#something sweet this way comes

[trulybetty]

oct x 11 - pumpkin spice

Prompt: pumpkin spice Pairing: marcus pike x f!Reader Word Count: 3,366 Warnings: this is somewhat au? I don't know how to describe it - but honestly, outside the mentions of food, just introductions to our characters 💕 Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the changing blossom trees and celebrate the fall season. after losing your job you find yourself a part of the community which includes the towns baker who left a less than stellar impression on you. AO3: Linked

A/N: this is a departure for me, this is going to be all sickly sweet and sticky sweetness - made a teeny tiny dash of angst? This will be told in three parts through the month, no promise on when the next part will be posted - but keep an eye out. Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it!

x. masterlist

Something Sweet, This Way Comes Part I | Pumpkin Spice

Maplewood was a small town nestled deep in the heart of British Columbia Canada, the crisp autumn air brought a sense of enchantment. The maple leaves painted the streets with vibrant shades of red and orange, and the town buzzed with anticipation for Halloween.

At the hub of it all was Maple Delights, a mainstay of the small town that had changed owners only three years ago. Before that Marcus Pike had left the FBI’s art division on the heels of lost love and disillusions for the career he once loved. Everyone always assumed he was a dab hand with creative pursuits when he would tell them he worked in the bureaus art department. And while he had studied art at college, it had been in art history. Truth was he couldn’t paint anything worth posting further than the front of the fridge, but baking on the other hand, was a hidden talent he’d always exceeded in.

So when a late night social media scroll after handing in his notice brought him to an article on the small town of Maplewood being a hidden gem in the Northern Canadian mountains. Over the following days he’d drifted back to the article several times before a Google search brought him to the small town’s website.

Then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to click on the link for the modest page of properties both for sale and rent, curiosity baiting him, only to find the town’s historic bakery up for sale.

Dashing any thoughts out of his head he’d closed his laptop with a shake of his head, it was an absurd idea. He was an early retiree of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he had no business entertaining the idea of purchasing a bakery, let alone one in seemingly the middle of nowhere Canada.

But between the calls from friends and family checking in on him with the news of his departure from the job he once dearly loved and the end of the whirlwind romance that he’d thought was the one, he found himself late each night scrolling mindlessly, glass of wine in one hand, phone in the other, back looking at the town of Maplewood.

He did have a sizable nest egg, he owned his apartment which was now in what was considered a trendy part of town and worth a lot more than when he first purchased it.

He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him two nights later to email the town's realtor, but within the month he was the proud owner of Maple Delights and all its contents and was packing up the contents of his modest apartment and heading north.

The previous owner had passed, with adult grandchildren who lived far away in various places across the country, and who had no interest in a historic bakery in the middle of nowhere; it had been left with no choice to go up for sale by the estate.

It had taken some modernization, not so easy a feat in the far north of BC where the local hardware store was a mom and pops situation and the nearest Home Depot was three hours away, but Marcus had made it work with help from a local contractor who’d enjoyed the challenge.

The facade had undergone a drastic change too, much to the chagrin of some locals. But when it was revealed to be a homage to its original exterior, when it was first opened, there had been actual tears at the results.

The front of the store was made up of a large window and wooden framing. In cursive the bakeries name was painted across the glass. At the front were planters at the wooden windowsill, filled with roses of various shades of pinks and whites. The climbing ivy had been stripped away to allow the brick underneath to stand out, making the white frames pop all the more.

It truly was a delight to see.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long after that for Marcus to win over the town. With his natural ability for baking and his charm, he won over any naysayers to the outsider in their town quite quickly and was soon a beloved member of the community.

Your journey to Maplewood however, was nearly not as charming.

It was a gloomy Tuesday morning when you received the email that would change the course of your life. As you sipped your coffee and stared at the screen, disbelief washed over you. The subject line was blunt and to the point: ‘Termination of Employment.’

You opened the email and read the cold, corporate language that informed you of the company's decision to downsize. Your position had been eliminated, effective immediately. There was no room for negotiation, no farewell party, just a stark message informing you that your services were no longer required.

You had worked at the job for who knows how long, because it felt like forever.

In the days that followed, you wrestled with the uncertainty of your future. You tried reaching out to your network, searching for new job opportunities in Toronto, but the job market was tough, and the competition was fierce. The bills kept piling up, and you felt the weight of financial insecurity pressing down on you.

It was one of those nights where you were texting with your friend Libby, a long time resident of Maplewood after she gave up the rat race to open a bookstore in the small town years ago. That she extended an offer that was too sweet to refuse. End your rental agreement and come up north and spend some time in the great outdoors and figure out what you want to do next.

With no other choices coming your way, you did just that.

That was three months ago.

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly adjusting to the laid-back lifestyle of Maplewood. Gone were the stresses of city life and the constant pressure to perform at your job. Instead, you spent your mornings sipping coffee in Libby's apartment above the bookstore and spent the rest of your day either helping out in the store or taking a stroll around town to take in all the unique sights that Maplewood had to offer.

Black Cat Books was wall to ceiling bookshelves and every manageable space was filled with books. It was a labyrinth, but Libby could stride through it like she was born into its midst. But ask Libby where any particular title resided? You'd find that she knew exactly how many steps it took to get there.  

Libby placed another book on the shelf behind her, “He’s really not all that bad.”

You sneered, “I don’t know why this whole town is obsessed with him.”

“Says the woman who is watching him from across the street and has been for the last hour.” Libby remarked, punctuated by a disbelieving look over the top of her glasses.

“I can’t help if the bakery is straight across the street,” she raised an equally disbelieving eyebrow at you, she didn't believe a word you were saying “and it’s his bakery, of course he’d be there.” you finished, crossing your arms across your chest refusing to make eye contact.

“Sure,” she dragged out her response, “whatever you say.”

You had been in Maplewood for a week when you'd run into Marcus, quite literally run into him. Crossing the main square, you may not have been paying attention, focusing on refreshing your email for leads on work as he had been stepping up onto the sidewalk, his arms full of bakery boxes obscuring his view.

“Watch where you're going much?!” You'd exclaimed, hands on your hips and glaring at him.

He'd looked up from the ground, his hands filled with ruined boxes, eyes narrowed. “Me? How could you miss me?”

“Well if you had been watching where you were going.” You countered.

He was about to launch into another tirade when he glanced at his watch. Stifling a curse he ran a hand through his hair before speaking, his voice low and gruff. “I haven't got time for this.”

With that he quickly gathered the last of the boxes and stomped off in the direction of the bakery. Your first encounter with the town's beloved baker had left nothing but a sour taste in your mouth.

Since then, you'd avoided any and all interactions with the man and fought rolling your eyes when people would speak so highly of the American who had made Maplewood his home. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing more business to Maplewood through word-of-mouth of his creations.

“Look,” Libby pointed at the sandwich board propped outside the shop, “today’s special is pumpkin spice scones, how about you go get us some and a couple of coffees?” she suggested as she pulled some money from her purse she kept under the counter.

You rolled your eyes but still took the money, guy was questionable, but his scones were to die for. Not that you would admit it to anyone.

A quick look both ways you dashed across the street. It was the start of October, a busy month for the town. Tourists would flock in to see the changing colours of the cherry blossom trees that lined both sides of the main street that led up to the town's main square outside city hall.

The weather was getting colder, and even though it was literally steps from Black Cat Books, you'd wished you'd grabbed your toque and scarf. But before you could think more about it you were outside the bakery.

The window took up most of the front of the store, vintage lettering spelling out the bakery's name Maple Delights painted across the pane. The roses that usually filled the planter boxes outside were filled with an abundance of pumpkins of various colours and sizes. Halloween decorations filled the spaces between cake stands and trays of seasonal goods punctuated by decadent cakes decorated with tiny ghosts and ghouls.

The shop bell rang as you opened the door, the bakery was cozy and inviting with its high ceilings and hardwood floors. The smell of freshly baked bread and sugar, mingled with the spiciness of cinnamon and pumpkin spice – classic scents of fall that permeated the air making your mouth water.

A bright eyed Sarah, with a book open in front of her behind the counter called out your name, “Hey there! What can I get for you today?”

You smiled and made your way to the counter eyeing the vintage blackboard that took up most of the wall behind it. The chalk sketch confirmed that today's special was pumpkin scones, “I'll take two pumpkin spice scones and two lattes, extra hot please.”

Sarah nodded as she began preparing the order. She had been working at the bakery after school and the weekends since she turned sixteen at the start of the summer. You knew this because she got paid every Friday and would dart straight across to Black Cat Books to pick a new book bringing with her treats from the bakery.

“You should try the apple cider doughnuts!” she exclaimed as she boxed up two large scones.

“That so?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her recommendation.

“Uh huh,” Sarah replied with a grin, “Marcus dipped them in a cinnamon maple glaze this time,” she added with a little groan of appreciation, “they're so good, and there's only just a few left.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously as if she were tempting you.

You couldn't help but smile at her infectious enthusiasm. “Well, with that kind of endorsement, why not. Throw a couple in too.”

As you waited for your order and made small talk with Sarah, you took a moment to look around the store. It was late afternoon, and the warm, soft glow of the autumn sun streamed through the window, casting a gentle light on the displays. The shelves, while not as full as they might be in the morning, still held an array of intricate desserts. More decorations of fake cobwebs, pumpkins, and ghosts adorned the shelves and countertops, adding to the bakery's seasonal charm.

In the background, the back of the bakery was open to the kitchen out back. The stainless steel counters gleamed in the soft light, and the usual cacophony of mixers that lined the back wall was silent for the moment. It was a rare sight, given the bakery's reputation for bustling activity, especially in the weeks leading up to Halloween.

Just then, a door swung open at the back, and Marcus emerged, his presence commanding attention. He was dressed in a deep orange flannel shirt, which seemed to accentuate the rich colors of the fall season. His tousled curled hair always gave the impression that he had just woken up from a nap, yet it added an effortlessly charming quality to his appearance. His patchy facial hair, seemingly ever-present, only added to his rugged charm.

You couldn't help but curse silently under your breath. Despite having no time for the man, there was no denying he was just as attractive as the sweet treats he created. It seemed as though every time you crossed paths, he had a knack for appearing more alluring.

“Hey Sarah,” he greeted the teen, “I can finish this up for you, I don't want you to miss the committee meeting for the trick or treat parade.” he said, referencing the penultimate celebration of the town's October celebrations.

Sarah's face lit up as she started to untie her apron, “Thanks, Marcus. You're a lifesaver.”

As Marcus took over your order, Sarah excused herself, heading towards the exit. Her parting words were aimed at both you and Marcus. “See you later!”

With Sarah's departure, an awkward silence settled between you and Marcus. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks.

“Looks like you're stuck with me for a while,” Marcus remarked, breaking the silence with a wry smile. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, an undercurrent of amusement at the situation.

You nodded in reluctant agreement, realizing that there was no escape from this moment. “Seems that way,” you replied.

Marcus busied himself with finishing up your order, his hands deftly manoeuvring around cups and saucers. He poured the lattes into to-go cups before adding the last dollop of whipped cream to a pumpkin spice latte. The warm, spicy scent filled the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods.

As he reached out to pass you the tray of drinks and the bag filled with baked treats, your hands brushed against each other. Time seemed to slow, the atmosphere tingling with a spark that neither of you had felt before. It was a fleeting touch, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, making you suddenly aware of the space between you.

Marcus cleared his throat. “I, uh, put a cranberry muffin in there. For Libby. I know they're her favourite.”

You blinked, a little thrown off by the unexpected kindness. “That's very thoughtful of you.” You reached for your purse, ready to pay for the order, “How much is it?” you asked, but Marcus waved you off.

Marcus shook his head, grinning slightly. “It's on the house. Consider it a thank-you to Libby for watching the store the other week.”

“Thank you,” you finally said, struggling to find the right words. “That's... that's very kind of you.”

Marcus shrugged, his gaze meeting yours for just a second longer than necessary. “It's what neighbours do, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I suppose it is.”

The bell above the door jingled, breaking the moment as more customers entered the bakery, kids trailing behind their parents, all excited for Halloween goodies. You picked up the tray and bag, suddenly aware that you had to leave, but not quite ready to break the newfound connection.

“I'll see you around?” Marcus asked, with maybe a note of hopeful uncertainty in his voice, you weren’t sure.

You smiled despite yourself, “Maybe,” you replied as you raised your now full hands in an attempt at a wave.

