#and in addition to the horrible taste it's also very thick

[primrosebitch]

So my last post reminded me of this story so I'm going to tell it here

So when i was a tiny child, probably around 5 or so, i decided to swallow a coin, and not because of typical child reasons of putting everything in mouth and oops swallowed it, no this was a decision in which i knew exactly what i was doing and as a child with adhd and no impulse control i chose to ignore the consequences, sadly though my sibling was a snitch and immediately told my mother

Now this would normally be the end of the story, except my body doesn't like to behave and so after my mother didn't find the coin in my poop after a couple of days (i don't remember exactly how many but anywhere from 4-6), she brought me to my pediatrician who didn't quite believe that it hadn't yet left my body, but still she had me go to get an x-ray

Now when i went to get said x-ray they had me drink this horrendous concoction that had something called barium in it to help with the contrast in the x-ray or something like that, and after a reasonable reaction to the awful taste they added chocolate milk powder flavoring so i could actually get it down, which i was able to do, and after suffering through the barium they did the x-ray and low and behold the coin was in fact still inside me, albeit nearly out

#x ray #barium #coin #dumb child things #i cannot overstate how awful barium tastes #and in addition to the horrible taste it's also very thick #i hate it so much #i did get to keep the coin tho #so that's cool #my poor mother tho #she had to look through my poop to find that coin

[ormrin]

Humans are also disgusting!

See Sirius!

We all know that people are weird, or rather menacing. This time, however, I will tell you two facts that will surely make you add the label "disgusting". And I don't mean that humans aren't appreciated as a food from their terrifying terrestrial predators. So the topics will be as follows: Human horrible food and then human eklhaft "error - tics", sexuality and childbirth.

As far as food is concerned, you probably already know that humans usually like to eat animals - I heard that some even when they are still alive! Some species of these animals are trainable and some are even intelligent like our groks! They even say that in history there were HUMANS WHO ATE OTHER HUMANS! How about eating an animal stuffed with minced meat?! So human eat animals stuffed with other animals! They also spread the minced meat on their sliced loaves of big baked dought made from milled grain, which - you won't believe it - is just a type of grass that they've force-bred to the point where they've pushed it to produce dozens of seeds on each stalk. Such a loaf is called a "bred", I reckon it is near to word breathing because bred from the grass was so needed. Humans also eat RAW FISH, even OCTOPUS, WHICH WE KNOW ARE BOTH INTELLIGENT AND BEAUTIFUL! THEY HAVE EIGHT PRETTY TENTACLES. I only have these two multi tentacles of mine. However, humans are able to eat insects, including worms! And they say sometimes they don't bother killing such creatures. If a human offers you the so-called "cheers", then do not eat it, because it is a SULFUR TREATED AND COAGTENED LIQUID, WHICH WAS ORIGINALLY SUPPOSED TO SERVE THE SO-CALLED "MAMA-ALL" ANIMALS TO FEED THEIR OFFSPRINGS! And people have the audacity not only to take food from animals' bodies, but also to label even themselves - as "mama-alls"! People eat this "cheers" either uncooked, melted - and even smoked, just smoked and even so-called "try". Trying is therefore also the word for the process of putting the so-called "but - terra", which is the crushed most fat part from that feeding liquid of one kind of the mama-all animal, or the squeezed juice from grains or exceptionally from nuts. People literally squeeze nature just to make food taste a little better! On top of that liquid goes cheers coated in powder - milled grain. This keps on the cheers thanks to the previous rinsing of the cheers in the inside of the egg of a bird raised also for meat. If some of you didn't think it is widely wrong, then I think my next talk on the topic that HUMAS DRINK POISONS will convince you of that!

So, I hope that I have prepared you enough for what the human eklhaft "error - ticks", sexuality and procreation entails. That first part of the double word is ERROR which is not a mistake, because people find undressing themselves exciting to watch - at least it's limited to cases where the person undressing is of the gender requested by the observer. People's sexuality is indeed much messed up, especially these days. We all know that humans, except in very rare and apparently deranged cases, only have two types of sexual organs. If any of you were not sure of the gender of the observed human - for example, when you meet the human in a very thick spacesuit - then the gene scanner will conveniently tell you the gender. Lately though, it seems like a lot of humans have gone crazy. Instead of psychotherapy for individuals who have trouble identifying with their gender, they allow them to undergo sex reassignment surgery and even human majority stupidly support fools who are demonstrably gender-normal but still claim to feel like the opposite gender, ambivalent, neutral, or neither! Although in human history there were so-called "EW - NUHs", i.e. men who had their genitals removed, but even by mistake their original gender was not genetically removed. In addition, there are people who are sexually active also or even only with individuals of the same sex! This will probably be another reason why they haven't completely over-breeded yet. However, the main reason is the use of medication for females against conception and a special sexual sleeve for males. At least the male sleeve also protects against sexually transmitted diseases.

The female sexual organ is such a gap between the legs, however, it does not look pretty! If you're thinking that it doesn't matter, I'm adding specifically for you that WOMEN POUR OUT URINE THROUGH THAT SEXUAL SPOT! Phew, isn't it? Even humans have a joke about why their mythical creator let the waste flow down through the middle of the entertainment zone. Oh yes, people use sexuality for fun rather than reproduction! Oh, and WOMEN GIVE BIRTH WITH THAT LEG GAP TOO! The male sexual organ is also between the legs and also is used for pouring urine out, as some of you may have guessed. That organ looks like a small antenna - and to me the idea of pouring out urine or reproduce through an antenna seems shitty! In addition, it would be incorrect to assume that it is antenna as beautiful as we Siriusians have on our foreheads. THE MALE REPRODUCTIVE ANTENNA EXTENDS, RAISES AND LETTING OUT A MUCUS WHEN EXCITED - AND YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THE SPRAY OF THAT HORRIBLE LOT OF REPRODUCTIVE MICROORGANISMS FROM IT!

If you feel sick, take a break - eat a human dry food called "kit-cat", which is fortunately don't made from the animal called CAT as are also human super strong building machines called. I already shared my experience with the C creature, do not miss it... But that human dry food snack can be dangerous if you have problem with digesting glucose.

Human conjugation - specifically for sex, driven by their strange drive for too much reproduction - goes something like this. The male behaves suspiciously nicely to the female and when her responses look promising, he keeps getting closer. The man is BRINGING PROVOCATIVE SYMBOLS TO THE WOMAN SUCH AS DEAD REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS OF PLANTS, he many times invites the woman to drink and eat, gives gifts, etc. The resulting couple then often WALK TOGETHER WITHOUT ANY GOAL OF THE TREK! People call "DATEing" correctly the whole absurd activity, which can be even months long. But sometimes it goes furiously fast! If a human suggests to one of you that he or she finds you interesting or even attractive and on top of that invites you to a so-called "coffin", then really refuse it! People also use the word for their burial capsules - big enough just for one human. So it probably won't surprise you when I tell you that the DRINK CALLED "COFFIN" IS AN ADDICTIVE DRUG AND FOR MANY KINDS OF NON-HUMANS IT IS POISON! If you do accept the relevant invitation, HUMAN SEXUAL BEHAVIOR BECOME SUPRISINGLY SOON! Yes, humans are capable of sexual behavior even with *partners* they hardly know and I heard there are PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEX WITH ANIMALS! If you're about to puke, it's your fault - I've warned you well in advance.

A chapter unto itself is human birth. First, human childbirth is full of effort and pain, and secondly, only the mother gives birth and feeds the child for frighteningly long time! The mother feeds the child with a liquid produced by her glands, which are in sometimes large bulges on her chest. I don't understand why people don't make that cheers out of this creational fluid of theirs. AND A MOTHER CAN HAVE MORE THAN TWO CHILDREN AT THE SAME TIME, LET GO OF SEQUENTLY - THEN EVEN MORE THAN HALF A DOZEN!

I will not refund the entrance fee to fainted persons - as you can see, the humas taught me their over-assertivity!

#humans are terrifying #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are confusing #humans are space raccoons #humans are insane #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are so weird #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2   ||   chapter 3 ||  chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day. 

It was hardly dawn. 

  Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

  The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

  Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did. 

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you. 

  When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

  Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move. 

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

  “On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink. 

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

  Keigo was a bit stunned by you.  

You were cute, one. 

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

 You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter. 

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work. 

  You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside. 

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk. 

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments. 

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop. 

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him. 

  Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

  Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you. 

  “You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost. 

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself. 

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

  Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted. 

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored. 

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body. 

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe. 

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider. 

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin. 

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

  For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw. 

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you. 

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could. 

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time. 

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you. 

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?” 

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying. 

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

  Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

  Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands. 

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold. 

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

  Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this. 

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten.  He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings. 

#salem writes #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x y/n #reader insert #mha x reader #my hero x reader #mha smut #hawks reader insert #my hero academia #bnha x reader #takami x reader #mha lemon

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher, The Bard and Their Guardian Angel Pt. 2/4

(Other parts on my pinned masterlist/AO3 - Geralt is still recovering from injury in this chapter and is not in the best place)

Geralt had died.

He was sure of it.

There was no way in hell that he’d survived the attack from the griffin, not without magical intervention and there had been no mages nearby. Yet he appeared to be waking up. His body felt like it had been torn apart and sewn back together the wrong way round, and was that… singing?

He drew a heavy breath and winced at the pain in his abdomen as he blinked against the light.

An elf was looking down at him with pretty blue eyes filled with concern.

“Geralt?” The man asked.

Fuck he had a beautiful voice.

Geralt frowned. The singing had stopped. Why had the singing stopped? He tried to sit up but the elf pushed him down again.

“Oh no. No, no. You stay down, witcher.” The elf insisted and Geralt obeyed.

He didn’t want to disappoint the man with the beautiful eyes and voice like a siren.

“Who…” He coughed out hoarsely.

“Jaskier. I found you on the road half dead, Geralt.” The elf squeezed Geralt’s shoulders to make sure he stayed lying down and then move back to his chair. “Mihangel, the mage who helped the healers save your sorry arse, gave me the griffin head. Honestly I’ve never seen something so disgusting in my life, but apparently you witchers need it to get paid. So, you’re welcome.”

Geralt struggled to process the elf’s words. He could hear them and he was sure they were important but he just couldn’t stop watching the man’s lips. They were chapped from where the elf had been biting them and every so often his tongue peeked out to moisten his lips. To Geralt it became the most important thing in his drug addled mind.

He did miss the singing though. It had been the voice of an angel, he was sure of it.

“M’ not dead?” Geralt slurred, the pain in his stomach was making him sick and his vision was already begin to blacken around the edges.

The elf shook his head. “No. By all rights you should have been. You’re lucky I found you, Geralt.”

“Hmm… pretty….” He heard his voice echo as his head fell back against the pillow and sleep took him once more.

_________

The next time he woke up his head was a little clearer. The pain had eased and he was able to sit up with only a little effort. He grunted as he pushed his back up against the wall. The noise woke up the brunet that was sleeping in a chair next to his bed.

The man had soft tousled brown hair and was wearing an expensive looking teal doublet that was soaked in his blood. The man must have been the one to save him. He moaned slightly as he woke up and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Geralt?”

Oh.

Geralt knew that voice.

He had been sure it was a dream, the elven man with the cornflower blue eyes.

“Hmm.” He agreed and stared intently at the man.

The tips of his ears were covered in soft chestnut brown hair but if he’d been pure elf then his ears would still have been visible. This was no elf. His sleep hazed mind must have just noticed the man’s bone structure and beautiful eyes and jumped to conclusions.

“You look better.” The man said cheerily. “Can I?” His hands hovered over Geralt’s bandaged torso.

Geralt nodded.

“The healers said that witchers heal faster than humans but I thought you would be asleep for at least a few more days.” The brunet gently pealed back the bandages. Geralt winced slightly as he felt the fabric pull at the scabbed tissue. He glanced down at the man’s trembling fingers, noting the calloused fingertips, a bard perhaps? “That’s incredible!” The brunet gasped. “There’s barely any sign of a wound.”

Geralt saw that the man was right, all that was left of the deep gash left by the griffin’s talons was a thick scabbed line.

“Where’s my bags?” He asked, his voice croaked dryly.

The man jumped up and hurried to the other side of the room. “These were attached to the horse.”

“Roach?”

“She’s stabled and being looked after, the dwarves have been the most gracious hosts, my dear.” The man dumped the bags on the bed next to him. “What did you need?”

“Potions. One for healing. Couldn’t take it before, too toxic.” Geralt mumbled as he pulled the pack into his lap and began to search for the right bottle.

“Too toxic?! Geralt!” The man tugged at the satchel. “No!”

“Yes.” Geralt insisted. “I’m a witcher, it’s fine.”

“Geralt!” The man whined.

“It’s fine.” He growled with a final tug. “But thank you, for saving me. I owe you…”  He trailed off hoping that the man would realise what he was asking.

“Oh yes. You weren’t very lucid before were you? Jaskier Pankratz at your service!” He grinned. “You called me pretty before.”

Geralt frowned. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did!” Jaskier insisted. “And you kept mumbling about elves and beautiful eyes, an old flame perhaps?”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, thanking his mutations for dampening his ability to blush, otherwise he was fairly certain his face would be betraying him.

“You know, an old lover of mine once said in the throes of passion that I had the beauty of an elf.” Jaskier mused with a delicate wave of his hands. “I of course, took it as a compliment, some of the most gorgeous people in the history of the Continent have been elves.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“So do you really think I have beautiful eyes, Geralt?” Jaskier’s fingers danced across his chest as the brunet stared at him through his eyelashes with those stunning blue eyes.

Geralt wasn’t delirious enough this time to admit it. Instead he pulled the cork from the bottle using his teeth and downed half the potion. It burned his throat horrible and he almost vomited the vile concoction straight back up but he growled and forced it down.

Jaskier gasped and Geralt followed his gaze. With the additional help of the potion the left over scabbing from the talons was pealing off his skin as his flesh visibly knitted back together. It itched like hell but he just laid his head back on the pillow and gritted his teeth until the feeling passed.

“That’s amazing.” Jaskier breathed reverently.

“When you get stabbed a lot it’s necessary. Witchers would be pretty terrible monster hunters if we didn’t recover quickly.” Geralt shrugged.

The bitter taste of the potion still lingered in his mouth. Some of his other smaller cuts and bruises that hadn’t been magically healed by the mage were also now fading away, only the largest of them would scar properly. He sighed. Another mark on his skin, just another sign of his own monstrosity and another oddity for whores to ask about.

Jaskier pouted. “Oh come now! Have a little self respect. You’re fucking brilliant. I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher. You must have so many stories to tell.”

“A bard?” Geralt asked, remembering Jaskier’s calloused fingers.

“Trying to be, just graduated. Didn’t realise people were such assholes though. Doesn’t fucking matter that I was top of my class or that I have degrees in all seven of the liberal arts. Noooo,” Jaskier rolled his eyes and flailed his arms in exasperation. “No they don’t give a shit about any of that.”

“Can’t say I blame them.” Geralt sighed wearily. The potion was already slowing him down. His body lulling him back to sleep so he could recover from the fast healing and the toxicity that was bubbling in his veins. Half the potion wasn’t much and he barely felt it but his body had already been exposed to a lot between the griffin and the mage, he needed to rest.

He fucking hated it.

Jaskier must have noticed because the brunet ran a hand through Geralt’s hair gently. “Rest now. I’ll look after your belongings until you are ready to leave. You’re safe with me.”

Geralt heard a low rumble in his chest that he wasn’t conscious of making as Jaskier’s hands continued to stroke through this hair. He let his eyes droop shut.

“That’s it, witcher.” Jaskier whispered quietly as he fell back into a deep sleep.

____________

Jaskier didn’t leave Geralt’s side very often during his week at the dwarven tavern. The dwarves were incredibly hospitable. Jaskier played a couple of sets in the tavern downstairs in the evening, the dwarves were particularly fond of his bawdier compositions and his new song about the mysterious Mihangel was well received. A few elves, gnomes and other non-humans had even slipped into the back of the room whilst he was performing. Jaskier felt pride in being able to bring the different species together but he did feel sad at the notable absence of humans.

Perhaps they were simply not welcome. The tavern did seem to be a safe haven for non-humans.

“Dulmur?” Jaskier had asked the redheaded dwarf behind the bar on his second evening.

“Problem, bard?” Dulmur grunted as he wiped down some glasses.

“Forgive my curiosity,” He smiled sheepishly as he tapped out a rhythm on the bar with his fingers. “But why are there no humans here?”

Dulmur laughed heartily. “Because they don’t want to be, bard. They don’t want to mix with us and that suits us just fine. Makes the place a whole lot cheerier for us without the humans fucking it up.”

Jaskier nodded. “So you don’t mind me being here?”

The dwarf put the glass he was cleaning down with a loud clunk. “Well to be honest, we all thought you were an elf at first, all that screeching about good for nothing humans.”

Jaskier gaped at the dwarf. “I do not screech!” He screeched and then pouted. “I have to look after my voice.”

“Talking of which, we aren’t letting you stay here free of charge, bard. Play us a song!” Dulmur clapped his hands and Jaskier hopped off his bar stall to begin his set.

That was a good few days ago and Jaskier no longer felt like an outsider in the bar. He treated them kindly and listened to their tales, in return they accepted him as a friend and ally. It probably helped that he did bear some resemblance to an elf.

His mother had always insisted that he was fully human, told him that it was just his imagination running wild when he noticed the similarities. He still wasn’t convinced but time would tell. If he did have elven blood then the years would treat him more kindly than his fully human peers.

Jaskier pushed the thought from his head as he fingers brushed over the strings of his lute. He let the music take over, washing his worries about the silver haired man upstairs away. It was a lively piece and required significantly more concentration to keep the melody and the bass line together on his lute, and that was before he even began to sing. Luckily the lyrics weren’t particularly taxing, lazy rhymes and a fairly relaxed pace. The remainder of his concentration went on working the crowd, dancing around the tables, flirting with the patrons to ensure some easy coin.

He almost dropped his lute when he turned round to see Geralt by the stairs with his swords strapped to his back and bags slung over his shoulder. No one seemed to care that Jaskier’s voice gave out for a few beats or that he wrapped up the song a few verses early. Before the last notes had stopped ringing in the air he’d bounded across the room to the witcher.

“Geralt!” He wanted to hug the man but remembered that spending a week by the witcher’s bedside did not make them friends. He settled for a slightly awkward pat on Geralt’s broad shoulders. “You’re ok.”

“Thanks to you.” Geralt nodded. “What do I owe you?”

Jaskier’s heart sank.

The life debt.

That was his to pay and his alone, the mage had made that quite clear! He fiddled with his lute strap over his chest before plastering a charming smile on his face.

“Oh no! Nothing at all, my dear witcher.” He squeezed Geralt’s shoulder. “Any man would have done the same.” He lied easily, he’d seen the town’s reaction to his pleas for help, he was quite certain he was in the minority when it came to respecting witchers.

“Bollocks to that.” Geralt grunted. “You saved my life, Jaskier. What do I owe you?”

“Oh well,” Jaskier grinned, he’d hoped the witcher would ask again. “If you insist.”

“Out with it, bard.”

“Let me join you on your adventures.” He begged.

“No chance.” Geralt grunted and began to move towards the door.

“No no, hear me out!” He chased after the witcher towards the stables. “I gave that griffin’s head to the alderman!” He called after Geralt.

Geralt growled and spun round. “What?”

“Mihangel gave it to me, honestly Geralt, I almost lost my lunch. Do people really ask for the heads?” He didn’t stop talking long enough for Geralt to answer. “So I thought, I can’t exactly bring a stinking dead griffin’s head into a tavern but what else to do with it? Take it to the man who ordered the contract of course! So I did. He looked a little surprised to see me, you know on account of me not being you, or a witcher, although I think I would look rather dashing in all that armour.”

“Focus, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed as he began to saddle up his horse, Roach he’d called her.

“Yes yes!” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m getting there, patience dear witcher. Well, I obviously don’t know how much you’d usually ask for a contract on a griffin, but I thought, you know, since you almost died and all, that the alderman was joking when he gave me fifty florens.”

“Bastard.” Geralt grumbled. “He promised me seventy five.”

“Ha!” Jaskier flung his arms out in glee. “I knew it! Luckily for you, I happen to be an excellent haggler. I told him I was there for the fight, that I saw how vicious and dangerous the beast was, that you had slain the mighty griffin only to realise that one of it’s talons had lodged inside of your chest, that you had been prepared to died to save the travellers to this delightful town. I was prepared to sing of your glory but the man coughed up a hundred florens before I had the chance.”

