is absolutely fantastic. Not many anime have had me laughing out loud, but I kid you not, I laughed a few times watching this. And yes, Umehara and Gakuto did sound good. I will give them credit where it's due. They did fulfill the ikemen part really well. Almost too well.

Art

You know what? Even though the art was pretty mediocre, I'm going to give it a pass. It's hard to make a coloured manga. And it's hard to make an anime look good. Plus, they probably spent all of the budget on Anzu's face to the point where the guys look mediocre at best and can only be given "ikemen status" based on their voices alone.

Conclusion

I get why this anime might be a bit mixed in the aroace community, but I think we should enjoy media as it's handed to us. And what was handed to us is a genuinely good show that requires zero brain cells until the last half! Zero brain cells? That's me too!

Unlike most of the shows that I watch, I will rewatch this. Without a doubt. I'm rewatching it as we speak. Even for specific moments that made me laugh.

[silverandbone]

Toby Rogers | Ticci Toby Headcanons

Word Count: 1,431

Warning: "Ticci" Toby Rogers is a character known from Creepypasta. He is one of Slenderman's proxies, and as such is a serial killer. He suffers from varies ailments, and grew up in an abusive household.

As a result of Toby's characterization, there will be mentions of mental illness, alcoholism, and abuse. There may be mentions of self-harm, and murder. For the most part, this should be fluff, I just thought that I should put a warning for anyone not familiar with the character.

He plays the piano. Lyra took piano lessons when she was little, and Toby would always watch from the doorway, too shy to come in the room. Eventually Lyra taught him how to play simple songs and melodies, and it would calm him after his father abused him.

His favourite music is either folk music, or silly songs that make him laugh. He loves Lord Huron.

When Toby was little, his mother had a CD that she would play in the car with the story of Paul Bunyan and his giant blue ox. It always made him smile, and even now he’ll play it in the car if he’s going to be driving for a long time (this is something that used to annoy Masky the first few times it happened, but as they got to know each other better Tim realised that it was one of Toby’s few good memories from his childhood and now he doesn’t bother him about it.)

He has twinkly star shaped string-lights wrapped around the foot board of his bed frame. Lyra gave them to him when he was around 5 or 6, and told him that so long as the stars shine she would always there to protect him. After she died he realised that it had been little more than a childish story told to a scared little boy, he still keeps them there as a reminder of his sister.

Toby is really good at colouring. He’s not much of a fan of drawing, but he keeps an old metal lunchbox his mother gave him when his father was out of the house in his room next to a stack of various colouring books, and it’s filled with Coloured pencils. His favourite colours (brown, teal, orange, green) are obvious from how frequently used those pencils are.

Lyra used to wear this gold heart shaped locket that had belonged to their grandmother, she kept a picture of the two of them from when Toby was around 6 years old in it. It’s Toby’s most prized possession, and he doesn’t go anywhere without it, even as it tarnishes and the gold plating wears away to reveal what’s underneath.

When Toby gets sad or is disappointed over something, he gets this puppy dog look on his face. It’s not even intentional, he just looks like a sad puppy dog when he’s upset.

His favourite type of weather is rainy. He loves thunder storms, they always make him feel more relaxed and less anxious. Sitting next to his bedroom window during a rainstorm never fails to bring a soft smile to his face.

Coffee sort of calms him down, but he drinks his coffee with so much sugar in it that he gets hyper from that instead.

Waffles are his favourite food, but only homemade ones. The boxed frozen ones taste like stale cardboard to him, and he’d rather eat something else than eat something that tastes like cardboard (that said, he will eat frozen waffles if he’s hungry enough, granted he will eat just about anything if he’s hungry enough)

He has a really high metabolism, so no matter how much he eats, and he eats a lot, Toby is always pretty skinny. He’s really strong, but you’d never think so based on how skinny he is.

He’s tall. One of the things he was teased for in school before his parents pulled him out was how tall he was, at 15 he was probably around 6 feet tall, and by the time he was 18, Toby was 6”3’. This didn’t bother him as much as the rest of what he was bullied for, since this usually was the least vicious of the verbal attacks he endured, so it’s not likely to come up, especially if the topic of being bullied can be avoided all together

He wasn’t diagnosed with Tourettes until he was around 12. You might think it would have been fairly obvious, but his dad didn’t care, and his mom was more worried about other things.

If you let him, he’d love to paint your nails for you. He just likes doing it, and enjoys the whole process

When Toby is stressed out his tics get much worse than usual, when he’s truly calm and feels secure and safe, his tics are fewer, and not as severe

He collects shoe boxes full of little knickknacks. missing buttons, single pieces of old puzzles he no longer has, spare change, lost dice, Polaroids he’s either taken or been in, random plastic animals (the kind you could find at the craft store), or little toy cars, and anything else he finds and thinks is interesting. He doesn’t steal these things, in fact a lot of these things, the toys especially, are from when he was little and he keeps them mostly for the good memories they hold, or to maybe one day give them to his own children if he ever has any.