Marcus was about to answer when the bakery's new patrons diverted his attention and you took the opportunity to leave, your head suddenly full of conflicting feelings for the man.

Exiting out onto the street, you couldn't help but inhale deeply, letting the crisp, early October air fill your lungs in hope it would clear your head. The town's signature cherry blossom trees that lined each side of the street had traded their springtime pinks for shades of orange and yellow, a change of costume in tune with the season.

Libby looked up from the book she was reading when you stepped back into the store, “You were longer than I expected.”

You felt an unexpected heat spread up your chest to your cheeks, “Sarah was working,” you quickly threw out, “she was telling me about the book she got last week.”

Libby accepted the coffees and paper bag so you could shrug off your coat, “Ooo, cranberry muffin! My favourite!”

“Yeah, Marcus threw it in there for you.”

“So you spoke to Marcus?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, an unmissable smirk on her face.

You narrowed your eyes in response, “Briefly.”

Libby took a bite of her scone, the noises she made boarded on the line of scandalous, “God, this is good.”

“Should I leave you and your scone alone?”

Libby grinned, crumbs of scone still clinging to the corners of her mouth. “If you leave me now, I'll name my first-born after this scone. It'll have a weird life, but at least it'll be delicious.”

You chuckled at her melodrama as you took your coffee out of its tray.

Libby grinned, “I swear to god, if I was remotely interested in men I'd be climbing him like a tree. Heck, I might just do it for the baked goods.”

You rolled your eyes, “Easy there tiger.”

“I really don't know how he's single, three years in this town and it's not like the women haven't been throwing themselves at him.”

“Well, maybe he is really too good to be true.” You countered, taking up your apparently one woman stance of your dislike of the man again as you took a sip of your coffee - biting your lip at your own groan at how a simple latte could taste so good.

Libby chuckled, “Or maybe you're too stubborn to see what's right in front of you.”

You sighed, unwilling to admit, even to Libby, that your stance on Marcus might be softening just a touch. “Let's agree to disagree, shall we?”

“Fine, fine,” Libby conceded, taking another heavenly bite of her scone. “But one day you'll see. Good things, and good people, might just come in unexpected packages.”

Your phone buzzed with a notification about a new job posting in Toronto. You glanced at it, suddenly feeling less of that earlier urgency to return to the hustle and bustle of city life. The idea of stepping back into the rat race seemed so detached from where you were now—surrounded by the rustic charm of Maplewood and its genuine, warm-hearted inhabitants.

You took another sip of your latte and stole one last look through the bookstore's window, back towards the bakery. Marcus was crouching down to hand a sugar cookie shaped like a pumpkin to one of the small kids in the bakery. The child's face lit up with joy, a mirror of the light that seemed to emanate from Marcus himself.

Maybe Libby had a point. Maybe good things did come in unexpected packages.

You put your phone down, screen facing the table, and looked back at Libby, who was now back engrossed in her book. But your thoughts weren't on job postings or the life you had in Toronto. They were here, on this little corner of Maplewood.

For the first time, in a long time, you weren’t thinking of ways to run back to your old life.

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #something sweet this way comes #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader

[batwynn]

I have something sweet coming in my next store update for Sterek fans.🫣

#Sterek #teen wolf #fan merch #store drop #Stiles Stilinski #something sweet this way comes #it’s cute

[sersfandomthings]

wanderer

(referenced from that one shot in the 3.3 interlude quest)

#genshin impact #wanderer #scaramouche #my posts #ser draws stuff #anyway this is way too late but!!! may all wanderer wanters be wanderer havers!!! #I originally wanted to finish this before I pulled for him with my friend last Fri but I didn't manage to rush it in the end 😓 #good news is!!! I won the 50/50 so I still have funds for hutao if she comes out next patch in the chronicled wish banner #okay I swear though this guy is so convenient for exploration #I put him on a team with nahida faruzan and beidou they have zero synergy and no healing but it's fine I'll just make a lot of sweet madame #ALSO I only realized he's smiling at his glowing vision in one of his idles before realising he's being watched #and hiding his face with his hat #AND IT MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL OKAY #like that's essentially the symbol of his freedom and rebirth placed over where his heart should be #and it's his power and his power alone not something anyone else has control over #YOU KNOW #this guy istg

[upsidedog]

i am so charmed by a lumax wedding because it’s not even something max thought would happen. like she assumed weddings were something the girl makes happen and the guy puts up with. and because she had no desire for one, so there’s no reason it would happen.

among other things weddings are an exorbitant and performative show of love, max loves lucas and she doesn’t care whether or not other people know or believe this. at it’s best marriage to her has been a representation of failed dreams and at it’s worst it’s been a tool to manipulate people who need to get away to stay. maybe they will get married for the tax benefits, she thinks.

this is until max and lucas are older and living together, they’re chilling on the couch and lucas mentions his family has been asking when he’s planning to propose and if that’s something max even wants? max doesn’t care, she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, a certificate won’t change anything and she's not crazy about parties. she doesn’t ask how he feels, he brings it up, that “actually i want a wedding.”

that is saying the least, lucas wants a wedding more than anything. he loves max and he doesn’t need to prove that to anyone, but he’s happy and he wants to share that with others! he wants to work with max to make marriage a positive thing to them, he wants to celebrate their love, everything they’ve been through. also, hell, he’s only human, he wants to show off! he wants to dress really cool and go to a really cool place and show the world know how awesome he and his girlfriend are. HIS WIFE!!!

most of all, lucas wants the moment near the end of the night, where the party’s getting loud and everybody wants his attention, but max asks if he wants to get out of there and he says yes. not out out, just outside the venue. it’s dark and the once booming music is now faint, they sit and catch up, complain about their families, laugh about their friends. max holds lucas’s hand and plays with his wedding ring, she whispers something sweet before asking him to dance. it’s the best part of the night and nobody will know about it but them.

suddenly max decides she wants a wedding.

#lumax #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #stranger things #to be clear i think it isn't really that max becomes excited for a wedding - i think it's more that she is incredibly touched by what it #means to lucas and wants to give that to him #i don't think she would ever be crazy about all that attention on her but she loves that it makes lucas happy and loves how much he cares #about her #and i also think lucas is aware of this. he loves weddings and the idea of being married is romantic and beautiful to him and he loves that #max understands where he's coming from and feels loved by his explination but also he knows it's something he will enjoy more and that's ok #lucas would be a very good wedding planner #also they would have this discussion then formulate oppisite plans catering to the other's love language #lucas would be like 'i'm gonna do something so private and sweet for max to propose' and max would be like 'i am going to go all out in #public to propose' and luckily max gets to hers first because it was way harder to do #nonetheless i am being cheesy ignore me

[saltpepperbeard]

you know which moment i feel like we don't talk about enough?

THIS ONE RIGHT HERE.

The goofy choked laugh Stede does, the way Ed giggles back, the affectionate shoulder pat, the way they both smile so brightly, the way it feels SO comfortable and so casual and so warm even though they've only know each other for a short amount of time...

And the way it makes me that much more excited for all their little private, sweet, and silly moments awaiting us.

#OFMD #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #Gentlebeard #Blackbonnet #Edit #...I had a feeling we needed something light around here SO I'VE COMING BEARING SWEETNESS LMAO #Like I love this moment so much #I always fixate on so many other parts of the breakfast scene when gifing #But MAN do I love this part so much too #Stede's SMILE when he looks over at Ed makes me want to backflip into the ocean #And the way they're just hsdjklkls the way they click SO so fast #The way they're THIS comfortable and it's only been what like #A DAY??? #SINCE THEY MET?????? #MAYBE NOT EVEN A FULL DAY LMAO????? #LIKE PLEASE!!! #and just like #imagine them having opportunities for these types of moments again #but imagine it with MUTUAL LOVE THROWN INTO THE MIX #LIKE #THEM BOTH BEING AWARE OF THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER..... #LIKE LMAO I'M/WE'RE DOOMED

[shady-tavern]

Winter Star

Some children were born touched by nature, carrying the warmth of the sun, the brightness of spring and the gentle patience of the earth. They were rare, but everyone knew their stories and knew how wonderful they had been. 

They knew about the girl touched by summer, who had been taken by a fae woman, the Stag Queen. There was the boy of autumn, who the stars had lured away, never to be seen again and a handful of others, whose fates had been the same.

One day, a girl came into this world with hair as white as snow, lashes like frost and skin as pale as the moon she was born beneath. Everyone who laid eyes on the babe knew immediately she was one of those special ones, beautiful as flowers in the middle of winter and as elegant as drifting snowflakes on cold winds.

Her parents worked hard to keep her safe and raise her to be kind and clever, spending much of their hard earned coin to dress her well and see her educated, knowing a great future would await her. So long as no one took her. 

They warned her of the dangers of the world as she grew older, to mistrust strangers and duck out of sight should someone peer at their humble home. However, not even their best attempts to shield her from the world could stop the spreading rumors.

"She is as lovely as snow in the sun," the baker would tell anyone who'd visit his shop, proud of the special girl that grew up down the street of their cozy village.

"Do you know these wonderful early mornings where the light looks gold and pink and everything is so so beautiful it steals your breath away?" the cobbler would sigh dreamily to everyone who'd listen to her. "That's how it feels to look at her."

Soon people came to see the girl touched by winter, the one who was rumored to walk as though she was floating and she was said to possess such graceful manners it would make royalty turn green with envy.

People started to grace the steps of their home in growing numbers with gifts and sweet words carried on silver tongues. Hopeful fathers with curious and often infatuated sons, merchants who donned their finery in hopes of looking more enticing. The parents refused them all, citing that their daughter was still too young to chose.

It became a sort of contest amongst the curious and hopeful, to try and glimpse even a hair of the rumored maiden. Those who did manage to see her for just a moment left smiling dreamily and spreading ever more rumors.

The girl soon grew into a young woman and now her suitors were no longer just merchants and local business owners. Now she received letters and gifts from wealthy traders and even nobles.

One day, a messenger of the prince of their lands stood at their door, offering a chest of jewels and a richly embroidered dress deserving of a future queen. The young woman refused him gently and with kind words, as she had refused all other gifts.

Shortly afterwards, a holy knight asked for a moment of her time, offering his blessed castle to guard her from all evil and unbreakable vows of devotion. She gently and kindly refused him as well. 

He vowed to win her heart and return with better offers just as the prince did, who would not give up so easily, soon sending another messenger.

She refused their gifts of riches and protection anew with a kind word, while her parents debated. Her mother, ever worried about her safety and wanting the best possible future, grew fond of the idea that her daughter might become a princess. One day even a queen. This would certainly be a dream come true for any parent.

Her father, pious and ever concerned about the magical dangers of the world, was particularly fond of the holy knight. He was rather taken with the idea that his daughter might one day live in a place no evil could reach while also receiving enough money to be comfortable.

"The prince is said to be a handsome, well mannered young man," her mother said while they baked for the harvest festival, autumn coloring the landscape outside. Winter was approaching and whenever it did their daughter seemed to grow all the more beautiful for it. "He would be good to you."

"The knight is strong and well versed in the dangers of the world," her father countered that evening, as he whittled and she embroidered the hem of a new dress with fine, delicate stitches. "He would keep you safe."

Soon the gifts changed from material goods to whatever strange and magical things her suitors could find. They hadn't given up on her yet, on winning the Winter Bride, as they started to call her.

"This owl loses gems whenever it shakes its wings," the prince's messenger said with a proud flush to his cheeks, as though he was courting the young woman himself, not his prince. The owl was a gorgeous animal, as frost colored as the young woman herself, housed in a small cage made of pure gold.

"His Highness says you may keep it," the messenger held the cage out, nose and forehead bitten red from the cold that had settled over the land. "So you may think of him whenever you look at it and your heart may grow as fond as his has grown of you."

The young woman accepted the cage with soft words and the messenger left grinning from ear to ear. Her parents were delighted, chattering about such a special gift while their daughter took the owl out the kitchen door to the backyard.

While her parents were busy discussing the merits of her becoming a princess, she opened the door of the cage and carefully helped the owl out.

"That's better, isn't it," she said softly as she watched the owl fluff up and shake its body in relief, gems falling from between its feathered wings. It turned its head to watch her for a long moment and she held her arm a little higher, uncaring that the talons of the owl left bleeding scratches along her arm.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as light as fresh snow. "Be free."