“A hundred?”

“That’s what I said, Geralt. Do pay attention.” He put his hand on his hips as the witcher mounted his horse. “So come on, witcher, let me come with you! I’m great with people, you need me!”

“Fine.” Geralt grumbled. “Where’s the coin?”

“I gave it to the healers and the dwarves at the tavern. Covered the room and food for whilst we were there.”

Geralt sighed. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

“Oh that reminds me! You haven’t eaten in days. Stay here, I’ll see if I can rustle up some supplies for the road.” Jaskier pinned Geralt with a firm look, not quite trusting the witcher to run off without him. “And I would like to gather up my own belongings, I do have a little more than my lute you know.”

“Hurry up.” Geralt tugged at Roach’s reins and slowly manoeuvred her from the stable. “I want to set up camp nearby.”

“Can’t we stay another night?” Jaskier pouted.

“Feel free, bard but I won’t wait for you if you decide to stay.” Geralt replied bluntly.

Jaskier took a deep breath, pulled his lute from off his back and pressed it into the witcher’s hand. “I am not letting you leave with this. I am coming back with food and supplies. Do not leave without me, witcher.”

Geralt stared down at the instrument in his hands. “I won’t.” He promised.

Taglist (sorry this was posted on AO3 last night but I was too tired to tumblr post): @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @dearest-queerest-nux @awitchersbard @genkitaco

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt whump #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing

[multishipperlove]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Fjord Characters: Caduceus Clay, Fjord Additional Tags: Unrequited Crush, First Dates, Except Caduceus doesn't know it's a date, And also Fjord is a terrible cook, Food, Miscommunication, Canon Asexual Character, Canon Aromantic Character, Happy Ending Summary:

Fjord tries to impress Caduceus with a home cooked dinner on their first date, but quickly has to realise that more often then not, things do not go as planned. And as it turns out, almost setting his kitchen on fire is not the worst part of the evening. Or is it?

_________________________

Fjord checked his hair for the third time in the last twenty minutes, nervously bustling back and forth between his kitchen and the living room and somehow getting stuck in front of the mirror every single time. The table was set, most of the food was done, the breadsticks were still in the oven, there wasn't anything left for him to do, and yet he couldn't get himself to just sit down and wait. Caduceus would arrive any minute now, any minute, and his nerves were definitely getting the better of him.

His phone buzzed, but instead of the “almost there” he'd been hoping for his screen greeted him with a message from Beau, a simple “hey, you can do it” followed by a thumbs up emoji, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes a little as he put it back in his pocket. He needed more patience, Fjord told himself, not dignifying Beau's message with a response for now, and instead checking on the breadsticks again.

Not ready yet. Were they rising at all? He wasn't sure.

When the doorbell finally rang it was the only thing saving him from answering Beau after all, and in less than a second he'd cleared his apartment and was already ripping open the door, not quite able to hide the dorky grin on his face when he saw Caduceus in his usual relaxed attire. Gray pants stained from the cemetery, the long sleeves of his shirt still bearing the marks of being around fresh soil and moss and flowers all day, and the smell of the Savalier Woods seemingly following him everywhere. Perfect, in Fjord's eyes.

“Did you work overtime again?” he asked, offering to take Caduceus' jacket as he let the firbolg step inside and carefully hanging it up beside his own. “I thought Clarabelle was taking your shift today.” “Ah, you know how it is,” Caduceus hummed in answer. “Sometimes there is more work than expected, and I didn't want to leave her alone with all of it. But I'm here now, so that's nice.” Fjord chuckled softly, leading him through the living room and to the table. “It is. I got almost everything done, too, so you can just sit down and I'll join you in a second.”

“Oh, well, thank you. That's very nice,” Caduceus agreed again, and continued talking while Fjord disappeared into the kitchen once more. “You know, I'm still a bit surprised you offered to cook dinner, I know you don't do this a lot. I would have been happy to help, too.”

Blushing a dark green and rubbing his neck a little, glad that Caduceus couldn't see him at the moment, Fjord had to admit he was right. “Well, no, I don't. But I, uh... wanted to do this properly, you know?” He picked up the first two plates he'd prepared, noticing with a grimace that the food had gone cold by now. But maybe cold didn't have to mean inedible, so he took it out to the table anyway. “I stuck to the recipes, mostly, so we should be good.”

He put both plates down and settled in his chair across from Caduceus, cheeks still feeling warm, and the calm smile Cad was giving him didn't help the matter. After a moment he realised he was staring, and also that the candles on the table were still unlit, making the dim light in the room seem more awkward than the romantic vibe he had been trying to go for.

“Oh, shoot, lemme fix this real quick,” he muttered, fishing a lighter out of his pocket that had once probably belonged to either Yasha or Beau, he wasn't sure, and quickly remedied that. “There, that's better...”

“Oh, yes, much better. Now I can see what I'm eating,” Caduceus agreed, sounding amused. As he picked up his fork and was about to dig in though, Fjord could see a brief frown cross his face. He looked confused. “Actually, what are we eating? This doesn't... I'm not sure what this is.”

Fjord winced a little, feeling his ears grow hot in embarrassment. “It's, uh. It's some sweet potato appetizer thing, I... alright, yeah, the veggies might have gotten a bit mushy, but I'm sure it's still good, so-”

Before he could make it any worse Caduceus already nodded, his tone reassuring as he answered. “Of course, I'm sure it is! I was not trying to imply anything else, my apologies.”

“No, don't apologise, it was a fair question. It turned out a little gray, I suppose.” Already resisting the urge to retreat to the kitchen, maybe under the guise of checking on the breadsticks again, Fjord picked up his knife and fork as well and cut a piece off the... thing, on his plate. At least there was food to focus on.

But as they both tried the first bite he got the next unpleasant surprise. The texture was awful, the taste non-existent, and he could see Caduceus pausing for a second before actually swallowing it down.

“Well, maybe with some salt-”

Fjord waved him off, deciding he wasn't as brave and spitting it back into his napkin. “Nope, this is horrible, you can say it.”

“No salt then,” Caduceus agreed, somehow still looking amused while Fjord was starting to regret ever inviting him in the first place. “But you said this was an appetizer, right? We can just move on to the main dish, it's all good.”

“Right, right... sure, let me just put this away then,” Fjord sighed, still giving Caduceus a smile though as he took the plates back to the kitchen. Some optimism couldn't hurt, and so far Cad didn't seem to mind the chaos all that much. He was willing to take that as a good sign.

Disposing of the appetizer in the trash can with a sigh he then put together new plates, taking the vegan fish out of the covered pan (a little darker than intended), getting the rice out of it's pot (was it supposed to be that soggy?) and just forgoing the veggies completely because those had already been part of the appetizer. The lemon sauce was the only thing he had actually taste tested though, and he knew that one was okay. It was edible.

Coming back to Caduceus he placed it down with a little flourish, smiling again as it got a laugh out of his friend. “Here you go. Something salmon adjacent, with lemon butter sauce, bedded on wild rice. I hope it's better than the last try.”

“It can only go up from here,” Caduceus replied with a smile, and Fjord settled down again. And while he wasn't wrong, it didn't necessarily make the main dish taste any better.

What was true for the sauce could also be said for the dish in general. Edible, but not great. The dry salmon substitute seemed to be in a competition with the soggy rice about which texture was worse, and the sauce was unremarkable enough to count as the best part of it all. Still, they managed some bits of not-awkward conversation while they picked at their food, and Fjord was starting to feel hope again, when Caduceus suddenly stopped mid sentence and sniffed the air.

“Do you smell that?”

It took him a moment, but then he realised it too. Smoke.

“The breadsticks! Shit-” Jumping up from his chair Fjord hurried back into the kitchen, having to tug his shirt over his nose almost immediately as the air got thick and his eyes watered from the soot that had gathered in the small room. But he found his way to the oven and turned it off, glad to see that they weren't any flames at least. Caduceus, who'd been trailing after him, had enough sense to check in with him on that first before he pushed the little window in the kitchen wide open, making it easier again to breath.

Still kneeling in front of the oven Fjord grabbed for a dish towel and pulled the rack out, seeing the blackened, miserable remains of what had once been bread dough. With a long suffering sigh he rested his head against the open oven door. “Damn it. I'm so sorry, Cad. This is all going horribly wrong.”

At this point he should have offered to drive his friend home, or just let him leave, anything that put him out of the danger of Fjord's own cooking, but he was hoping against his better judgement that maybe Caduceus hadn't given up on him yet, especially as the firbolg waved his apology off.

“Don't be, mistakes happen all the time,” Cad assured him, somehow still smiling throughout this whole disaster. “But I'm starting to think you could really use some help in the kitchen.”

He almost sounded amused, and Fjord would have been offended had it been anyone else. But with their situation being what it was he just scoffed and shook his head a little. “I'd say so, yeah. But since there's no saving this, and I know the fish tastes like shit too, how about we just order some take out?” he offered. “I'll pay, of course, and you can choose whatever you want.”

Caduceus considered it for a moment, looking around the kitchen, but then shook his head to Fjord's surprise. “No, you already paid for all these ingredients, and there's no sense in wasting them, is there.”

“Well, no,” he started, “but you can't honestly tell me you want to eat-” And he gestured to everything around them. The burned charcoal sticks of bread, the soggy rice still in it's pot, the mushy veggies. “This.”

“No,” Caduceus agreed, pulling a face as well. “But I'm sure there are enough of the original ingredients left to do something else with it, and this time we'll do it together.” Looking over to Fjord he saw his sceptical expression, and just smiled. “You'll see, good food isn't all that difficult. You were trying to make bread there, right?”

“Yeah, trying being the key word here,” Fjord muttered, finally picking the blackened dough off the baking paper with a fork to dispose of it as well. “But alright Houdini, teach me how to cook. What do we need?”

Caduceus smile grew and he reached for the discarded apron hanging over the door, tying it behind his back with practised ease. The sight finally made Fjord's frown disappear as well, and his heart lightened a little with his friend's willingness to take the situation in stride. Maybe a cooking lesson wasn't such a bad first date either.

“Alright then,” Caduceus hummed, “first of all we need a mixing bowl. Do you have any leftover yeast?” Fjord checked his drawer but came up short, not that it seemed to matter though. “That's alright. How about butter milk and baking soda?”

“Baking soda's the stuff you put in cakes and cookies, right?” Fjord muttered, brows drawing together as he checked his little stash of baking ingredients. “Yeah, I have that. And buttermilk's in the fridge.”

Seeming very pleased with that Caduceus then asked for an egg, some flour, and a little bit of butter and sugar to complete the dough. As he put it all together he told Fjord exactly how the buttermilk and baking soda would interact to let the dough rise, and why, unlike yeasted dough, this one didn't have to to be set aside and rest. But all those things went over Fjord's head almost completely as he watched Caduceus' finger knead the dough in an almost mesmerising pattern.

He wasn't done after that, either. Fjord expected the lesson to be over as the bread went into the oven (and boy did it already look better than his poor attempt at breadsticks), but Caduceus just turned to him with a cheerful smile and briefly wiped his hands on one of the towels. “Time for the main dish then.”

“Wait, really?” Fjord asked. “I don't have anymore of the vegan fish, Cad, and the rest... I don't know, I don't really know of any other recipes we could use.”

“We already agreed that's what I'm here for, did we not,” Caduceus reminded him happily. “Get me whatever vegetables you have left please, and we'll see what we can do.”

With a slight shrug Fjord did as he'd asked, coming back from the fridge with some bell pepper, red beet, and a handful of mushrooms. “This is what I got. Do you think the rice can be saved?”

“Honest answer? No. But cooking new rice would take too long, so we'll use what we have even if it's going to make the texture a little weird,” Cad told him, looking surprisingly pleased with the assortment of vegetables he'd brought though. “I'll show you one of my family's favourites, wild fried rice. The improvised version, but the next time you come over I can show you how to do it properly.” Fjord blushed again, rubbing the back of his neck a little. “Oh, sure, I'd- I would really love that, Cad. Here, let me help with the prep.”

With the two of them working together, cutting everything up didn't take more than a few minutes, and afterwards Fjord was once more happy to stand by and listen as Caduceus took care of the actual cooking part. It didn't take long for the kitchen to take on a rather pleasant smell again, driving the last few remnants of smoke and misery out, and while Fjord finished his last few tasks he looked back to Caduceus with a smile.

“Hey, Cad? Really, thank you, this has already been a way better evening than I expected.”

“It's nice,” Caduceus agreed, sounding just as pleased. “Again, I'm not sure why you insisted on cooking all alone, but I'd be happy to teach you more things in the future.” Fjord chuckled. “Hey, I already told you. I wanted to do it properly, this being our first date and all. I just wanted you to have a nice evening without having to work for once.”

“Yes, yes, our- wait, our what now?”

Fjord stopped what he was doing and looked up, seeing that Caduceus had paused as well, that confused look on his face again. “Our first date,” he repeated, slowly. “I... I asked you if you wanted to go out with me, Cad, remember? I asked you out for dinner, and then suggested I cook instead. And you said yes... remember?” The confused look didn't go away, and Fjord wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Oh.” Slowly though, understanding seemed to dawn on his friend, and the confusion made way for embarrassment. “Oh. No, I didn't- that’s not really- I’m sorry if I somehow lead you on?” he stammered, and Fjord wasn't sure if he had ever heard Caduceus stammer before.

“No! God, no, I'm just-” Great, now he was stammering too, and his face felt hot again, and surely this couldn't get any worse. “I just thought, you know, all the time at the temple, and at the diner, and... God, Cad, I'm so fucking stupid.” Fjord groaned softly, putting the spices he'd been getting ready aside and rubbing his face for a moment, trying to catch a clear thought. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. Or made things more clear, or... or something. This is on me.”

“Hey now, don't,” Caduceus replied, his tone gentle again, and at least not sounding as embarrassed anymore. “Don't do that. This is just a little misunderstanding, right? But if you would prefer for me to leave now-”

“No, please, stay,” Fjord replied quickly, not even letting him finish that sentence. He finally turned to face him again, leaning against the counter a little. “There's no reason for you to leave. I mean, the bread's in the oven, we actually got some decent food now, so... no hurt feelings, right?”

Caduceus was still frowning, but before he could speak up Fjord stopped him. “Alright, hey, I might be... a little disappointed. I can admit that. But I'm a big boy, Cad, I can deal with it, I promise. And besides, your friendship means way more to me. We're still friends... right?”

Eyes softening a little Caduceus stepped forward, placing his hand over Fjord's. “Of course we are. I never wanted it to be anything else, and again, my deepest apology if-”

“No, come on, we need to stop apologizing at some point,” Fjord chuckled, lifting his other hand to give Caduceus a gentle pat on the shoulder before he pulled back a little, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes as he ran a hand down his face again. “Both of us. As you said, it was a misunderstanding. Maybe in a few weeks we can already think back to this and laugh about it.”

“Maybe. But it's alright if you need some time for that,” Caduceus assured him, and Fjord just sighed this time.

“Yeah, maybe I will,” he muttered, giving Caduceus another smile in an attempt to seem reassuring. “But for now, let's eat. I do want to try that family favourite recipe of yours.”

Humming softly in reply Caduceus picked up the spices he'd been mixing, adding them to the pan and stirring it all in before he lowered the heat. “According to my mother, you would be in luck,” he told him, his tone still gentle. “This is supposed to work quite well against all kinds of heartaches and disappointment.”

“Oh yeah?” Fjord asked, his smile turning a little more genuine. “Next time you really gotta show me how to do it properly then.”

“Next time,” Caduceus promised, which was really all Fjord had needed to hear. As long as they stayed friends, as long as there was a next time to get together, to cook, or watch stupid movies, or something, it would be okay. He could deal with the rest. And as they settled down to eat, with the still warm, home-made bread, and the fried rice that was every bit as good as Caduceus had promised him, Fjord was glad to see most of the awkwardness between them leave again.

If a good meal could really help with smoothing things over this easily, Fjord thought to himself, he needed to learn to be a better cook.

#critical role #cr2 #fjord #caduceus clay #cr fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #ace!Caduceus #aro!Caduceus #first date #food

[beaflower77]

An Atmosphere Of Sorrow

“I’ll be back soon. I promise,” he insisted, “I have to investigate the fit and finish issue they stuck me with at the Assembly Plant. These damn build issues are a nuisance.” And he walked out, forgetting behind the black tattered briefcase he always carried. He kissed her lightly. She frowned. She had no choice but to let him go to work, and her back to that house. She sulked. 

Her mood being dark and uneasy, Dove crossed her arms, huddled herself further into her thick blue sweater and began dubiously walking back toward the front door. The harvest air was getting increasingly crisper each day, and her faculties more scattered. As he backed the old ‘72 Pinto down the gravel drive, the muffler backfired. Black smoke puffed behind. She hoped it wouldn’t burst into flames as old cars did, it seemed to be an impressively sturdy old car. For its age. 

“I wish you wouldn’t keep pouring money into that old crapper of a car,” she said against the chilly air. “One day Franklin,” she threatened the wind, “You’re going to find all those parts fallen off that rust bucket and lay scattered on the drive come morning. And no car for us to drive. Or blown up and burnt to a crisp.” Slowly Dove procrastinated walking back, stopping to smell the remaining magnolia on her way. Outside it was crisp, but still pleasant. Outside. 

Furnace had gone off. Again. She was lightly bundled in a tee, another shirt and sweater on top of that. House was still cold. Squinting at the out of date thermostat in the hall, Dove suspiciously tapped several times hoping to make the little red arrow move in a more positive direction toward 72. Today, maybe 82. No such luck. The thermostat still registered 58, and it wasn’t gonna budge. Sighing against nothing and feeling downcast Dove decided to check her luck with the furnace downstairs. It was the third time this week the power had gone out.

Tossing her slippers aside, pulling on last years christmas combat boots which Franklin had gifted her, Dove tromped loudly down, pulling against the chain attached to a bulb for some illumination. “Oh, that’s right. How quickly I forget. There’s nothing,” she said annoyingly. Forgetting the power outage, she fumbled through the dark, fiddling round to locate the flashlight. Her fingers finally found it. Clicking it on, looking around, she saw nothing out of place. However, sensing a shadow from her peripheral vision, Dove froze. She felt a fluttering of tight sensations inside her chest. Her skin prickled. With chest pounding, throat tightening, Dove’s psyche shrank. It was so much colder down here she noticed. Slowly turning her head, staring long into the dim, was a figure. A slim male figure standing against the bricked basement wall and dirt packed floor. Battered old brown hat on his head, waistcoat buttoned nicely, tan suit, hands by his side never moving. But his eyes, his eyes were sharp. And they stared directly back at Dove. Opening her mouth, Dove could taste the staleness of the basement’s air, she also knew she was breathing it in, and just knowing that made her chest constrict more rise and fall in rapid silence. The man continued to stare, she continued to stare. Too frightened to move, Dove almost forgot to breathe, and parts of her reasoning went out the window. 

Coming to terms there was truly something there, or rather someone, Dove’s gut clenched, and trying very hard not to embrace this realistic idea, Dove tried concentrating only on her breathing and forced her legs to move past his image, the scattered boxes, the washer, and look for the correct heating pipes on the ceiling. Making light of a squeamish situation, Dove insisted, “I don’t think you’re there.” And she exhaled just a bit while trying to calm down. Perhaps this was just a trick of the eye to convince herself it was from lack of sleep. A very large lack of sleep. Her breathing didn’t get any better, but her eyes felt so horribly heavy and tired and sore. She rubbed them. It didn’t help. “I really don’t like this house. I hate this house. I hate it here,” Dove grumbled. “Where is the stupid furnace?” She sense the apparition still there watching, “Don’t look at me!”, she forced out, not too convincingly. A headache began. And a frightening, horrid idea came to her mind. What if it were actually real? 

As Dove walked past, she considered was she just visualizing something that really wasn’t there, or was it actually real? Perhaps it was time for her annual eye exam. No, she had one just last year. Truly it was not easy to tell the difference anymore Dove thought, as her stomach lurched and her throat’s saliva dried. Feeling queasy and nauseous she put her hand to her abdomen. The smell was thick and swollen, it was enormous and it lingered. It smelt putrid, like rotted eggs broken and left sitting too long on a stove overnight, or maybe even a year. “Oh, my god,” Dove whined. “It stinks down here.” And lifting her tee, Dove covered her mouth and nose. “I’m going to tell Franklin there are dead rats down here. It’s his family’s house, he can look for their dead bodies. Not me.” 

