#blEss those streams that was So nice to see

[fiorella-a]

A secret to be kept

Streamer! Aged up! Future! Kenma x Reader

Concept:

-While playing a horror game full of jumpscares, he blurted out something– and that something was supposed to be a surprise for you.

Info:

-Gn! Reader

-Fluff

-Some cussing here and there

•Kodzuken is online

•Kodzuken's stream will start in 1 minute!

•Kodzuken is now live, click to join!

"Hello Everyone. Good evening, afternoon or morning to each of you here. Today we are playing a game called?"

"The hunt!" You say excitedly, "Me and Kenma are in a call because I'm currently visiting a friend."

Kenma smiles at the camera while nodding at your words.

Chat:

:LMAO THOUGHT U KICKED THEM OUT 😭😠

:Heard that's a scary game

:Start! Start! Start! ✊✊✊

Kenma pauses while reading the chat, "alright Calm down and let's play the game, Y/n do you wanna read the game's information?"

"This game is in beta and is currently being observed for issues or bugs, please leave your reviews on what should be changed or whatnot.

Warning: this game will contain jumpscares out of nowhere. For those with weak hearts, please exit the game immediately.

You and your friends (recommended to play in multiplayer) decided to go camping out in Icho Woods, that's famous for it's haunted stories. Finding out there is no such thing as Icho Woods, you are now stuck in the middle of nowhere and desperately surviving. But hey! At least the haunted stories are true, though.

The game is fictional, anything that references in real life is pure coincedence."

After reading, you breathe in and out, "that was breathtaking. Now let's go on, shall we?"

Kenma nods his head before replying to you, "let's go."

Chat

:GOODLUCK YA'LL

:Hi! One of the developers here, hope you enjoy it :)

:NO WAY

:GET THE SCREENSHOTS YA'LL

:Blessing to be in this stream fr 😩

:(2)

"Okayyy we spawned in" you say in a surprised tone

"One of the creators of the game is here. I recommend adding a short cutscene of how we got here." Kenma looks at the camera and smiles politely.

Chat:

:The smile‼️‼️

:We're working on it! We're also planning on adding more lives for the players.

:AYO THE DEVELOPERS ARE SO NICE

A crawl was heard along with the sound of cracking bones. "What the hell was that? If i could be an emoji, it'd be the crying one" You say as you laugh nervously

Kenma chuckles at you, "No need to be af– THE FUCK?" Kenma swears as he gets killed.

Chat:

:We're working on that bug! If you stay at the spawn too long it'll kill you, promise we're working on it.

:Developers sweating nervously 💀

:LMAO STOP IT 😭

"Okay, I got killed too, yay!" You say still clearly nervous.

"Alright, follow me, love. I see a shed over there" Kenma says as he goes in first before your character follows along.

"We won't get killed here, right?" Kenma says jokingly

Chat:

:Nope! ☺️

:IMAGINE IF THE ROOF BREAKS AND THEY DIE

Kenma smiles at the chats.

"There's a battery here, i think it's for a light? A car? I'm not sure." You say to Kenma and at the chat.

"Oh, is that all?" "Yeah" "Alright, let's go out."

As Kenma opens the door at the shed, the monster was lurking around and spotted them. Giving them a thrill-chase. The monster climbs onto a tree before finally ending them.

"FUCK WILL YOU MARRY ME"

"HUH?!"

Chat:

:AYO KENMA?

:As developers, we didn't expect to help in a marriage.

:BRO IS DOWN BAD

:📷📸

Kenma coughs as he realizes what he said "Let's exit the game."

"Sure, sure." You agreed and followed along with him.

Once you both left the game, Kenma spoke again "Once you get home from your trip, we can talk about what I said" He says as he turns off his camera at the stream.

"Alrighty, Love."

"I'll end the stream now, don't worry, we'll leave in a review afterwards. Goodbye, chat"

"Babye, everyone!" You say with excitement.

Chat:

:*Gets onto knees* will u marry me bb? LMAO

:STOP MAKING FUN OF HIM, HE'S CLEARLY FLUSTERED YA'LL

:Bye for the two of you <33

:Looking forward to the reviews! Thank you and enjoy your happy life ❤️

:BYE BYE KENMA & BYEBYE Y/N!

•Stream ended 13 seconds ago

•Kenma is offline

#kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #gn reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu #hq kenma #kozume kenma #kenma kuzome #haikyuu fluff #fanfic #reader insert #imagines #Kenma #kenma x gn reader #kenma x gender neutral reader #hq #hq fluff #hq x reader #anime x reader #anime imagines #time skip kenma #kodzuken #streamer kenma

[sakuraryomen01]

Cheaters /Cheating! Gojo x Cheating! Reader/

-------------------

~ Warnings: TW, dark content, boyfriend! Getou, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, best friend! Gojo, bestfriend! reader, belly bulging, mentions of forced sex/non-con, soft! Gojo, comforting! Gojo, gentle fucking, slight thigh fucking, alcohol, semi-drunk sex, restart first, cheating, quick fingering, squirting, claiming themes, getting caught

~ Reader: Female Reader

~ Plot: You and your best friend, Gojo, both stray from your abusive lovers at a party together..

~ Words: 3.646k

A/n: Loved writing the ending for this. Lost Lamb, Loser, and The Boy Next Door will also be updated as soon as possible! ^^

~~

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!! <3

-------------------

Loud booming music filled your ears, a red cup in your hand that was filled halfway with a mix of different drinks. You didn't even know what you were tasting when you took a lazy sip; all you felt was a nice burn as it went down your throat.

The haze of colors streaming from the lights and the smell of weed and other substances filling your dull senses.

You didn't even want to be here, but your boyfriend, Getou Suguru, brought you.

But, right now, he wasn't even next to you, or hanging around you. He was busy grinding against some other girl with his hand on her hip and his other loosely holding his cup in the air.

His foggy eyes were glued to her ass; those same eyes that used to stare at you and make you feel better about everything. Long black hair pulled into a tight bun and a few strands glued to his forehead.

He used to be good; nice, charming, sweet.

At least, that's what you told yourself. Getou slapped you the other day and you made an excuse about it, thinking it was your fault for letting him be annoyed.