The owl gave her a regal nod and took off, disappearing swiftly. The young woman smiled, her heart glad and she returned inside to find her parents dismayed. They couldn't stay angry for long, however, sighing after scolding her for wasting such a precious gift. 

Her father muttered afterwards that maybe the prince didn't know what a woman's heart truly wanted. Her mother, fiddling with the wool she was knitting socks out of, countered that he would find something to win their daughter's heart soon.

The holy knight arrived the next day with a cage woven out of brambles and he presented her with a snow-white fox with eyes of molten gold.

"This one will warn you of dangers and tell you if you are in the presence of evil minds," the knight offered, bowing deep as he held out the cage. "This is a mere gift, no strings attached. May it protect you in my absence and may you find you desire my presence instead one day."

The young woman took hold of the cage and as the knight left, her parents cheerfully discussed weaving a leash for the fox and where to keep it. Her father was nearly dancing with joy as he praised the knight for his thoughtfulness and what this in turn promised for their daughter's future.

The young woman smiled and left them to it, taking the fox out to the backyard. She ignored the way the brambles scratched up her hands as she unmade part of the cage and let the fox jump out, it's snout bloody from trying to bite its way to freedom.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as lovely as frost flowers. "Be free."

The fox bowed its head in gratitude and ran, swifter than any mere animal and it was soon gone with long strides that looked as though its body weighed no more than a feather. The young woman returned inside and once more her parents were quite upset at having lost such a precious gift.

They couldn't stay angry for long again however, and sighed. Her mother suggested the knight might need to choose his next gift more smartly, while her father grumbled that there must be something out in the world their daughter wanted.

"You must choose who to marry one day," her father told her gently, as though he could soften the order into a plea. "You must stay safe. I'm sure you'll chose well when the time comes."

He cast a significant look to the holy symbol over their hearth, while her mother nodded, tipping her head tellingly towards the small pouch holding the gems the owl had dropped.

The next day, after a night of the season's first snowfall, the young woman woke to find frost covering her windows entirely. It looked as though the snow had piled up all the way to the roof outside.

"I thank you," an ice wind whispered when she opened the windows to peer outside, a thick blanket of snow covering everything. "You returned my dearest friends to me after they were taken when I wasn't there. Two wishes I grant you for saving their lives, use them well."

She felt the magic settle over her as the wind finished blowing past and she couldn't help but peer out into the winter wonderland, as though she could catch a glimpse of whoever had spoken to her. It must have snowed very thickly that night to create that much snow, a quite unusual thing.

Seeing nothing and no one, she rubbed the frost off of the windows and went about her day, two wishes cradled close to her heart. They felt like a refreshing coolness within her, the way a bath in the river was revitalizing during hot summer days.

As winter settled over the land like a content cat in front of the fireplace, she received more gifts. A nightingale who sang so sweetly it made listeners cry, a white hare with fur so fine it was considered the softest in the world. She let each of them go and every time she opened a cage, she felt a change in the winds.

They grew colder each time that presence was back, the one she had felt during the first day of winter.

"Why do you not ask for anything?" the ice wind wondered one day after she unbridled a unicorn the holy knight had captured for her. It paused just long enough to press its velvet-soft nose against her cheek, thanking her silently, then it took off, trailing whispers of magic behind it. "Why not keep the wondrous ones you are offered so freely?"

"Would you like a cage?" she asked in return, watching in quiet awe as the unicorn disappeared. "Would you enjoy a leash or collar, to be bound to the whims and wills of those who hold you in their hands?"

"No," the wind answered in a solemn tone. "You are wise and kind, not many would do as you do."

Maybe, maybe not. She had no way of knowing, having never left the village. All she knew about the world were the things she had read in books she had managed to sneak away and what other people had told her. 

She had found, however, that people tended to paint the world dark and evil whenever she listened, to warn her of its many dangers. To ensure she would not set a single foot into the forest, to ensure she would not walk beyond the village border, to ensure she would not chat with strangers the villagers hadn't vetted. 

She still vividly remembered how panicked and worried her parents had been. How they had cried bitter tears when she had fallen asleep in their neighbor's hayloft, reading a book of fairy tales, and they hadn't been able to find her for hours. 

"Good wind," she spoke up. "Might I bother you to tell me about the world? You must have seen much of it."

"I have," the wind answered. "Is that your first wish?"

She was quiet for a long moment, then she smiled. "A true story, every night for a year. That is my wish."

"I will bring cold with me whenever I visit," the wind warned her. "For I am ice and snow, frost and blizzard. I am winter itself. Are you certain?"

The young woman turned to look back at her humble, warm home and thought of her mother's beloved flowers and her father's meticulously tended herb bed.

"Two true stories every night for as long as this winter lasts," she amended. "Will you accept my wish?"

"I accept," Winter answered solemnly. "Light a candle at your window, when it is the only light that still burns in your home, I will come."

The wind blew away and the young woman returned inside, her parents sighing, rueful and exasperated as they accepted the bridle with gold decorations and spun out of enchanted silver thread.

"Always giving away what would enrich your life," her father grumbled, rubbing his forehead as though getting a headache. "But it's alright, if this is not what you want, surely someone will find a gift soon."

"Our beautiful, strange girl," her mother murmured fond and wry all at once, kissing her on her brow. "Will one of them ever make you happy one day?"

"We'll find the right one," her father said reassuringly, pulling them both into a hug. He turned to look at his daughter, "And we'll make sure you never have to fear being taken."

That night the young woman lit a candle and waited. She had almost fallen asleep when the window slipped open a crack and she felt icy winds brush through the room, trailing a handful of snowflakes in its wake. Immediately the windows frosted over to pure white and any warmth was gone between one breath and the next.

"A wish is a wish," Winter said. "And here are your stories, as promised."

Winter first told her a story of lands beyond the mountains, of tall cliffs and hardy forests. It told her of raging oceans that froze solid whenever autumn passed and the reindeers that thundered across it to different lands. 

Winter was kind enough to answer any questions she had and she soon knew why the reindeers did what they did, how the ocean froze.

The second story was rather sad in her opinion, it was of two lovers who had run from an abusive father and a loveless marriage respectively. They had escaped into the night by the skin of their teeth and Winter told her of their journey through snow and ice. They lastly died, two miles from home, holding each other, smiles frozen unto their faces.

"Have many people died this way?" the young woman couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," Winter answered. "And many more will. The cold is no place for those who need warmth to live. Good night now, you who shines like a star, I shall see you again tomorrow."

She fell asleep to the soft whistle of air as Winter left, gently pulling the window closed behind it. Her dreams were filled with wondrous sceneries and people wandering through a snowy forest, away from their warm and yet unsafe homes.

The young woman soon looked forward to Winter's visits the most, eagerly going to sleep each night and secretly she hoped this winter might last just a little longer. The prince and holy knight, as well as many of her other more persistent suitors were quickly forgotten when confronted with stories of the world at large.

And finally she got to know what the world truly was. It was indeed dangerous, but it was also incredibly wonderful. Every story filled her with wonder and longing, chasing away the wariness her parents had painstakingly instilled within her.

The young woman felt as though she had forced herself to be a frozen lake all her life, still and quiet and unmoving, never leaving and never changing. Now, however, it felt as though the thrum of reindeer hooves had made the ice tremble and with each story she wanted more. 

With each story she felt her childhood dreams emerge, that deep seated adventurous spark she had smothered upon seeing her parents' tearstained, panicked faces. She had loved them too much to cause them grief and so she had made sure to be obedient and sweet at all times.

She also hadn't wanted to be taken away, to live a horrible life and to never see her parents again. She hadn't wanted to upset them and make them cry or discuss strategies to keep her safe until late at night.

But deep down, beneath the stillness she forced upon her soul, she had never quite stopped looking beyond what she knew. To peer towards the woods and wonder what laid there, to watch travelers and dream of the lands they must have seen.

"Thank you," she murmured as Winter left, sleep rising to claim her. "You're the only one who doesn't tell me everyone wants to hurt me."

Winter was silent, the window cracked still and she wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but it almost sounded as though they said, "You can count on my aid for as long as I am here, should you need it."

She smiled and felt the furs she had started to take to bed being pulled up to her chin by what seemed to be hands. She was asleep the next moment, unable to open her eyes once more and check.

Winter soon had to move on, however and she mournfully said goodbye to her new friend.

"If you wish it, I can ask my friends to visit," Winter offered on the last day, only snowy slush remaining on the ground and water dripping off of trees. The only spot where there was still true cold was where the wind blew and she swore she could almost make out a shape as it moved. "They could tell you about things I have not seen."

"Then let this be my other wish," the young woman agreed, a glad smile brightening her face. "I would happily welcome the company."

"A wish spoken is a wish granted." She felt cold brush past her cheek, almost like a caress. "I will see you again soon," Winter promised. "If you wish."

"Oh, I very much wish so," she reassured them, reaching out to find invisible strands of wind weaving around her fingers, cold gently brushing her skin. "Will I ever see you in full?"

"Maybe one day." With those words Winter left, trailing the last bit of ice of the year in their wake.

And as promised, the young woman wasn't without company. Spring spoke to her through blooming flowers and invited her to playful dances in moonlight by luring her out the window, promising to look after her.

"There is no joy in never getting to laugh," Spring told her, a grin bright in that sweet, often mischievous voice. "Come, jump and let me catch you!"

Spring was bright and joyful and taught her much about the world. It told her of large meadows that bloomed so brightly one saw only color as far as the eye could see. It told her funny stories of silly animal antics and where it could find acorns and seeds buried in the ground to be raised up into new plants.

The knight and prince were still persistent, hoping to win her heart with more magical creatures and even a few enchanted items, which the young woman refused. She had no need for a necklace that made her sing like a siren nor for bracelets that teleported her to the knight's side in case of danger.

After spring came summer, full of warmth and sweetness. Summer winds encouraged the young woman to walk barefoot outside, to turn her face into the winds and smell all the scents that could be brought over. To dare and set foot into the forests to find the most wonderful berries to pick and to watch deer graze peacefully.

Her parents never knew, she made sure not to worry them, but with each day, with each thing she did, she felt her heart grow. And with it, her yearning for more. To see the places she had been told of, to hear the sound of the ocean and smell a valley of flowers.

The prince and knight started to grow impatient, wondering what it took to make her their bride. They became more insistent, their words losing their sweet tone bit by bit.

"You're not getting any younger my dear," the baker told her when she came to pick up bread, her pale dress making her look like a walking piece of winter in the middle of summer. "They're soon going to change their minds and then where will you be? Filled with regret. So take an old man's advice and be smart."

"Surely one has made you fall in love, either with them or their riches," the cobbler said as she passed by. "You should let them know and arrange a wedding. We're all looking forward to the festivities."

She had no idea how to tell them that she hadn't chosen any of her suitors, that none of them had won her heart. Not with coin and not with living beings caged and collared. How could she have kept a single one of them, or fallen in love for that matter, if she felt trapped herself?

A comfortable, pretty cage made by loving parents, the bars wrought out of worry and kindness, but a cage nonetheless. And they were seeking to put her in another one, bigger and prettier, but just as locked up tight. All in the name of safety. All so they could have the winter girl and not someone else.

The young woman wondered if such a thing must be necessary. If there was a way to live free without fear. Surely there must be one.

She asked Autumn, for Summer had left before she could put her feelings properly into words. Autumn was busy as a bee, zipping from place to place to ensure harvest would be done in time, talking so fast she sometimes couldn't quite follow entirely.

"Of course you can go wherever you want," Autumn said while rustling leaves artfully, only to change its mind a moment later and turn it into cheerful chaos. "There, that's better. Winter Star, you are indeed unusual, that is true, but that is nothing bad. You can always call on us if you find yourself in trouble you can't solve alone."

"Are you certain?" she hadn't expected such an offer. The seasons had come in response to Winter's wish, after all. Autumn laughed, the leaves rustling around them, some more falling off trees.

"We have grown fond of you, worry not. Winter might have been able to ask us to say hello, but nothing beyond that." The winds tucked bright red and orange and yellow leaves into her hair until they looked like a messy crown. "Live, Winter Star. Life is too short to spend it cowering."

The young woman couldn't help but look past the village and to the forest beyond, the riot of colors autumn had brought and how it had even coaxed some trees into making their leaves especially pretty.

"Where do I go?" she couldn't help but ask, suddenly overwhelmed with all the options that seemed to lay themselves at her feet.

"Anywhere," Autumn answered with excited cheer. "Whenever you pack your bag to leave, you'll find that you have more friends than you thought and you will always find more. Go on, try it."