He’s incredibly good at math and literature. Toby liked being able to figure out the answer to a problem, or being able to figure out the motive behind a certain character’s actions in a book, and he always wrote the most insightful chapter analysis in his class. This was mostly because there was always a solution, even if he didn’t know how to find it at first, and the characters, even the horrible ones, always had a reason that made some sense.

Thanksgiving was always his favourite holiday. There was always so much food, and despite his father getting drunk like he always did, he was always happy, and was rarely abusive during thanksgiving weekends.

He loves woodworking. Maybe a bit obvious, but, he finds the repetitive actions and the certainty of each step that needs to be taken soothing, and the ability to have a thing that he made at the end of the process rewarding.

Toby can be a bit of a neat freak. His childhood bedroom, and his current bedroom too, was always filled with knickknacks, but they were always in their proper place, and his room was always clean. He didn’t have much control over anything in his life, and this was one thing he could control.

After Lyra died, things got worse for him. Not only because his sister wasn’t there to help him or protect him anymore, but because Toby’s father dealt with his own grief by trying to inflict more pain on Toby, and his mother spent days and weeks at a time in bed crying. He’d never felt more alone.

He loves putting together jigsaw puzzles or playing board games with his loved ones. Any chance he gets, Toby will go to the hall closet and pull out a board game or puzzle that looks interesting with the biggest grin on his face. His favourite game is Candy Land.

One of his favourite places to go is a diner. No matter where it is, there’s always something very familiar about diners that Toby finds comfortable, and they serve waffles.

The only thing he is capable of cooking for himself is a grilled cheese sandwich and canned soup, but if he makes you a sandwich, it will be the best damn grilled cheese you will ever have.

He keeps a note in his wallet that his sister wrote for to him when he was little and another one that his mother wrote for him. He likes keeping something with their handwriting with him, it makes him feel closer to them.

When Toby was little, his mother had a swear jar. It would sit on the kitchen counter, and any time Toby or Lyra, or really anyone in his parent’s house would swear, they would have to put a dollar in the jar. Even Toby’s father, drunk abusive asshole that he was, knew better than to try and avoid the swear jar. It was the one thing his mother would not backdown on. The only exception was if Toby cursed involuntarily, and there was always an obvious distinction between his tics and when he would intentionally curse.

Smoking makes him anxious and panicky. He’s smoked weed exactly once in his life and felt like he couldn’t breath, it’s not a feeling he ever wants to experience again, so he doesn’t smoke.

When Toby goes to a restaurant with a soda fountain, he will always order the largest size drink he can, and then minx every drink offered together in the one cup. It leads to some interesting combinations, but he's yet to find one he doesn't like.

When Toby eats raspberries, he puts them on his fingers first, and then eats them off one by one.

---

A/N: As promised, whether you wanted them or not, here is the first set of head cannons from Creepypasta/MH. Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote these in the notes on my phone while watching my younger siblings, who are, by the way, to thank for my reintroduction to CP and MH. My little sister found Marble Hornets on YouTube, did a pterodactyl screech for her twin brother, and now my mother has decided that they can watch the videos if I watch with them.

I also had to much free time on my hands while babysitting, so I made an aesthetic collection of photos I found online for Toby, Masky, and We'll see who else I find stuff for. I'll add pictures where I can to my headcanons, but I don't own any of them, unless stated otherwise. These pictures are not downloaded from Tumblr, I think most of them I found on Pinterest, so I don't have a clue who does own them.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Hello Nemo! Headcannon meme; ☾, ■ and ♦ for your Beaumont darlings, please! <3 Thank you! <3

Dearest Susie, welcome welcome into my inbox <3 forgive me for the delay in which I answer you, but I truly had so much to do, I was feeling extremely low on energy in the previous days (allow me to offer you a cup of tea to make up for that <3). But here I am now, most glad to have the opportunity to talk about my favourite Siblings <3 (truly thank you for this, I love those three bebes so much, I am so so happy to be able to speak about them <3).

So, without further ado, let me dive into your questions. and buckle up, because this is going to be a long answer. <3

☾ - sleep headcanon

Mathias is a night creature, so he has a hard time falling asleep at night. He usually doesn’t retire to his chamber before midnight, and even after that, it’s a constant tossing and turning. One of the reasons for this is connected to the fact that the fire that scarred him and almost took his life happened while he was asleep at night, and because of this, he has trouble finding respite. He has intermittent sleep, and only fully manages to fall asleep soundly when the dawn appears on the horizon. When Mathias couldn’t sleep at all, and he knew he is in for a long night, he would often just sit at the piano and just play until his mind finally quiets down. Antoine and Colette would wake up from it, of course, but they didn’t mind at all. If anything, they were sad that their brother was in a tormented state and couldn’t find any respite in sleep.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Mathias’ living quarters were rather modest in appearance. Located directly under the roof of the small house he shared with his sisters, if one were to walk into his room, they would find almost nothing of economical value: a small bed with a mattress made of straw and a heavy blanket that Colette had assembled for him; a chair where he would neatly fold his garments each night; a small desk where he would write his journal each night, or where he would take care of his correspondence; a chest filled with old out-of-fashion robes that had belonged to his father, the few that hadn’t burn in the fire that almost took his life; a broken mirror, constantly covered by a cloth so as not having to look at himself by chance while disrobing. But if one were to look underneath his bed, under the false floor, they would find a small box, there is where one would find Mathias’ most prized possessions, the one he valued more than anything else: a small compass decorated with stars that his mother gave to him when he was a child and a small doll that Colette had made out of rags and that had given him after the fire to protect him. What Mathias loved about his room was the small window that let him directly out on the roof and that, on clear nights, allowed him to look up at the starry night sky.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of Mathias’ hobbies, aside from playing the piano, was to draw the portraits of the gargoyles that always kept him company whenever he felt like he needs time alone and away from the crowd, and found solace and peace only among the statues that protected Notre-Dame. They are the only ones to know his heart pains and sorrows and yearning because he doesn't want to burden Antoine nor Colette with his suffering.