Next she looked, which Dove had claimed she wouldn’t, the old man was still there. He watched. This time his mouth turned a slight smile. She turned quickly away, “I’m not talking to you,” Dove mumbled lowly, “I’m not looking at you either. You don’t exist. Just don’t be there, go away,” and she refused to look in the spectre’s direct path again. Just thinking this was all too real made Dove sick. Going about her business, finding the furnace, rattling the large overhead pipes into life or heat, nothing happened. Avoiding looking at the back wall, tromping back upstairs, Dove decided on a different tactic. Sleep. That usually solved all the world’s problems. 

Still his eyes followed. Still his smile remained. And Dove’s feelings of the macabre and fear increased and doubled with each creak the basement steps made against her weight. She turned her flashlight off. She wanted to heave. 

Heading back into the kitchen, Dove tossed aside her boots in lieu of warm slippers and checked the electricity again. Instead of flipping the light switch, she stuck the power cord of the toaster into the socket. All she received back was a phfist and a puff of black smoke. “Eww”, Dove said sourly. “Wonderful. Thanks a bunch. All I wanted was a piece of toast. Dumb toaster.” She pulled on the cord and a little blue zip of lightning came from the socket. “Ouch!” as she yanked her fingers back wrapping them protectively with her other hand. She grabbed a bag of chips and a half eaten donut left on the counter instead. Taking out the last of the juice from the warm fridge, Dove could now confirm the electricity was definitely out. Fridge warm, no light inside either. Complaining as she walked towards the bedroom, “Yeah thanks electric company for turning everything off. Again.” Yet for all her whining, Dove felt enormously better up here, than down there. 

Still things continued to plague her senses. But at least, the smell had lessoned. 

That blue electric zip should not have been there without electricity, Dove thought, but she didn’t let this fact invade her brain, for to do so was admitting defeat, admitting something screwy was happening in the house. Or with her sense of normality. This house, for all its newer additions and older rooms, with the old pully windows and creaky floor boards was unsettling, sad and distressful at best. Each time Dove walked into the foyer the sadness, the gloom hit her like a pile of bricks. Each room entertaining its own depth of sorrow, its own magnitude of heartache and woe, made such a dent in her emotional heartache sometimes causing her to tear and cry for no particular reason anymore. 

She sensed shadows of loss, of tears, tossed away dreams of love. And the regret, despair and gloominess enveloped her more each day. “Such a horrific combination. So dismal, so mournful,” Dove caressed the void and a sorrow unlike any she had known enclosed around her. “I feel so, so dreary and miserable, yet there’s nothing truly wrong or empty in my life, I just..” However during the lonely, desolate days she would roam, roam the halls, the half dusted, half empty rooms, feeling abandoned, nostalgic and soppy. “I wondered who lived here before. Or what they did, what words they used. How they lived, how they .. died. It’s just .. creepy here sometimes. It’s too overwhelming and disappointing.” Such despair and anguish was almost completely unbearable for Dove to fathom each day. 

Looking around, wandering each room, touching a doorframe here, stair banister there, looking over the intricate cornucopia of ceiling designs and motifs above, she tried not letting her emotions pool around her as her sweater did. Returning down to the kitchen sink, sticking her burnt fingers again under a cool stream of faucet water, “At least the water is still on.” When looking out the kitchen window, Dove couldn’t see any other house across the gravel drive. Was it just this house, this area? Did any other house have power outages as well, and as often? She decided it was too cold to walk down the drive and look. But then looking twice, Dove thought she saw a flicker. A flicker of something, or someone moved past the kitchen window. Pulling quickly back, eyes wide, a panic intruded her mind. Dove escaped to her upstairs bedroom and decided to isolate herself. Her mind which often played tricks here went with her, and stayed there till late afternoon.

When Franklin returned with a large order of take out, thoughts of a basement man, flickering images and her sad, despondent lingering thoughts had long left. Having her mouth load up on Chinese lobster with rice had not only filled her stomach but her heart as well with a well stocked amount of peace she hadn’t realized she had missed since morning. A steamy conversation took the place of uncomfortable feelings that night. 

But the next day arrived too soon.

By the morning the heat was back. “Hey, furnace is back,” Franklin sang out from a too hot shower. 

Dove was still under the heated mess of covers. “Hmm,” she sighed. She breathed in deeply, stretched, and rolled right back over. Hopefully they could go out tonight, at least that was her anticipated plan. Today she was not going to let any shadows intrude. Dove had work to do, and she had no plans to plunge into that basement again. But as she rolled over, she wondered, could Franklin sense these feelings, these shadows and imaginings, or was it just her? Probably not. Maybe she imagined. No, not. And fearing to ask, Dove would only hear in return, “It’s just your imagination”, or “You’re just tired, You’re working too hard.” “Perhaps it is just too real,” she might say back. Her eyes closed and sleep drew her back for more dreams. 

“I should be back early tonight,” Franklin whispered, kissing her lightly before walking out the door. “We’ll go out tonight, if you’d like,” came his suggestion. Dove smiled. The car backfired. And nothing was what Dove heard, deep in Rem sleep for once. Fragrant, slow steamy coffee with hot toast and jam filled her dreams. All reminders of the ethereal were long forgotten. For now. 

A solo steamy shower over, Dove vigorously rubbed her body, and proceeded with launching her wet hair down in front of her curled body and frisked it back and forth saying to no one in particular, “I’ve got lots to do today. No time for nonsense or nothing. Today we’re going to crack those eggs and get moving!” And a frisky, happy tone toward work began. She hummed along to her playlist. 

Straightening back up, flipping her damp hair over, something stood out from the corner of her eye. She spun! She started! Dove froze! Someone was standing there! Dove saw someone standing right there, in front of her! Right next to her, and she could see it clearly reflecting back in the mirror. “Ahh!,” backing up too suddenly, clinching, grabbing at her towel. Dove’s heart lurched, she felt it double thump loudly and even stop. Her breathe came rapidly, and a tiny dribble of urine escape down her leg. Dove almost fell into the toilet. The vision was gone rapidly.

The electricity had gone out again. The electric clocks blinked on and off. The sky outside cloudy, revealing hardly any sun made the bathroom gray and dismal. This was the third time in a week. And more than enough times to be caught off guard.

As Dove started freaking out, she went about gathering her clothes, flinging them on and called Franklin on her cell. As he stated answering her call, “Davenport here”,  heavy machinery noise collided with delicate cell coverage. He put a finger in his ear. 

“I can’t!” she claimed. “I can’t do this anymore! Franklin! Franklin, please come home! I want to go home! I don’t want to be here anymore!” Dove was emphatically blunt and direct. 

“Do what?!” he questioned, not hearing her clear enough. “Dove? What’s the matter? Where are you? What’s going on?!” As too much noise drowned Dove’s pleas and pain out, “Wait! Let me move out of here. Hang on!” And he walked away from the noise. “Turn off those cylinders! Make sure you leave those plugs on,” Franklin announced as he backed out of the plants’ all too clamorous building. “Ok Dove, what’s the problem?” He sincerely wanted to understand, for he too had noticed eerie things happening. He needed clarity, a definition of understanding, and of course she was there all day alone. 

As she waited for him to move, Dove rammed herself onto their bed and stuffed her body on top of the covers while trying to keep her head together. Her heart raced as she looked around, promising no more frightening shadows were in sight. Or listening to her conversation. “Franklin,” she tried first appealing to his intellect, “I don’t want to be in this house any longer. It’s uncomfortable.” When that approach didn’t get an immediate response, “Franklin,” Dove continued more forcefully, “It’s looking at me. The house is looking at me. It’s watching me,” she pleaded. “There are shadows, things, noises! I can’t stand it! I see them everywhere, I don’t like it, I don’t like it here.” 

“Dove,” was all he could strangle out. 

“No. No Franklin. If I stay another minute in this house, I will go mad.” She let that tidbit sink in. The phone connection was silent. “Franklin? Frank?”

Franklin went silent. “Dove, it’s just a house,” he tried convincing her. But he knew, he knew she also knew. He had sensed something creepy as well, just didn’t think he’d noticed it, maybe didn’t want to acknowledge it, but yeah, something wrong was going on. Something was wrong with that blasted house. He had promised his Uncle they would fix up. That was the plan. Fix it up as a favor, sell it, split the proceeds 80/20 for a better place. That made Dove happy originally knowing then they could afford the little place they had dreamed of last year. That was the plan. It was a good plan. It was.

“No!” Dove repeated firmly. “It’s not just a house! It’s, it’s everything, it’s everywhere! Franklin! This house, it watches me, everywhere! In the basement, in the kitchen! Franklin, in the god damn shower!” That got his attention. That was as close to creepy as it would get for Franklin. As much as Dove was concentrating on the phone, she also scanned the room. “No more. I can’t do this anymore. It’s creepy here, something’s wrong here. This place is not right.  It’s beginning to get like a shi  .“

“I’ll come home. It’s okay,” he cut her off. “Give me a couple hours to sort things out here. I’ll be home. We’ll talk. It’ll be okay.” Promising and calming Dove, getting her to subside a bit, Franklin ended the call, closed his eyes, breathed in heavily, finally admitting the house, that house was indeed a problem. A huge freaking problem. A problem he had to deal with, just like everything else right now he had to deal with. Making more calls, signing off on orders, rearranging and arguing with production managers, Franklin made it clear he was going home for the day. Early. To deal with that house. Maybe not. He would check Dove’s current mood, talk with her, then make a decision. Filled with fear of making a dreadful mistake, Franklin waffled. Still he had to go home, to that blasted mess of a house.

Dealings of that day dealt with, Franklin and Dove settled into a calmer, steadier albeit slightly downcast mood. Franklin took the rest of the week off, and both arranged themselves into a swift routine of mutual breakfasts, restoring and refinishing older sections of the house, and carry out for dinners. Still with menacing and threatening shadows lurking around corners, a much needed quieter unity now settled over the place, and both Dove and Franklin as well. 

It didn’t last long enough. The electricity went out again. Too often it seemed.

“Franklin, turn the heat up! It’s freezing in here!” Dove yelled from the kitchen.

“Heat’s off again!” he yelled back. “Grab a sweater! Get one for me too, would ‘ya!”

Hammering away on loose boards against a tight stairway, Franklin reached behind him for the remaining nails. Should he use the flooring nails, or the cut nails? Instead, he just reached for whatever was behind him, and as he did, so too did the icy hand which reached out to touch his. Feeling the instant frostiness, instinctively knowing it couldn’t be Dove’s, Franklin yanked his hand away, while alarmingly pivoting his head. As he did so, his balance was so severely lost and Franklin spiraled and tumbled down the cracked stairs to land with a thud! The crash was heard five miles away. His hip, elbow and side leg was going to pain him for an entire week or three. And he tried to right himself  while unclenching his jaw. “Oh, what the hell, for crap’s sake was that about?” he groaned. His movements slowed, and his vision spun and blurred.

“Franklin?!” yelled Dove from the kitchen. She ran, spilling the coffee off the counter. And slipped. Or rather was pushed. Gently of course. “Ugh. Son of a ...,” Dove began. Then remembering, “Franklin?!” Slowly she turned, picking herself up and wiped her wet coffee stained palms down her jeans.

“I’m okay,” he guessed dazed, simply too stunned to think of anything else to say, and looked up the stairs. A shadow drifted off. He thought he saw a shadow drift off. Between witnessing himself move off the ground, cradling his hands, and gazing toward the top of the stairs, “I guess I’m ok,” he reiterated. Looking at her soiled, wet pants, “What happened to you?” he asked

“I fell.” 

Franklin could only look on in befuddlement, with a slight dawning of dread.

Looking him over, “Now do you believe me?” Dove asked for confirmation. She wrapped her wet blue sweater closer. “Franklin?” He continued to look up the stairs. “It’s this house Franklin. It’s something here. Here. I feel so, so..” Dove could not continue her strange thought, only to relay to the cool, dispassionate air, “So much sorrow. So much loss and regret. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow.” Franklin stopped his upward gaze and simply stared at her aghast. An atmosphere of sorrow? He tried fathoming what she was talking about. Dove continued to stand and stare into nothingness. Franklin continued to stare at Dove. 

He felt somewhat, perhaps all was already lost. His thoughts now had turned into a confirmation of sorts. This was not the Dove he knew and loved. His Dove was strong, bold and independent. This Dove was becoming frail, skittish and scared. Her thoughts were turning inward lately, while trying to retain some control over her life, her mind. But her sorrow, yes her sorrow was akin to breathing in an atmosphere of sorrow. Franklin tried rescuing her. 

Making light of the situation, “Yeah, yeah,” Franklin admitted explaining. “Something touched me.” His speaking aloud made Dove to suddenly turn toward him snapping out of her own dismal thoughts. He continued, “It was something icy cold but I knew it wasn’t you. I guess I just freaked and moved too fast, and fell. I, I don’t know.” He rubbed his neck and back of his head for soreness. His leg hurt the most, a lump was forming. But he knew otherwise. It was definitely the house or whatever remained of its’ previously previous owners. Or something to that effect. He couldn’t sort it out. Didn’t want to. A feeling of direness overcame him, and again Franklin changed the subject, grabbing Dove’s hand. “Let’s eat. Indian? Italian? What do you feel like? You like sushi right? Let’s get that. I’ll order your favs, you get changed. It’ll be here in no time.” 

He was too afraid to ask how she fell.

Another day, another night. More shadows, More noises, more of the same upsetting, unsettling feelings passed between them and the house. They both had thought this night or that night would be their last night here. Neither made any attempt to move. Until one particular night late in the evening.

“Franklin?” whispered Dove. They had just settled in bed for an hour or so. “Franklin?” and she gave his arm a little nudge. Nothing. She waited. Dove cuddled down further in bed, squeezing herself closer to the heat of Franklin’s sleeping body. Try at she may, sleep wouldn’t come. Hearing noises, ticks, rattlings and other sounds she couldn’t place, Dove tried in vain to reconcile her restlessness with something other than the obvious. The house was unhappy. Rather quite unhappy. The emotional feeling was solid and freely roaming throughout.

As Dove nervously lay there listening to the unpleasant noise of unhappiness, of sorrow and dread, she twisted her body in such a way to look behind herself. A foreboding darkness surrounded her. And again she pleaded whispering, “Franklin?” while bumping him squarely on the arm. “Franklin.” Slowly his eyes opened. “I feel like there’s a big ball of badness coming.”

Upon seeing Dove awake and in a half crouching position, “What?” Franklin was half asleep and confused, however sensing her direness, her grief, pain and doom. “Dove?” again her asked. Turning, twisting and sitting up to touch her face, her arm, Franklin noticed what she was looking at. “What the..” He had to twist around in bed to look up and behind. 

Franklin always had the witless idea to place the head of any bed nearest the door. It was a dumb idea, a dumb thing to do. They always say never place your back toward the entrance of a door, you can’t see what’s coming. Well, again he had placed the foot of the bed facing the opposite wall and the head toward the door. Brainless. Dorky she would call it. He would admit for a long time the idea was dumb. 

Looking behind and up, Franklin could swear a pitch solid black silhouette of a man stood by the head of the bed. Only about three feet away. And stared down. There were no eyes this time, but they knew a stare even when it couldn’t be seen. Dove stared back parting her mouth just a little, letting her frosty breath come and go of its own volition. In, out, in, out. She dragged the covers closer forward, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the silhouette. 

“Close your eyes,” Franklin ordered. “Dove, close your eyes.” She couldn’t. Franklin felt her emotional dread, heartache and sorrow accost him all at once. He suddenly what it was to breathe an atmosphere of sorrow.

Grabbing Dove by both arms, “Look at me,” Franklin sternly directed. “Only look at me. Dove!” She did. “Don’t look at it,” commanded Franklin. “Keep your eyes on me. Only on me.” And Dove did. She never looked again in front of her. Continuing to stare only at Franklin however, Dove would never let go of the panic, the fright, the pain of the apparition. She also would never see the shadow blink, the unseen eyes glow, fading in and out of the dark, and never would see the shadow emit such loss, such wretchedness and torment of remorse. She never saw when it dissipated and left. But she did see Franklin, she saw his eyes, the bright gray light reflecting back everything which was good, kind and connected to her own. And she stayed that way for a very long time. 

After what seemed like a perpetual eternity, Dove’s eyes closed. And when they opened again, she was cradled against Franklin’s body, wrapped up warm in a multitude of blankets. And Franklin, still awake and alert. 

Smiling up at him, the phantom boogieman of last night long from her mind, Dove had the mindset to get up and make them both fresh coffees. “How about some coffee? I”ll make so .. “

“Pack your things,” Franklin earnestly stated. Dove’s look of surprise began a panic anew which was long forgotten again. Again he reiterated, “We’re leaving. Now. No coffee, no nothing. Pack your things, and whatever you want. We’re going.” Dove’s slow apprehension turned quickly to a fluster.

“But,” she stammered. “Raphael? What about Raphael?”

Flinging back heated covers, “I’ll tell my Uncle we don’t have the funds anymore to fix this place up. It’s no big deal. It’ll be fine.” Franklin leaned forward pressing his palms into the mattress, “Look Dove, I’ve been thinking. I thought all night. There’s something up with this place. Shadows, cold spots, unexplained noises. Actual spectres now? It’s getting to both of us. It’s weird. This place is too weird. I don’t want to say haunted, but. We need to leave.”

So he could tell, he could feel it too, he could. It was a welcome confirmation to Dove. A little elation, a little excitement, both permitting her mood to swing in a more positive direction, her cheeks heated, face and neck seeming to flush. With renewed spark of energy, Dove almost fell off the bed while detangling her feet from the mess of covers. “Ok,” she settled on. Just, “Ok!” And her mood rejoiced. Dove sprang into action.

No noise from downstairs that morning, no shadows popping round corners, no visions of strange basement men in beige suits smiling after her, Dove set about dumping clothing into duffle bags, folding towels and bagging up toiletries. Sifting through unknown drawers. Franklin boxed up books, kitchenware and car paraphernalia. The day jubilantly went by. Dove was even more blithe and enchanted while setting aside little trinkets and jewelry from the house she had found which agreed with her clothing choices and suited her mood. But the day also dragged on ‘till almost dusk.

The car packed full, bottles of water settled in cup holders, Franklin shut the trunk of the Pinto with a slam. Dove being almost elated, had just one last look behind her as Franklin encased himself within his seat belt, shutting the car door and turned over the engine. “Franklin,” she stated. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew what she would say. He himself had felt the pull from the house behind him. The pull and weight of anguish and distress the house sent off. He felt it come hurtling towards him, towards them. He wanted to get away now.

“Franklin,” Dove mentioned merely as a fact, “The house, there’s a something in the window. Franklin? Do you see it? Should we stay?” And as Franklin refused to look back, “Maybe we should stay,” Dove mildly suggested. It wasn’t a question. 

“No.” was the firm statement Dove was handed. “Buckle up. Let’s go. Don’t look back.” She didn’t. But still she was frightened not too. The car’s motor sputtered and sparked then finally thundered to life. It sped off. The road underneath tires crunched and battered noisily.

The driveway wasn’t long, just filled with dust and gravel. Their hearts weren’t breaking, just tired filled with regret, but also the need to escape and break free. The dusk encased them, twilight loomed, the house beckoned. The dusk, twilight and all encompassing night turned into ...

“Franklin look out!” screeched Dove, “Ahh!” as the vision swiftly bolted in front. “Franklin! It’s!, Its! No, Franklin!” as she shrieked over and over and over. She desperately tried to free herself from the strangling belt buckle. By now Dove was lost in her own screams and howls as night, cloud, dust and mist enveloped her. Those beautiful screams mingled and mixed with the beautiful vintage jewelry she carelessly stole and packed away.

Gritting his teeth, Franklin forcefully cranked the wheel to the left, while slamming on the brakes careening the front end into a pile of thickly placed trees. The sound and squash of the hood was solid and deafening. A flash blinded him. Hands grabbed for him. The smell of densely packed dirt and night and sulfur and decay splayed around them.

“Dove!” Franklin shouted, “Dove! Where are you?! Dove!” He was blinded for eons. “No!, No!, Dove!” he screamed over and over till there were no more of his own screams left to hear. 