She couldn't simply up and disappear, of course. Not when it would ruin her parents. However, the next time she received gifts from the prince and knight, an idea sparked.

Autumn laughed when she talked about her plan and gladly agreed to help. Soon, gifts of a secret admirer appeared, promising all the things her parents were looking for. A home warded against evil, enough coin to keep their daughter happy and clothed and fed to the end of her days.

It took some finagling to make gifts for herself, but soon the young woman was caught by the idea of what made her happy. She gifted herself books and hardy boots and a bracelet made of colorful river stones. Her parents were befuddled at first, but seeing as she finally seemed to fall in love with someone, they were relieved.

The entire village spoke about it now, wondering who this mysterious stranger was and if they would get to meet them soon. The young woman made a marriage offer to herself and laughed when she accepted it in front of her parents.

"They will pick you up, won't they?" her mother fretted as she helped her pack. "I can't believe my little girl is getting married. We'll meet them soon, won't we? And don't you forget to invite us to the wedding."

"I'll be sure to visit," she promised and later asked Autumn for advice. "I can't just grab my things and leave like any old traveler, after all."

"Leave it to me," Autumn answered, before breezing away, muttering about stubborn berry bushes who really ought to know better by now.

A few days later, a young adult knocked at their door, dressed in fine autumn colored garb. They wore dark green breaches, earth-brown boots, a dark red tunic and a cloak of bright yellow wool, embroidered with dozens of fallen leaves in multiple colors. They bowed, hair windswept and eyes honey brown.

"It is an honor to meet you, I've come to pick up the young lady in the name of my master," the person said in Autumn's voice and when they met her gaze, they offered a quick little wink. The young woman couldn't help but grin, swiftly hiding it behind her hand when her parents glanced over.

"Oh, that is so lovely," her mother gasped when peeking outside and the young woman stepped forward to look as well.

Outside stood a gleaming carriage in gold and red-brown colors and it was pulled by none other than a unicorn. The very unicorn she had once freed. It looked at her, no bridle on its head and she felt as though it was smiling as it dipped its head a little.

The bags were swiftly loaded onto the carriage and a tearstained and heartfelt goodbye later, the young woman left for the first time in her life.

As soon as they were away from the village, she managed to clamber up onto the driver's seat to hug Autumn tight.

Autumn laughed, ruffling her snowy hair. "Now, you best learn how to drive because I do not have the time to take you anywhere, I still have to wrangle some lazy mushrooms."

After a quick couple of lessons, Autumn left, disappearing in a flurry of leaves and rustling clothes to continue on as it always did.

The young woman's heart was racing as she traveled on and on. Autumn visited often and in brief bursts, but soon the air grew colder and colder. The young woman felt excitement rise within her at the thought of Winter's return.

And then, one day, she felt ice winds brush past her. "I see you have found your freedom. I am glad."

"Welcome back," she breathed, her breath fogging in front of her. "I missed you."

Coldness that felt like fingertips brushed her hair back. "And I you. I am glad to see you well."

The young woman happily told Winter all about her plans, while Winter guided her to a place she could stay as it was too cold to travel. A cottage, recently abandoned, but it was easily made ready again. The young woman sold the carriage in a nearby town and the unicorn left after nuzzling her cheek.

She made sure to write home to her parents, while she explored the world around her temporary home with Winter often at her side. Sometimes Winter's other friends showed up, the fox hopping around playfully and the owl watching kindly from its perch in the trees. Winter told her stories all without prompting and showed her the hidden beauty of their season.

"If you wish, travel north," Winter told her as they laid together in the snow, watching bright, bright stars above them at night. "I will be able to show you dancing lights in the sky."

"Yes," she said and slowly, carefully, inched her hand across the space between them, until she felt that special kind of cold breeze. The wind slowly settled and she swore, from the corner of her eyes as long as she did not glance over, she could glimpse Winter's shape once more.

It was the best winter she had ever had and when it became clear her dearest companion would move on soon, she promised to meet the season halfway.

"Go north," Winter reminded her once more. "If you wish, I will wait for you."

She reached out and closed her eyes and this time she felt proper hands close around hers, though they weren't as icy as the blowing winds. Still cool, but she felt soft skin and elegant hands, the brush of a fur lined sleeve. "I will be there, I promise."

"Soon, then," Winter whispered, a smile in their voice, and she felt the brush of cool lips and a cold breath upon her cheek, smiling wide. When she opened her eyes again, she watched ice winds blow away, looking joyful as they trailed snow in their wake.

The young woman set out as Winter left, buying herself a horse and using the rest of the money from the carriage to have her things put in storage until she sent for them.

She left on her very first adventure, Spring urging her on, showing her the meadow of flowers and guiding her way across the land to where ocean waves lapped against fine-sand shores.

She got to meet and speak with many different people and sometimes Spring and later Summer warned her away from certain folks. But mostly, people did her no harm nor wished harm upon her. If anything, many approached her, concerned about her safety and offering to help her get where she wanted to go. She always declined kindly and smiled.

The young woman got to truly experience the world, listening to new music, visiting theatres when she came by cities and towns and eating food she had never dreamed of could exist.

She headed north at last, cutting her time with Summer short and meeting Autumn sooner. And then, the air grew cold and she felt a familiar, very dear presence.

"Hello," she said with a wide, happy smile appearing on her face. "I came, as promised."

"Let me show you everything," Winter breathed and there was excitement in that beloved voice. They traveled onward together and if the young woman tipped her head the right way, she saw Winter beside her, riding on a horse of snow and wind.

Soon she got to see the ocean frozen, as it had been in the very first true story she had ever heard. She watched reindeer trot across in big herds, holding out her hand and smiling when Winter took it, her heart so warm the cold around her might as well have stopped existing.

"Why chose me?" Winter asked as they settled down on a snow covered hill to watch the sun set. It looked truly beautiful. "There were many who tried to win your heart."

"But none understood it," she answered and when she looked up, she saw Winter truly for the first time, not as a season, but as the spirit it was. 

Tall and slim, with hair as white as hers and eyes as dark as the frozen ocean. Ice earrings as blue as glaciers dangled from their ears and snowflakes were woven through their hair like the finest veil, ending in a crown of icicles. Clothes in white and light blue draped across their form, lined with fur and half covered in frost.

"Maybe I would have fallen in love with one of the others, had they not offered me another cage," she admitted, giving that cool hand in hers a gentle squeeze. "But instead of expensive gifts and captured magical beings, you gave me stories and shared your friends with me."

One of those slim hands rose to cup her cheek, feeling a little frosty but not stinging her with its coolness. "You shine so brightly, I would never think about forcing you to dim."

"Then you have your answer." She tipped her head into their hand, letting it cradle the side of her face. "I have an idea. Let's make this place our home, so I can be with you for many months."

"Yes," they answered, brushing a cold kiss against her forehead and she could feel them smile against her skin. "And the rest of the year you'll get to be the adventurer you always wanted to be, my star."

That did sound like the best future.

*.*.*

"They'll love you, I promise," the young woman said, giving Winter's hand a gentle squeeze. "They've been asking to meet you and when our wedding will be."

"They will know what I am the moment they see me," Winter sighed but followed her up the path to her parents' house. It was dark and thick snow covered everything.

"They will, but they will also see that you never took me they way they feared and that I am happy." She looked up at the love of her life, the one who loved her for who she was in return. "Trust me."

Winter softened and pulled to a stop in front of the door, cupping her cheek in one elegant hand and leaning down to brush the loveliest of kisses upon her lips. "Always, my star."

The young woman grinned, happy and bright, like ice in the sun and cheerful snowfall. Then she raised her hand and knocked.

*.*.*

If you want to read more stories and support me at the same time, please consider checking out my Patreon! Where I post monthly, exclusive short stories, which helps pay the bills and frees up more time for writing!

#my writing #short story #winter #just me writing stuff again #original writing #I hope someone enjoys this story! #i had a lot of fun writing it #and I wanted to do something winter themed #there might be typos I overlooked #can't think of anything else to tag #I just wanted something soft and sweet with a bit of a fairy tale vibe #fantasy #again this got a wee bit long #what else is new tho when it comes to me #monster lover #in a way

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou has always taken care of you, even before you started dating him. when you were mere friends and still learning each other, he remembered all the small things about you. he always seemed to pack the medicine you preferred when you weren’t feeling good. always had a plethora of your fav snacks on his person somehow, like he was just waiting for you to mention wanting it.

he acts put off by it every time, with his scoffing and eye rolling and huffing. but you see the way his eyes narrow when someone beats him to the punch, when you reject his offer of medicine or food. early on you notice, that he just likes to care for you, look after you, be there when you don’t even realize you need someone.

he’s there when you get high for the first time—all worrywart and frustrated sighs when you keep slurring after an hour. he’s there for you, to help lay you down somewhere safe and ward off those with bad intentions. he’s there when you get broken up with—ready to email that fuckers job and let them know how they fucked you over. but he still holds you tenderly with every sob your shaking body heaves. he’s there when you get drunk—handing you waters and letting you pull him in to dance and sing off key.

and when you finally get together, it’s like you don’t even have to learn anything about the other. its likes you’ve been together for a hundred lifetimes, like your quirks have been ingrained into his everyday routine, like you’re the freckle on the lower left corner of his right hand. he falls into you, and you into him, easier than breathing. he just has a knack for caring—and learning and loving—about those he loves.

#sweet thing that I thought about before laying down #I popped up like a vamp to write it bc I know I’ll forget in the morning #but I’ve written something like this a couple times before #but I really needed to write it again today :( #I just wanna be cared for and looked after and shown that my presence means so much to someone #that they take notes of who I am and actually care about learning me #NOT IN A SAD WAY !!!! more in a longing way bc I know he would care so much #he puts his all into everything and I know he’d be the same when it comes to loving someone #okay I’m rambling sorry #gn I have to be up in a few hours!!! #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

[vimbry]

jumping off the back of the post about genres of song lyrics, another thing about tmbg's lyrics in particular is that even when they write about pleasant themes, they still manage to frequently do so through a sinister lens:

the experience of having children and looking after them:

a nice little nightlight protecting a child muses on the shortcomings it would have outside its assigned responsibility:

fantasising about getting high in the park with your crush:

#tmbg #AND. I love it. #please feel free to add to this btw. I feel like there's more flansburgh examples but they're dropping out of my head #I've gone on and on about ''sleeping in the flowers'' already. so I won't repeat myself too much in the tags here #but I can also see how it's intended to come across as playful. like. #it's two people in love having a silly exchange between each other #I also like the little interlude from the nightlight's lullaby-of-sorts to the child to describing how it would make a really bad lighthous #''man it's a good thing I'm not one of those. I'm too small. if I did that then people at sea would crash and drown horribly hahaha #anyway good night'' #and actually re: nanobots. it only just occurred to me #I'd gotten 'newborn citizenship of the micronations'' being a verbose way to describe. babies lol #but is the start of verse about the actual birth of a child and getting so distracted by the preparation and stress #that you almost forget oh yeah. I have this kid now :) #and thinking about how even tho your worries around that are now over you'll focus instead on all the future responsibilities you'll have #how does something written in such a detatched way manage to be so sweet

[cerise-on-top]

Hello! Are you still writing hcs?

Graves with a spouse(writing this as a husband for him myself 🥰) who loves sewing and knitting, or some something amongst 'cozy hobbies' like embroidery, reading, poetry or baking. Just wondering How a relationship would be between them or how Graves would act.

Your writing is very lovely btw! I fell in love with it, very beautiful!

Hello! I am still writing HCs, it'll probably be a little bit longer until I take a proper break! That was a really cute request, I liked that one! Domestic and sweet stuff like that is always the best, so thank you for bestowing a request like that upon me! (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

Graves with a Spouse with Cozy Hobbies

As mentioned already, Graves loves feeling like the big, strong, useful man in the relationship, so he’d absolutely love you even more if you have “soft and cozy” hobbies like the ones you mentioned. While he is very much a talker, something like knitting can be done while holding a conversation, so he’ll definitely talk to you as you work on your next project. He thinks it’s really awesome, the way your hands move so quickly to create something like a sweater, a scarf, or even a plushie. You don’t really look at him, way too absorbed in your project and not wanting to make even a single mistake, but you still spend time with him. It’s ideal, he can tell you the newest, juiciest gossip among his Shadows while you make him the coziest sweater he’s ever seen. Lets you measure him, if you need and want to, because he really wants that sweater. You wanna put a cute little motif, like a cup of coffee on it as well? He’ll fall in love even more than before.