In reality, he never loved you, or even liked you. He just fucked you and that's it. Took you to parties when you didn't want to, messed with other girls and fucked them upstairs during it. He even dragged Gojo into it by fucking his girlfriend.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Speak of the devil; Gojo.

"H-Hey, Toru," Your voice sounded so small, frail. "How've you been?"

"Tired.." Gojo's eyes didn't sparkle, hiding behind black lenses as he took a sip of his drink. "But good."

You both had the same problem; your lovers were cheating on you and abusing you. Gojo got slapped and punched whenever he would be himself, it hurt your heart. He didn't tell anyone about it, but you could see the pain.

He was hurting, and so were you.

"Getou's with her again," You said, pointing over at the couple grinding in the middle of the room.

"Noticed. She always flocks Getou until they fuck."

Gojo's girlfriend was entangled in Getou's arms tightly, their sloppy kissing and dry humping was making you sick. But you were with him still, despite all the beating, bad mouthing and cheating, you were still in love.

Gojo, on the other hand, he didn't give a shit.

He was with her for no other reason than her being a bratty princess that he was being forced to take care of. Gojo was her shoulder to lean on after classes and parties; basically a free Uber driver.

"Wanna head upstairs?" He asked, motioning towards the second floor.

"Sure," You took one look at Getou sighed, following your friend towards the stairs.

Passing by groups of other college kids until you both found a free bedroom that didn't look touched. Entering, you were both blessed fresh air that didn't contain booze or weed as Gojo locked the door and sat on the bed, you following suit.

The air was tense for a while, though, as you both talked about school. Gojo though, soon spotted a mark on your neck he assumed was from your boyfriend.

"Has Getou hurt you again?" He asked bluntly, placing his cup on the nightstand and laying down.

You choked back a gasp, turning to him and staring. "No-"

"Don't bullshit me, Y/n." Gojo said, glaring at you. "Did Getou hurt you?"

Silence filled the air, tense and unbreakable for a few moments until Gojo sat up and pulled you into a tight, firm hug. The gesture warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but feel sad for your situation.

"He did. He told me I was worthless.. choked me... I..."

Getou's words echoing in your head all day was finally cleared by a simple hug for your best friend. Strong, but soft arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, one you didn't want to leave.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Gojo's sore voice croaked hoarsely.

"For what?" You asked, wrapping your arms around Gojo's middle.

Pulling you into his lap, Gojo rocked you in his arms and gave your head soft pets. "For how you're being treated. I'm your best friend and I'm not even protecting you.."

"I hate what we deal with; we're being treated like trash by people who could give less of a rats ass about us. You don't deserve it, Y/n. You deserve none of it."

You didn't know you were crying until Gojo wiped a tear, smiling.

"But, I'll take care of you, okay?"

Nodding, you pressed your head to his chest and started to cry quietly. Gojo joins you with a soft sniff and a gentle squeeze, his tears running down his cheeks and into your hair. Sorrow filled the room quickly as you both cried into each other's arms.

"..Here, lemme see your face," Gojo chuckled, stopping his crying with a smile.

Lifting your head, you took in his reddened nose and rosy cheeks and giggled. He looked cute when he was this way, but you shouldn't say that.

"Let's get you all cleaned up, yeah?"

Cleaning off your cheeks with the back of his sleeve, Gojo chuckled and laughed when you'd squirm from him. But, it was nice. He was teasing you in the cutest way he's ever had before, and you didn't realize what was going to happen until you both took it a little too far.

"Stop teasing, you meanie!" You squealed, Gojo tickling your sides and laughing too.

"Stop crying first, pipsqueak!"

"I hate that nickname, Toru!!"

You pushed him down with all your might, his back hitting the bed with a loud thump. Both of you giggling messes as you both regained control over your breathing. Though, that stopped when you looked down at him.

Gojo's sunglasses had fallen off at some point and were now laying on the floor, exposing his blue eyes to you.

"What?" Gojo smiled, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked up at you.

He looks so happy.. You took a breath and licked your lips, Gojo watching your pink tongue loll out of your mouth. A small silence filled the air again, but it was different.

It had your heart racing, blood pumping through your veins and burning your cheeks. Gojo noticed it too, seeing the difference in your behavior, and rolled you over.

Resting on top of you, he glanced at your lips again.

"Y/n, uhm, can I do something?"

Eyes locked at his words, admiring them again as you considered his question. "Yeah."

He took a breath, the first one since this began and lowered his head down. Your body tensed when he kissed you; feeling his lips gliding against yours gently. Giving soft pecks to long and hard kisses until Gojo swiped his tongue over your lower lip and slipped it inside.

Your hands quickly pressed against Gojo's shoulders, instinctively pushing him away until a pop was heard and Gojo's flustered face appeared.

"Wh-Wha? What's wrong?" He asked, his cheeks blooming red.

"S-Sorry, it's instinct to me," You answered, looking down shamefully as you pressed your legs together.

"Getou, uh, he did stuff. A lot, so I'm scared you'll do the same."

Gojo's face hardened at your words, thinking about what Getou did to you; forcing you to have sex. It made him burn with rage, made him want to beat the living shit out of him for touching you the way he did. Gojo wanted to so badly, but the hurt in your eyes made him stay, to fix it.

To give you the ability to trust someone again.

"You can trust me, right?" Gojo asked, cupping your still damp cheek.

You looked up at Gojo, his blue eyes sincere and loving as they looked in yours. Of course you trusted him, it's just the fear it'd hurt was stuck in your heart.

"Yes," You started. "But, what if it hurts? Getou's done so much.."

Flashes of Getou hovering over you, a drunk sneer on his face as he forced his cock into you. Pining your arms to the bed above your head as pain hit you from below. The memories made you close your eyes and turn your face away, Gojo's brows pressing together as he got pissed at Getou.

"Face me, don't think of that prick, baby," Gojo whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck.

You faced him, eyes still closed as Gojo started kissing you again. Cupping your soft face in his hands and situating his knee between your thighs. Gently pressing his knee to your clit as a whine escaped you.

"Gojo.." You whimpered, your hands finding Gojo's wrists and holding onto them tightly. "Mmph.."

Gojo's tongue worked its way back into your mouth and you melted, tasting the slight sting of liqueur on his tongue. It tasted like cherry pop and vodka, and you loved it. Coming up for air, Gojo lowered his lips to your neck.