When calls were left unanswered, when the ringing of the doorbell issued no response, when their car was later found, there were no answers to a multitude of questions. The sturdy little Pinto smashed against trees, woods extensively searched, unfinished house remodeling left abandoned, Franklin’s Uncle had no choice but to give up, and let the two young starlights go. 

No one would ever find the result of their screams. Ever.

#darkficsyouneverimagined #rooshalloweenficfest #Writing Challenge #Original Characters #Original Creepy Fiction #Quote 12 I Breathed An Atmosphere Of Sorrow #Prompt 20 Power Outage #Haunted Sydenham Manor #Hope You Enjoy A Long Creepy Fiction

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

ATDT!AU Post-Escape Halloween thing 1-5 (or more)

The little town at the base of Mt. Ebott was practically buzzing with excitement. Normally, due to restrictions put on by an H.O.A that feared and hated Halloween as “The Devil’s Birthday”, Halloween parties were rarely held unless they were in secret and at home. A lot of normal people in town were delightfully surprised that the power-tripping harpies in charge didn’t try to ban trick-or-treating or house decorating altogether but the townsfolk were often muffed at the strict rules surrounding it: “Trick-or-treating starts at 6:30 and ends at 7:00″, “Any house that puts up decorations before Oct. 28th and or leaves its decorations up after Nov. 3rd will receive a fine”, “All Outdoor Halloween decorations must be 5′ tall or shorter”. And other such ridiculous rules were put in place to shackle Halloween to the ground.

But what made this year so different? This year, Mettaton and Sammy Lawrence were holding what could only be described as the BIGGEST Halloween party/Haunted mansion romp in the history of humans, monsters, and toons. And thanks to the co-stars’ charisma, Mettaton hiring a really good lawyer, and the currently dominant half of Sammy being too darn spiteful to be contained by mortal means, the H.O.A. was completely powerless to stop them.

However, it didn’t stop them from trying anyway. This week, Linda Simmons (Not to be confused with Linda Stein, who is a lovely lady and an excellent member of society but is not human in the slightest.) Was the one to march up to the monstrosity of a haunted mansion in progress to demand to speak to the pair.

She clutched the cross on her necklace tightly in her hands as she saw the mansion in all its ‘unholy’ glory. As per Mettaton’s usual ‘go big or go home’ approach to his work, the damned thing looked like something out of someone’s nightmares! The mansion itself looked like an old-fashioned but normal one but the “Decorations”? Large patches of fleshy growths scattered all over and presumably within the mansion, giant human-like bones and organs growing in and around the area, thick black fluid being pumped into the monstrosity, and god knows what else!

Linda felt sick to her stomach when she walked up the thing, almost swearing that she saw the flesh patches writhing, as well as the bloodshot eyes embedded into the outside walls staring directly at her. In her other hand, she held a copy of the H.O.A.’s very strict rule book, clutching onto it as if it were a bible. She took a deep breath in, and pounded on the door.

“Just give me five minutes Darling!✨”

The mechanical menace whom she once adored on television before meeting him face-to-face oh too cheerfully responded over the sound of a roaring chainsaw and nails being pounded into wood on the other side of the door. After an exact five minutes had passed (she checked her watch between impatiently knocking on the door and tapping her foot on the ground), she was greeted with a giant calculator-like robot wearing a spiffy Halloween-themed suit complete with a tie with a bat pattern on it.

“Why Linda, how nice of you to drop by!”

She frowned at the superstar machine.

“Mettaton, are you aware that you’re violating the H.O.A. rules regarding Halloween decorations?! And what on earth are you two thinking holding a Halloween party here?! Do you have any idea how many noise complaints you’ll get?! The fine you’ll get is-”

“SShhhhhh”

Mettaton put his finger against her lips and Linda crossed her arms in frustration as he continued to draw out that ‘shush’ noise. His other arm extended into the room behind him and retracted with a large pile of papers in hand. He stopped shushing when the papers where in her face. She internally groaned at the sight of them, she hated it when people found loopholes.

“As you can see here, here, here, here, here, here, and here... Everything we’re going is completely within the H.O.A. rules and regulations.”

“What the?!” Her eye twitched, her face turned red, and after skimming through Mettaton’s papers, she spoke through gritted teeth “Okay, so your decorations are Technically allowed... But only because nobody would ever think that we’d have to make a rule against animating MEAT with black magic to make Halloween decorations... But what about the party itself?! And the noise?!”

While Mettaton did not have eyes at the moment, Linda could feel him rolling them at her.

“The ‘Party’ you claim we’re throwing is actually a charity ball that happens to have a Halloween theme to it, which as you can see under this section right here, IS allowed.”

She raised an eyebrow at the robot.

“What type of charity?”

The lights cut out, all replaced with a single spotlight on Mettaton, who was now dramatically draped over a piano while a sad melody on a violin began to play and white rose petals started to fall on him.

“A great tragedy had fallen on thousands upon thousands of innocent lives... Men, women, and even small children stripped from their homes, from their friends and families and all brutally slaughtered! And after death? Their souls broken, and forcefully fused together within a prison of vile ink made by a cruel man who cared not that he was turning nightmares into reality, as long as it meant his dreams come true... These restless souls have finally been freed from their devilish tormentor, and had grown attached to this world, no longer humans, but not quite monsters either. These people are lonely, confused and scared in a new modern world that while offers them new chances and opportunities, is a strange and foreign place that overwhelms them to the point where they want to go back. As having a familiar yet horrible home can be more welcoming than an unknown yet kind home at times. We’re raising money and awareness to help these poor people get back on their feet.”

 Linda bit her lip and rolled her eyes at Mettaton’s overly sappy and over-dramatic speech, she knew that the “people” he was referring to were most likely those strange, hyper, 2-D creatures and or those disgusting, smelly, ink things that took up residence inside Mt. Ebott after all of the regular monsters came up here.

“And what about noise complaints?”

The lights flicked back on and Mettaton threw himself off the piano in annoyance.

“Well, Sammy and I are constructing sound proof walls as we speak, so when the building is properly complete, there wont be a thing to worry about.”

Linda threw her head back laughing.

“Sammy is helping build them? Sammy Lawrence? That weird giant slug thing with the creepy mask? What does he do? Ooze on the wood that needs to be nailed up?”

“You can always ask him what he does yourself, Darling!” He pushed her down the hall and into the next room before slamming the door behind him while she stayed on the other side. “He loves to answer questions!”

“Hey! Don’t just shove me in here with that disgusting mass of slime! I don’t care if you’re a celebrity or not, I can have you arrested and- Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph...”

“Have a Banana, Hannah, Try the salami, Tommy, Get with the gravy, Davey, Everybody eats when they come to my house.”

While she was pounding on the door, she looked back just to make sure that the creature Mettaton often worked with wasn’t about to pounce on her and gnaw her limbs off, but instead of a giant black slug that had arms and reeked of spoiled meat and moldy art supplies, she was starring at a human being. And he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in person.

“Try a tomato, Plato, Here’s cacciatore, Dorie, Taste the baloney, Tony, Everybody eats when they come to my house!”

The man was tall and broad, his skin was clean-shaven, on the paler side and had healed claw marks all over it, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all (A fact which Linda was very thankful for.) which revealed that he had a large, strange tattoo on his back, and he had dirty-blond hair that was so long that it was only stopped from dragging on the floor thanks to the braid it was in.

“I fix your favorite dishes, Hopin’ this good food fills ya! Work my hands to the bone in the kitchen alone, You better eat if it kills ya!”

He had his back turned to her, singing to himself and clearly very focused on the task in front of him, but she happily watched his every move in awed silence. In addition to his body, the man also had a lovely singing voice.

“Pass me a winda, Linda,” he gestured behind him. “In all seriousness, if you could pass me that window pane behind you, that would be great.”

“Oh!”

Linda snapped up and instantly scrambled for the window he had gestured to.

“Thank you, that’ll do.”

The head of the PTA and member of the H.O.A. stared intensely at him, taking in every single detail of his front. From his black pants to his washboard abs- until he gently tilted her head up so that she was looking at the man’s face.

“You know,” He said teasingly with a wink. “My eyes are up here.”

His sharp-featured face that only had one long claw mark on it as opposed to the rest of his body, his bright white smile that she couldn’t find a single flaw in, and his eyes, his deep, dark brown eyes that just made her melt by looking at them. Oh sweet lord, this man was so far out of her league that she honest to god thought he was blind to be flirting with her.

“I’m so sorry sir!”

Linda blushed redder than a jar of tomato sauce and looked away altogether, trying to fruitlessly cobble together an explanation.

“MettatonpushedmeinheretospeakwithSammyLawrencebutyouwerehereinsteadandyouhaveareallyprettyvoiceandimsosorry-”

“Wait, Mettaton sent you in?”

“Y-yes..?”

“And you’re looking for Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“Well why didn’t you say so sooner? What do you want to speak with me about?”

She went from bright red to white as a sheet as soon as that sentence left his mouth. Now that she thought about it, didn’t the local news channel say that the ink creatures could shape-shift? Oh god, this man was that gross slimy creature... The gross slimy creature that she kicked in the face with her high heels the second she saw it in person...

“N-nothing!”

She then ran out of the house as fast as her legs could carry her, jumped into her car, slammed down the breaks and sped as far away as she could. Once she was possibly miles away from everyone, she buried her face into the car horn and screamed.

Back at the haunted mansion, Sammy let out a long held sigh of relief.

“Thank fucking God she’s finally gone, just listening to that harpy’s voice makes me want to bash my head in against a wall.”

“Oh my...” The robot star half-dejectedly mused. “And here I thought the winds of romance would turn her cold, dead heart.”

“Mettaton, my standards might be rock bottom, but they’re not in the mariana trench.”

#ATDT AU #bendy and the ink machine #undertale #deltarune #mettaton #pta linda #sammy lawrence #fanfic #edited

[erickrhav982]

The Length Of Time Does Vape Juice Last

Juice won't eliminate you if you vape it past its prime, so there are minimal wellness problems, however after too lengthy in high temperatures or straight sunshine, they will certainly turn darker as well as taste horrible. Nonetheless, there are certain aspects that will influence for how long the CBD juice will certainly remain in your system, such as age, your diet plan, and even your genetics. Vegetable glycerin is very similar to PG as a food as well as cosmetic additive.

Your throat requires to adapt to vaping, takes around 1-3 weeks. Vaping can seem harsh and also some fluids aggravate my lungs. It normally takes 24-hour after trying a brand-new fluid to determine it's a trouble. Pure nicotine is not good for you however it is not the pure nicotine that makes smoking so destructive. The share issues are generally related to pure nicotine. And also they are still on the expensive side but offer 60ml for the exact same rate of what a 30 ml made use of to cost.

The quantity of vape juices are continuous as well as there are a lot more new, vibrant flavors and selections being created on a daily basis. Vape juice manufacturers understand that vapers love range and also goal to satisfy their yearnings for brand-new tastes by integrating, trying out and checking out new preferences that attract from the globes of food and beverage. Number 32 is the juice from the line-up that makes it onto our checklist of the most preferred e-juice tastes in the sector, many thanks to its nostalgia-inducing funnel cake taste. Thick, dark vape juices often are abundant in taste however they can cause troubles if saved in a tank for extended time periods.

Selecting Nicotine Stamina Of Your Vape Juice.

In this process, it also gets darker and so does the vape fluid. Nonetheless, if a vape fluid begins looking much darker than it originally was or begins turning colors that aren't yellow and also brown, it is probably time to change your fluid. With appropriate storage space the typical vape juice can last for 2 years without issue. Seeing to it that the cap is sealed and also the item can be kept in a trendy, dry, dark location when not in use is important. By being mindful of expiry dates as well as working to save your vape juice well, you can make sure that the e-juice you are using has the very best flavors feasible. The time that vape juice lasts actually comes down to how much you vape. A larger container typically last longer and depending upon the amount of warm that you are making use of with a vaporizer, you can preserve ejuice too.

Standard tea-brewing methods put on e-juices as well.

E-liquids appear to be among the most essential constituents of vaping or e-cigarettes.

For instance, you can store it in a great place while this should be kept somewhere cooler than room temperature level.

I believe that there ought to be no vaping among youths as well as non cigarette smokers, however, cigarette smokers ought to try vaping as an option. or greatly changed the shade when contrasted to other e juices. E-liquid is ideal saved in its container in a trendy, dark area. Putting it in direct sunshine or a warm atmosphere can trigger your e-liquid to go bad quicker.

Festival Prepared: What To Vape At Music Festivals.

You may need to pay upwards of $20 for 30 mL of costs juice however the very same money may get you 120 mL of a non-premium e-liquid. While the majority of the times you do obtain what you pay for, this does not mean that there aren't some overpriced vape juices around, or thatlow priced juicescan't be of high quality. The base of vape juice contains propylene glycol and veggie glycerin, or else called PG and also VG. Some juices are available in 100% VG, yet this is not very usual-- just as 100% PG is also unusual. VG and PG likewise develop the ratio you will usually find on an e-liquid container, like 70/30 or 50/50 with VG usually being first.

All vape juice requires to be properly kept in an awesome as well as dark location. When revealed to light or excessive heat, the food secure materials inside can turn and also run out. These sort of glass vials are inexpensive to acquire as well as they can make your e-liquid look excellent. Simply ensure you identify your e-liquid in the new container and also make a note of the expiration date that was provided on the plastic bottle. The plastic containers that e-liquids been available in are commonly not ideal for long term storage space. If you intend to save e-liquid for a long period of time, it is recommended that you transfer the e-liquid to an impermeable, colored glass container.

If you want to put the liquid down the drain, make sure the liquid is diluted enough. To get rid of the bottle, examine whether it is able to be recycled and also throw away it accordingly. When e-liquid mores than revealed to oxygen, the pure nicotine levels can reduce. This is why most vape juices come in a sealed container and suggest being kept in an awesome, completely dry location. It can take up to several months for the nicotine web content of your vape juice to be influenced, however it is advisable to keep your high-nicotine juices in the container instead of in a tank.

[drabbles-n-doodles]

Flames and Starlight

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Multi Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga Relationship: Dolcetto | Dorochet &; Original Character, (more to be added as story progresses) Characters: Dolcetto | Dorochet, Original Non-Human Character(s) Tags: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Loss of Parent(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, As Story Progresses There Will Be More Anyway, Also More Characters and Relationships, Misgendering, But only a little

Ao3 Link

_________________________________________ 

Chapter 1: Love and Devotion Help All Things Grow

He is nine years old when his world is thrown into chaos. It happens slowly and yet somehow all at once, and both things are true. It happens in a car ride on an average morning of an average day, a morning where he’s happy and loved and telling his mother about the little bird that landed on his windowsill when he woke up. How he tried to draw a picture of it but couldn’t get the feathers right, and could she help him fix it later when they were back at the hotel, please? It is an average moment.

Until it is not.

Then it is screeching tires, his mother’s scream piercing the air, the smell of burning rubber and metal. It is blood on the pavement, on his shirt, on his father’s hands. It is the horn, busted and blaring while he covers his head to try and drown out the noise. It is waiting. Waiting while people yell from outside the vehicle, waiting while his eyes burn from the smoke, waiting for his mother to tell him everything is going to be okay.

But she never does.

He is delirious by the time someone pulls him from the wreckage, not even able to ask for his mother and father.

When he wakes, seemingly in a hospital room of some sort, and finally does ask for his parents, the serious men in white coats ignore his question. In fact, they ignore all his questions, puttering about his small room and acting as if he isn’t there.

It only takes a few days for him to recover from what little injuries he got from the crash. He asks about his parents every day, and every day his question goes unanswered until he realizes he’s probably never going to get an answer. When he’s able to walk on his own, they tell him he’s been picked for a very special job and they lead him from the little hospital room and down a long white hall to another room with big metal tables and cold seats. There’s a sour-faced little man with a clipboard who asks him all kinds of questions, and when they’re done the man smiles and tells him they’re going to give him an extra special number for a name.

He learns to hate that man’s smile. He learns to fear it.

His number is 24601.

_________________________________________

He is given a new room, but it is not a room. It is a cage with metal bars for walls and he is not alone, he’s pressed in with other children and adults like animals in a cage. They all have numbers instead of names, and his, which didn’t feel special when it was given to him, feels even less so now.

They are all scared of the men who smile, because the men who smile always come to pull someone from the cage, someone who doesn’t always come back. The ones who come back are never the same as before they were taken, and he learns that the men who smile like to hurt them. He does not learn why, because none of them know.

He makes a friend, another boy only a few years older than him, who has been here for months but still manages to find reasons to smile. In secret, under hushed whispers, they trade the names their parents gave them. The other boy’s name is Dolcetto, and the secret knowledge feels warm in his mouth like a taste of pie still steaming where it cools on an open window ledge. His own name feels like a death in his mouth when he says it, makes his eyes sting with tears for the parents he hasn’t seen in weeks. Together they come up with a new name, even more secret, and when they settle on Asher he learns the meaning of the word hope.

Dolcetto tells him about the farm he grew up on, about the animals his father taught him to care for, about the fights he and his siblings used to get into over things that seem silly now. Asher tells about the desert of his homeland that he hasn’t seen in over a year, about the nights that are so clear the stars seem to sing with the force of their shimmering lights, about the songs the wise-woman sang to make the rains come and breathe life back into the sands for the coming harvest.

When Dol asks him how anything can grow in a desert, Ash just laughs and repeats the words that were a motto of his clan.

“Love and devotion help all things grow.”

Dol asks him if he remembers any of the wise-woman’s songs, and Ash does- drilled into him from an infant they are as much a part of him as his eyes and hair- and they huddle together in their cage as Ash begins to sing quietly, falteringly at first, because his voice is young and the tune is centuries-old, but then others in the cage join in. Others who have the same striking, cherry eyes, the same moonlight hair, and Ash feels a glimpse of home. The glimpse is short-lived.

Two days later they take Dolcetto, and Asher bites three men for their crime before they can manage to pull the older boy from the cell. It takes five men for them to get Ash out and into another cage in another room, and he is left to stew in his anger and sadness, emotions too big for the small body that contains them. They deny him food as punishment, one day for each person he bit or scratched, and by the time he’s brought back to the group cell the fight has been all but starved out of him. He doesn’t make any more friends. He doesn’t have any more questions. Instead, he quietly sings to himself until his voice is hoarse, committing all the songs he knows to memory so that there’s something the smiling men in white coats can’t take away.

_________________________________________

Time passes, so much so that Ash no longer knows how long it’s been since he was first brought here. He’s older now, and of the group that was here was he was first shoved in this cage, he’s one of only a handful left. New numbers have come and gone, but even after all this time none of them have figured out what makes the scientists choose certain people over others. They know nothing beyond the knowledge that being chosen is likely a death sentence. Ash’s fight has returned, but it’s subdued, hidden even. He keeps it underneath his fear, close to his heart, ready to be used when it’s needed most. He doesn’t know when that will be, but he knows it’s one of the few things he has to cling to in this place.

He still doesn’t have any new friends, for getting close only means getting hurt, and the risk of losing someone again is a greater cost than he’s willing to pay. He still doesn’t know what happened to his parents, but he knows if they were still alive he would not have ended up here.

In his mind, he buries them and sings a eulogy song in their memory. It’s the only song he hasn’t yet sung out loud, and he likely never will. He imagines their bodies, given back to the sands that gave them life, and sends a silent prayer to Ishval begging his protection over their souls. His understanding of the death rites of his people are only a child’s knowledge, but it is all he has and he refuses to let it go.

There are many things he refuses to let go.

When the scientists finally come for him he does more than bite and scratch. One man’s nose is swollen purple and leaking red, another sports a black eye and nearly lost a finger to this child with fire in his eyes. The sour-faced man watches it all unfold from the corner of the room, clipboard in hand as per usual. Ash expects to see disapproval on his face, to be locked up alone again, but the man is smiling. He is not just smiling, he is almost manically gleeful, and it’s the most terrifying thing Asher has seen so far.

In the end, they manage to hold his arms and shove a needle in his neck, and Asher’s world goes black a scant few seconds later.

_________________________________________

Ash is eleven when he learns what happens to people who have been chosen by the scientists.