But even when he’s tired, he wants to spend his time with you. Instead of talking, he’ll lean against you and watch you crochet a bit before nodding off ever so slowly. It’s nice, it’s repetitive, for the most part, and it’s also quiet. By the time he wakes up he gets to see more of your beautiful creation, so that’s a big plus. And when he isn’t dozing off against you, he’s more than happy to hold your yarn and make it a bit longer when you need it. There’s something magical about watching you crochet. He had to crochet in elementary school, but, since he didn’t want to sit down for something like that, he wasn’t very good at it. His strengths always lied elsewhere, so it’s fascinating to him that you can sit in the same position for hours on end, barely moving, and still having fun. The only time he has to do that is when he’s filing reports, and afterwards he needs something to take his mind off of those.

Graves, every time he’s about to go out without you, will always ask you if you need anything from the arts and crafts stores, willing to buy you the loveliest fleece for felting if you ask him for it. Hell, if you want to sell your plushies, or your creations in general, he’s probably the best man to have on your side. Especially when it comes to plushies. Some of his Shadows have families with children, so he knows some of them would love your creations. Might sometimes ask you if you could knit or crochet a baby wooly hat for one of them, if you have the time, since his Shadows know you can be trusted with a task like that. You will always be reimbursed, either by his Shadows or by Graves himself. Sometimes he does like to gift his Shadows something you made and pretend they bought it. You’ll always get your money, but it might sometimes be out of Graves’ pocket.

He definitely likes the domesticity of it. He can go about his day, certain you won’t get hurt, unless you’re sewing or embroidering. But he’d never stop you from pursuing a craft like that. In fact, he’ll actively encourage you, always asking about your projects and wanting to know if he can help you in any way. He wants to see your embroidery, your crocheting, your sewing, as well, so he might gently pick it up from time to time, view it from every angle and give you feedback a la Graves, praising you like only he could.

When you’re a baker you can be sure he’ll taste test your stuff every single time. He has a bit of a sweet tooth, not too much, but he loves you, so he’s willing to eat everything you make. If you’re up making cookies, then he’ll help you by either buying you the best, most reliable hand mixer he can find, or by stirring the dough himself so your arms won’t get too tired. This he does under the condition that he gets to be the first person to try your cookies, your cake, your cobbler. He may not be the worst baker, but he can still learn a lot from you. That he does with all the love in the world, looking at you with an adoring expression as you put the baked goods in the oven, waiting for them to finish. Always has a big smile on his face when he watches you be this content with your life. While you wait for it to properly bake, he’d sometimes ask you to play card games with him. Always lets you win on purpose during those times since you always look so happy when you win. Afterwards he rewards you with a kiss.

While he may be everything but a fan of poetry, he can respect you being one. Will listen to everything you have to say about them, from your analyses to you reading one out loud. If you have a few poets you like especially well then Graves will bend his back trying to find beautiful anthologies of their works. Maybe some books with a few gold engravings that would look well on a shelf. He wants you to know that, despite him not being interested, he still supports you. While you’re reading a book, he might sneak up on you, startle you and then take you into his arms, trying to get you comfortable so you can continue to read. Might glance at your book from time to time to get a feeling for what you’re reading. If it’s something especially cheesy he might chuckle a bit and call you out on being a hopeless romantic, giving you a kiss to your nose afterwards.

Overall, he likes it. It’s nice, not having to worry about you going god knows where and ending up injured. Besides, he always has something nice to come home to, whether that be some beautiful embroidery of violets or a Sachertorte you made from scratch. Will always praise you for doing well, will always make sure you have the means to keep creating, baking and reading. Does his best to keep it that way as well, you’re his precious little darlin’ and you deserve the world and so much more in his eyes.

#cod #cod x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #I know there are a lot of us who feel that way but I am one of the many people to have a love-hate relationship with Graves #would I beat the living daylights out of him if he ever talked to me? yes #would I also tend to his wounds if I found him injured and in pain? absolutely #he also sort of made me realise that a southern accent is actually kind of charming #apparently people from the south also grill religiously which is lovely since my parents do the same so I'm used to that #Graves is a stinker and I'd rather get pulped than admit I like him #even so it's lovely to see Graves' husband come here and tell me something cute and sweet! kudos to you for being open about him! #I used to hate him. then I struggled to hate him. now I hate him again but I'd put a Hatsune Miku bandaid on him if he cut himself #stupid idiot and yet I follow a few people on here who pretty much only post about Graves with a few others here and there #mans is an enigma to me I don't know what to make of him at all except he's kind of fun #good to see I get to write about him as well though!

[trulybetty]

oct' 26 x jack-o-lanterns

Prompt: jack-o-lanterns (something sweet this way comes p.II) Pairing: marcus pike x f!Reader Word Count: 3,305 Warnings: barely beta'd is the name of the game, all mistakes are my own. mentions of baking, a tiny dash of spice, no spoilers here 💕 Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the changing blossom trees and celebrate the fall season. after losing your job you find yourself a part of the community which includes the towns baker who left a less than stellar impression on you. AO3: linked

x. masterlist | something sweet this way comes part I

Something Sweet, This Way Comes Part II | Jack-o-Lanterns

The preparations for the Trick or Treat Parade were well underway, it was an annual celebration in the town’s main square, outside the town hall. Maplewood, while a small community, serviced a great deal of people outside the town. Many of its inhabitants lived rurally, meaning trick-or-treating wasn't feasible for many of the children.

However, before that could happen the mid month tradition of the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt took place. Businesses and landmark buildings alike all decorated or carved their own pumpkins and people would follow the trail visiting each location on their maps. It was a way to encourage business and bolster the festivities after Thanksgiving had passed.

Black Cat Books was no exception, Libby had been putting the final touches to the store's pumpkin when the bell rang above the door signalling a customer.

“Marcus!” she called out, “what do we owe this please?”

You rolled your eyes as the enthused cheeriness of your friend, you were currently engrossed in the latest shipment of fall mystery novels and the scanning of them into the POS system.

“Evening,” he greeted, looking a little out of his element in the quiet bookstore. “Actually, I was looking for a gift.” 

“I can help you with that,” Libby remarked standing from her stool, “who is it for?”

“Sarah actually.”

“What’s the occasion? Her birthday isn’t until the summer isn’t it?” Libby asked, making her way around the counter.

You watched Marcus out of the corner of your eye as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Not her birthday no, she broke her arm on the weekend at her soccer match down in Fort Nelson.”

“No!” Libby exclaimed, “poor girl, she lives and breathes soccer.”

“I know, so I thought I’d get her something to cheer her up. She’s always talking about her visits here. I was hoping you’d be able to recommend a book maybe?”

Libby looked thoughtful for a moment, “Hm, I’m not entirely sure.”

Before you could catch yourself you cleared your throat and grabbed a book off of the shelf behind you, “This one,” you said as you tried to be as nonchalant as you could handing it to Marcus, “Sarah was debating on this one the last time she was in here but said she was going to wait until she got paid.”

Marcus accepted the book, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the cover, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you said, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before you turned your attention back to your work.

“So how are you managing at the bakery with Sarah out of commission? Isn’t Maria on vacation too?” Libby asked, referring to the bakeries' part-time weekday employee.

Marcus let out a sigh. “It's been a bit chaotic, to be honest. She was going to be right hand for front-of-house operations this week, and with the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt coming up, it's been really hectic trying to juggle everything.”

Libby took the book and got started on wrapping it, “What are you going to do? The hunt is this weekend.”

Marcus sighed, “I honestly don't know. We're already falling behind on orders, and there's so much to prepare for the parade at the end of the month on top of the pumpkin hunt.”

It was at that point that Libby, forever the matchmaker and opportunist, seized the moment. “You know, my friend here is pretty nifty with her customer service skills.  Maybe she could lend a hand?" she said nonchalantly as she tied the final knot on the gift ribbon.

You choked on your own breath almost dropping the stack of books in your hands, “What? Me? Bu- but you need me here, Libby.”

Libby waved you off with a grin, “Nonsense. It's been pretty manageable here. And besides,” she gave you a pointed look, “it's a good opportunity for you to get to know the town better.” she finished with a not so discreet nod in the direction of Marcus.

You and Marcus exchanged an awkward glance, the tension palpable but it was vastly different than it has been in the past. 

“Think about it,” Libby nudged as Marcus paid and took his wrapped book, thanking her.

He looked at you, a question in his eyes, “Would you consider it? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need the help.”

You really wanted to decline, find some excuse, any excuse. But as Marcus stood there, looking genuinely in need and a bit vulnerable, you felt something shift.

“I'll think about it,” you said, realizing even as you spoke that your curiosity was already tipping the scales. Marcus nodded, a hint of relief crossing his features.

“Thank you, either way,” he said, exiting the bookstore with a small wave to the both of you.

As the door closed behind him, you looked at Libby, who was practically beaming.

“What are you up to Libby?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you volunteering to help him?”

“I think you might have more in common with him than you think.”

“Well, aren't you the little cupid,” you said, a bit sarcastically but not without warmth.

Libby shrugged, “When the universe gives you a nudge, sometimes you have to nudge back.”

“You really need to let up on those horoscopes.”

Libby gave you a weary eye roll, “Plus is it such a terrible thing? Baked goods and coffee on tap?”

The next morning guilt had you dragging your feet across to the bakery, with a good shove from Libby, to tell Marcus you’d help him with the front of house operations for the remainder of the week while he looked at finding someone else to fill Sarah’s position a little more permanently. 

As he’d walked you through the point of sale system he used you realised it was the exact same setup Libby had and soon were able to catch on pretty fast. 

“Seems like you're a natural at this,” Marcus said with a grin as you smoothly rang up a customer's order. “If you ever get tired of helping Libby out, you're welcome here anytime.”

As the days progressed it turned out Marcus mostly worked in the back, managing the oven, mixers, and other kitchen duties, which left you mainly responsible for front-of-house operations. This was a relief in some ways, reducing the awkward tension that had started building up between the two of you.

Marcus had said you could read between customers if you wanted to, but the bakery was so busy you barely had a chance to open the book you'd brought along. People were in a constant stream, some coming in to pick up pre-orders, others dropping by for their daily fix of coffee and pastries, and still, others had come out of curiosity, intrigued by the upcoming festivities. 

Despite the business, you couldn't help but notice how different each customer interaction was compared to the bookstore. Whereas Black Cat Books was a haven for the introverted, the bakery was a social hub. Children would come in giggling, pulling their parents behind them as they pointed to the cookies and cupcakes in the display case. Old friends would bump into each other in line and strike up conversations as if no time had passed. 

And everyone, it seemed, knew Marcus.

As each customer came and went, most had something kind to say about Marcus.

“Tell Marcus that the apple tarts were divine, would you?”

“Marcus helped fix my flat tire last week. Can you make sure he gets this thank you card?”

“Ah, Marcus makes the best chocolate cake. Did I tell you he was a lifesaver during the snowstorm last year? Cleared both my driveway and sidewalk.”

The anecdotes were small, simple moments that seemed to paint a portrait of Marcus you hadn't considered. Your previous reservations, based largely on a whole lot of stubborn pride, started to seem trivial in the face of what you were hearing.

While you had been busy contemplating whether he was too good to be true, he was, in fact, doing good in the community you were both a part of. Your wariness was beginning to wane, being replaced by a blossoming curiosity and a tiny little bit of a newfound respect for the man you'd initially written off.

Around mid-afternoon a couple of days later, Marcus finally emerged from the back, carrying a tray of freshly baked pumpkin bread. The smell wafted through the shop, and you inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of comfort that only a bakery could provide.

“How's it going out here?” he asked, placing the tray on a display counter.

“Busy,” you replied, “I haven't even had a chance to crack open my book.”

Marcus glanced at the book lying beside the cash register, “Well, I hope that's a good thing.”

“It is,” you found yourself smiling, “it's nice to be busy. Keeps the time flying.”

Marcus looked pleased, “I'm glad to hear that. I was worried you might find it overwhelming. Between the start of fall, Thanksgiving, Harvest, the Jack-O-Lantern hunt, then Halloween - it’s almost as busy as the Holidays around here.”

“You know, I’ve never heard of so many celebrations stuffed into one month.”