Gently sucking and kissing your skin while his hands roamed down your sides and ended at the hip. Squeezing your waist as he continues to make hickeys on your neck. Mewling under his touch, you tried to press your thighs together, but Gojo's knee stopped you.

Grinding into your heated sex until you moaned quietly.

"Are you feeling good? Safe?" Gojo asked between kisses, not leaving your neck.

"M-Mhm," You pressed your lips together to keep the noises at bay.

Gojo chuckled at your reluctance, but he didn't force you. Though, he did snake his fingers under your top, tickling your sides as they made their way up to your bust. Feeling out the soft fabric of your bra, Gojo found the clip in the front and began kissing your quivering lips again.

"You look so cute, Y/n," Gojo teased, your cheeks heating at his words. "Especially when you're a flustered little mess for me."

The emphasis on the last word sent a chill down your spine; his. Gojo's, not Getou's.

Without removing your shirt, Gojo pushed the pads to the sides and thumbed your left nipple. A tingle shot up your spine at the sensation, covering your mouth when a moan left you. Gojo smiled at this, gently tugging on your shirt to signal you.

"Do you mind taking this off for me?"

You nodded slowly, sitting up as Gojo lifted the shirt over your head. The bra fell behind you, so you tossed it onto the ground while Gojo's eyes darted down to your chest. He gave a small gasp, seeing your tits finally after waiting for so long.

He had dreams of them recently, but he didn't know they'd be perfect for him.

The perfect shape, the different marks. Your little nipples that almost seemed to gleam from the light of the lamp; so perky and full but small and enough to grab. Gojo didn't have the words, but if this is what your chest looked like, he couldn't even begin to imagine what your climax will be like.

"Jesus," He muttered, cupping one in each hand and traced a thumb over each areola. "They look so good, Y/n. Damn.."

"They do?" You asked, looking down at Gojo's hands. "Never noticed."

"Well they are, so you better believe it."

Gojo pushed you into the bed again, sucking on your right nipple and tweaking the other with his thumb and pointer. A sharp breath was taken by you as Gojo fiddled with your nipples. His lips sucking on your bud and swirled his tongue around the erect point.

"A-Aah!" You whimpered, your knuckles turning white as you clutched the bed sheets with all your might. "I-I.. mmph~!"

"Oh? You like this, yeah?"

"M-Mhm!"

Gojo snickered, in a teasing way yet again, and continued to suck your nipples greedily. Like a hungry baby, he stimulated your pert breasts, alternating his mouth from bud to bud until you started to twitch violently.

"Is it too much, baby?" He asked, releasing your nipple with a pop.

"N-No, please.." Your voice came out in a hoarse whine. "Don't stop, it felt so good.. please."

"Oh? But don't you want to see my cock? In all honesty, it's nothing fancy, but I think you'd take quite a liking to it..~"

And he was right; you found it rather.. nice, to look at.

Nicely trimmed pubic hair and the size was a little about average, but holding it in your hand wasn't as easy as you thought. Fingertips barely touching as you squeezed and lifted your hand. Deep groans left Gojo as you did this, though he stopped you after a few moments.

"You don't have to d-do that, baby," Gojo chuckled weakly, lifting your hand up and kissing your fingers and knuckles. "I'm not going to make you do that, it's too vulgar for a pretty thing like you."

Your cheeks flushed a bright red, avoiding his gaze and moments passed before Gojo lifted your eyes back to him and kissed you.

"Don't look away from me, baby. Just look at me and tell me when anything hurts or doesn't feel good, it's all about you right now."

Giving a firm nod as a signal to continue, Gojo dipped his head down and slicked up your entrance quickly. In moments, Gojo had two digits knuckle deep inside your pussy. Pumping them and curling them into your spongy heat, working your puffy walls for all their worth until you let out a cry and squirted on his palm.

The clear liquid ran down his hand and down onto his pumping fingers, slicking them up before an orgasm was ripped from your lungs and your back arched into the soft mattress.

With your damp hair stuck to your forehead, you looked up at Gojo with clouded eyes and gave a soft smile. "Th-Thank you, S-Satoru.."

Gojo didn't know if he got harder, or nutted, but he didn't fucking care. He wanted to go balls deep inside your clenching pussy and wreck it like it was his. And it was, it was his pussy now; he was going to fuck it and he was going to make you scream his name. Without a moment of hesitation, Gojo situated himself and rubbed his engorged tip against your puffy lips.

Watching your expression until he pushed past your soft walls, only then did he let out a deep groan. You felt so well wrapped around his shaft, warm and gushing like a faucet. Wet and lewd noises were made as Gojo pushed deeper, his long cock stretching your pussy lips with a new ache that made you see stars.

You let out a soft gasp when you felt the head hit your womb, completely sheathed inside your hole. Circling his hips, Gojo rested his hands on either side of your head and glanced up at you, almost letting out a sob when he saw you.

Flushed cheeks and teary eyes, dewy tears that fell from the corners and down your cheeks. Wiping them away, Gojo bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to each warm check and fanned a cold breath to your ear. Giving your hip a gentle squeeze, Gojo kissed down your neck and started to rock his hips.

Pulling his aching cock from your soft mound, his let out a sound that almost sounded like a quiet sob before pushing back into your cunt. Repeating this until you were both crying for more of this.

This new pleasure that felt so much better together rather than with Getou or that whore of a girlfriend.

"You sound so good, baby." Gojo moaned, an almost high pitch to them as he bent down to pepper your lips with kisses. "Such a good girl you are for me, so cute and pretty with those cute lips.."

Kiss after kiss he spilled praise, making your feel full beyond sex. Full of love and being love, the feeling of being wanted past your body and looks. It felt so good, having Gojo inside you, but also let you feel more rather than be used. Even your moans and cries were louder than the sobs that Getou would force out of you.

These feelings in your heart were pooling out of you like your slick, feverishly kissing Gojo's lips. Saliva and tongue molding in your mouths perfectly, moans and whimpers being shared that you'd never let Getou hear. Wrapping your legs around Gojo's hips, he lifted your waist and hit your insides with a new angle.

"U-Uuhn! G-Gojo, 'm gonna cum!" You cried, reaching down and circling your swollen clit with your finger. "Gonna cum so hard, please fill me up! Please!"