He wakes up in a room lit only by candles, lacking the harsh, fluorescent lights he’s grown accustomed to. His hands are not so much bound as they are chained to the floor by thick, stone bands. It seems excessive, he thinks, to put so much effort into keeping a mere child in one place. On the floor around him are strange markings, written with some white, powdery material, all contained in a giant circle. Beside him, within the circle and also chained down, are several large cat-like animals. They have spotty markings as if someone dipped their fingers in paint and then pressed them repeatedly upon the creature’s body.

They look just as scared and angry as Asher feels.

There are scientists all around the outside of the circle and its markings, taking notes on their stupid little boards and making comments about the thing they’ve drawn on the floor, and he listens even though he barely understands what they’re talking about.

“You’ve adjusted it to include getting rid of the restraints first, correct? The last few got horribly disfigured when we left them chained down, and this subject is a very promising case, we don’t want to waste her potential.”

“Of course, oh wait, there’s an error here.”

“I’m running low on chalk, someone fetch another box from the storeroom.”

“We should sedate her first, she’s a feisty one, did you see what she did to Henrikson?”

Their voices wash over him and he bristles, eyes fiery as ever at their purposeful use of the wrong words, but he’s got little time to dwell on them before someone comes up from behind to jab another needle in his neck. Instead of falling asleep, this time he simply feels heavy. His arms hang slack and his thoughts are slow, and it takes all of his energy just to glare at the scientists around him.

He’s in a thick daze when they all finally step away, far back from the edges of the circle, and that sour-faced man he so wishes would disappear kneels next to the circle, pressing his hands down against the edge of it.

There is a flash of crackling, purple-red light, arcing along the white lines on the floor like lightning jumping from one storm cloud to another. It’s bright enough to hurt Ash’s eyes, but his arms are too heavy to lift so he shuts them instead. He hears a scream and snarling, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire and he can do nothing to get away from the pain. The scream turns to sobbing before he realizes it’s his own voice making the noise. Everything hurts, so much so that he can’t yet open his eyes, and it’s all just intensely wrong in a way he doesn’t yet have the words for.

He feels, suddenly, like he’s being attacked from all sides by the sounds hitting his ears, by the scents in the air of candle wax, chalk, sweat, blood, and numerous other things, all combining to overpower his senses. He is afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find out what is really going on here, afraid that even if he sees he won’t understand.

Much too soon, he is forced to open them anyway by a hand shoving roughly at his shoulder, and when he does the world looks just slightly different. The room, which had been dim before and should be almost shrouded in darkness from the absence of the candlelight, was clear. Not so much illuminated as it was that Ash simply wasn’t hindered by the darkness anymore.

When he moves to feel his face, wondering if they’d done something to his eyes, he freezes at the sight of his hand. It is covered in thick, white fur, dappled with finger-spots like the big cats had been, and when he flexes his fingers instinctively he sees claws unsheathe themselves from what should have been his fingertips.

The scientist at his side, who had so roughly shaken him, is furiously and intently taking notes at a rapid pace, but Ash hardly notices him, focusing only on the gleaming weapons he’d been given. Then, as if by some kind of magic, the fur and claws fade, his hand shifting to return to it’s child-shape, and it is a moment before he realizes he’s been made to sleep again. He wakes in a new cage, with new people, some of whom he remembers from before they were taken, and for a moment hope fills his chest as he looks at all the faces around him. But Dolcetto is not here, and all he can assume is that his friend is gone forever. He refuses to let this new heartbreak temper his anger.

It does not take him long to realize the others in this cage are like him, they have been through the circle and were changed somehow, but he is still just a child and these are concepts beyond his understanding. Or at least they are until he sees one of the others suddenly burst into a hulking thing with gray skin and massive, blunt teeth that jut out of their face. They throw themselves against the bars of the cage, screaming in a voice that is a man’s and yet somehow… Not.

It’s several minutes before the scientists flood the room, but when they do they shoot something at the… Person? Monster? Ash doesn’t know what to call them, and somehow that is far scarier than knowing. The effect is almost instant, as the person falls to the ground, snoring. After a moment the change recedes, and they appear to be like any other man again. Knowing what they can become, what they all can become, sends a strange chill down Asher’s spine, and he has to fight the urge to burst into tears.

The man is quickly removed from the cage, taken to another room, probably to be left by himself. In Asher’s mind, it is fuel being added to the burning pyre of anger in his heart, and he stokes it in secret, content to bide his time until he has a chance to actually fight back against the injustices being inflicted in this cursed place.

#nocturnal emissions #Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga #Dolcetto | Dorochet #Non-Human Original Character(s) #Angst and Feels #Canon-Typical Violence #Loss of Parent(s) #Additional Tags to Be Added as Story Progresses #Misgendering #But Only a Little

[peaches-of-1]

Day 5 | Gingerbread

Black!Reader x BTS

You weren’t sure if this was really the best job for you seeing as it included talking to people a lot and explaining in excruciating detail how things went even though there was clear instruction on the back. What was worse were the children who tried to eat the Christmas display even though there was a sign that said, “DO NOT EAT” in red glitter letters. Parents wouldn’t even try to stop them.

Still, you needed a job since you lost yours recently for not accepting the creepy and borderline stalker advances of your boss’s son. So here you were in a clear apron and green sweater with comfy jeans and Converse on working in the newest addition to BigHit, its café. Unlike most corporate cafés, BigHit Café was not attached to the main office building of BigHit Entertainment. Instead, the dark wood and green marbled setting was near Han River.

This means it was where a lot of families came to visit as well as beautiful couples, not to mention foreigners and bloggers. It was a very varied clientele, so you were usually very busy. Especially today.

Because you were “one of the best workers”, the manager decided you’d be here during today’s LIVE episode of Run BTS which would be a competition to build the best gingerbread house within the span of 90 minutes. You had spent all day yesterday decorating the café to look like such a sweetened dwelling on the outside.

Today, you were in your Christmas attire and one of the judges of the competition along with a lucky fan and another co-worker. There were more cameras than usual, and you saw the seven beautifully exhausted idols walk through the door in their own holiday merch. Jungkook’s gray sweater had a picture of their logo filled in with a green and red vertical ombre. J-Hope was wearing the same one underneath his thick padded coat.

Jin’s and Jimin’s sweaters were that of the logo surrounded by a wreath. Because of Suga’s new significant other being Jewish, he was wearing the Hanukkah version, a blue sweater with a silver and lighter blue ombre BTS logo. Namjoon and Tae were the only ones wearing the Kwanzaa versions. It warmed your heart that the boys were doing their best to support all the holidays that ARMY might celebrate.

You were wearing the Kwanzaa one today, of course. That was one of the perks working here was that BigHit merch was part of your uniform, so you got one free shirt/sweater a month. It was also the reason why the aprons were clear, so that patrons could see what you were wearing and ask where they could get it.

Of course...you needed more than one shirt a month, so you had to buy merch in order to be in uniform. But like, other than bills what else were you gonna be spending your money on? BTS merch, duh.

Anyways, the fact that you were wearing the green version of the Kwanzaa sweater and Namjoon was wearing the black version got you a polite smile from him. Taehyung stood in front of you as you greeted the group and their managers...as if he wanted to say something. However, the young man stayed silent until he was called to get his makeup touched up.

Maybe you were just being paranoid or hyperaware, but it seemed like the guys were talking about you. However, they were nothing but professional. You and your co-worker brought out the now cooled down trays of gingerbread that had already been cut into the proper shapes. The very excited fan helped to uncover the selection of candies they could use on their houses.

“Can I use the cute employee too? I think she’d make my house look the best.” J-Hope said, a smile on his voice.

You looked over to Kara who was always getting hit on, but it soon clicked that he was looking at your face. That very same face soon got heated cheeks because what? Was J-Hope hitting on you? Nooooo. No. He was just playing around.

“That’s cheating to put something already so beautiful next to whatever you make, hyung.” Jimin replied with a giggle.

Jin then added, “Leave the pretty girl alone. She’s just doing her job. Besides, she should only be paired with someone who is almost as attractive as she is.”

Jungkook gasped loudly, “Oh, hyung, you just admitted that you think she’s more attractive than yourself. You’re just as bad as the others.”

The oldest member blushed, “I just, what I meant was--” he looked over at you and bowed. “I am sorry.”

“It’s ok. It’s fine.”  You replied and couldn’t help but feel your cheeks.

Taehyung blurted out, “We have matching sweaters!” with no follow up.

“Oh, look what you’re doing. You’re embarrassing her.” Suga said and then looked at you. “What is your name?”

“Y-Y/N.” You stuttered out. “Please call me Y/N.” You said with a bow and pointed to your name tag.

He said that he had already read your name tag, but just wanted to hear me say it. Your heart felt like it was just about ready to explode with all of their kind compliments as they began to focus on the competition. Even though you had thought you’d be judges, you were simply there to help the guys and do touch ups so that they weren’t horrible. The public would be voting on them tomorrow.

Was there even fridge space for three finished gingerbread houses? Each young man was basing it on whatever they wanted. The thing they were having the most trouble with was putting the pieces together. Even when a building went up, it would crash seconds later because of too much or too little frosting. You were called in when they had broken a piece past repair.

They could call on any employee or the fan to help up to three times, and it felt like your name was the one being called all 9 times. However, Kara was helping Hobi with his roofing and the fan gave team JinKook inspiration to do a Bt21 themed house. Kookie got excited and started trying to create the characters out of marshmallows and frosting while Jin decorated the actual house.

“Y/N-nim!” Jimin called sweetly. “Can you help me with something?”

You walked over and asked what they needed help with. He wanted to know how to do the dripping icicles on the roofing, so I started to do it for him.

“No, no, no. Show me how to do it, please.” He said, his grin becoming more mischievous by the second.

Taehyung smiled, “I’ll work on the gingerbread man. I need green frosting.”

He got up to do so while Suga asked me how the front was already. You told him it was very neatly done before showing Jimin how to get the pointed dripping effect using some of the discarded bits of spiced cookie to pipe out some examples.

“You are really good at this, Y/N-nim~” The mochi like blonde said with smiley eyes.

“Thank you. I think you have the hang of it, so I will leave you to it.” You gave a bow and then went towards Kara before being called by Namjoon who had his hand up.

If this was another broken gingerbread person, you were going to just tell him to glue it with frosting. Kara gave you a cheeky head nod to go to them. You felt bad for the fan as she was supposed to be the center of attention for this event.

He didn’t look at you in the eye as he asked, “I um, we are not sure what to do. I’m pretty sure we won’t be getting first place, but it just looks bad.”

“So just a general help?” You giggled.

“Yes, please.” He replied, scratching the back of his neck, getting frosting on it.

You just handed him a napkin and quickly fixed up the roof to let them put candies on dots placed on the empty shingles. It was the 500th time you had been doing it this holiday season, and it was just November. Him and J-Hope thanked you before you went back and sooner or later, time was up.

Then it was time for voting. The sloppiest of the three houses was the one Namjoon and Hobi made since they didn’t have artists in their groups. The BT21 house had collapsed halfway through, so JinKook quickly made a simplified but still amazing house to present.

Still, it was too simple compared to the others. The one that Suga, Jimin, and V made together was the perfect mix of the two houses. That’s the one that ended up winning.

The prize was a Christmas themed date with the fan. They were glad to get to know her better and ended up leaving with her. The others had to help clean up. You’d be putting their houses up for sale for an auction and the money would go to UNICEF. The winners had well hidden pouts behind their smiles, wishing they had lost instead while the losers were glad because they got to spend more time with you.

They kept asking if you needed help with things and to let them do things instead. However, Namjoon kept eating the candy he was supposed to be putting away. He gave you such a charming smile in return, you didn’t care that he was chomping away on inventory. It seemed that he was a nervous eater.

“I’ve been craving this taste for a long time, too.” He said and then helped to keep the door open while you put his house into the fridge.

It wasn’t long until you and Kara were bowing to the four remaining idols. There were gift bags for the both of you, and you were glad to get such compensation for a stressful overtime. Both of you were sure to go fast asleep since this was all you had to do today.

You wanted to go through your bag first. CDs, signed mini poster, a Christmas Cooky, and...a KKT. After typing it into your phone, you nearly chucked your phone across the room. One by one, the boys greeted you and asked if you would date them, all seven of them.

#BTS #OT7 #Kim Seokjin #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Kim Namjoon #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #Jin #Suga #J-Hope #JHope #RM #Jimin #V #BTS V #JK #Black!Reader #Reader x OT7 #OT7 x Reader #polyamory #food mention #shoplook #shopolook: peachesof1 #Icing #food #Bakery!AU

[nijiirorhyme]

Hello fellas! SO I posted this fic a while back, BUT I re-read it and I ended up being pretty dissatisfied with the final results of it. I also decided not to make part of a series anymore, so now it’s just a stand alone! Alternatively, it can be read here! I hope you enjoy!

Title: A Mundane Morning

Pairing: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3609

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Cooking

Summary: One morning, Hinata and Kageyama attempt to make pancakes. What could go wrong, right?

Just like his name and fiery personality, Hinata awoke when the sun had already started its slow— yet steady rise in the sky. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside him, it was exactly 9:30am. This was the usual time Hinata arose on weekends, as he liked to sleep a few more hours those days instead of getting up at six o’clock sharp to commute to school, and so did his boyfriend. He turned around to face the man that was laying in bed behind him, who was snoring gently, chest steadily rising and falling with every breath he took.

It was these moments that Hinata loved. The relaxing days they would both stay in bed and unwind after the week’s gruelling volleyball practices. Even though they were both bundles of endless energy, they still needed to recharge once in a while, and their bodies thanked them for it. He shifted his weight to rest on top of the latter, giving him a little peck on the cheek, receiving a grunt from him in return.

“Tobio,” Hinata whispered gently into his ear, like he always did when he woke him up. “WAKE UP!”

Kageyama instantly jolted awake in surprise, which was followed by rolling off the bed and face planting into the cold hardwood floor beneath him. He clawed his side of the bed, gripping onto the bedsheet as leverage to help himself up. His chin, forehead, and nose were a scarlet red from the impact, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Did you have to yell dumbass?!” Kageyama shouted. He was angry, but that was the usual Kageyama when Hinata did this to him anyways and every single time, he would fall for it.

Hinata snickered, covering his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, Tiredyama.” His words dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to kiss it to make it feel better?”

Instantly, Kageyama stopped in his angry tracks. His face was still red, but for a completely different reason. He sputtered out a reply, “Y-Yea actually…” This was so unlike the usual, uptight, yelling-in-Hinata’s-face Kageyama, that Hinata was actually taken aback. Who knew his boyfriend could be so timid and adorable?

With a spring in his step, the orange haired boy bounced to the other side of the room. On his tippy-toes, he closed his eyes and puckered his lips, when suddenly THWACK, an equally as thick skull collided into his. He lost his balance and fell ass- first onto the floor.

The shorter man held his head, which was throbbing in pain. He looked up at his boyfriend, who had a smirk plastered on his face.

“What’dya do that for?!” Hinata winced. That was definitely going to bruise over. Some said Hinata had a thick skull, but in his opinion, Kageyama’s was ten times— no, twenty times thicker.

Kageyama outstretched a hand. Hinata accepted it, allowing Kageyama to pull him up. “Good morning, Shoyou. Do you want me to kiss it better?”

-

Although the two of them had no intention to step foot outside of the house today, which they had all to themselves as Hinata’s mom and sister ran errands, they changed out of their pyjamas into their lounge wear. Hinata looked around his messy bedroom for his favourite shirt and a pair of shorts. After a quick glance with no sign of them, he searched through the pile of clothing in the far corner of the room. He stuck his hands into the pile of dirty laundry, sifting through it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled both articles of clothing out of the pile, slipping on the oversized pastel yellow t-shirt that he obviously stole from Kageyama and his favourite pair of shorts he received from Oikawa for his birthday last year. They weren’t particularly his style—with little alien heads scattered around them on top of a navy blue background speckled with tiny stars— but he was honoured that the Grand King would even give him a gift in the first place, seeing how he was dating the underclassman who was a complete pain in the ass to him.

It was time for breakfast and Hinata was ready to eat. His stomach growled violently in hunger, making its voice known through the loud rumbles that came from it. So, he made his way into the kitchen, where Kageyama already was.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata came down the stairs to find his boyfriend squinting at a piece of paper taped to a cabinet door at eye level.

Kageyama stopped what he was doing and looked up at his short boyfriend, who skipped the last step of the staircase by jumping from the second last. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He asked, squatting low to open the cupboard below the one with the piece of paper. He pulled out a large metal mixing bowl, “I’m making breakfast.” he stated matter of factly. 

Hinata furrowed his eyebrows. He was skeptical. This wasn’t the first time Kageyama had tried to make breakfast from one of the recipes in his mom’s cookbook that she always left in the kitchen. For starters, neither of them knew how to cook and every time they tried to, the dishes they made would end up tasting horrible. Secondly, Kageyama only had a certain amount of patience when it came to cooking. The second whatever they were cooking hit the pan or pot they were using to cook it with, the temptation to turn up the heat in attempts to speed up the cooking process was too great for Kageyama. He always gave into it, which usually resulted in billowing smoke clouds, burnt food, and the both of them running around the house to open every single window so the fire alarm wouldn’t go off. All in all, it wasn’t Hinata’s favourite thing in the world to do, but he admired his boyfriend for giving it his all. It was the thought that counted, not how it tasted in the end.

“Let me give you a hand at least.” He lightly bumped Kageyama out of the way with his hip so he could see the recipe. It was a very simple pancake recipe. It clearly and thoroughly listed every ingredient they would need and every direction they needed to take in order to create perfectly delicious pancakes. Hinata’s confidence in his cooking abilities swelled as his eyes continued reading down the page. If he and Kageyama screwed this up, they would be the biggest idiots in the entire world— no, universe.

Kageyama nodded in approval. Since he was grabbing every kitchen utensil they would need to make these pancakes, Hinata started on grabbing the ingredients they needed. He looked at the recipe again, reciting the ingredients they needed out loud to remember, “Flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, milk, two eggs, and vanilla extract.” He bounced around the kitchen, setting each ingredient on the island in the center.

Once everything was assembled, the two got to work. Hinata rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders. “Where do we start, Chef Kageyama?”

Kageyama’s face flushed a bit at the title he was given. He took the recipe down from the cupboard, cleared his throat, and read out step one word for word, “‘In a bowl, mix together all the dry ingredients.’ Sounds simple enough.”

Together, the two boys poured all the dry ingredients into the plastic bowl with less than accurate measurements. Hinata started to mix the concoction of powders together until Kageyama took the metallic whisk from his hand, tsking.

“You’re not mixing it enough. Here.” He motioned Hinata to hold the bowl down for him. The shorter man braced for impact.

Kageyama took the whisk in his dominant hand and as if he were using the might of Zeus, he stirred as fast as he could. Clouds of powder puffed up into the air as the contents of the bowl splashed over its rim.

Hinata coughed as he inhaled particles of it that were hanging in the air, “You’re stirring too fast, Idiotyama!” He grabbed Kageyama’s forearm and wrenched the whisk from his hand and said, “You have to make it more like zoom!”

Hinata kept the bowl steady by placing it between his stomach and his arm. At the same pace, the orange haired boy mixed at the exact same speed as his boyfriend, more powder further splashing out of the bowl and onto the counter. 

“No dumbass!! It’s more like whoosh! Give it to me!” Kageyama gripped the bowl and tried to tug it out of Hinata’s grasp.

“No!” Hinata put the whisk down and tugged against Kageyama, who was also pulling the bowl in his direction. “It’s like zoom!”

Kageyama, “Whoosh!”

Hinata, “Zoom!”

“Whoosh!”

“Zoo-”

The bowl slipped out of both of their grasps, it was airborne. All they could do was watch as it started its descent downward. It was as if the bowl was falling in slow motion-- their mouths agape at the spectacle. As it plummeted to the floor, a plume of the rest of what was inside blasted upwards, covering the two in a powdery mess.

The two coughed violently, the powder making its way into their lungs. Hinata’s mom was going to be pissed. Usually, she had the patience of a saint since her son and daughter were possibly the most energetic children known to man, but Hinata could already imagine her patience thinning upon seeing the disaster of a kitchen they left in their wake.

The orange haired boy looked around, there wasn’t a single spot around them that wasn’t dusted with powder; even his feet were covered with an avalanche of it.

“... That’s what happens when you go 'whoosh’ instead of ‘zoom', Idiotyama.” he added.