Marcus laughed softly while he continued to work on the display, “I know how you feel; I felt that way when I first got here. But it's a great way to bring people together and share some happiness. Who doesn't need more of that?” 

“Speaking of community, they’ve all got something to say about you it seems Mr. Pike.”

“Oh?” Marcus raised an eyebrow, “Good things I hope?”

You hesitated for a moment, choosing your words carefully, “Let's just say I'm learning that you're very well-liked around here. People appreciate what you do, both in and out of this bakery.”

Marcus looked genuinely surprised, and then his face broke into a warm, appreciative smile. “Well, that's kind of them to say. I just try to do my part, you know? Small town, tight-knit community—it's what makes Maplewood special.”

Friday soon came around and Marcus had let you know that morning that the weekend was taken care of. Maria was back in town and had said she’d work Sarah’s shift that weekend, meaning it was your last day helping out at the bakery.

Despite your reservations at the start of the week, you had felt a little pang of disappointment when he’d made the announcement after you’d arrived that morning.

You were wiping down the counters when Marcus came out from the back again, looking a little flour-dusted but otherwise no worse for wear.

“How'd it go?” he asked, washing his hands in the sink.

“Busy,” you replied, “but good busy. I think I successfully managed to not ruin your business.”

He took the cloth from you, “It’s okay, I’ve got this, you can head out.”

You shook your head and took it back, “It’s okay, Libby has book club tonight, the less time I have to be there for the better.”

Marcus laughed as he crossed the floor to the shop's door, locking it, “In that case, knock yourself out.”

Marcus flipped the sign to close and you paused, realizing Marcus was watching you, “What?” You ask with a grin, unsure why he was giving you such attention.

He laughed to himself and shook his head, “If you’re not wanting to head out any time soon, how do you feel about lending a hand with a bit of baking?”

“You trust me?”

“I think you can handle it, I’ll do the heavy lifting.” he finished with a wink and before you knew it you were following him to the back of the shop.

Once you were both in the back kitchen, Marcus started gathering ingredients from various shelves and corners of the room. “We're making cinnamon rolls, a seasonal special.” he said, placing butter, flour, sugar, and a variety of spices on the counter. You also noticed a small bottle of orange food colouring and a bag of pecans.

“Cinnamon rolls? Not sure what's so seasonal about them,” you said, intrigued by the setup.

Marcus chuckled, “Ah, but these aren't just any cinnamon rolls. They're pumpkin spice rolls with pecans and an orange-coloured spiced glaze. Trust me; these are special.”

“Wow, sounds delicious,” you replied, starting to feel excited about the baking adventure.

Marcus handed you an apron, and you couldn't help but notice how his eyes lingered on you as you tied it around your waist. “You look good in that,” he remarked as he passed by to pull down a mixing bowl.

“Thanks,” you replied, unable to keep a smile from spreading across your face.

Marcus began weighing flour and pouring it into a large mixing bowl and explained the steps as he went along. “First, we make the dough, then we let it rise. After that, we roll it out, sprinkle the filling, roll it up, and then cut it into pieces. Easy as pie, or in this case, rolls.”

After you'd mixed the dough ingredients, Marcus instructed you on the proper way to knead it. To your surprise, he positioned himself behind you, placed his hands over yours, and began guiding your movements on the dough.

“Use the heel of your hand to push and fold the dough back on itself,” he said, his voice soft and close to your ear. “It's all in the wrist.”

You felt a wave of heat rise to your cheeks, your heart racing as Marcus's hands continued to guide yours in perfect harmony. You had been so wary of him just a few days ago, but now, the intimacy of this simple act was breaking down any remaining barriers. You were becoming acutely aware of the magnetic pull towards him you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, Marcus pulled away, and you took a moment to catch your breath. 

“You're a quick learner,” Marcus finally said, pulling a baking sheet from one of the cabinets.

“Good teacher,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye, feeling your face grow hot.

After rolling the dough, sprinkling the filling, and neatly lining the rolls on the baking sheet, Marcus popped them into the oven. While they baked, he mixed the orange-coloured spiced glaze, occasionally stealing glances at you and smiling.

“Want to try a taste?” he asked, offering out a spoon he’d practically made appear out of nowhere, or you’d been that focused on his hands as he stirred the ingredients. 

Nodding, you leaned in to taste the glaze from the spoon Marcus was holding. As you did, a drop of the orange-coloured icing escaped, landing on your lower lip. Marcus looked at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Time seemed to slow down.

“Hold on, you’ve got a little…” His voice trailed off as he gently reached up and brushed away the drop of glaze with his thumb.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Marcus took a step closer to you as he licked off the icing from his thumb. His eyes met yours, asking for permission, before flicking down to your lips. You felt the air grow thick with tension, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could answer, a sudden knock on the front door of the bakery shattered the moment. You both jumped, startled out of the intimate bubble you’d been in.

Marcus looked as confused as you felt, but then you took it as an opportunity to try and shake some sense into yourself. “I should go,” you said, quickly removing your apron and folding it on the counter.

Before Marcus could respond, another impatient knock echoed from the front. “Hold on!” he called out towards the door, his eyes meeting yours one more time as if to say 'don't go.'

But you were already moving, grabbing your purse and jacket. The spell was broken, but the lingering feelings remained as you felt the ghost of Marcus’ touch on your lips.

As pulled on your jacket you heard Marcus greet the knocker. “Bill, you know it’s past closing, right?”

“It’s an emergency, Marcus, I swear! I need a pie, I saw the lights on out the back and you’re the only one in town who can save me.”

You heard Marcus laugh, his attention now fully on Bill, who was from the art store down the street. Feeling like an intruder on the scene, you took your chance to slip out of the bakery with a quick wave to the two men, the bell jingling softly as you opened and then closed the door behind you.

You didn’t look back as you pulled your jacket tighter against the cold wind that swept down the highstreet, if you had you would have seen Marcus watching you as you looked both ways before you scurried across the street to the bookshop. 

Once inside, you took a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the door. What was that all about? You had a swirl of emotions rushing through your head, none of which made any sense when applied to Marcus. You were still pondering it as you locked up the shop and made your way upstairs to the apartment you shared with Libby.

When you walked in, you found Libby sitting on the sofa, flipping through a magazine with a cup of tea by her side. “You're late,” she noted, her eyes still fixed on the glossy pages before her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just lost track of time helping Marcus close,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual as you hung your jacket and kicked off your shoes.

“What were you doing, making out with Marcus in the back of the bakery?" Libby quipped, laughing to herself as she flipped another page.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the suggestion, but managed to roll your eyes and offer a sarcastic laugh. “Please, I still don't see the appeal.”

“That's funny,” Libby said, raising an eyebrow as she set her magazine aside. “Because I haven't heard you say one bad thing about Marcus since you started helping out at the bakery.”

Caught off guard, you felt a quiet panic settle in your chest. You were usually so transparent to Libby, it made you uncomfortable how easily she could read you. “Well, I've been busy. No time for chit-chat when you're up to your elbows in doughnuts and the gossip of the neighbourhood watch.”

Libby eyed you suspiciously but said nothing more. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” you affirmed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anyway, I'm going to take a shower.”

As you stepped into the warm stream of water, you let it wash over you, hoping it would also rinse away the tangled web of emotions that had sprung up so unexpectedly. Your mind replayed the almost-kiss, Marcus' eyes looking into yours, the touch of his hands over yours as you kneaded dough, and you felt a pang of something you couldn't quite place. Was it regret? Longing? It was too confusing to sort out, so you shut off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel in hope of pushing it all out of your mind.

As you looked at your reflection in the steamed-up bathroom mirror, you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Whatever it was that had happened at the bakery, it was over now. Tomorrow was a new day, and you would go back to your normal routine, back to your safe, familiar life you’d made for yourself in Maplewood.

But as you crawled into bed that night, the nagging feeling refused to leave you and you resolved to resume your long discarded search for job vacancies in Toronto in the morning. 

Maplewood suddenly felt stiflingly small.

#october x 500 #autumnal offerings #something sweet this way comes #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader

[m1d-45]

the thoma one, god i love him. what a sweetheart :') but like.......what would happen if we went to the kamisato estate with him. and like. the siblings caught us. would they be on our side or would ayato call for our arrest immediately. would thoma still try to help us once he realized or does his loyalty override that. i am dying to know 👀

silent conclusions

summary: the kamisato estate is welcoming, thoma and ayaka are kind, ayato is… ayato.

word count: exactly 4000. very cool

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, exactly one (1) swear word, ayato is a little shit (affectionate), if your name is maple uh… whoops?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @genshin-impacts-me || @5sos-wdw

@yoshikuno and @alexteea asked for part threes- sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged

<<first part || < masterlist >

teleport waypoints, despite being incredibly convenient, take large tolls.

the moment your feet were on solid ground again you reached, latching onto the closest person as your vision swam with vertigo. bile rose in your throat once more, exacerbating your nausea. though you managed to wash out some of the saltwater with the tea—shockingly sweet, from what you remember of green tea—it still soaked your tongue.

two people are talking, voices just out of focus, and the person you grabbed sets their hand over yours.

you’re thankful they give you a moment’s pause, and you take deep breaths. slowly, the stone beneath you is less blinding, and you can see that you’re outside the kamisato estate. the white and purple walls are tall, imposing, two guards stationed in front of the entrance. it looks like light security, but you figure nobody could be bold enough to try anything anyways.

you pull your hand from your support, hoping your gaze show your apology as you look at-

ayato?

he glances at you, eyes flicking over you once before returning to his talk with hisashi.

oh fuck.

thoma appears from your other side and takes you by the arm, walking for the entrance to the estate. “come on, let’s get you inside.”

you follow in a daze, still thrown off by the fact that you grabbed the arm of the yashiro commissioner after teleporting. you’re certain that most people would be knocked off in an instant—or worse—if not by him then by those around. you can’t tell which is more shocking: the fact that he didn’t seem upset afterwards, or that hisashi let you get so close in the first place.

the courtyard is full of life, plants lining the outer edge and the raised patio-like platform in the middle. the various workers around the area stare a little more at you than you’d like, but since thoma is besides you they don’t give you much trouble. the emblem of the kamisatos ripples on the flags they’re printed on, moved by a silent breeze.

the guards in front of the door eye you with more suspicion, and step inwards over the door as you approach, spears crossing in an X. thoma’s steps halt unnaturally, and you can see confusion on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“who is with you, retainer?”

“er…”

right. ayato had directed the conversation at the teahouse to your charges, not to you. you never got a chance to tell your name—not that you would have told the truth, incase history tried to repeat itself.

“the commissioner has employed new help,” he said, wisely keeping back the part where you were being hidden from the shogunate. “i am to show them to their quarters.”

the guard’s eyes narrow further, and you can’t find it in yourself to blame them. you don’t look fit for work by a long shot, let alone for somebody as prestigious as the kamisatos.

“come on souta, when have i ever been untrustworthy? the commissioner himself is just behind us, if you don’t-“

the door behind the guards slid open and they rushed not to block the way, glancing first at each other and then to the open doors.

ayaka is standing in the open doorway, barely-concealed curiosity evident in her eyes. in one hand is a fan that covers the lower half of her face, the carefully painted design matching her eyes.

your mind flashes back to when you were introduced to her, when she was sitting behind a screen and thoma said that that was the traditional way to greet guests, or something similar. sure, you’re less of a guest and more… maybe blackmailed is a little too harsh of a word, perhaps more coerced-

“m- my lady?” thoma steps forward, tugging you behind him, and you can’t tell if it’s meant to be protective towards you or her. “what are you doing out here?”

“indeed, it is rather rare for you to be out. i told you i was bringing home somebody, ayaka.” ayato’s voice once more comes out of nowhere, and you turn to see him and hisashi walking up. the latter looks more tense than you’ve ever seen him, and you don’t blame him. considering ayato gave a… warning..

…wait a minute-

“it’s well past when you said you would return,” ayaka points out, voice far more diplomatic than you’d expect from a conversation between siblings. “is it wrong of me to go for a stroll?”

an odd expression flashes over ayato’s face, but it melts into acceptance quicker than you’d expect. “that is fair. i apologize. negotiations took longer than expected.”

you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something smart in return. the threat of salt also helps, but not nearly as much as the fear of angering him.

something like a laugh comes from ayaka, but you refrain from turning. even if you’re ‘allowed’ to, it feels polite. also, you really don’t want to upset ayato. after everything he’s done, he feels like the largest threat.