☾ - sleep headcanon

Antoine was a light sleeper: she could fall asleep easily everywhere, no matter the noise or the place, but due to what happened in her youth, during a mission that brought her away from home for almost a year, she learned to be constantly vigilant and to wake up and be fully functional in a matter of minutes. Even in her sleep, she would still be extremely aware of all her surroundings, which is why she always knew whenever Mathias was up and about or if Colette were to come back home late from the Café-Théâtre. However, Antoine could never fall asleep unless both her siblings were both safe and sound under their roof, which was a reason why whenever Colette would forget to communicate that she would sleep in her quarters at the Café-Théâtre, Antoine was most likely to spend a night awake. Antoine was not entirely happy with the way she slept, because waking up during the night would entail her past coming back to her and literally stab with all the regrets she had, but she tried to find way to cope with it, eventually.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Much like Mathias’ living quarters, Antoine’s as well were incredibly spartan. Located on the second floor, just beneath Mathias’ room, all that could be found in her room was a double bed for her and Claude, whenever he visited her and was too tired to walk back to his own dwelling; a wooden chest, where she kept all her robes and garments, children’s clothes and also some of her mother’s old gowns, saved for Colette for whenever she decided to marry; a desk where she kept all her Brotherhood related documents and journal, and in the desk drawer, kept strictly under key, a small silver locket containing a strand of soft auburn hair, the only memento she would never let go, the only memento she would never share its knowledge with anyone, her siblings included, a testament and a warning at the same time.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of Antoine's greatest quirks, one that immediately catches the eye, was that she never wore feminine clothes. EVER. Ever since she had memory, she had shared the same type of garments as her twin brother, to the exasperation of her mother, who instead wanted her to dress as a proper lady. But Antoine always refused and rebelled, and eventually, her mother gave up on her, focusing her efforts on Colette, instead.

☾ - sleep headcanon

Colette was a heavy sleeper, meaning that she would fall into such profound sleep the moment she laid her head on her pillow that not even Notre-Dame’s bells could wake her up. The reason for this was mostly connected to the fact that she worked extremely hard at the Café-Théâtre as a cook, so she always had to wake up early to buy fresh produce from the market and start preparing the food for the patrons that would come visiting that day. It was not unusual for her to be so tired in the evenings that she would fall asleep sitting at the table where she usually wrote the list of all she would need the following day. When Arno was the one to find her snoring there, he would just scoop her up with a chuckle and bring her to the quarters he has given her at the Café, not without giving her a small kiss on the brow and probably whispering some of the words he would want to say but doesn’t dare to utter out loud. And rest assured this, he would straight away send a message to inform Antoine that Colette was safe and sound with him in HER OWN bed: he knew all too well what would happen if Antoine(and Mathias too, to an extent) had even the smallest suspicious that he wanted to try something fancy without wanting to properly marry her sister first.

■ - Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Colette’s living quarters, in the house she shared with her siblings, were located on the ground floor, next to their small kitchen. While not fancy in the slightest, her room was, without doubt, the warmest and most comfortable, and that was because Antoine wanted Colette to have all that she felt her baby sister had lost when their family had fallen in disgrace. So, when Antoine managed to secure their current home, nestled within Les Invalides, she and Mathias didn’t hesitate to open the purse and make sure that Colette had everything she wanted. Colette, while appreciating her sister and brother’s generosity and effort, refused to let them go hungry or cold just so that she could be happy with things she didn’t truly need. Antoine was set and stubborn, but Colette was even more so, and in the end, she prevailed over her elder sister. So, in Colette’s room, you would find a small bed with a colorful blanket that Antoine has sewn together from old garments that were too worn out to wear but whose fabric was still very much salvageable; a vanity table that Mathias had found, repaired and painted with daises and sunflowers; a wardrobe where Colette would keep all her garments and a few of Arno’s robes that needed some mending and he couldn’t find the time to actually bring it to the milliner. Something you would always be assured to find in Colette’s room is fresh flowers.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

One of the biggest hobbies Colette has was also her job: cooking. Growing up, she had to learn how to cook with meager ingredients and had to bring all her imagination to create dishes that were palatable and nutritious for both herself and her siblings, knowing that if she were not to be proactive, they would have probably starved, because Antoine would be more than capable to burn a pot of water, and Mathias, while having some rudimentary skills on how to cook, was not always able to provide his family with edible food. Hence, Colette rolled up her sleeves and tailed the old cook at the Café-Théâtre, who took her under her wings and taught her all that she knew.

thank you so much again for these questions. truly.