-

After trying to clean up the powder as best as they could, they measured out all of the ingredients and tried again. Instead of going ‘whoosh’ or ‘zoom’, the two compromised with a more moderate mixing speed, which they now dubbed in their language of onomatopoeias as: ‘zwhoosh’.

“What’s the next step?” Hinata asked curiously as he looked into the bowl at their combined dry ingredients, satisfied that none of it ended up anywhere outside the bowl.

Kageyama read out loud, “‘Make a well in the center and pour in the milk.’”

A simple instruction that could be carried out by a child, except, “What do they mean by ‘well’?” Hinata asked, picturing an actual well that people used in the olden days to get water from. How would they fit an entire one of those in their bowl?

“I think they mean something like this…” with caution, Kageyama carefully scooped all of the ingredients into the middle of the bowl. He cupped one hand around the mountain-like pile and used the other to carefully dig a hole in its center.

“Woah! You’re a genius, Kageyama!” Hinata exclaimed, sparkles in his hazel eyes. Even if Kageyama could be a dumbass, Hinata loved how smart he could be sometimes. “You stir as I pour the milk in.”

Not wanting to mess up like last time, Hinata followed the instructions to a T, pouring the milk into a measuring cup before plopping it into the bowl. The recipe called for one and a quarter cups of milk and to mix until it was lumpy, so Hinata added as much as they needed to get to that consistency, reaching his goal with careful precision. Then, he threw in a little bit of vanilla extract in and cracked two eggs, disregarding the little bits of shell that fell in as he did so. Step two was done and Hinata was proud that they made it one step further this time.

“What’s next?” Hinata asked, clapping his hands together to try and get the rest of the flour off of his hands. He took a whiff of the batter in the bowl, the light aroma of vanilla extract drifting into his nostrils. His stomach growled in response to the delicious smell of the batter. “Mmm, it smells good.” he thought aloud.

Kageyama didn’t take any further glaces at the recipe. “We cook them.” He simply said. He walked to the wall near the stove, taking one of the larger frying pans that hung off the rack and put it on the stove. He turned the knob of the burner and with a click, the burner ignited, gradually heating up the pan. He took the bowl of batter in one hand, then grabbed the ladle beside it and moved both beside the stove. Kageyama then scooped a whole ladle full of the chunky substance onto the pan.

“Oi! Wait, Kageyama! Don’t you have to butter the pan before you-”

Ssst. It was too late. The batter from the ladle pooled in the pan slowly, making a perfectly round pancake in the center.

“You idiot! It wasn’t non-stick!” Hinata exclaimed. He ran to the stove and turned it off, grabbing the pan as he did so to bring it to the sink. Using a bit of elbow grease, the orange haired boy tried to get the pancake off the pan, but to no avail. Pancake remnants were already caked onto it. If the incident with the first step was bad, ruining his mom’s favourite pan was even worse. Hinata turned to Kageyama, his face pale from the thought of his mom getting mad.

“L-Let’s use another pan…”

-

Hinata’s right arm hurt from scrubbing, but he managed to get the pan looking almost as good as it looked before they had first used it. He went over to the appliance rack, and took down a shabbier looking pan, handing it to his boyfriend, “Here, use this one.”

Kageyama put the pan on the stove and turned the heat up. This time, he buttered the pan and laid down the second pancake, the satisfying sizzle from the pan made Hinata’s stomach growl fiercely. These pancakes were taking ages to make.

Hinata took a spatula and lifted the edge of the pancake, glancing at its golden underside. It was time to flip it, but they weren’t going to take the easy way out. They wanted to flip it like professional chefs do.

The two looked at each other and as if they could read each other’s thoughts, nodding at each other in mutual agreement. Kageyama moved out of the way, feeling Hinata’s desire to flip the pancake emanating from him. Hinata took the handle of the pan in both of his hands, jostling it to shake the rest of the pancake free. With a flick of his wrists, the pancake lifted off the pan and spun in the air. Everything was perfect about it; his form, his technique, even the spin, except... that it didn’t land back into the pan. The pancake’s unpredictable course found its destination the wall behind the stove. It slid down the wall, well out of their reach. The two looked at each other again, an apologetic look making its way onto Hinata’s face. He laughed awkwardly as he ruffled his own already tousled hair.

“Whoops.”

Followed by the standard Kageyama insult, “Hinata, you dumbass!”

..

The easier method with the spatula it was.

-

After what felt like hours of struggling trying to make these pancakes, the two finally made a stack of pancakes that would sate their monstrous hunger.

Hinata was so hungry he could eat a horse. Looking at the golden brown pancakes that stared back at him, he licked his lips and reached over for the maple syrup. It was hard to wait for Kageyama, as he preferred to clean up before eating, but he got the “okay” to start eating first since he knew Hinata was hungrier.

He popped open the lid and poured a generous amount over his breakfast, watching the amber coloured syrup dribble over the sides of the massive stack of pancakes and pool onto the plate below.

“Thank you for the food.” He mumbled. Using his fork, he cut out a small triangular piece and lifted it to his mouth. When he popped it into his mouth, Hinata’s eyes went wide as if he were experiencing an outer worldly experience. His mouth was instantly met with the lightest pillow-like texture. The pancake’s flavour was subtle, yet effective as it danced across Hinata’s taste buds with the rich flavour of the maple syrup as its complementary dance partner. He never knew it, but the fruit of his own labour tasted twice as yummy. Not too sweet, not too dense, looks like they weren’t the biggest idiots in the entire universe after all!

“Are they good?” Kageyama appeared from behind him, resting his head on Hinata’s shoulder, a glass of strawberry milk in hand. Did strawberry milk even taste good with pancakes? Never mind. He wasn’t going to question his boyfriend’s love for the beverage.

Hinata nodded excitedly as he cut his boyfriend a slice. He brought the fork to his boyfriend’s mouth, which he accepted without hesitation.

Kageyama nodded in approval. While it wasn’t enough to make his eyes sparkle like Hinata’s, it was enough to remind him how worthwhile it was to make something for yourself. He turned to look at his boyfriend, whose smile was plastered so wide against his face as he ate another piece, savouring it. The sheer bliss on his face was something Kageyama savoured more than the pancakes. A small smile made its way onto his face as he sat down in the seat opposite of Hinata, joining his boyfriend in eating breakfast.

The rest of the meal went on without much conversation. Once they were done with their initial reactions, the two scarfed down the pancakes at an abnormal speed. Kageyama was eating so fast, that he almost choked on a piece of pancake. He smacked his chest in a fit of coughs to ease the painful sensation of swallowing a large piece too quickly, accompanied by downing his entire glass of strawberry milk.

-

Once the two of them were full, they relaxed on the couch, listlessly watching TV together. Hinata rested his head on Kageyama’s lap, as the latter languidly thread his fingers through his bright orange hair. The drowsiness of eating too much was heavily weighing on both of them as sleep slowly pulled at their eyelids. A comfortable silence settled over the two.

Hinata looked up at Kageyama, whose head was already drooping with sleep. He smiled. It was mundane days like these that Hinata loved the most. He wouldn’t trade anything in the world for them.

Hinata turned over so his head was facing towards Kageyama’s torso. He inhaled deeply, the delicate scent of lavender detergent coming from his dark blue t-shirt comforting him on his way to dreamland. With the soft mumbling coming from the TV in front of them and Kageyama’s scent, it was the perfect recipe for Hinata to fall asleep.

And just like that, the two of them did.

-

“We’re home!” His mother announced,

“Onii-chan!!” a bundle of energy took off her shoes with haste and ran through the house. “We’re home! Let’s play- Huh?” his little sister Natsu stopped in her tracks once she stumbled upon their sleeping forms. One of Hinata’s arms and legs were hanging off the side of the couch, snoring loudly with his other hand placed on top of his stomach. Kageyama didn’t move much in his sleep, his head craned downwards, mouth open wide with a long string of drool dangling down from one corner.

“Natsu, let them sleep. How about you help me make dinner?” her mother said softly, putting her index finger up to her lips.

“Okay!” Natsu beamed back quietly. She tiptoed into the kitchen with her mother, ready to help make a delicious meal they could have all together when the two of them woke up.

-

A Small Epilogue: What happened to the Pancake that went behind the Stove?

It had been a month since Hinata and Kageyama had attempted to make pancakes.

The sun shined on a bright and early school morning. “Shoyou! It’s breakfast time!” his mother called from the kitchen.

The orange haired boy pushed his blankets off of him and made his way downstairs to where he smelled an awfully familiar scent. It was the scent of pancakes.

He plopped himself in the nearest chair, yawning as he scratched an itch on his chest. “Good morning.” he slurred.

“Good morning, Shouyou.” his mother greeted him.

“Good morning, Onii-chan!” Natsu greeted him enthusiastically, bits of pancakes spewing from her mouth with every syllable. When was she not an energetic ball of sunshine? Sometimes Hinata thought that she had even more energy than him.

He went through the same process of drizzling the pancakes with sweet maple syrup and brought a piece to his mouth. It tasted great, as expected of his mom, who had several more years of experience cooking under her belt than him and Kageyama.

“Are they good?” She asked, turning off the kitchen fan to halt its humming. Right as she stopped the fan, an unpleasant stench wafted into Hinata’s nose. It almost smelled like rotten eggs, but with something else in it that Hinata couldn’t quite decipher.

Hinata’s mom audibly sniffed the air, but upon doing so, covered her nose in disgust, “Ugh, what’s that smell?”

Suddenly, it all came back to him. He remembered the pancake that he flipped that went behind the stove. He put his fork down and stuttered out, “A-About that…”

Thus, that was how pancake that was never heard from again declared its presence once more.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #kagehina #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #my fic

[gumrecessiontreatmentcost]

Gum Recession Natural Treatment

Are you suffering from unpleasant receding gums? If this has been your long-term complication after that today is the best time to take action as well as stop fretting about them once and also fir all. What's more appealing with alleviating this ailment is actually that all you need are actually easy and also natural home substances. Find out more about Treat Gum Recession

The gums participate in 2 crucial functionalities; this delicate cells is actually where you may find the roots of the teeth. Teeth are strongly installed on all of them and also help in maintaining them in location. As our team age, the scope of the gum tissues neighboring the teeth either pull back or wear off leading to gum recession. 

Treat Gum Recession At Home 

 Because of receding gums, the teeth ends up being more noticeable, thereby offering you a "gummy" smile, which is most often than currently, unattractive. Receding gums also causes the progression of pockets as well as gaps in between the teeth. As a huge surface area of the teeth are revealed, the dental cavity becomes more and more left open to bacterial infection as well as disease.

A much more apparent collection of teeth is actually not just unpleasant however often tend to be more very painful as well as conscious certain meals products in addition to climate condition. Gum recession not only triggers tooth pains, yet likewise fantastic damage to other teeth and also might even bring about long-term missing teeth.

Gum recession may seem to be to become a not-so-serious health condition because of the reality that it builds in a sluggish and also continuous manner. Early diagnosis is actually vital if you intend to address it immediately or if you desire to avoid it entirely.

Treat Gum Recession Naturally

The initial clear-cut indicator of gum issues is actually teeth level of sensitivity. The boost in visibility of a tooth or a boost in its own dimension is suggestive of receding gums at the same time. The other indicators that point of gum concerns are as adheres to:

-- tooth soreness or set

-- tooth level of sensitivity

-- rise in the size of the tooth/teeth

There are several reasons to gum recession:

Aggressive tooth brushing

The hostile manner by which one brushes the teeth may trigger significant damages of the enamel and gum disease.

Poor oral care

Unsatisfactory oral hygiene is one of the leading causes of receding gums. Plaque deposits in between teeth are actually recognized to result in certainly not just receding gums but various other dental concerns. As well. Make it an indicate brush your teeth a minimum of once daily.

Gum disease

The microbial infection of the gums is described as gum disease. Microorganisms lead to infection thus destroying the design that holds the teeth.

Natural Treatment For Gum Recession

Hormonal agent inequality

Hormone inequality is actually one culprit that causes the advancement of hypersensitive gums. This is actually specifically real amongst females who struggle with variations as well as progress in hormonal agents.

Smoking

Our experts are actually all familiar with the fact that smoking cigarettes creates a host of illness featuring cancer, respiratory disease, and also receding gums. The collection of tar because of cigarette smoking likewise implies the selection of cavity enducing plaque in between teeth.

Genetics

It is actually in the genes. Some individuals are actually  inclined to cultivating receding gums during the course of grown-up years.

It is actually commonly recorded that tongue as well as lip piercings predispose individuals to develop receding gums. This ailment might additionally be actually dued to the regular clenching and grinding of teeth. Hostile slashing while consuming also adds to the development of receding gums.

Treatment For Gum Recession

Treatment and also Management of Receding Gums

Slight instances of receding gums can easily be dealt with through methods namely tooth scaling and also origin organizing. A dentists will definitely have the capacity to alleviate the problem by alleviating the place under the gum line.

If left side untreated, significant scenarios of receding gums can be dealt with and also taken care of via surgical operation. Procedure is actually carried out to encourage regrowth of lost tooth cells as well as bone. Deepness decline and also soft cells graft regrowth are also operations that may alleviate as well as deal with severe instances of receding gums.

There are actually additionally relied on natural home remedies that can handle receding gums. Along with these helpful answers, you can easily avoid scrupulous operations completely. When it comes to intense gum infection, it is actually encouraged to contact your dentists before the implementation of natural natural remedy for receding gums.

Listed here are actually a few of the absolute most effective natural natural home remedy for receding gums. When integrated along with correct oral cleanliness, these remedies will certainly most assuredly assist you in rejuvenating healthy and balanced gums once more.

Gum Recession Treatment

Green Tea

Eco-friendly herbal tea has always been actually understood to be an incredibly helpful meals thing with a multitude of health benefits. Its own high antioxidant attention minimizes the spread of totally free radicals; unsafe compounds that result in gum disease.

Environment-friendly staff is actually wealthy in catechins, a strong anti-oxidant that promptly treats periodontal ailments. Catechins additional staminas the link in between the teeth and also gums. They also reduce swelling because of its own anti-infllamatory top qualities. A cup of eco-friendly tea day-to-day is ample to stop as well as delight receding gums.

Aloe Vera

The restoring as well as anti-inflammatory attributes of aloe vera make it a prominent remedy in treating skin-related problems. In the case of receding gums, aloe vera's anti-bacterial properties make it the exceptional treatment option to repair damaged tissues as well as efficiently prevent horrible microbial diseases.

Use aloe vera gel as mouthwash. Merely combine the gel along with some water. Swish the solution after brushing your teeth. The treatment of aloe vera gel directly on the damaged place is actually additionally effective. Preferably, brush and also floss your teeth thrice a time. Administer the gel as well as await 5 mins just before washing.

Gum Recession Home Remedies

Oil Pulling

Oil drawing is actually thought about as the absolute most effective option treatment for receding gums. It is likewise useful in the avoidance of receding gums and other oral illness.

Oil pulling is actually a procedure that assures anti-inflammatory impacts as it gets rid of toxins and also oral plaque buildup down payments embed between teeth. Furthermore, making use of sesame oil delivers a solid defensive layer over the teeth's area which subsequently stops the buildup of oral plaque buildup and tartar.

Preferably, the oil requires to be heated to a specific temperature. See to it that it is warm and comfortable, certainly not very hot. Make use of the oil to wash your mouth after brushing your teeth. Rinse as well as gargle the oil for 30 secs up to 1 moment. Swishing along with oil might appear awkward initially, yet you will certainly get utilized to the taste eventually. Steadily boost the period up until you may do it for 20 moments each session.

Natural Gum Recession Treatment

Coconut oil is actually additionally excellent for oil drawing. Its anti-bacterial properties aid in decreasing the possibilities of bacterial infection. It likewise helps in stopping tooth decay, cavities, and other oral health concerns.

You can easily utilize it to wash after tooth brushing. Start along with rinsing out along with coconut oil for 2 minutes till you can properly increase the length to twenty moments.

Eucalyptus

The eucalyptus plant possesses a lengthy listing of health advantages. its own crucial oil is much more strong as well as is understood to boasts longer, a lot more potent effects than various other weeds. Eucalyptus important oil is incredibly strong in dealing with microbial as well as disease-causing germs that may be thriving in the mouth. Various other oral diseases can additionally be addressed with eucalyptus essential oil.

Eucalyptus is superb in easing gum swelling and also irritation. Its own anti-inflammatory residential or commercial properties make it a sturdy element if you intend to take care of oral issues including receding gums.

Home Treatment For Gum Recession

Using eucalyptus oil in treating receding gums is actually effortless and also uncomplicated. Blend one to two drops of eucalyptus crucial oil along with one to pair of tablespoons of water. Soak your toothbrush in the oil answer and directly administer it on the gums. Massage therapy the answer for it to effectively permeate right into the gums as well as in between teeth.

Incense

The substance of the Myrrh tree is actually a great natural home remedy for receding gums as well. This ingredient is actually a remarkably strong ingredient that promises treatment and monitoring certainly not only of receding gums, however of other oral diseases as well. Along with frequent use, it may successful reward receding gums by avoiding more damage.

Merely crush the myrrh plant resin in to energy. You may additionally acquire powdered incense for this service. Mix the particle along with water up until it comes to be a mix. Apply the thick insert directly on the gums. Massage therapy the remedy for several moments, Rinse thoroughly.

Gum Recession Treatment Naturally

Clove Oil

Clove oil is actually customarily used to manage very painful toothaches. Clove and its own anti-inflammatory quality make it the exceptional substance to overcome off microorganisms, germs, as well as various other disease-causing microbes. It lessens the volume of swelling and also dramatically reduces inflammation brought on by receding gums. Clove oil is additionally outstanding natural remedy for those experiencing bad breath.

[gem-quest]

[ I N F E R N A  . . . ]

Real Name: Victoria Chang (goes by “Vicky”)

Age: 22

FC: Hoyeon Jung

Species & Class: Fire-Mage, Rogue

Guild: Obsidian

“Middle finger up, F you pay me”  —Blackpink, Boombayah  

Description of In-Game Powers: Inferna (Vicky) can generate and manipulate fire. She should theoretically be able to put it out, too, and control it in a more precise way, but so far, no luck. Over-using this ability results in dizziness and fatigue. 

In addition, Inferna has a natural affinity for fire-related ability scrolls, potions, and items. She is invulnerable to fire, though water and being underwater in general gives her up to -2 in defense.

Place of Birth: The suburbs surrounding Baltimore, USA

Appearance: Although Inferna’s natural hair color is black (technically, dark brown), she had it dyed red when she first got to college. In-game, she changes her hair color very often, utilizing a bunch of H-rank potions that are only there for cosmetic effects. She also gives herself a bunch of face tattoos in-game, just because she can. Currently, she has some of the lyrics from Blackpink’s DDU-DU DDU-DU tattooed around the area of her left eye, like so.

“I just think that it’s kind of lame that there isn’t even a Starbucks out here. I mean, all this fancy mead is fine and all, but sometimes I just really want a frap, you feel me?”

Places Most Likely to be Found In-Game: Inferna adores the Level 7 Tearoom. She’s always been keen on spilling the tea, both literally and metaphorically (plus the sweet treats don’t hurt!).

Inferna’s also a pretty regular sight in Yue City, trying to market her Inferna Sauce and Inferna Sriracha to beginner players.

Current Inventory: 

Flaming daggers x4

Regular daggers x2

Pocketknife x1

Silver dust x5

Dispelling amulet x1

Crossbow x1

Ignitium potion x2

Lock picking set x1

Ictuium potion x7

Black pearls x3

Blue pearls x3

“Inferna Sauce” (AKA hot sauce that tastes like Lao Gan Ma/chili sauce that she made using in-game ingredients to spice up the bland-ass white people food available in the marketplaces) x10

“Inferna’s Sriracha” (same deal ^^^) x14

Shortsword x1

Murmurationium x1

Assorted sweet treats from the Tearoom x22

+ assorted foodstuffs/drinks, and more coins than anyone would ever need because she’s such a goddamn hoarder

Strongest Character Trait: Flippant

“Leak college textbook pdf files, not nudes. Jeez.”