(your mind reminds you of how kind his hand was when it settled over yours outside of the estate. you arrive at the conclusion that ayato is strange.)

“come in, then. hisashi, you are dismissed.”

hisashi bows, then sends a questioning look at ayato. the latter nods, and the former turns neatly on his heel, leaving with barely a sound to his footsteps.

thoma pulls at your hand again and you turn to follow, keeping your eyes on his shoes. you figure it’s better not to snoop or get distracted, and considering thoma’s following ayaka…

ayato’s eyes weigh on your shoulders as you walk.

for the second time today, you’re sat in front of tea you have no intent drinking.

it’s smells a little more flowery, and you think you remember catching the word rose, but that could very well be referring to the flower arrangement in the center of the table.

they’re nice. pale pink, in a soft green vase. they still have their thorns, surprisingly, a detail that distracts you from the conversation happening at the table.

first, ayato filled in ayaka on your conversation at the teahouse. second, ayaka asked for thoma’s recount of how you met. third… third you had zoned out, distracting yourself with the details of rose petals.

“-what do you think?”

you jump slightly at thoma’s voice, the sound closer than before and obviously directed at you. glancing around the table reveals no indication of the former conversation, only two other sets of eyes. soft silver looks with genuine feelings, and pale lavender looks a little too smug for your liking.

the latter picks up his teacup. “we’re assuming you don’t want to reveal your name,” he says, taking a drink. you wish his gaze wasn’t so knowing.

nonetheless, you nod.

“thoma was considering maple, since it’s a pretty neutral name.” wait, what did you just agree to? “it’s not inazuman, but it’s also not anything else either. it’s.. an interesting choice, considering its also the name of a tree common on narukami, but i believe it will hide you nicely.”

oh. that’s better than you thought, considering who it’s coming from.

you give a half-shrug and a nod in response, the pen under your hand not worth picking up for such a simple reply.

“well, maple,” ayaka pauses, but the name doesn’t sound awful, and you let her continue, “thoma can show you around, and you’ll start either tomorrow or the day after, depending on how long it takes you to get used to the place.”

sounds reasonable enough. you nod, and thoma speaks up next, nudging your notepad.

“do you have any preferences for where you’d like to work? i’ll keep you out of anything involving a lot of other people-“ you send him a silent thank you “-but just so i know…”

you pick up the pen and write down your choices, hesitating at the bottom before adding ‘but anything’s fine if you’re there.’ is it cheesy? probably, but he’s the person you’re most comfortable around here. he’s been nothing but open and kind, and doesn’t have a reputation to uphold or an agenda to fulfill.

he reads over the paper when you pass it to him, and a quiet pride comes over you as he flushes a bit at your end comment.

“a- alright then! i’ll show you around today, you can shadow me tomorrow, and the day after we can finalize things. sound good?”

you nod, and neither of the kamisato siblings have anything to add either, both silently showing their approval.

you feel yourself smile.

thoma’s work is surprisingly simple.

not that it was easy, of course, because what else would you expect working for a third of inazuma’s government, but it’s… shockingly simple.

he’d warned you the night before that you’d need to wake early, but he wasn’t angry when you didn’t wake up on time. he seemed upset, almost, regret lacing his words as he tugged you out of bed. even as you delayed him further by struggling with the uniform—the nightclothes were easy enough, but this one had so many folds and ties that you got lost embarrassingly quickly—he wasn’t upset. he just led you to the kitchens, where he explained every step of how the lord and lady liked their teas.

ayato prefers black tea, he says, carefully measuring out loose leaves. he takes it with no sugar, and as hot as it can be.

ayaka has been trying new teas from liyue, he mumbles, voice quieter than he intends to be as he stirs in honey. she’s quite fond of dragon’s well, but anything from there will do. feel free to experiment, just be sure it’s not too sweet.

he shows you their respective offices, and you wince at the amount of paperwork on both of their desks. they both greet you with a smile, but you can see how tired they are. absently, you wonder if that same exhaustion is why ayato likes black tea.

thoma’s interactions with them are short, and you waste no time in following him to his next task.

the day passes by easily, thoma’s easy conversation—despite your hoarse voice—easing the load of the work. floors are swept and shelves are dusted, and when he quizzes you on their tea preferences at dinnertime you get it right on the first try.

he beams from his post at the stovetop, bright green eyes shining in the same way dew does on grass. you feel your own smile form in response, and he makes you sit and wait while he delivers dinner—yes, to their offices—no matter how much you protest. he returns swiftly, pulling over a pot that you didn’t realize wasn’t empty and ladling out two bowls of soup.

he slides one over to you, and together you share dinner.

the next day is much the same, as is the next, and the next, and you slowly fall into a routine.

you wake up, the knots on the uniform more familiar than they were at the start, a simple way to start a simple morning. you tidy yourself up and meet thoma on the way to the kitchens, chatting about a dream you had the night before or a diplomat that had arrived yesterday for a meeting. water bubbles and you share a breakfast, the two of you preparing tea side by side.

today you decide to make ayaka a new king of oolong tea that had just come in a few days prior. after all the various security screenings, you could finally make it!

thoma encourages you to take the large platter this time, and you comply, however nervous. you’re watching it more than you are the hallway, making sure that nothing spills, and it pays off when you make it to ayaka’s office without incident.

she looks up with a smile as you come in, and you flash one of your own as you set down the large plate.

“good morning, lady ayaka.”

“good morning, maple. how did you sleep?”

you eye the bags under her eyes as you push over her teacup. “i should be asking you that, my lady.”

she chuckles, picking up the cup for a smell. “this doesn’t seem familiar.. what kind of tea is this?”

thoma looks to you from where he’s sorting out a stack of scrolls, and you recite the information off the box.

“it’s tieguanyin, also known as iron goddess, and is a type of liyuen oolong. it seemed sweet by the smell, so i didn’t put much honey in.”

her smile turns sweeter, an oddly genuine happiness taking you by surprise. “thank you.”

there’s a weight to her words, some other information tucked between the lines that you can’t reach. with a smile and a nod, you pick up your tray.

ayato’s office is strangely far from his sisters, something that confused you the first day and still does now. the only difference is that now you’re familiar with the sprawling layout of the estate, and you can take the right turn without missing it.

he’s much more tired, evident by the delay between when he sees you and speaks.

“maple, thoma. good morning.”

your hand paused over his teacup. ayaka… she hadn’t greeted thoma, had she?

you’re fairly certain there’s an implication there, something that ties into the heaviness of her voice when she thanked you, but you don’t have time to think it over. thoma nudges your side and you snap out of your thoughts, moving ayato’s tea and breakfast off the tray.

“is something wrong?”

you shake your head. “no. something.. caught my attention. i apologize, my lord.”

he picked up the cup with a grin, “oh? i do hope you’re not trying to pry into any yashiro documents.”

you shake your head and he drinks, but thoma catches your arm as you turn to leave. his lips part, something worried shining in his eyes, but ayato cuts him off.

“what is this?”

oh no.

ayato’s black tea was easy to brew, tea wise, and with thoma watching over your shoulder you had assumed it wasn’t burnt.

the housekeeper seems just as confused, the both of you turning back to ayato’s desk. he’s staring at the tea in his cup thankfully not with disdain, but certainly with confusion.

“it’s wakoucha, my lord,” you say. “no sugar. hot as can be.”

“is it a new kind?”

“it’s from the same box as yesterday’s, and all of last week’s.”

he looks to thoma, who nods. “the only difference is that maple brewed it.”

ayato’s eyes flick between the tea, thoma, and you, still not accusatory, for which you’re grateful. you’re not sure you could hide from poisoning the yashiro commissioner as easily as you could hide in liyue.

“…here.”

the cup is passed to thoma, who hesitates before trying some. he’s easier to read than ayato—most anybody is—and you can pick out the emotions in his eyes clearer. shock, delight, and then a careful sort of confusion.

“it’s very strong, though the flavor is perfectly intact… even without sugar, it’s still sweet.” you don’t know enough about tea to discern what that means. “but how? i was watching you the whole time…”

you’re tempted to say something stupid—‘well, i hear that nightshade can be pretty sweet’—but wisely hold your tongue, watching the cup return back to ayato’s hands. he stares at the rim of it for a moment, then a flicker of a smile crosses his face.

“well done,” is all he says, and after another sip, the cup is set down in favor of his pen, the prior conversation dissolving back into the air with nothing more than a glance. “and if you two are planning on going to the city today, do stay away from the docks.”

“are the tenryou receiving a shipment?”

“nothing of the sort, thoma, what do you mean? what reason would i have for directing you away from them?” ayato looks up from his paper, some stupid little scheme glinting in his eyes. “i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.”

you can’t help the way your shoulders tighten, the office suddenly seeming smaller. though you had admitted as little as you could about why you were hiding from the shogunate, you had never brought up their accusations on this front. intentionally, too, because you knew that no matter how kind anybody could be, religion was a heavy topic in teyvat, inazuma especially.

and when you were staring down a man that held loyalty in high standard, it was wise not to admit such a thing.

the corner of ayato’s lips twitch into a smile. “do be careful, maple. i’d hate for you to get caught up in another incident.”

you cling closer to thoma’s side than you normally would when you two go into the city, your hand linked with his as he speaks with the various vendors. you’re not sure why you two are even in ritou, honestly, but didn’t bother with asking questions.

he’s speaking with a kanjou officer, which he’d addressed by name, oddly, and you’re standing behind him, looking around the city. the maple trees are a pretty pink for spring, making the island look a lot kinder. sure, the outlander affairs agency likely still has the area in a chokehold, and sure it’s run by a literal puppet government, but something could be said about its beauty.

“what do you think about lunch?” thoma asks, and you look back in alarm only to see the kanjou officer long gone, his eyes focused on you.

ah.

“we’re gonna be out for most of the day, and there’s a little food stall here that i like. granted, we could eat at shimura’s…”

you shake your head, “here’s fine, thanks.”

he brightens, pulling you along once more. “great! ryouko makes the best dry-braised fish, or she has fried tofu in a miso broth, if you’d rather?”

you make and tell him your choice, and he nods as you walk down sets of stairs, making note of it. people wave at you two as you pass, and though it’s mostly at thoma, you do see some smiles directed at you. probably just because you’re with him, though.

thoma leads you to the left of the main courtyard, taking you down another small set of stairs. it’s… familiar, the tree behind the sidewalk reminding you of something you can’t pin.

“hello ryouko!”

“hello, and welcome! care to have some specialty snacks?”

you keep a hand on his as you look around, letting him order for you. the food stall was backed against a wall, in a tucked away corner, near the port… if you turned so that you faced the staircase, it clicked.

this was where you met thoma. it was months later, at a wildly different time of day, and you were in a much better place… but you were back here. back when he held your hand much as he did now, in a drastically different context but for much of the same reasons.

guidance. security. promise.

comfort.

“first time in the city?”

you turned to the close voice, jumping slightly when you see the owner. maroon hair shadows grassy eyes, ones that seem to pick you apart—much like ayato, but a lot less subtle. the blue of an anemo vision shines behind the baton of a doushin, and you can feel your heart stop as you face down the best detective in inazuma.

you tug on thoma’s hand and he turns as well, apparently recognizing him. “doushin shikanoin? what are you doing out here?”

heizou crosses his arms with a heavy sigh, some of the tension in the air fading as his eyes fall to the floor. “on ritou, a failed mission. here in particular… well, ryouko’s one of the only in inazuma that makes a good katsu sandwich, and i’m in the market for a pick-me-up.”

“really? what happened? do you want eat with us and talk about it?”

“no no, please. there’s no need to interrupt your little excursion on behalf of little ol’ me.”

what is it with inazuman men with blue visions that makes them adore implying things most would rather say aloud?

“well we’ve got time while our food’s being made, don’t we?”

“mmm…” one of heizou’s hands comes up to his jaw as he thinks, tapping a steady beat. “i suppose i can tell you. after all, it was your boss that tipped me off.”

oh no. who could have ever seen that coming.

“ay- ah, i mean the commissioner?”