--Nemo

[changelingsandothernonsense]

For Sy and Tel: 🍍, 🍪, and 🍻

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

Sydari feels the most comfortable in Raven Rock, something about the place, the people feel like it was always meant to be her home. She was gifted Severin Manor by Lleril Morvayn for her help in a few major rebuilding efforts, it's her favourite home that she owns. She once felt safe in Riften but several events drove her out of that place semi-permanently. She's preparing to move everything she owns to Raven Rock permanently but fate had other ideas, that would have to wait. Her pet bunny made the trip over at least, she loves that little guy.

Teldryn has never felt comfortable anywhere, he's not even sure if that's a thing. He roams, he use to have a home but it was more a place where he would crash after a long day of essentially being a fuckboi (pre-Nerevarine days there). He doesn't actually remember whose house it even was but it was pleasant, warm and almost safe. He makes a point of living a spartan existence, he partially owns the Retching Netch so technically that was his home (he has a room there that's locked, no one can rent it out, and it's the only room with a built-in bath so he doesn't have to share). He started making himself a space in Severin Manor as well, eventually allowing himself to accumulate some personal belongings that can't fit into a backpack. It eventually becomes his home too.

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

Sydari has a few possessions that have sentimental value, there's her bunny, Thistle who she found tied in an abandoned shack not long after her final Skooma disaster. She put all her focus on nursing him back to health, he's the one thing she feels herself around, her actual self. Only showable to a rabbit. There's her soul gem necklace (something she wares to remind herself that she is powerful and that no one can truly mess with her again) she shares a split soul gem with Karliah, they both had a bone to pick with that soul. Finally, she carries around an old note with a crude drawing of a netch on it. It's in Dunmeris, so she has no idea what it says but it was given to her by what she assumes was the same mercenary that saved her from the cold as a small child. It's her oldest possession and the handwriting is beautiful. It reminds her that maybe someone is looking out for her, even if she'll never know who it is.

Teldryn's most prized and sentimental possession is his red-orange scarf, seriously. It was his grandmother's that he snatched from her burning funeral pyre. She was the only relative that showed him any compassion that wasn't just a series of strings-attached favours that he owed. It's the thing that makes him feel safe, he plays with it when he's nervous. It's ancient, full of holes and should have been thrown out a century ago but he can't get rid of it. He can't let go. He wears it as a mask both literally and figuratively.

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

Sydari likes to read or tries to. She enjoys grabbing a bottle of wine, disappearing into her bedroom and tackling at least one chapter. She feels a sense of personal accomplishment every time she gets through one. Accomplishment makes her feel relaxed. Maybe she'll have a long hot bath, or she would if it wasn't constantly occupied!!! She use to disappear into a skooma-addled haze, she doesn't do that anymore.

Teldryn commandeers the baths, for hours, every night. He's got a whole set of rituals that he needs to complete to make himself not feel like a dirty, blighted freak. Mostly that involves bathing and a really gross tea that relieves the itchiness from his corprus scaring. If he can't bathe then he becomes insufferable so it's just easier to let him take over the place for 3 hours instead of arguing about it. He likes grooming himself, which is funny because no one ever actually sees his face for long enough to appreciate the effort he puts into it.

He still drinks himself to sleep every night but his binges haven't been as bad as they use to be. No assaulting poor netches in the night, Sydari would kill him!

[mysteriesofloves]

I’m always sad about the things we missed with dair on gg, specifically her dressing up for him (aside from her one failed attempt) and how different it would’ve functioned in their relationship. like role play and dress up between her and ch*ck never felt sexy to me (because ch*ck is an ugly troll who nauseates me) but rather a way, in addition to many others, that blair used to keep ch*ck happy. And they mostly felt like a display or tableau for him to enjoy (🤢).

On the other hand, and I’ve said this before, blair’s desire to dress up for dan did and would’ve continued to feel joyous and an acknowledgement of her own desire as well as her partner’s.

*in general I get angsty when I think of all of blair’s great styling choices that were wasted on ch*ck.

yeah i know what you mean and i think if they’d been given more time we might’ve gotten that but the writers were never invested in them being endgame so we missed out on a lot :/ but honestly i love the little bit we got with blair revealing herself in the getup in 5x18 like it’s such a contrast from her and chuck because it doesn’t feel like she’s For his consumption. (another reason the short lived blair/carter thing was fun it was nice to see a rich, manipulative guy be blair’s plaything pretty much just for her fun.)

it really does feel like things she does to keep him interested but also i can’t remember at all a single time she dresses up for him that he actually responds… like he either doesn’t show up or he brushes her off or holds out on her or something it’s so one sided but she keeps doing it again and again it’s so sad.