Strengths: Inferna’s a total boss at League of Legends (she was Diamond before she decided to check out Gem Quest), meaning that she’s pretty familiar with a lot of the game mechanics that GQ was founded on; in-game, she’s very good at appearing out of nowhere and then fucking off with whatever she decided that she wanted to steal; despite the fact that she thinks computer science is boring as all hell, she’s not bad at it - she hasn’t failed so far, which is a sign that she must be doing something right; somehow passing 3 years of CS courses means that Inferna’s pretty well-versed in a variety of programming languages (Python, Java, Haskell, Ruby, C++, etc); has a very good memory, despite her general flightiness; her in-game character is very speedy, if not always very stealthy; quick reflexes and good hand-eye coordination (Inferna would like to thank her eleven-odd years of playing League); a natural curiosity about the game has led to Inferna exploring all the little nooks and crannies of every level she’s been to so far, so she knows about many little secret passageways and the like

Weaknesses: In real life, Inferna’s primary motivations are 1) food, and 2) being petty, and this is definitely true in-game as well - the primary difference being that in real life, Inferna does not have the ability to whip out flaming daggers whenever she wants to; in general, Inferna is ready to throw hands way too often for it to be healthy; very reckless and impulsive; tends to jump to conclusions and rush into things without thinking it through; fickle as actual fuck; flighty and easily distracted; probably more fixated on trying all the pastries in the Tearoom than actually clearing the game; stubborn, headstrong, and bullheaded when she focuses on something long enough to decide that she wants it, no matter what - Inferna has a very ‘my way or the highway’ attitude; can and will pack so many meme and vine references into one sentence that it’s practically incomprehensible; what is self-control?; is avoiding all her responsibilities 24/7

Player Stats: Inferna’s got pretty high strength stats for her class, mostly because she decided to spec into fire-mage abilities (”Honestly, I just wanted to be like Uncle Iroh from ATLA and breathe flames from my mouth”), but her cautiousness is abnormally low for a rogue.

STRENGTH: 8

DEFENCE: 7

CHARISMA: 6

PSYCHE: 5

WILLPOWER: 7

CAUTIOUSNESS: 3

AGILITY: 9

ENDURANCE: 7

INTELLIGENCE: 6

LUCK: 5

Inferna’s general personality is better suited to being a Knight or a Rider, but on the intro screen she read that Rogues tended to get easy money, so she was immediately sold.

Personality: Well, to be perfectly frank, Inferna is...kind of a bitch (and, in real life, she was kind of an attention whore as a teenager, though she mellowed out a bit once she got to college). Inferna's perfectly aware of this, but she also like, doesn't care. With her sarcastic and irreverent sense of humor, Inferna is flippant and frivolous, always brushing other peoples' concerns and criticisms off with a breezy "eat a dick" (or something along those lines). Inferna is also a bit vain, especially when it comes to her hair, and has a very irreverent/ironic sense of humor (and she always appreciates a good nerdy science pun).

Although she really isn't the nicest person around, Inferna’s outgoing nature and spunky spontaneity (paired with a healthy dose of snarkiness) has still made her a couple of friends (and said friends are usually just as thick-skinned as Inferna can be). She's a bit too cocky and reckless for her own good, and she can be blunt to the point of being cruel. Inferna has no sense of tact nor subtlety whatsoever, and she means something when she says it. Inferna's not afraid of confronting someone head-on, and she has absolutely no patience for pussies who would rather subtweet her than talk trash to her face.

Flighty and fickle, Inferna's not always very good about texting back or making plans. She's extremely petty and makes way too many smart remarks for her own good, and has quite the temper on her - Inferna is both easily excited and easily angered, and can be rather capricious if she hasn’t had any coffee. However, she's also quick to forgive (if not necessarily to forget), and she can be surprisingly perceptive and observant sometimes. Inferna's a bit of a hypocrite in that she's not afraid to call out stupid bullshit when she sees it, but she's also very much full of bullshit herself, a fact that she will freely admit to. And although she doesn't seem to take anything seriously, Inferna can and will hold a grudge until the end of time if you piss her off enough.

Finally, some people can find her downright annoying, which Inferna is also perfectly fine with. She's quite self-aware, despite what one may think after interacting with her, and she's definitely not as clueless or oblivious as some people think she is-it's just a matter of if she cares enough to confront somebody about something. And, spoiler alert: nine times out of ten, she doesn't.

“I do things for two reasons, and two reasons only: 1) spite, 2) the aesthetic. That’s it.” 

Biography: Inferna had a pretty normal childhood, all things considered; she was a rebellious kid for sure, but her parents were patient with her and let her do what she wanted, so long as her grades didn’t slip (granted, her mom was pretty pissed when she decided that she wanted red hair on a whim one day and just went ahead and got it dyed, but beyond an annoying lecture, there were no other consequences). Inferna got into the gaming scene pretty quickly as a kid - she passed over stupid games like Call of Duty for ones where she could fuck people up and look cute, like League of Legends or World of Warcraft. 

Inferna got into a fairly decent public university in Baltimore, and was subsequently pressured into pursuing an undergrad degree in computer science by her parents. Inferna thinks that CS is alright - it’s not her favorite thing in the world, but it’s not unbearably boring like reading wack ass Shakespeare plays and then bullshitting a 2000-word essay about it - and so far, she’s passed all her classes. Which has to count for something, right?

Inferna decided to check out Gem Quest not long after it was released to the public, during the summer after her sophomore year of college. The only reason she really decided to was because she was tired of forking over $10 for each damn skin in League, and with a game like League, what was the fucking point if she couldn’t have a cute character? She slowly got more into it as time went on - the character customization options were absolutely gorgeous, plus she liked being able to actually sample the in-game foods - and it was strangely freeing, in a way, to be able to go on her own adventures and explore everything the levels had to offer. A way better use of her time than sitting in the library trying to debug her goddamn code, in Inferna’s opinion.

As Inferna began to take Gem Quest more seriously, she built a reputation for herself as That Bitch (TM).Thanks to her penchant of hoarding items and coins, she has gotten quite coin-rich, and thanks to her affinity with games that were similar to Gem Quest, she quickly advanced through the easier levels. 

Inferna was...surprisingly nonchalant, regarding G’s recent announcement that players could not freely leave the game anymore. She figures that if something horrible happens, she can always steal a relinquium potion from some rando, but until then, she’s just going to enjoy life. G told the real world about the development, Inferna’s assuming, meaning that her parents won’t be expecting her anytime soon. It’s selfish of her to just leave them out there worrying about her, really, but Inferna doesn’t want to go back to the real world, not just yet - one day, she’ll steal that relinquium potion and finish her degree like she’s supposed to, get a 9-5 office job like she’s supposed to, spend all her time on boring software development like she’s supposed to - but right now, she just wants to have some fun.

Relationships:

ENTHRONED - Inferna met Neddy for the first time in Finvarra’s Gardens (Level 10), which Inferna beat a long time ago but returned to because she remembered that the level had the most gorgeous pastries (she forgot that eating/drinking anything would trap her on the level for the rest of the game). Neddy reminded her of that rule, and Inferna spent an inordinate amount of time fawning over Jack like he was a puppy (before asking to ride him, which Neddy agreed to). Inferna thinks Neddy is super cute and generally likes both her and Jack.

Eventually: realizing that Inferna and Plagueis have run into each other before + Inferna has heard the rumors about him and Bloodbriars having the Supernova scroll, Inferna helping Neddy beat Level 30 because she thinks dodgeball is fun

MORNINGSTAR - Inferna met Morningstar in the depths of the Descend one day before the first event. Noticing Morningstar’s potioneering supplies, Inferna asked her if she had anything that would “make it feel like being high on weed, not this red gas stuff that’ll probably give me cancer” (Inferna’s not like, that big on weed, but she likes it on occasion, and kind of misses getting high). 

Eventually: form a small two-person party together, Morn being all starry-eyed about Inferna telling her about how she’s fucked around in general (going to college parties, getting absolutely wasted, getting twisted, just generally dumb college freshman shit), somehow realizing that Inferna knows Emily through a League Discord server

CHAR -

Playlist:

"DDU-DU DDU-DU” by Blackpink

“Fire” by 2NE1

“Friends and Foes” by Higher Brothers ft. Snoop Dogg

“Dalla Dalla” by Itzy

“Icy” by Itzy

“My New Swag” by VAVA ft. Nina Wang & Ty

“Solo” by Jennie of Blackpink

“Boombayah” by Blackpink

“Just Like Fire” by Pink

“High Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/ayzrules/leak-college-textbook-pdf-files-not-nudes-gq/

#char info #inferna #vicky #obsidian #character info

[rimeshard]

Auspicious Accoutrements Menu

[ EERIE ENDOWMENTS ]

Consumables kept in stock and in multiples. Bulk orders are also available.

[ Mind Freezy-pop ]

A frozen treat, shaped in a real* skull mold and designed to resemble a humanoid skull. Wrapped in wax paper. The Freezy-pop is a delicious frozen confection; an ice cream bar with a rich cherry-vanilla flavor, ribboned throughout with a thick cherry jam and then surrounded in a crackable white chocolate shell to mirror a skull. Our apologies in advance to potential Forsaken customers who may have, in their excitement, have mistakenly believed that the Mind Freezy-Pop was, in fact, a real brain.

• Fee: Ten silver pieces per confection. *Not responsible for shards of skull left from the molding process. [ Trio Finale ]

A triad of chocolate candies, hand-poured by chocolatiers and trained wights into shaped molds, formed into frosting-piped, festive skulls. The largest skull is a milk chocolate with peanut butter filling; the second largest is a white chocolate with fudge filling, and the third and smallest is a dark chocolate with caramel filling.

Each set of dazzling confectionery skulls comes dressed in a foil nesting, and arrives in a black paper box with a satin bow for easy gifting. No skull fragmentation, insects, corpse parts or eyeball jellies used! Only all-natural cocoa beans sourced from Azeroth’s finest culinary suppliers. These handmade chocolates make a fantastic and thoughtful gift for loved ones. Memento socolata!

• Fee: Five gold pieces per gift box. *All cocoa beans are ethically sourced from reliable culinary suppliers. [ Sugar-Spun Sindragosa Wings ]

A delicious treat wrapped in wax paper to prevent any spoiling, melting or soiling of delicate sugars. These cotton candy wings are formed along a curved and spiked folded-paper cone with several prongs - not just a usual horizontal stick -  designed to replicate the Queen of the Frostbrood’s immensely powerful skeletal pinions. There are layers of blue, white and black dyed sugars expertly heated, liquified and blown through a centrifuge onto all of the forks of the cone, generously coating it with several layers of depth.

Goblin confectionery technology has allowed us to have these treats imbued with the ability to cheerfully chill the consumer’s tongue when eating;  presumably by a food-safe chemical. Presumably.

• Fee: Fifty silvers per wrapped bag of cotton candy. [ Demonsbone Armor Polish ]

Said to be pilfered from the private stash of the Deathlord, this special armor polish is bespeckled with pulverized, demon-bone-laced and overall exceedingly coarse grade sand, sourced from beneath Acherus’ current holding pattern on the Shore. It’s extra exfoliating!*

This polish is full of gristle and grit, ready to take on the most stubborn stains and buff out the worst of your armor’s scuffs. Works great on bloodstains!

*Not recommended for use on bare skin or near open wounds due to the latent demonic energies found within the powdered bones of numerous hellspawn.

The inscription on the tin reads: “Strong enough for a Deathlord, made from several mortals.”

• Fee: One gold coin per tin pot of polish. When generously measured, there’s roughly ten applications of polish. [ Blind-Bagged Bone Shards ]

These are organically sourced bone fragments in a linen bag, lovingly collected from the bottom of emptied corpse wagons. Endless uses! Jab them into eye sockets! Embed them into the exposed flesh of foes, transmitting illnesses - or a fountain of ravenous mites! Easily employ biological warfare from the comfort of mounted combat! These shards are pre-diseased pre-packaged at random for your enjoyment.

These are what amount to be a gashapon of racial bones. Collect (nearly) all* of Azeroth’s races!

• Fee: Twenty-five silver pieces per palm-sized canvas bag. * those not commonly raised into service with the Deathlord’s forces will not be found within these bags (Nightborne Highmountain, etc.) [ Bottled Smolder ]

Eternally hot to the touch, this skull-shaped glass bottle spews a seemingly unending blackened cloud of hot ash and smoke, sourced directly from the bottoms of the ever-bellowing runeforges of the dread citadel Acherus.

A resourceful smith can add these ashes to their own forge for an extra burst of heat, or a crafty criminal can use the bottle’s nearly never-ending smoke to facilitate a quick getaway when needed.

• Fee: Twenty-five silver pieces per bottle. Bottles are swaddled in a cloth due to risk of breakage. [ Noth’s Special Brew ]

( MANDATED WARNING: Aged Like Fine Wine Very Expired )

The Plaguebringer was one of Kel’thuzad’s most trusted lieutenants, responsible for refining the process that distilled the souls of the living into the mindless shackles of undeath.

He also considered himself a pretty good microbrewer, if you consider a cauldron ‘micro’.

Simmered with what were once fresh skulls and plague gas, several Knights of the Ebon Blade smuggled away unbroken bottles of the end product for - well, who knows why. Nostalgia? Death Knights are odd creatures, to say the least. Either way, this stuff has the consistency of road tar. It’s a restorative - but intended for the undead. The living are not advise to taste-test it.

• Fee: 50 silver pieces per bottle. [ Death Rattle ]

Half of an ornately carved femur of indeterminate source. It has several holes bored into it, with phalanges loosely lashed through in intervals into its hollowed-out core, all secured with knots of thin leather strips that create a “rain stick” sound effect when violently shaken.

Previously used as an unending voiceless battle cry in large groups of skeletal soldiers, the low clatter of restless bones in the Rattle echoed across the berth of a battlefield as a murmur that suffused the righteous enemies of the Scourge with disorienting fear.

( * Rhythmically oscillating a Rattle before a battle fills one with D E T E R M I N A T I O N. )

• Fee: Four gold coins per Rattle. Repeated shaking of the Death Rattle will cause it to glow blue. (That’s its attack.) [ Fizzing Scream Soda ]

This deliciously light and foamy soda is brewed in a secretive location within the continent of Pandaria, using only the finest freshly harvested vanilla bean pods to give off the flavor of a chilly scooped cone of ice cream on a warm Midsummer day.

Bottled in a festively oblong glass canister instead of a usually-shaped tall bottle, the contents give off the impression of a grinning skull when opened by way of the fizz rushing to the cap and, incidentally, forming foam pockets that resemble eye, nose and teeth sockets. Due to industrialized Gnomish partnership in funding and engineering of additives and chemicals, this soda will stay fizzy every time the top is screwed back on and reopened; guaranteed to provide an effervescent drinking experience until the bottle is drained dry.

• Fee: Fifty silver coins for a pack of six soda bottles. [ Defective “Runeblades” ]

Have you ever wanted to know what it feels like to be a Death Knight, without swearing an unbreakable oath to the undying multitude? Perhaps you’ve envisioned yourself gallantly swinging a glowing runeblade into battle on a risen deathcharger, charging forth in the name of the Lich King to slay His your enemies? Now is your chance to do so! Pick up one of the Blade’s discarded blades, each with misshapen, maligned or otherwise inert runes, which are guaranteed to not horribly disfigure or corrupt you instantly upon its holding unlike SOME worthless fallen blonde-haired paladins who are not fit to be mentioned, much less considered to marshal the most ravenous host! Enjoy all the benefits of acting as a Death Knight without inflicting a swathe of destruction to sate a gnawing need to execute atrocious acts, commanded by He who rests unsleeping upon the Frozen Throne!

• Fee: Ten gold coins per ”relatively harmless”, but still very sharp, sword. [ Herbal Poultices ]

A prepared collection of medicinal herbs safely gathered from the Plaguelands, harvested and packaged by skillfully trained geists. Guaranteed to soothe the scrapes and bruises of even the most damned still shambling upon the face of Azeroth and beyond.

These linen-bag sealed poultices contain Black Lotus pods, hints of peeled and dried Life Root, and the usually impossible to find, emaciated petals and pods of the extinct herb Arthas’ Tears.

Skilled herbalists and physicians may be able to recover and repurpose rare seeds from these plants’ pods and casings.

• Fee: Fifty silver pieces per pack of two poultices. [ Lichfire Contacts ]

As an undead creature with a hollowed skull and ever-present lich-fire eyes, have you grown tired of bearing the same ocular colors day in and day out? Has the monotony of your pallid skin extended even to the sightless eyes with which you view an uncaring world that sees you as an ally of convenience at best, and a menacing threat to the living at worst? Is it not even worth having eyelids anymore? Change your worldview with these easily replaceable lenses! These are thick glass plates, hand-shaped by our sturdiest ghouls with the steadiest claws, guaranteed to not have any unsightly flaws to snag on your inner eye tissue! Designed to fit into a corpse’s emptied sockets with ease, these refractive dyed lenses will distort the colors of your lich-fire to entirely new spectrums of entertaining colors, while allowing you to retain your perfect vision!

[ NOTE: Do not attempt to use on the living, or those with functional eyeballs.  Does not enhance vision; lenses are cosmetic only. Do not stack multiple lenses for a rainbow effect. Lenses are susceptible to high heat, and will melt into your skull. Do not use in any combat situation; shards of glass are not refundable, especially when dug used out of an eye socket. ]

• Fee: Two gold coins per set of colored contacts. Custom colors may be ordered and shipped to an address of choice.

💀 [ Curios & Rarities ] 💀

Riley is pleased to be able to offer a constantly changing list of rare, unique items and odd curios at each market she attends. Due to the structure of that item list, those items cannot feasibly be maintained on two separate menus at the same time.

If you are curious as to what this list of items entails, please view the main catalog: http://tiny.cc/accoutrefence. ( Be aware that this is a large Slides catalog and may take some time to load! )

#accoutrefence

[fadingcoast]

Death Of The Lie  ||  Chapter 17: Asgard

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

Chapter 17: Asgard

Dearest Sigyn:

It is with great woe that I inform you that I have cut my hair. I imagine Gwyn will not be pleased with this, but I could never care for it as she did. And believe me, I tried. If I know you at all, right now you’re rolling your eyes wondering if my father had anything to do with my decision. I believe you know the answer to that, as he has been pestering me from day one to do this. I didn’t want to give in just yet, but even with the help of my magic, all I made of it was a mess. In this weather, though, it's probably for the best. It was getting a bit hot to maintain.

I have been in Asgard for so little time, but it already feels like decades. I want nothing more than to go back to Alfheim. To see you, to immerse in the Alfar world again. I miss the rivers, the lakes, the mountains… I imagine the berry fields must be ready for harvesting. It makes me sad not to be there to taste the first fruits. The castle is too quiet at night without a river nearby and at times I find it difficult to sleep. I had to conjure a fake one in my balcony just to get some rest.

Thor has become nearly unbearable in my absence. I had noticed his mannerisms becoming closer to Odin’s in the past, but without any opposing influence my brother has gone full brute. He talks often of the realms he wishes to keep under tighter control once he is king. Mother ensures that his rants don't go too far, but he treats her word more as a suggestion than wisdom. I fear he may one day become a victim of his own hubris, and the kingdom with him. I've not a clue what Lady Sif still sees in him but they are unbearably inseparable.

The news of our engagement is still quiet, as mother has not tested the waters of my father's approval yet. Odin appears to be somewhat relieved to have me back where he can see me and has kept his scorn to a reasonable level so long as I keep my nose clean. I suspect if he is not told soon he will either marry me off to a daughter of some random Aesir nobility and have us live in the castle or have me groomed to be the King's right hand when Thor takes the throne. It is with no exaggeration that I admit I would rather fling myself off the rainbow bridge than to do either, so I think I will have to tell him before long.

I hope to hear from you soon, as I know you are finishing up your last term at the Sanctum and I know you're terribly busy.

-L

.-

Dear Loki:

I don't have to tell you how beautiful the land looks right now, how thick the air is with the sweet fragrance of ripened fruits and honeysuckle. This land is in your blood, and you would sooner forget to breathe than to not think about it. I hardly get to see it these days but I like to go to your old room and sit in the bay window to study. At times I will fall asleep there and I will awake with a start, thinking it's you tapping on my shoulder, but it's Gwyn. Soon I will take my final exams, just a few years out. I don't know how you did it.

You don’t want to know what Gwyn’s reaction was when I broke the news about your hair to her. You’d think the world was ending. Honestly, as good as it looked, I’m surprised you didn’t do it sooner, it must have been so heavy.

I hope the selection of fruits and ale I sent with this letter are to your liking, and that they didn’t end up on your head. I think I will need a sketch or drawing of your room to get familiar with it and pinpoint my teleporting spells, as I am not as familiar with it as you are with my chambers. This will make our exchanges happen a lot faster and no one else can read what we write. It will also help me practice my teleportation techniques.