"Do it," Satoru whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he rocked his hips. "Do it. Cum on my cock and scream my name."

Choking on a moan, your back arched and your fingers dug into Gojo's flexing bicep, crying out his name like a mantra with the lewdest and most wanton moans that you could muster. Gojo came shortly after, filling your gushing cunny to the brim with his seed and marking you as his. Cupping your face in his large hands, Gojo and you shared some sloppy kisses until there was loud banging on the door.

"Gojo, get the fuck out here!" The voice of Getou Suguru rang from the other side of the locked door. "I know your fucking that slut in there, so get the fuck out here!"

Gojo rolled his eyes, kissing you a few more times before pulling from your nethers and kissing down your happy trail. Kissing your abdomen, Getou's ordering didn't stop as Gojo locked lips with your clit. A weak moan left you at this, covering your mouth quickly and looking at the door. Gojo sucked and licked your clit and soppy cunny with a feral vigor.

Knowing that Getou could hear your moans from inside your locked room, it made a fire burn in his gut. Wanting to prove to him that you didn't belong to Getou anymore; but to him. The one that actually cared, the one that wanted to treat you like the queen you were.

"Go ahead, baby," Gojo muttered from his place between your thighs. "Moan my name, it's okay. I won't let him hurt you anymore. I'll make you feel like a goddess everyday, just moan my name forever."

Your eyes widened at this, pressing your thighs against Gojo's face and cage him. A groan left him when he felt your soft skin against him, even closing his pretty blue eyes as a submissive look overcame him. He looked so hot, delving his tongue deep into your cunt and swirling the sloppy muscle around. Tasting his semen on his tongue and moaning, sucking out every drop and making you cum.

"Yes, baby! Yes, keep coming for me!" Gojo cried, who had started stroking himself.

So lewd. You thought to yourself, grinding down onto Gojo's lips and sobbing. The headboard slammed against the wall hard, almost canceling out Getou's loud banging on the door.

Gojo didn't last much longer than a few moments as he sprayed his cum all over the bed. Soft moans and groans spilled from his glossy pink lips as he sat up and pumped his hand, squeezing his base and letting a cum-shot hit your tummy. Whimpering, Gojo finally released his trembling cock and rested his body weight on top of you.

Kissing and sucking on your lower lip and making the cutest moans you've ever heard a man make. Once Gojo was done with that, he reached down and grabbed his T-shirt, balled it up, and started wiping off the cum that had landed on your tummy.

"Oh, Gojo, you don't need to use that-" You started, but were silenced with a kiss.

"Yes, I do. I need to clean you up. It's called aftercare."

"Oh."

Spreading your legs, Gojo worked his shirt over your creamy cunt. Finally, Getou left, probably taking Gojo's girl with him, and left the party. After cleaning you off and getting you dressed, Gojo got himself cleaned off and clothed before picking you up bridal style and unlocking the door.

"I'm taking you home to my place for the night." Gojo grinned ear to ear at the thought, seeing your cheeks flush an adorable pink as he took you down the stairs. "Thankfully, my ex doesn't have a key so she can't come in."

You nodded, nibbling on your lower lip as you and Gojo exited the party. Heading towards his car, he placed you down next to the passengers side and unlocked the door. Opening it and making sure you were buckled in and ready to go and closed the door.

Gojo fixed his pants and hair for a moment before getting into his side of the car and starting it up. Getou appeared, of course, and started yelling at Gojo through the window. Only for Gojo's engine to roar to life and block him out.

"Let's get going, cutie." Gojo smiled, leaning over his arm and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

Ending the night off with another round or two at his house, Gojo had pulled you into his arms and cuddled you to sleep. Waking up that next morning and having Getou and Gojo's ex arrested while you were sleeping and telling you in the morning.

"They're both gone," He smiled, wrapping his strong arms around you and rocking you both side to side. "They're not hurting you or me anymore.."

"Gojo, I don't know what to say.."

"Just say 'yes', please?"

"Yes to what?"

Gojo smirked, turning to you and holding your hands in his, leaning forward and kissing your lips softly like it was your first.

"Say yes to being mine."

-----

A/n:: I hope you enjoyed the drabble (honestly it was longer than hoped, but I enjoyed writing the ending and having it on a happy note.) Hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry for such slow updates!

[Posted: May 4, 2022]

~Property of sakuraryomen01™ Please do not steal, copy or repost onto any other platform

-----

#gojo saturo #jujutsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen #anime #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #gojo icons #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo imagine #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #saturo gojo #jjk fanart #gojou satoru #satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader

[seabysiren]

more streamer au! 141 task force.

part I

when he's not streaming, simon works as a day labourer in contruction. simon likes it because he can just. work. it helps him keep in shape without having to be a desk job or a cashier somewhere.

it's physically tolling but rewarding. he used to work every single day without rest, but with his new channel he takes sunday off to record and check in on his mum.

when simon turned 18 was when everything turned into gear. he had enough money saved up to rent an apartment his mum and brother could move into. away from his drunk, abusive father.

that's why he worked his ass off every day to support his recovering mother and his drug addict of a brother.

but despite being a streamer, his family and friends take first priority. doesn't matter how much or how little he makes. what matters is that his mum is in a better place and that his brother can get help.

he had moved in with you a few months ago because it was an easier commute to work that way. closer to the city, but an easy drive over to his mum's apartment in case of emergency.

he still uses the pc setup in your room, but it was starting to feel a bit inconvenient. simon didn't care as long as he got the job done, but you knew this setup was going to get worse with the limited amount of space and random recording equipment.

so while he was off at his job, you had one goal in mind. renovate the empty basement into a proper streaming room. that included running around and buying those funny styrofoam pannels that's supposed to go on the wall.

it took a few hours to buy what you wanted. you got this really nice desk, LED lights, and a high quality microphone from ikea. bless ikea, because really this little project wouldn't have been possible without it.

you painted the room before you set anything else in it. you knew that simon liked monochrome colours, so you had a different variations of light grey, dark grey, grey and black around the room.

you set up three pcs in the room. all decked out with nice microphones and double monitors to make it easier to see the recording and chat. you really don't know why you bought three setups, but you just had a feeling.

with two pcs you could play together with simon.

with three pcs you could do... something.

you'd figure that out later.