and it does always feel like she’s something for him to enjoy/consume/posses. she’s positioned as another one of the beautiful, expensive things that he owns, that belong to him, that he controls, just like his hotel, his company. she’s not even interchangeable with them to him though, she’s actually less important. she’s not even his favourite, his prized possession. it doesn’t just go for lingerie she wears either but any look. and i think what ultimately makes it worse is that it’s what the writers intended. any time a scene is about blair they view it as somehow actually being about chuck, even when it doesn’t make sense to.

like, that dress i pointed out, which is gorgeous (i went on a hunt for it last time i did a full rewatch) and she looks insanely hot in it, is still interesting when viewed characteristically because it’s a lot less modest than what she usually wears. while it’s a proper dress it’s actually closer in style to the slips she strips down to in 1x07 and 4x09. blair’s style is for the most part always modest/posh/classically romantic. the most she reveals is usually a low back. so i think it’s telling that she chooses to wear that style when she’s set up a dinner for him. those two moments, when she drops her dress and walks off in just a slip, are meant to show the “real” and “true” blair that only chuck can bring out which just. makes me so angry lol. what an incredibly reductive way to view female sexuality.

but again, even the little bit we got shows how comfortable blair was with dan and how she knew he would appreciate it. she reveals this look similarly to how she reveals the prior slips: taking off the modest cover up to reveal something sexy underneath. but this time it’s with someone who respects her, respects her body, and loves every part of her—not just the “bad girl”, “dark” blair. it’s almost like…it was a satisfying end to her arc.

literally so many incredible styling choices that could’ve plainly been gorgeous but are in a 🪑 storyline so they have to have the contextual layer of all that grossness :)))) say it with me: and! for! what!

[endlessly-cursed]

𝙍𝙪𝙗𝙮 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙩

"𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄'𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙄 𝙖𝙢."

BASICS

Full Name: Ruby Celestia Somerset 

Age: 20 in 1960 

Birthday: 23rd of September, 1940 

Weight: 63kg 

Height: 1.68m 

Hair colour: Ebony black 

Eye colour: Green 

Faceclaim: Natasha O’Keeffee 

HOGWARTS

House: Slytherin 

Wand: Cherry wood, dragon heartstring, 11 ¾, rigid flexibility 

This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.

Amortentia (what they smell like): woodsmoke, chanel nº5, primrose flower, pine wood and strawberry handcream 

Best class: DADA, Transfiguration and Flying 

Worst class: History of Magic and Ancient Runes 

Wanted career: NA 

Quidditch: She didn’t play 

Extracurriculars: Duelling club, Sphinx Club, Frog Choir

FAMILY

Mother: Margaret Odette Somerset, neé Taylor @camillejeaneshphm​ 

Ruby was Margaret’s last daughter and child and had a special bond. She admired her strenght, coming into a difficult society being daughter of a muggle and poor family to be at the pinnacle of the new nobility and high society and joining one of the most powerful families in the world. She also resembled her greatly, with her same dark brown hair, green eyes and personality, which made them close to the other 

Father: Vincent Alexander Somerset 

Ruby and Vincent had similar personalities and she admired and loved her father very much. She had him ideolized and always sought his approval and love, which was always given. They always had a good relationship. 

Sibling(s): Oldest brother: Lawrence Noah Somerset 

Though Ruby and Laurie had a big age gap of nine years, to her, Lawrence was like a second father and admired him greatly, and always came for advice. He was her rock and always protected her from things her parents weren’t aware. He was the one to look after her after graduating Hogwarts. 

Younger Brother Brother: Philip Charles Somerset @camillejeaneshphm​ 

Ruby adores her brother, and though her favourite may be Lawrence (don’t tell them that) she also supports him greatly and always loved growing up with his ideas and later in life, trips. Her position also helped him through some troubles of England in 1960. 

Eldest Sister: Elizabeth Primrose Somerset @camillejeaneshphm​ 

Ruby always admired her strenght of character and how she was brave enough to leave her duties and be an Obliviator at MACUSA and marry for love outside the peerage. She was Ruby’s role model and always wrote to the other and shared many different loves. 

Middle Sister: Gia Alexandra Somerset II 

Ruby and Gia were the closest in age, only two years apart, and were close to one another. They supported each other throughout the years and always confided in one another. 

Uncle(s): Due to her father being the only boy in the family and her mother being an only child, she had very few male figures to look up to 

Aunt(s): Her father being the only son of several daughters that followed, Ruby never lacked different role models. Her godmother is her aunt Jocelyn of Alderly

Friends: tbd 

Significant Other: Lionel Abraham Thorne 

Lionel was a savvy businessman and wealthy landowner, and belonged into the gentry. He was the son of rich heiress Enya Thorne and Robert Astor, from the famous and influential families who made him one of the richest men in the world. This, however, was not a marriage of convenience. Lionel was taken by Ruby’s charm, sharp wit and strong manner as she was attracted to his sensibility, gentleness and poise. The two of them had two children: Stefan and Anais Primrose Thorne. They lived a happy, loving and blissful marriage. 