Maybe one day before long I can visit Asgard, with the King and Queen's permission, of course, after our engagement is known.

-S

.-

The steady exchange of letters Loki kept with Sigyn was full of funny anecdotes and jokes, and it kept him from losing his mind most days. Lucky for both of them, they had perfected a tracking system so they could teleport letters, portraits and presents back and forth, bypassing the regular system. It helped time pass and it kept Loki’s sense of humor intact on days where all he wanted was to escape royal life.

It wasn’t odd for Loki to wake up to a room full of blackberry infused ale, or daffodils in blossom, and some other seasonal foods. It was quite the feat to explain to Frigga why he had so many turnips in his room before he sent them all to the kitchens. But the Queen knew to keep his secret and would help her son ensure gifts from Sigyn ended up where they needed to go, though Loki did prefer to keep the ale for himself.

The letters were also full of less pleasant things. Loki’s nightmares had made a comeback, and they were getting worse. Visions of him in an icy tomb, surrounded by bright blue cold light, where the most frequent. Other times he would be surrounded by darkness, no wind, no sound, lifeless. Sometimes he could even swear there was something calling to him in the dark, but he would jolt awake, covered in frost, before he could figure it out. He spent most of his free time in the library, trying to find an explanation, but most of what he found presented more questions than answers and made no sense.

Loki could not tell this to anyone. Thor wouldn’t care, Frigga wouldn’t be able to help him and Odin would probably berate him for not controlling his powers. As if I could control them while asleep. Sigyn was the only person who he knew could trust with this, and though she was too far away to really help him, she still sent him medicinal herbs, sleeping potions (dreamless sleep was better than no sleep, after all) and comfort food he would not find in Asgard. In addition, she would also send copies of manuscripts she thought could help him.

During the day, Loki fell into a routine, keeping his mind busy to keep out of his own head and fill the endless hours of the day. He was obliged to attend certain diplomatic meetings but only as an observer and only to learn more about running the kingdom. Forced to wear his ceremonial uniform - horns and all - Loki loathed them, but was still far more observant of visiting ambassadors than he let on. It was him who picked up on it each time one would try to lie or trick the Allfather, and after some time Odin wanted to use his skill at every meeting. It was a thankless job, but Loki knew he had to make himself indispensable to gain the Allfather’s trust, so he performed his duty with a sort of reluctant sense of responsibility. For the first time in almost his entire life, Odin stopped insulting him at every opportunity, and replaced his mistrust with indifference. Loki was no longer followed by Odin’s blasted ravens, or by the Einherjar, everywhere he went.

Even while being used, Loki found a measure of freedom in Asgard at last.

.-

My Queen:

It’s been decades and I still can’t get used to being here.

I’ve been made very aware in more than one occasion that this is a world built for warriors, and I am not one of them. Thor has tried to include me in his tiny clique, but he insists on mocking my powers, unless he can make use of them.

“Some do battle, while others do tricks,” he says - but he’s perfectly happy with my “tricks” saving him, and then taking all the credit when an incursion goes well. In any case, is not like Odin would congratulate me, as he dislikes me using my magic when I‘m supposed to be using weapons and considers sorcery to be the cheater’s way. Nothing ever satisfies his impossible standards.

I must admit that I’ve used magic for more than saving my brother’s behind, though.

Fandral has gotten no more amenable, and wastes no opportunity to make crude remarks about my magic and my shapeshifting. This of course only happens whenever Thor isn’t around, the spineless worm. But I finally got my revenge.

In a recent trip, I suggested I used my female form, as the ruler of said realm was a fierce woman who wanted nothing to do with negotiations as long as Odin or Thor were conducting them. I thought, very accurately, she would be more lenient if a woman was the representative. To everyone’s surprise, except mine, it worked, and now interrealm relations are advancing.

That evening, in the revels of it, Fandral once again tried to make advances on me. This time, I was prepared. I had been working on a little something for some time, and it was the perfect opportunity to lace his drink with a very special concoction.

He spent the next two full days as a pig! His tiny brain managed to keep him safe from the slaughterhouse. Once the effect wore off, he tried to blame me for it, but he had no proof. Besides, it’s not the first time he has gone missing for a couple of days. Most believe his excuses just got out of hand.

I must say, potion making isn’t fun and it will probably never be my strong point, but the results are very satisfactory. Hopefully the goateed swine has learned at least a small lesson about underestimating me.

I believe the time has almost come for my father to be informed of our engagement, though if and when it happens it won’t likely be made public knowledge until after Thor’s coronation, which is at least another half century or more away. But it will stop Odin from discussing my possible marital prospects involving Aesir nobility for the foreseeable future. I will tell you as soon as I am able to do it.

-L

PS: Please, tell Gwyn her blackberry pie was delicious, and that without her here to tell me not to eat it in one sitting, I ate it in one sitting.

.-

My King:

Gwyn is both very pleased and very cross with your message. I could still hear her muttering about your sweet tooth and lack of self control well into dinner time.

I kind of want to feel sorry for Fandral, or at least tell you to make productive use of what you’ve learned. But I’m not going to, cause I am imagining a pig with a blond goatee, and I wish you could have kept some register of it.

As for our engagement, I have no better news than you.

My cousin, Princess Frikka of Vanaheim, has announced her betrothal and upcoming wedding. Every and all announcements will be on hold until after she weds and the new future king is presented. Her fiancé comes from one of the oldest houses on the realm and has been around the royal family probably since he was born. Surprisingly enough, they chose each other, which leads me to believe he must have some integrity and intelligence in him. Frikka is smart and strong willed, she wouldn’t suffer a fool.

I am guessing that for a ceremony of this magnitude and significance, Asgard will be sending Thor in Odin’s behalf. If you want me to, I can brew something to turn him into a goat.

-S

.-

Sigyn:

In an unsuspected turn of events, my father has decided I’m the one to represent Asgard in Princess Frikka’s upcoming wedding. Thor, as usual, wants nothing to do with diplomatic visits or ceremonial commitments, and my father is once again incapable of putting his foot down with him.

I do regret that you will miss the chance to turn Thor into a goat. But there’s always more ceremonies and weddings, including our own, where you can try that out.

I look forward to see you in Vanaheim next fortnight. The prospect of you being there and seeing you again is the only thing that will keep me sane.

-L

.-

The week leading to the event, Loki found himself excited by the thought of reuniting with Sigyn, and wanted to do something special for her. For this, he enlisted his mother’s help, as he had no clue of where to get the gift he had in mind.

Loki had discussed their unofficial engagement with his mother several times in length, and while he knew the Queen had indeed informed Odin, it was rather odd that the Allfather hadn’t talked to him about it in person.

Loki wanted to question this decision, maybe even talk to his father himself. Odin had always been very adamant in controlling everything in his life. Why all of a sudden did he seem to not care about it? Or maybe he was looking for a reason to forbid Loki from marrying Sigyn, thus stopping him from leaving Asgard for good? Loki wouldn’t put it past Odin to do such a thing. It wasn’t until much later that the reason behind Odin’s silence became clearer.

As much as they tried to hide it, Odin’s dwindling health was a well-known secret. The whispers and rumors had not gone unnoticed by Loki. This only meant the palace would be making arrangements sooner than planned to proclaim Thor as King. Loki couldn’t help but feel bitter about it: as usual, he was being pushed aside for his brother to shine.

Yet, he had no time to dwell on it. Diplomatic trips weren’t something Asgard took lightly, least of all now, when such an important ceremony was involved. Loki had to get a proper outfit, take time to study and relearn some of Vanaheim ceremonial etiquette, and find Sigyn her gift.

When the day came, Loki found himself rather excited by the prospect of spending a few days away from Asgard. He told himself the butterflies in his stomach were from the responsibility invested on him to represent Asgard and the Nine Realms. They had nothing to do with seeing Sigyn again, of course not. Still, there was a little skip in his step when he and Frigga made way to the Bifrost chamber.

As in all the realms, Vanaheim had a special landing site for the Bifrost. It was very similar to the Alfheim one, except the stones that made the circle were blue. A wide stone road led out to the capitol, while other smaller dirt pathways led out to several shrines. Loki knew these were teleporting spots, portals that connected Vanaheim to other realms besides Asgard. Loki made way to the white Alfheim shrine to wait for Sigyn. His fingers traced the white stone, covered in familiar leaf patterns, and smiled to himself. His nostalgia was interrupted by a bright silver flash coming from the inside of the shrine.

Loki straightened himself and stood by the door and waited for Sigyn to come out. And what a vision she was. Her linen and silk dress was several shades of green, with golden leaves embroidered on the fabric that shimmered in the midday sun, making it look as if the light was going through the foliage of a tree. The golden and white sash on her waist was modeled after branches, and matched the design of the tiara on her head. Blue, red and yellow jewels embedded in the metal resembled little flowers.

Rendered temporarily speechless, Loki shook his head. In an attempt to get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he bowed theatrically, taking Sigyn’s hand and kissing it.

“Your majesty.” Loki chuckled.

“Your highness.” Sigyn bowed as well, trying to stifle a laugh. “What’s with the antlers?”

“Har-har,” Loki said, unamused. “Ceremonial regalia. It’s supposed to be intimidating, I think. I plan to get rid of it as soon as I’m allowed.” Sigyn’s face was red, and her lips pressed in a tight line as she tried not to giggle. “Laugh now, get it out of your system unless you want to enter the Realm looking like a strawberry,” he teased, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry!!” She broke down in hysterics, holding Loki’s arm to steady herself. “I’m sorry…” Finally she took a deep breath. “I’m fine now.” Loki stared blankly at her, and Sigyn broke down laughing again, unsuccessfully apologizing.

Loki shook his head a took a deep breath, smiling despite of himself while he waited for Sigyn to stop. She had tears in her eyes when the fit finally subsided.

“Okay, I am fine now. We can go.” Sigyn smiled at him.

He smiled back offering his arm for her to grab it. “You look beautiful.”

Loki and Sigyn were led into a carriage that transported them to the castle. Conversation was light and amenable, and Loki felt like he was floating on air sitting next to Sigyn again, becoming aware every few minutes that she had grown in his absence and blushing at this observation. Sigyn gently placed her hand over his as they approached the castle, openly gaping at the sight of the carved crystal palace.

Clearly Asgard doesn’t have the monopoly on gaudy castles, Loki mused, both amused and impressed at the Vanir capitol. The entire entryway was a giant blue crystal that thrust toward the sky like a beacon, its edges perfect and straight. At the tip of the crystal was a smaller but no less impressive crystal that Loki assumed was a massive diamond, by the way it refracted the natural sunlight into sparkling rainbows everywhere the light touched. Even the stone pathway leading to the castle glittered with every shift of the light.

“Look at it,” Sigyn breathed, her free hand resting on her chest in awe. “I haven’t been here since I was a child and the beauty of the castle still arrests me.”

The carriage stopped in front of the castle door and a servant assisted both of them out onto the front steps, bowing low and gesturing widely toward the open door to invite them in. Loki offered his arm to Sigyn and she gracefully placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring stroke with her thumb.

Already the front part of the castle was full to capacity with guests from other realms. Loki recognized a few members of nobility from Alfheim and Asgard and cringed inwardly. He was expected to play the part of the royal representative but he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Politely greeting people along the way as they bowed their heads to him, Loki led Sigyn through the throng and past the crystal door frame and heavy white amethyst doors leading into the throne room.

Loki had learned in his studies that Asgard was unique in its showcasing of ceremonial events, so he knew that no one would see the newlyweds until after their vows, since the Vanir preferred privacy for their weddings. The party would take place later. There were only a few people in the throne room aside from himself and Sigyn, and he could hear muffled voices in an adjoining room, where he assumed the happy couple were tying the knot right then.

The throne room itself was just as grand as the rest of the castle they had seen so far, nearly every surface all gleaming crystal and perfect edges. It was almost disorienting to the eye, the stark contrast between the sharp lines of the room and the organic curves of the people in it. The ceiling sloped up into a point and the blue crystal caused the room to be bathed in blue light that made one feel as though the room was underwater. Perched atop a white crystal dais, the throne itself was carved from several slabs of gold-laced white quartz. It was the only cushioned surface in the room, as the King likely spent a fair amount of time sitting on it. While beautiful, it was a kind of cold beauty that Loki found rather abrasive compared to the lush and green lands he had grown up in.  

Sigyn’s hand squeezed Loki’s arm and he turned to see her practically jumping up and down with excitement after seeing someone. She looked up at Loki with a smile before bounding off to greet a woman Loki recognized as her mother’s sister. He had met her a few times during his stay in Alfheim and knew she and Sigyn had a close bond.

Excited chatter began to filter from the ceremonial chambers and Loki supposed it was nearly time for the couple to make their entrance. As if on cue, more and more guests came from the foyer to mingle, and Loki suddenly felt as though the air was getting thicker by the second. Whether it was the dense group of people, or the flickering blue light that filled the room as the sun raised higher in the sky and which reminded him of his dreams, he could feel a chill brewing in his chest and he had to get out of there quickly before he made a scene.

As subtly as he could, Loki slipped through the crowd as the new Vanir Prince and Princess emerged amidst loud cheering from the ceremonial chambers, followed by the King and Queen and a High Priestess. His fingertips tingled with cold and he gasped for breath when he finally found a second door that led out to a balcony overlooking the castle gardens. Quietly he approached the railing and closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the river below. Surely no one would notice him gone, even with the conspicuous absence of the ridiculous horns he had to wear.

Loki leaned on the railing and willed his breathing to slow and tried to ignore the clamor of voices insides. His eyes flew open in surprise when he felt a hand grasping his. Standing there patiently, her hair and skirt blowing gently in the breeze, was Sigyn, her soft brown eyes full of concern. She stroked his hand with her thumb and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you okay?” Sigyn meant it sincerely, and took his other hand in hers. “Want me to go back in with you?”

Loki considered this for a moment, and shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Just stay here with me.”

Sigyn returned his smile and leaned against his shoulder, still holding his hands. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and Loki could sense his tension evaporating more as he moved his hands to pull her closer. Warmed by the sun, Sigyn’s hair smelled like roses, and the scent reminded him of all the time they spent together in Alfheim, the bond they shared, and the future he hoped to share with her.

“I nearly forgot,” Loki mumbled, freeing one hand to dig in his leather pockets. “I have something for you.” Finally he found it, and pulled it out for Sigyn to see. A quiet gasp was all Sigyn could muster when she saw the thin but elegant gold ring, the design made of intricate knots interwoven with branches and leaves.

“I promised you a real engagement ring, remember?”

Sigyn nodded wordlessly, her mouth still hanging open, eyes misting over. She held up her left hand and Loki was touched to see the original ring he had given her, a gold band from one of his braids that was covered in scuffs and scratches. He replaced it with the new ring, which fit perfectly and would last longer, and Sigyn grinned wide and stood up on her toes to press her lips to his. The sudden kiss surprised Loki but he held her like that for a few extra seconds before she took a step back to admire the ring.

Her smile vanished, however, when she looked past Loki toward the door.

“Erik.”

<< Chapter 16  –  Chapter 18 >>

.-

@igotloki @xalgaliareptx  @christy-winchester @silverhart93 @claiming-loyalty-to-loki @honeybournehippy @unseelie1963 @mischievousbellerina @manager-of-mischief @angryowlet @thelittlestlittlecutiepie 

#Loki #loki fanfiction #loki helason #loki laufeyson #Odin's A+ parenting #DOTL #Death Of The Lie

[boghermit]

every question with the number 2 in it :3

For Salem and Kaz! Unless you want me to do another character (I love doing these so that’s not a problem) 

SALEM

2. Gender identityMale (He’s transgender) 

12. Own any pets? At home he has a lot of farm animal friends, in addition to the reindeer his clan herds. 

20. Clothing / aesthetic Often wears vests, scarves, and white button up shirts / undershirts. Also wears items made of animal fur and skin. If I had to describe his aesthetic in a single phrase, it would be “bard-druid multiclass.” 

21. Fav foods(s) and drink(s) His favorite foods are baked fish, fried potatoes, and spice bread / cake. His favorite drinks are milk, sweet juice, and more milk. 

22. Fav colorVarious shades of purple 

23. Fav genre If we’re assuming music, then folk. If we’re assuming books / movies, then epics. 

24. Fav season In his homeland, spring. In the warmer areas of the world, autumn and winter. 

25. City or country? The port city in his homeland, and the university city in the southern lands. 

26. Guilty pleasureShoving his face with dessert foods during feast times 

27. What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?Salem has a large, loving family. He has four other siblings. Excluding Salem, who leaves at some point, they all live fairly close to each other. 

28. Are they literate? Did they go to school? How long? What level? Yep, he is literate! School is pretty much mandatory where he’s from, but not formal like modern day education in my part of the world, so I’m not sure what “grade” he topped. He wanted to study outside of his country, but never got the chance. 

29. What was their childhood like? Fairly uneventful. 

32. What steps have they taken to overcome their main conflict? Currently, none really. He’s only made it worse. That’s where his story comes in.

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done?He flew too close to the sun. 

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different?Both: Depressed / paranoid as shit, both gay himbos, both have horrible taste in fashion, both too idealistic, both love potatoes, desserts, picking random garbage off of the ground, and reindeer. Differences: Salem is transitioned, Salem can stomach the smell of fresh fish, Salem isn’t even remotely as squeamish as me, Salem has more energy, Salem has musical talent, and Salem isn’t as relaxed. 

- - - 

KAZ

2. Gender identityMale (Most likely born male but it’s not set in stone. I also have trouble seeing him as cisgender) 

12. Own any pets? I really want him to have a pet bearded dragon, since I can’t have one and I love bearded dragons and lizards. However, I feel like the kind of stuff he does involves too much activity and movement for him to safely have a small animal companion with him. 

20. Clothing / aesthetic The regions he explores are usually very muggy and/or hot most of the year, so he wears very comfortable and loose clothing. He is often seen with a lot of exploring / traveling / spelunking equipment with him. He wears very comfortable shoes. If I had to describe his aesthetic in a single phrase, it would be “Indiana Jones with better self-preservation.” 

21. Fav foods(s) and drink(s) Trail mix (of course), beef steak, dishes with thick and smoky gravies / sauces. HIs favorite drink, of the top of my head, is just water. He drinks beer sometimes, but not often, and he’s very picky about his beer. 

22. Fav colorHe likes green, orange, and blue. 

23. Fav genre If we’re assuming music, then folk and bluegrass. If we’re assuming books / movies, then nonfiction and academic journals. 

24. Fav season In his homeland, deep deep winter. In everywhere else except Salem’s homeland, winter or autumn. In Salem’s homeland, spring and summer. 

25. City or country? The port city south of his hometown. He also likes exploring the more barren areas of the map when they aren’t deathly hot, because there are more ruins exposed in those areas than, for example, his home area, where there is a lot of underbrush, forest, and swampland. 

26. Guilty pleasureShopping and collecting functionally useless things. 

27.  What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them? I haven’t written much about his family, but I imagine them as pretty large and local / never moving outside of their home territory. He writes to check in on them, but doesn’t go home often. When he does go home, it’s always a warm and pleasant experience. I think his family would be very proud of his career path. 

28.  Are they literate? Did they go to school? How long? What level? He is literate but, like Salem, didn’t have a formal education. He loved / loves learning and read a lot as a kid, even outside of school. Currently he is trying to get into the largest university in the southern lands. 

29. What was their childhood like? Fairly uneventful. 

32. What steps have they taken to overcome their main conflict? I’m not sure what his main conflict is yet, beside his personal problems. 

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done? When he was a youngin, he climbed into a gorge in some ruins and got stuck because he couldn’t figure out how to get back. Luckily he wasn’t down there for long and didn’t get hurt. 

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different? Both: OCD, both have a resting bitch face, both socially inept / bad at picking up social cues / introverted, both tacky as hell, both like doing shit that they problem shouldn’t (like climbing down steep ditches and stuff), both love books, both have too much hair, both have a lot of anxious energy. Differences: Kaz has much more mental and physical energy, Kaz is agile and very physically fit, Kaz makes his horrible sense of fashion work, Kaz makes his resting bitch face work, Kaz isn’t as concerned with what other people thing of him and he has a fairly stable self image. 

#justmaghookit #long post #thank you for the asks these cheered me up #kaz #salem nummelin