-

turns out simon had figured that out without even having to talk to you.

there's this new fella on the construction sight. strange scottish man without a filter and a loud, loud voice.

he says call him john.

simon calls him johnny.

and he's an absolute muppet.

simon scowls everytime he gets paired up with johnny, but johnny only breaks out into a big grin while he talks.

"looks like i'm with you boss!"

cue simon's famous death glare.

"don't call me that."

despite the fact that simon barely talked, johnny talks for the both of them. he likes to ramble about his home town in scotland.

"scotland foreva!" simon just hit him over the head the first time he did that.

"we're in manchester you bloody muppet."

johnny loves to ramble. talking about his old neighbor who seemed a little like a drug dealer. or his theory on mattress buildings being fronts to laundering money.

"cause come on! have you 'ever seen someone in there? selling mattresses?? and they never go out of business. there's this one store in my hometown that has been open for over thirty years despite no one ever being parked in the lot."

he's gotta point though.

simon's gone from calling him johnny to soap. because he only has shower thoughts twenty four seven. it never stops.

never.

despite acting like he's a nuisance, simon likes johnny. its nice to finally talk to someone other than yer mum or yer flatmate.

but by god. soap for the love of god cannot stop with his scottish slang. something that sounds less and less like english and more like he's having a stroke.

"yer off yeir heid!"

"do you need to go to the hospital? ya' sound like yer havin' a stroke."

johnny did not have to go to the hospital. but from the amounts of times he's hit his head has simon wondering if he has a permanent concussion. or that his brain is really small and rattling around like a plinko game.

-

the joke is a scot and a brit walked into a bar.

there's no punch line.

because there's no bar.

because your house is not a damn bar.

lets do that again.

ahem

a bloody scot and a brit stomped into the front door.

you are estatic that simon's made a friend. cooing over him embarrassingly as you look the scot up and down.

"omg simon you did it. you made a friend."

"that's enough." johnny snickers in the background, earning a glare from simon.

you and johnny click instantly. the bro code or something, he claims.

the both of you thrive off the chaotic energy. simon just looks at you exasperated.

johnny also likes snooping around. instead of asking for a house tour he's shot off like a rocket. trying to find simon's room so he can steal something.

simon's running after him.

they both look like maniacs.

johnny thought simon slept in the basement. because he has that vibe. the monochrome palette. his sarcasm. the way he constantly squints when the sun gets past noon. because damn it has no reason to be that bright.

instead the two are met with the sight of your newly finished project. leds light the ceiling in a soft purple, illuminating softly pulsing lamps sitting on nice, dark wood desks. the monitors are all off, but the sheer amount of technology in this room makes his jaw hit the floor.

"ya got a stream room??"

simon looks at you in confusion too.

you smile sheepishly while you rub the back of your neck.

"yeah. had to do somethin' with the basement. and since simon needed more space."

johnny's eyes grow bigger than his damn brain.

"you??? stream????"

shocked pikachu face.

because johnny would've pegged you as a streamer with your light and teasing personality. not silent, brooding moody simon.

plot twist. simon's famous.

johnny's immediately begging for his channel name. cause come on, he has to have proof.

"ther' no way yer a streamer."

he is, in fact, a streamer. one that's rapidly growing with his feral fanbase.

johnny is still gawking by the morning.

-

one thing led to another, and it turns out johnny loves to record too. you had this dumb little idea to see if johnny could be a little guest on the channel. because don't get me wrong, simon's popular. but he needs a bit more. like company.

its ghost. and soap. and you, their little editor.

the chaos of these two when their recording together. simon let him onto the server once and suddenly half his house is blown up and soap's got an army of dogs.

he enslaves all the villagers and kills off half the farm.

or when ghost just wanted to relax and answer some Q&A questions that were long overdue.

he talked a bit about what he likes, favorite food, his opinion of communism.

and soap turned it from a question stream to a shower thought stream.

"ya know the ocean's a soup rite?"

simon sighs into the microphone.

"got the base of the soup. like the seaweed. got a bit of meat and fish. vegetables. sea cucumbers."

you had to write a warning that you cannot, in fact, just drink salt water out of the ocean. because it doesn't work that way. dont drink the forbidden soup.

chaos trio.

ghost, the chronically tired parent. and his two leash children mr soap "omg i just got a thought!" and you, who likes to edit the captions so that ghost is called babygirl.

he's not amused.

you and johnny now call him babygurl.

and half his fanbase too.

it's never gonna go away.

the ghost force had evolved from just this brit to + scot + editor + chaos.

you just put a warning in the beginning of any video that soap's in. because the scot himself needs a warning label.

:)

blurb I

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #cod #cod x reader #gn reader #streamer au

[azuremosquito]

The start of bad decisions...

Notes: Fic contains trauma mention, Astarion's memory of Cazador's abuse, and dishonestly leading Gale on.

Full NSFW version can be found here.

It had been marvelous, while it lasted.

For a precious few weeks, Astarion had allowed himself to believe things could be different. That he could be free, that he could make different choices. Help people, instead of hurting them. It had felt so good to inspire hope, instead of fear. Well, still a little fear; he was still himself, after all. But this time, to those who deserved it. He had savored the heady sensation every time his companions looked to him to take the lead. Even fancied himself an excellent leader.

That all ended, crashing around his delicate pointed ears, when they reached the shadow-cursed lands and came across the fallen bodies of the tiefling refugees. The very same faces he had last seen cavorting with joy around his campfire mere weeks before. How they had adored him that evening.

And now, those faces were contorted in grimaces of pain and fear, anguish overwriting the happy memories in his mind. A few dead cultists lay strewn about among the dead, showing the refugees had not all fallen in vain, but too many had, just the same. As he gazed upon the slaughter, Astarion felt the old familiar pit of despair rising up to meet him.

Even reaching the Last Light Inn, discovering some precious few had survived, meeting and saving Isobel, receiving the cleric’s blessing… none of it reached his heart as he attempted to lock it away again. He should have known it was foolish to give in to hope. Two hundred miserable years under Cazador’s thumb should have killed that pointless notion long since.

It was no surprise, then, that his memories returned to his old master when they made camp that evening. He rarely rested well, but that night something was different, unease flooding his veins. Again and again, his thoughts returned to memories of pain, of suffering.