PERSONALITY

Three Qualities: Cunning, intelligent, savvy 

Three faults: Smokes and drinks, doesn’t take orders from anybody and is haughty 

Guilty pleasure: Spicy food, really spicy 

Writing hand: Left 

Zodiac sign/other personality trait: Libra 

FAVOURITES

Colour: Orange, white, green and blue 

Composer/singer: tbd 

Food: Bonbons 

Family member: Her sister Lizzie 

Location in the world: Tokyo, Japan 

Holiday: Easter 

Hobbies: Brooding (jk) playing the piano, learning new languages and collecting sculptures 

MISC

She’s musically talented and has a beautiful singing voice, though only her family and husband have heard it. 

She’s the grandmother of Semele Thorne 

She died after her last great-granddaughter, Lennox, was born 

She also knows Jiu-Jitsu and judo 

She also runs faster than any of her sisters and her brother Philip. Only her brother Laurie can outrun her 

She’s also the one closest to her mother Margaret and the one to resemble her the most 

She fought in the Battle of Hogwarts despite her advanced age 

She’s also the first of her siblings to die due to a stroke after so much smoking and drinking 

She was also the first one to smoke at the age of 12 

She’s the one who has travelled the least 

She’s the least beautiful of the sisters, which pissed her off royally 

She’s a modern feminist like her sisters 

Like her sisters, never had her debut ball, but was introduced to Queen Elizabeth II 

[104thsquadfam]

(for any characters you want) does your character have a favourite item of clothing?

-Well all know Mikasa has her dirty little scarf she never cleans so let's instead delve into one of my little HC's instead and share something about my little bean sprout!

Bertholdt Hoover;

Something Bertholdt took with him prior to leaving Liberio for their mission was a small chess piece, The Knight, that his father gave to him on his birthday...it's his most prized possession and he couldn't leave home without it. It serves as a reminder as to why he became a warrior and it helps keep him on track when things get hectic or when he begins to doubt himself. It may not seem like much to others....who cares about some silly little chess piece? Chess was something Bertholdt and his father often played with one another and it's where most of his fond memories come from. There was one time he lost the chess piece and genuinely panicked when he couldn't find it, thankfully Annie found it and recognized it belonged to him and returned it to Bertholdt...to his surprise but he was grateful nonetheless.

[novinare]

headcanon . grace kingsley

Not every ghost ends up somewhere nice, and Grace has collected several small items that are actually fetters -- because living in the apartment over her bakery is much nicer than being forgotten in the dusty back of a shop, or in overgrown grass in a ditch. None of them are museum pieces, but they were important to their owners.

Everyone already knows that 'Bake the Dead' is haunted, so what's one more spook? (As long as they get along with everyone else, of course!)

Tin matchbox car . belongs to Augustijn, an 8-year-old boy originally from Belgium. He passed away in 1953, from the measles, and his toy car ended up in a thrift store. He isn't particularly active, usually out exploring, and the only time people see him is when he's running back to the bakery to tell Grace about his adventures.

Gilt mirror . belongs to Helena, who passed away in 1905 from food poisoning. She was in her early 60s, and it was her most prized possession-- a gift from her much younger, and married, lover. She's usually present in the bakery, but content to people-watch from behind the counter.

Harmonica . belongs to Emmett, a real cowboy from the 1870s. He was obviously shot, but he hasn't been forthcoming about any more details. Usually he sticks to himself, down in the basement, but occasionally has been known to hold the door for young woman with their hands full.

Teapot . belongs to Mitzy, a drag queen who passed away during the AIDS epidemic. It's very glittery, and a cup of tea was part of their after-show ritual-- now it has a place of pride on one of the bakery shelves. Even in death they're very social, and one of the most active ghosts at 'Bake the Dead'.

Recipe book . belongs to Nettie, a young domestic servant who worked in the kitchen at one of the grand houses in the area. She passed away in her sleep in 1914, at age 22, of carbon monoxide poisoning. While she's very shy and tends to stay upstairs, or in the kitchen, her recipes are fan favourites with customers.

[jukti-torko-golpo]

Please ignore my nails and pretend that they add to the aesthetics. [ From top : The diary cover ; A random trading card that I had collected and proof of a very strong HP phase in my life ; 1993 ; a bus ticket that I had collected ; a packing list for a trip to bhutan almost 7-8 years back ; a reading list ; a random thing written with a fountain pen ; a charcoal sketch ; numbers of the Bhutanese language called Dzonkha ; an AC bus ticket and a solitary dry rose petal ]

So this is a very old notebook that I found in an old bag of mine. This had belonged to my great-grandfather and then he gifted this to my mother....And I took it from her when I was a kid.

This is one of my most prized possessions. Primarily because of the association with my great grandfather. I've never seen him. I've only ever heard about him from my mother and she loved him so much. But I feel a strange familiarity with him...As though I know him personally.

He was an amazing person and a creative genius in my eyes. He had designed a tiara which could be converted to a necklace for my mother for her wedding. And he had sketched the entire intricate detailing all by himself. And no, he was not a jewellery designer. He had also designed some silver utensils for my mother and engraved those with her name. And the best part is the way the name was written. He had hidden the letters in a picture of a scenery.