“indeed. you see, he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate, even if sometimes the information can be a bit lackluster. recently, he’s gotten a tip that the imposter was planning to leave inazuma tonight through ritou’s port, and madam sara sent me out to check it out. i, of course, looked over his evidence prior to coming, and though it was a little shaky, it’s the best lead we’ve had so far. i even heard from some fishermen that they saw somebody shady boarding a merchant boat, but… no dice.”

thoma’s grip on your hand adjusts, and he squeezes once. you don’t have much time to think it over. “i’m sorry to hear it. i can promise that we’re putting all of our effort into solving the situation as best as we can, and i regret letting them slip from our grasp.”

his voice lacks the usual depth behind it, like… like it’s rehearsed, almost. like he was prepared for this.

heizou’s eyes flick to you, jade green seeming to cut into your soul. “oh, naturally. this is such a pity, don’t you agree?”

subtext laces his words, and you’re left floating in the pause between his sentences. even as it stretches, his mouth slips up in a suppressed grin.

“after all, weren’t you the one who told him?”

you blink.

you didn’t do that. you didn’t tell ayato anything, you never even left the estate unless thoma—or, on occasion, ayaka—was by your side. you never had time to collect information, and you certainly didn’t give it to ayato- didn’t he say that the shuumatsuban gave it to him? didn’t he…

’i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.’

’he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate…’

‘after all, weren’t you the one who told him?‘

you can see when heizou notices that you get it, the sharp light to his knowing gaze. he rests his chin in his hand and passes you a cheeky wink, one that makes you laugh.

kamisato ayato.

what did you expect?

#i am so sorry this took so long to come out #i wanted to finish ‘duality of man’ first and then the ‘plagued’ request had me in a chokehold #fun fact: every tea listed here exists!!! i did a lot of research on teas for this part :)) #if ur curious i prefer black tea with an unreasonable amount of sweet; that may just be because i don’t make tea properly though #something i learned after finally finding the right way online. the box i got didn’t have any instructions so i fucked it up lmao #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #thoma #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #ehhh sure #ayato #sagau ayato #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #sagau ayaka #anybody wanna guess why i chose the nickname maple? there are two right answers and one is because thoma found you under a maple tree #shikanoin heizou #heizou #sagau heizou #genshin heizou #heizou my beloved <3 #i just think he’s a very cool character in a sagau context #esp. imposter aus. mr ultra instinct ’this is only 10% of my power’ falling — genuinely or not — for an imposter… #i just think he’s neat <3 #the pacing here is…. oh boy. but hey the plots good!

[good-beanswrites]

A little something featuring Fuuta and Es after talking about their criminal lack of interaction in fanworks with @waivyjellyfish ! You had such awesome ideas (a few of which I'm still bouncing around in my head to post at some point,) but this one ended up taking over my brain -- I hope you enjoy 😅 Attempting to answer the widely-debated question:

“Oi, why didn’t you hit me?”

Es looked up from their paperwork.

“Prisoner number three. Most people are glad when they’re not struck.”

“Well, I’m not.” 

Es usually left the door open at this hour, in case anyone had any last-minute complaints before curfew. No one usually took them up on the offer. They figured that if there was any prisoner they could count on to complain, it would be Fuuta marching through their door.

“You hit all the other guys. You even hit some of the girls that were giving you trouble. So what? You think I’m too weak? You think I can’t take it?” Fuuta spread his arms. “I can, so show me what you’ve got!”

Es sighed. They put down their pen. They folded their gloved hands together, resting their chin on top. “Fuuta, I’m not going to hit you.”

“Why not?”

“As of right now, I have no reason to. If you’re referring to the interrogations…”

They reflected on the first one they'd shared with him. To be fair, the thought had crossed their mind. It would have been satisfying to give this rowdy prisoner a taste of his own medicine – striking him after such a dramatic charge at them. But Es was always good at reading people. It didn’t take them long to understand Fuuta was the type to lash out first and ask questions later. In fact, that was likely what had landed him in Milgram in the first place. 

Although Es knew they weren’t here to do any reformation, they wanted to try to show these prisoners where they’d gone wrong. So, they resolved to act as the bigger person. They’d prove that senseless violence was just that. By keeping their composure, they’d show Fuuta just how childish he was being. 

That wasn’t my only reason. I guess that's true, my actions weren’t all purely righteous. I still spent the entire time looking for ways to make him squirm… But it wasn’t all cruelty. I really did want to understand. I wanted to help. That counts for something, right?

Es never struck the prisoners out of anger, or as a petty show of power. It was a way to force the prisoner to mind their ego. When they’d gotten a bit too full of themselves, a bit too comfortable with the awful deed they’d committed, Es’ blow encouraged them to feel a bit more humility and guilt. 

By the time the second trial arrived, Fuuta oozed guilt. 

The moment Es entered the interrogation room, it was clear that he needed no lesson in humility. He hugged his arms to his chest. His remaining eye darted around the room in thinly-veiled hysteria. His voice trembled when he spoke. It didn’t require any people-reading skills to hear the remorse that underlaid all of his accusations and threats.

Hitting the others felt like giving a dog a tap on the nose after breaking a rule. Meanwhile, Fuuta snapped and snarled like a stray who’d been kicked time and time again.

Of course, he could never know any of this. Any way Es phrased it, Fuuta would misunderstand it as pity.

Well, wasn’t it? I thought he looked like a kicked puppy – that sounds a lot like pity. No, it was out of respect. Does that mean I didn’t respect the prisoners I did hit? No. I respected them too. Then, what’s the difference?

Fuuta was still staring at them, asking the very same question. What’s the difference?

“Each of Milgram’s prisoners is unique.” 

They were met with an unimpressed glare.

Es chose their words carefully. “Each one responds best to a variety of treatments. Some need attention to be comfortable, while others need time. Some need validation in order to confess. Others, a bit of debate does the trick. Some need a show of force. You –” remind me too much of myself  “– require something else. I’ve learned to change my approach depending on the person I’m dealing with.”

Fuuta’s features flashed with confusion, then shame, then his usual mask of anger. “Tch. How pathetic.”

“Excuse me?”

“So you just change your personality when it’s convenient? You put up fake smiles and fake attitude? Have some balls and just be yourself.”

Es was caught by surprise. “... I am. Those are all pieces of myself. I choose to bring out different parts when it would be most helpful.” 

“Sounds manipulative as hell to me.” 

It makes sense he doesn’t understand. He’s a very clear-cut person, with every aspect of his personality lining up in a way that makes sense. I find that predictability fun. Or, is it something that I envy? Could it be both?

They had no time to dwell on it, as Fuuta was struck with an idea. “Though, if you can do it on command, why don’t you give me the ‘you’ that wants to hit someone?” 

He spread his arms once more, hands gesturing to his chest. Es pretended not to notice him wince. They remained in their seat. 

“What are you waiting for? Hit me!” 

“I will not.”

“You just said you can change your personality on a whim, so let’s see it!” 

“That is not what I said.”

His good eye began to look frenzied. He raised his voice. “You scared? The big bad warden of Milgram, nothing but a big coward!”

“Stop this. You’re acting childish.”

“No! You’re treating me childishly! Let me see the Es that kicked Shidou! The one that slapped Kazui! Treat me like you treated them!”

“I hit them because they said something stupid. They deserved it.”

“Are you fucking kidding? I deserve it too! I deserve it! Come on!”

At the last word, his voice broke. He stumbled to his knees. He let his head drop. He sucked in strained breath after strained breath. Shidou would surely give him a lecture about getting so worked up with his injuries. 

Es finally stood.

They made their way around the desk. They knelt on the floor in front of him. 

“Why?” he wheezed. “Tell me…”

“Fuuta.” 

Should I just go ahead and do it, just to make him happy? No, I want to talk it out. But what do even I say? I'll tell him that I care. I can’t. None of the prisoners understand that I care. Why? Why is it so hard for them to see? I’m trying my best, why can’t they see? 

Es extended their hand carefully. They didn’t know what they hoped to accomplish, but in that moment their thoughts were too loud and conflicting. They needed to do something.

Fuuta saw the gentle intention, and immediately raised his own hand to strike. It froze midair, though whether it was from Milgram’s restrictions or his own hesitation, Es would never know.

Neither of their gestures connected.

Footsteps. Then Yuno’s voice, hesitantly from the doorway. “We heard shouting, is everything alright in here?”

Es retracted their hand.  A beat. Fuuta dropped his, too. 

“Yuno. Yes, we’re fine. Fuuta was just heading to bed. I’m going to walk him to his cell.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I said, I’m going to walk him to his cell.” 

Es stood, nodding to Yuno. When she’d gone, they turned their attention back to the prisoner crumpled on the ground. They made an effort to quiet their ever-racing thoughts. 

“Listen. I know you can handle yourself. I’m not doing this because I think you’re weak. You’re strong. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t see that.”

They held out their arm to help him up. He didn’t move.

“Sometimes you are a bit too strong, if you ask me. I mean, picking fights with your prison warden, really?” They clicked their tongue. “You should be grateful for a superior that gives you second chances.”

At last, Fuuta  took their hand. He avoided meeting their eyes, but his voice had softened considerably from his rant. “The only thing you give me is a headache.”

Es offered a dry smile as they pulled him to his feet. “The feeling is mutual.”

#milgram #es #fuuta kajiyama #i fully intended on writing something silly/sweet so SORRY this was a lot of drama 😭 silly and sweetness coming soon i promise adsfsdf #i really do think es would see themself in fuuta to some degree #something about them being filled with audience voices and fuuta also being a reflection of the audience... idk... #it makes me crazy how much es cares !!!! their line at the end of baptism of fire about how they dont hate the prisoners #and they now have a connection that cant be broken #and they see them all as comrades #it makes me crazy!!! #they have too many conflicting thoughts/feelings of WARDEN DUTY to flat out say 'hey i care about you' #but they do!!!! ;---; #i had some fun writing es' internal monologue like that! i debated on making it specifically a conversation between voices (using 'you' or #third person pronouns) but i think this still gets the idea across well #i know es never actually gave a straight answer to the final question but i hope this still gave a good peek at their reasoning #i genuinely dont think es pities him but he IS a pathetic wet cat in t2 and that definitely influences their actions in some way #i believe your exact words were 'red-haired fucked up dog' and i hope i could do that image justice 😎👍 #drabbles

[blousemouse]

I do not trust Jeremy's chill happy guy persona at all. I don't think it's fake, but I don't believe for a minute that it's not absolutely intentional. He's a great guy of course but I really get the vibe that it's something he purposefully works at-- especially given what he said about his high school team and his move to the Trojans.

#specifically the scene with the homeless man #it was VERY sweet but I also feel like it's not something that comes naturally to most people #and it would make sense to me if it's a conscious decision for Jeremy to be kind in that way #jeremy knox #tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #the sunshine court spoilers

[lokorum]

｡;+(★`∪´☆)+;｡

support me on boosty if you have coin to spare!

#dishonored #dishonored the outsider #the outsider #dishonored farart #DOTO #dishonored art #illustration #game art #artists on tumblr #well wow i havent expected myself to find so much comfort in drawing sweet little rat boi #my last piece with hands and corvo's mask (??) #felt like i cant possibly come up with something as good again #but here i am #drawings for asks are on their way aaaaa im so excited! #thank you for your support!!

[sejii]

listen i have an excuse i swear

i... am a huge sap that’s very excited about the idea of that camera being fixed;;;;;;; based on @caelos-au​ !

also small self-insert bonus of “what if i had the boys installed while working on systems start”

#fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #caelos-au #daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #sun x reader #my art #doodle #the big idea of sun seeing the user the first time being a thing i would want to tag 'sun x reader' for is basically just #seeing this person you've likely gotten very close to at this point #building them up in your mind to look a certain way or have the space around them look like other images you've seen #and then the camera comes on and it's just. normal... they're just a person. living their life in a way that's comfortable for them #and something about seeing someone you care about for the first time like that just feels so domestic and sweet #also the joke with the genesis soundfont is that it is STUPIDLY high pitched #if you try to change to it from something you've already composed at a high octave your ear drums are going to get vaporized #something that I forget constantly and regret

[front-facing-pokemon]

#zigzagoon #the one pokémon that everyone associates with colosseum's “friendly battle” music. because that's the only fucking time it plays #i don't remember the guy's name off the top of my head. rider something. but he has pink hair. and he's wonderful #that's what i know about zigzagoon. that guy has a ton of them and i found out as an adult that you can go back to him over the course #of the game and he'll get more zigzagoon and they'll slowly start evolving into linoone and you can sorta see his progression i guess #but you both always come back to this specific outskirts stand to battle every once in a while. it's really like. sweet in a way #doesn't really have anything to do with zigzagoon as a pokémon but that's sorta inextricably what i associate zigzagoon with #it's a good one. in my humble opinion