In the meditative trance elves partook instead of sleep, Astarion remembered his small cruelties, his sadistic whims. The long, torturous night Cazador had carved ‘poetry’ into his back. It all felt vividly real again. Every jagged cut of the ‘needle’ Cazador had used, the shapes he carved into Astarion’s flesh. For the briefest moment, he started to see the pattern of the design in his mind, to make sense of it. But his panic and pain won out, pushing the vampire spawn to sitting, drenched in sweat and panting with fright.

Trembling, he pushed himself upright on shaky limbs, thinking only to get away from the others, perhaps a late night swim in the stream to rinse free the last of the unwelcome, clinging thoughts. A faint glow at the edge of his vision halted him, however, and he gave a slight start to see a translucent image of Gale standing nearby, smiling at him. He had seen the wizard’s mirror images often enough to recognize it, but what he couldn’t fathom was what one was doing here in the camp, instead of the man himself.

“Good evening,” the image said brightly in Gale’s own voice. “I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep. He wishes to extend you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale.”

Astarion blinked slowly, considered rejecting the offer. He was still shaken by his memories and uncertain he wished to be around the wizard just then. Those same memories, however, urged him to accept the offer. He wanted to feel something, anything else but that haunting pain. He remembered the way Gale had looked at him after the battle to save the inn, earlier that day. Yes, that might do nicely.

“Very well, show me the way,” he sighed.

“Gladly!” the mirror image replied. “Simply follow yonder path and soon you will find him.” The figure extended its arm toward a passage between the trees bathed in soft moonlight. They were camping in the shadow-cursed lands, there should be no moonlight at all, and Astarion knew at once this was Gale’s magic at work.

He set off down the path, and it wasn’t but a moment until a clearing opened before him revealing a stunning starscape, beautiful rainbows of aurora arcing across the sky. And the wizard himself sitting in the midst of it, hands raised in delicate, graceful gestures, plucking the Weave like a master played the harp.

Astarion sauntered closer, slipping into old seductive habits like a familiar mantle, one he had draped around himself many times. Gale lowered his arms and smiled up at Astarion as the pale elf alighted beside him. The way the wizard gazed at him, oh this would be so easy. The man had been making eyes at him since almost their first meeting.

Not that anyone could blame him, of course. Half the camp had thrown themselves at Astarion’s feet already. He had resisted their efforts thus far, luxuriating in being offered a choice, that he needn’t use his body or his looks to survive. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, he wanted this. He wanted to feel something else, to erase the memories of Cazador’s cruelty and replace them with anything else. That he felt nothing for Gale romantically was unimportant; all that mattered was that Gale was available, interested. Obtainable.

The elf’s thoughts drifted briefly to Halsin, but he pushed them away almost as quickly. The big druid had become increasingly withdrawn as they approached the cursed lands, departing the camp as soon as they reached the inn. Astarion was good and well rid of him, then. It certainly didn’t hurt his feelings, not one bit.

“I love this time of night,” Gale spoke, drawing Astarion’s attention back to him. The wizard was leaning back on his hands, gazing up at the sky. Astarion had to admit, the man was quite fetching in this light. A suitable companion to pass the time. And what little time it was. He knew the wizard still planned to follow through with Mystra’s cruel command, more the fool, he. Definitely safe enough to dally with in the meantime.

“There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn will never break.” Astarion stifled an eyeroll at Gale’s penchant for romantic poetry and remained silent. “The cradle… of eternity,” Gale continued, oblivious, gesturing at the aurora overhead. “The timelessness of lovers.” He paused and gazed pointedly at Astarion. “That most beautiful of fantasies.”

His thoughts on the poetry notwithstanding, Astarion knew his role well, had played it countless times over the last two centuries. He shifted slightly, just enough for their shoulders to brush together, a flirtatious smirk curving one corner of his mouth. “It’s breathtaking, Gale,” he cooed praise for the other man. “Is this starry sky your doing?” Flattery would get him everywhere with this one.

“Indeed.” Gale seemed pleased as he gazed back up at the heavens. “The curse is still present, of course. Just veiled at arm’s length, for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different.” His eyes drifted back to Astarion, drinking him in. “This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder… and with company to match.”

Astarion smiled again, holding the wizard’s gaze and letting his pinky brush over Gale’s near his in the grass, hearing the other man’s breath hitch. Felt his heartrate stir. So simple. Astarion had whispered many such honeyed words of his own in the past, valuable tools in his arsenal of seduction. Gale had no need for them with Astarion, the man was simply a true romantic at heart. Pathetic. Astarion would have the wizard eating out of his hands before morning.

Gale blushed and cleared his throat, gazing back at the stars. “I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter… but I am not so sure.” His brows furrowed in pain and, for the briefest moment, Astarion felt a pang. Romantically he might not feel toward the man, but Gale had proven himself a true friend time and again.

“I refuse to believe this is the end. We’ll find another way, I promise.” The words were out of Astarion’s mouth before he could stop them and he silently cursed himself. Not that they were a lie, per se. He didn’t wish for Gale to blow himself up to save the gods' damned world, but he failed to see why he should stop the man if it would save all of their skins.

“Thank you,” Gale sighed, turning his hand over and curling his fingers against Astarion’s palm. “But, even if we do find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end fate wishes for me.” Gods preserve him from melancholy fools determined to be martyrs. “There is no point in running from it,” Gale continued his mournful monologue, gazing away. “Better to meet it on my own terms.”

“Why are you so sure it’s inevitable?” Astarion demanded, hearing the petulance in his own voice and scowling faintly. “We haven’t even found this ‘Heart of the Absolute’ yet.”

Gale ignored his question, perhaps reciting a speech he had rehearsed in his head for days, and would not be swayed from it. “One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart. I’m so very glad you came, to share this with me.” He nodded back at the magical sky overhead, bathing them in shades of teal and indigo. “I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you’re…” Here, his pretty words finally faltered. “That you’re very special to me.” His brows knit together, his gaze earnest as he turned back to Astarion.

Oh no.

“If things were different, if we were home, I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better,” Gale continued. “But time is short.”

Oh no. Stop, don’t say it! Astarion begged in his mind. “I’m in love with you.”