Another interesting story about him is that of his relationship with his wife. People called it Rajjotok...Which means a match made in heaven in Bangla. And by coincidence his name was Panchanan ( another name of Shiva ) and her name was Uma ( another name of Parvati ). And despite an arranged marriage they were completely in love and they had this amazing mutual respect. Infact after he died she lost her will to live and soon died afterwards.

This diary seems like a part of him left with me and everytime I draw something in it I feel, somehow, that he'll be very proud of me. Stories, his works and this diary are some things that I hold very close to my heart.

@callonpeevesie @kermithermit @shaonharryandpannisim @gulaabee @allegoriesinmediasres @cynicalities @paneerlajwanti @gandharvika @hoziestgf @adoginthemanger @burningqueentimemachine @kingweaslee @seekerbrave @peace-punch-captainhunch @laad-governess @medhasree @a-confusedmess @chaitastrophicpeepalert @the-slythering-raven @travalerray @strawberryphrogg @cipher-dorito @salt-n-caramel @your-favourite-skittles @azureblupdf @lovechildofamyrosagina @dhyanshiva @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @balladofableedinggod2112 @medusasprotegedaughter @cosmicdreams1111 @chaoticaindica @prachi1729 @caffeinated-pingu @fineliine @lookintomyfuckineyes @jalebi-weds-bluetooth

[onemistresstorulethemall]

There is darkness in the light

This is nsfw, as well as 99% of my blog, oops

Ship: Mammon x F!Reader

Word count: 1859

“Oh, don’t tell me you got cold feet now. It was just getting interesting.”, you faked some sweetness into your tone, “Don’t fold now. Let’s raise. Indulge me.”, you shifted your legs, changing which was on top of which, moving them a little too slow, catching the attention of a few hungry demons, “Unless, of course, you’re scared of losing to a human…”

Your last line sparked something in the demon you were facing. He seemed offended. Good, you thought, that was the point. You needed him to play right into your trap.

“As if you could scare me.”, he snapped back, “Sure. I’ll humour you.”, he pushed a few more chips in the centre of the table.

Turning towards one of his friends, who already folded, he stated with a big smirk on his face:

“Bet she’d be set for life if she won my pocket money.”

His friend chuckled at the remark, but his eyes didn’t follow. You had beat him enough times for him to know better, but you’ve yet to destroy every crumb of pride, so he still kept up a confident façade. However, it meant little to you. All that counted in that moment was to win.

“So, what have you got, little one?”, the demon mocked you.

Your eyes burned through him and fell onto your date for the night. The second born was eyeing you from the bar, flashing a cheeky smile and raising his glass in your honour. Mammon knew you’d win this round. You both knew, actually. His pact mark burned in a particular way that let you know you were lucky. It came in handy at times like this or times when you had to guess answers to a RAD exam you didn’t study for.

“Please, do the honours.”, your attention shifted to the demon in front of you.

A pair of kings. Not bad, but not good either. At least, not good enough. However, you were here to have fun, so you faked defeat.

“My…That’s a good hand.”, you bit your lip and frowned.

At that point in time, a bunch of demons gathered around your table, waiting to see the results. Funny enough, demons made bets on who would win.

“Wish you backed away when you could, huh?”, your opponent lit up a cigarette.

“I…”, you looked down before revealing your cards, “I could ask you the same question.”, you glued your gaze to his as a huge grin spread across your face.

Three aces. You won.

“Motherfucker…”, he hissed while exhaling the smoke.

While you pulled the chips towards you the demons gathered around you loudly expressed their emotions. Some cursed, some cheered, but it mattered little to you.

Your opponent felt a tap on the shoulder. A woman handed him a glass of demonus and ruffled his hair.

“Lost to Mammon’s girl again?”, she laughed, “You should’ve known better.”

Happy with your earnings for the night, you left the table and headed towards the bar. When close enough to Mammon, your hands found their way around his neck. You leaned in close, your lips almost touching, breathing heavily, tension thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

“Tell me…”, you bit your lip, “Did you manage?”, your eyes full of desire.

“Yeah, baby, let’s get outta here.”, his smirk made your knees weak.

After you cashed in your gains, both of you got into Mammon’s car and the moment the door closed, you started laughing, no longer being able to contain it.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe how dumb they are!”

You turned around to face the blue-eyed demon and cupped his cheeks, pulling him in to kiss him forcefully. Your hands knew no boundaries and travelled across his entire body, sneaking under clothes to feel his warm skin, grabbing with unsatiated hunger while your nails dug into his soft flesh. He was far from shy as well, high on the smell of money and one too many glasses of demonus. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, tangled into your hair a bit too tight, as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere, while the other curiously explored your body, travelling from your waist to your ass and your thighs, making its way under your dress.

When you broke off the kiss, a strig of saliva still connected your mouths. Panting, you smirked and dragged your nails across his ribs.

“Let’s get out of here.”, you suggested.

“You wanna go home already?”, he seemed confused.