No…

Astarion swallowed a painful lump in his throat. This wasn’t right. He didn’t want this. Not… not that. Not love. Absolutely not. This ridiculous wizard, wearing his heart on his sleeve, giving it to anyone who wasn’t cruel to him for five minutes!

He couldn’t stand to hear it, not another word. Instead, he closed the distance between them, palm sliding up the side of Gale’s neck, thumb gently caressing the man’s jaw and coaxing his head up before sealing their lips in a hungry kiss. He felt Gale’s breath hitch, the man tense against him for the briefest moment before his own hands came up to cradle Astarion’s face, kissing him back urgently.

Yes. Yes! This was more like it.

Astarion began to push Gale back into the grass, but the wizard struggled free. “Wait, wait!” He rose to his feet, shaking his head. “I want it to be perfect - to bond with you in the way that gods do… intertwining our spirits in visions of the Weave.”

Astarion growled under his breath as he followed Gale to his feet, impatient with the unwanted romance. “I don’t need illusions.” He reached for the wizard again and felt the other man’s confusion.

“...are you sure? I could conjure up any sight that you could dream of, and a few you could not. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning. I could do more than woo you - I could wow you.” The man gazed at him so earnestly and Astarion stifled a sigh. Gods preserve him from romantic fools.

“You don’t need to impress me, Gale,” he sighed, drawing the wizard into his arms again. “I’m no god.” The admission brought a faint hint of bitterness to his tongue and he ducked his head, hoping to rinse it away with another kiss.

“Yes you are,” Gale murmured, adoration in his eyes, and Astarion felt his own dead heart stutter painfully, against his better judgment. “Alright then, let’s do it your way. So long as it’s with you.”

Astarion moved to draw Gale toward the ground once more, suddenly desperate to stop this beautiful mooncalf from saying another word, but the wizard got one final say in.

“A small gesture to your comfort.” He nodded over Astarion’s shoulder and the vampire turned his head to discover a plush, luxorious canopied bed had appeared in the center of the clearing. Well, that would certainly be more pleasurable than in the grass…

Smirking, he took hold of Gale’s hand and backed toward the bed, drawing the wizard along with him. Falling back onto the soft cushions and trusting Gale’s magic, he pulled his companion down atop him, kissing him heatedly once more. At last, Gale finally seemed content to let the conversation die, kissing him inexpertly but with an eagerness that more than made up for skill.

Astarion rolled limber hips and was rewarded with a desperate groan from the wizard atop him, the man’s need rock hard against the rogue’s leg. Beyond impatient by this point, he slid his hands down to unfasten Gale’s belt and pull that gaudy tunic off over his head and cast it aside. The wizard cuddled shyly against him but Astarion’s hands wandered appreciatively over the man’s skin, deft fingers tracing a map of his body and finding all the places that made Gale sing. Oh and what a vocal lover he was, the noises bubbling up from his throat guiding Astarion with ease.

Hooking a leg around Gale’s waist, Astarion effortlessly flipped them over, gently pinning the wizard beneath him as he bent for another kiss. Gale’s fingers twitched and threads of the Weave began loosening the elf’s clothing, the wizard dividing his attention between the kiss and magically undressing the man atop him.

“Oh my,” Astarion purred with a grin, breaking the kiss to shimmy out of his billowy shirt, his lean muscular chest on display. “That’s certainly new.” Bracing his hands on Gale’s chest, he gave another deliberate roll of his hips, grinding their bulges together and earning another pretty moan from the wizard. “I trust you brought along supplies for this little… seduction…”

Gale tensed beneath him and blushed in adorable embarrassment. “I… er… that is…”

“Oh gods help you,” Astarion sighed with a playful eyeroll. “You thought of everything else.” He reached into one of many hidden trouser pockets and produced a small vial of oil, pressing it into the wizard’s hand. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.” He leaned down to nibble on the man’s ear before adding in a sultry whisper, “and that I am always prepared. Now. Get naked for me, darling.” 

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #bloodweave #bg 3 spoilers #bg3 fanfic #trauma mention #mosquito writes

[pastelsandpining]

milk & honey

masterlist

almost 9k words of hurt/comfort, nsfw

pre-TotK

Read on AO3

cw for scar mention, injury mention, blood mention

<><><><><>

The downpour of rain trickles off of the roof in steady streams, filling the atmosphere with a quiet, calming sort of noise. The ground is soaked to its very core; it's evident in the puddle of mud beneath the tree just outside of their house. Link can see it from his kitchen window--at least, in those rare moments when the rain lets up. Aside from that gentle pitter-patter, there's no other sign of life. All the people of Hateno are inside, all the animals are quiet, and everything that makes up the usual symphony of life in the village is taking cover. It’s been raining all day.

That’s the thing about the wet season: Link finds it can bring them all to the lowest point. The cool air and petrichor is nice at first, but how long can they go without setting foot outside to bask in the sunlight? When the clouds are gray and persistent, there’s no hope of any warmth shining through. It feels almost as if it’ll go on forever.

In these dreary instances, they try to find simple things to do to keep their spirits up. Most of the time, it isn’t hard. Any time he gets to spend with Zelda is a blessing, whether they can adventure as they do so or not.

Their idea for the night had been to make soup. What's better at combating the cold and the gloom than a warm dish made from the heart? That's what Zelda likes to say whenever they make her favorite: hearty soup. It's rich, creamy, and she loves to help him make it--which is, without a doubt, his favorite part about it. He likes to watch her hands as they stir, as they bring a spoonful to her lips that he pretends he doesn’t see—but she can’t taste anything until all the ingredients have blended together into something magical. In order for that to happen, he needs to finish with the vegetables.

He dries the freshly rinsed radishes and places them upon the wooden cutting board she’d gotten him months ago, when she’d grown tired of watching him use his kitchen counter—hardly fitting for the most forceful of tasks (he loves her for her thoughtfulness, really. It’ll be very hard to damage his countertop if he uses a cutting board). His hands are steady and careful as he takes up the knife. Wielding a blade of any kind is second nature to him, something his hands knew how to do before his fractured mind could remember why. A cooking knife is by no means a sword; it’s small and light and short, but he knows it no less. The sharp edge glides through the radish as if it’s only water.