“No, silly. Let’s get a hotel room, see how much we made.”

Mammon seemed to like the idea, speeding up after planting a kiss on your lips one last time.

It was overwhelming. The cold wind blowing your hair around from the parted window, Mammon’s hand on your thigh occasionally squeezing and the thrill of accomplishing your plan.

Soon enough you got pulled up to a hotel and rushed into the room, unbearable to wait a second longer. You threw your heels on the floor quickly and opened up your purse to let a wave of grimm flow onto the bed.

Grinning, you turned to face Mammon who pulled around six wallets, three watches and a few pieces of jewellery from his pockets.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this worked…”, you finally broke the spell.

“Oh, of course it worked. You put on quite a nice show, princess. With your plan and my skills, it couldn’t go any other way.”

He emptied the contents of the wallets onto the bed.

It was your idea, actually. Mammon played first. You made quite a scene after he lost all his money and demanded that he backs off for the night. Instead, you asked he let you play a few games before you leave. He complied. You tried your best to make the matches entertaining and attract as much attention as you could. When people gathered around, Mammon used the opening to empty their pockets. It was all premeditated and you couldn’t believe you actually pulled it off.

“Do ya wanna count them?”, he asked.

As a response, you pushed him onto the grimm-filled bed and began to kiss his neck.

“Fuck…”, he hissed in surprise.

You loved being on top, having control over him, making him squirm under you and enjoying his every reaction. However, tonight, you wanted him to completely take over you. All you needed to do was to bring him to his breaking point.

Without hesitation, you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them pulling them off along with his boxers.

“Shit, someone’s eager.”

“Mmm, you bet I am.”

You began to sloppily lick along his shaft, making sure it’s nice and wet before taking all of his length down your throat in one go.

“F-fuck, gimmie a warning first.”

You raised your head, drool dripping from your mouth, and looked into his ocean eyes.

“Gotta serve my king well, right?”

After a quick smile, you resumed to pleasuring your favourite demon. This time, slower, rolling your tongue around his tip and using a hand to stroke the rest.

“Shit…”, he breathed out, “You’re perfect.”

His hand found its way into your hair, pushing and pulling, controlling the pace. At this point it was less of a blowjob and more of a facefuck. Drool kept dripping from your lips and filled the room of wet, sloppy sounds. You couldn’t help but moan as he used your mouth. Mammon’s free hand bunched up the sheets and along with it a bunch of bills. That was probably the last drop for him cause he pulled onto your hair and freed your mouth. As if you weighted nothing, he switched the positions, pulling you under him before beginning to undress you. Your dress hit the floor and so did your panties.

His eyes were full of desire as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into a kiss. In the process, a bunch of grimm ended up on your stomach. When Mammon broke the kiss and leaned back his cock twitched when faced with the view.

Between your legs, his hand began to play with your wet folds, making you arch your back.

“You’re my most prized possession. Fuck, it’s like you were made for me…”

His fingers entered you, moving inside, hitting just the right spots. Your hips gained a mind of their own and moved without you even thinking about it.

“Doncha think so, y/n? That ya belong to me…”

His lips fell onto your neck before you even had a chance to reply. His teeth sank into your flesh, marking you as his own in yet another way.

When his thumb traced circles on your clit, a cry escaped your lips and you knew you reached your breaking point.

“Mammon if you don’t fuck me right this second…”

“You’ll what? Whine?”

“Fuck, please…”

Without another exchange, he flipped you around, turning you on your stomach before aligning himself to your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n”

That was the last thing you heard before your head was pushed into a pile of grimm while his cock slowly entered you.

“Don’t fucking be gentle!”, you warned him, “Be as rough as you can.”

“You’ll break”, he chuckled.

“Good.”

He grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned them to your back, so you had no choice but to sit there and take it. Mammon’s movements became rougher and faster while your moans became louder.

“You’re taking me so well, fuck…”

You weren’t half as coherent. You could only alternate between “Mammon” and “Fuck”. His free hand reached between your legs and rubbed against your clit in an attempt to relive all the built up tension. Your legs started to shake and your walls spasmed around his cock as you came undone. The demon did not slow down at all. Instead, his grip on your wrists became tighter and his thrusts deeper, chasing his own release. Soon enough, he spilled inside of you with a loud groan before falling onto his back next to you.

Still in a daze, you were a bit shocked when Mammon pulled you into an embrace and kissed the top of your head.

“Ya know… With your cash, there must be like a hundred thousand grimm here.”, he turned to face you, “How about we clean up and spend them all?”

Tomorrow you were bound to get back to the house of lamentation at some point. You’d have to do your homework, cook dinner as it was your turn and help Lucifer with a few documents. Basically, you had to take care of your responsibilities and be a good girl. So, of course, you nodded. Mammon was going to spend all the money regardless, so you took the chance to go wild and he was the only one you could go wild with. Your first demon, in every sense of the word. The only one who knew about the darkness in your soul and cherished it. He was both your chaos and your anchor. Your temptation and your guardian. Your sin and your virtue. He was yours, your Mammon.