“—Purah thinks all we really need is a guardian gear to test it on, but acquiring one requires writing to Robbie, and she thinks he hasn’t a clue about her current…um… predicament.”

Zelda’s been working on an upgrade to the Sheikah Slate runes with Purah for weeks. Link gets so amused by her updates and whatever entertainment comes in the form of what the eccentric genius had said that day, but what he treasures most is watching the way Zelda lights up when she speaks of it. A smile, soft and adoring, takes over his features as he looks her way. She’s never lost her spark, has she? To see her bright eyes, sparkling with all the new possibilities life has finally presented her, it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Zelda pauses midway through a sentence when her head turns enough for her to see him. Her cheeks tint pink and her brows raise. There’s a flustered smile on her face when she says,

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Link shrugs his shoulders with a grin. He knows she knows the answer already; it has everything to do with being hopelessly in love with her.

“You have my heart,” he says, holding up a heart-shaped slice of the radish. Zelda rolls her eyes, playful though it is, and he bites back the cackle that threatens to leave him. She can pretend to hate his puns all she wants; he’s caught her playing along more than enough times to call her bluff.

“You’re ridiculous,” Zelda replies. She shakes her head and Link sets the slice back down with a snort. His careful hands dump the slices of radish on the chopping board into the simmering, creamy soup, then he turns to stick both to-be-cleaned objects into the soapy water of the sink as Zelda stirs the final bits of their meal together.

Continue on AO3

#zelink #totk zelink #botw zelink #smut fic #it’s like my second one ever #hurt/comfort #link struggles and zelda helps him #smut and fluff #smut and angst and fluff

[snapscube]

Penny thank u so much for your streams!!! I got introduced via pat gill raid in 2020 & it was a huge blessing in a really rough time for me. Something new & fun & comforting, to help pass the time, stay out of the dark places. Pretty sure I've replayed some of your vods enough to memorize parts, it's a comfort thing, nice to rewatch while I do other stuff. So thanks for being like, genuinely very fun to listen to & having great vibes. Loving your Last of Us streams, it's my first time seeing any of the story in those games, glad I can experience it through this :)

That is all incredibly kind of you to say, thank you so so much. Really means a lot <3

[dotster001]

Enemies to Lovers:Epilogue

Summary: Years have passed since you woke up Vil. And now....

A/N: stay tuned to the end to see a preview of the next fic I'll be writing for my coworker. She's a Leona, Floyd, and Jamil simp, and it's probably time to be nice to her 😂 let me know if you'd like to be on that tag list. It's a Jamil x reader series.

Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

You looked in the mirror as Rook finished your makeup. Vil had made him practice the style twice a day, every day for a month to make sure he could do it perfectly. Of course Vil was a minor groomzilla. It only made sense, and you should have realized after how perfect his proposal had been.

You had gone to visit Epel and Deuce in Harveston. On the second day of the trip, you and Vil went out for a walk in the apple orchard. The apple blossoms had just come into bloom, and the smells filling the air were straight from heaven.

Suddenly, a soft breeze distracted you, as it caused the apple blossoms to fall off the trees and circle yourself and Vil….who was on one knee in front of you.

With the finishing touches done on your look, Rook signaled to the people in the chapel that you were ready. He escorted you to the door, where you waited.

Then he emerged. A bright smile on his face as he looked at you with total adoration. Rook pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, before giving your hand to Vil. He repeated the kiss on Vil's cheek, and then the music began.

Vil had insisted you walk out together, as equals. You couldn't help but be suspicious that he did this for dramatic effect, but in theory, you couldn't argue much with his reasoning.

As you walked down the aisle, you did your best to ignore the cameras. Vil was too kind to his fans to completely remove them from his wedding, so it was being live streamed. 

"You look radiant, my apple blossom," Vil leaned in and whispered to you. "I know Rook promised he wouldn't cry, but with how beautiful we both look, it's impossible for him to keep that promise."

You playfully rolled your eyes, but couldn't hold back your giggle. Bless Vil. You knew he saw your anxiety over the cameras, and wanted to make it easier. It was moments like these you were happy you said yes.

You made eye contact with Crewel, who was asked to officiate the wedding for you. He was another one who'd promised not to cry. Yet he and Rook had both already cried when they were told of the engagement.

Rook and Crewel had stared at you with wide eyes, their coffee's going cold as they watched the two people they loved the most tell them that they were marrying each other. Rook broke the silence first.

"J'aurais pu être une mouche sur le mur quand le plus beau des Vil a professé sa dévotion éternelle à sa précieuse fleur!" Rook said, clutching onto both Vil and you, and sobbing.

Before you could ask what the fuck any of that meant, Crewel started crying as well.

"My beloved pups are all grown up, and have realized that the only ones worthy of them were each other!"

Once the sobbing stopped, both of them pulled out notebooks full of designs that they had apparently been holding onto since your graduation.

You finished the walk up to the aisle, and joined hands. The wedding went on as normal until…

"If there are any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Floyd instantly stood up. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vil's jaw clench. But it had been years since Floyd had confessed to you, and you knew he had a secret partner, so whatever was about to happen, was probably just to add some chaos.

"You promise you'll never hurt my Shrimpy, right Betta fish?" He said with a glare he reserved for those who had gone back on deals.

"Floyd, if at this point you truly think I would ever hurt Y/N, then you are a fool," Vil said with an eye roll.

Floyd grinned, "Ha ha, I know. But I was getting bored."

Azul yanked Floyd back in his seat as Jade laughed next to him.

Crewel heaved a sigh, and continued, "Then by the powers vested in me, I pronounce you Mr. and Mx. Schoenheit-L/N. You may kiss the…"

He didn't even finish before Vil's lips were on yours, his hands cradling your face like it was the most precious thing he'd ever beheld.

When he pulled away, you were barely able to process the applause as you stared into his violet eyes, and happily realized that this was just the beginning of a beautiful lifetime.

.....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @iruiji @da-disappointment

....................................................................................................

Sneak Peak . OoOoOoOoOoOh!

"Sure there is," you said scooching so half of your chair was empty. "You can join me." You patted the empty part of your chair, and he begrudgingly took it.

"Good call dude," Ace said through a mouthful of food, "Once they get here they'd have made that decision for you."

"They?" Jamil asked.

"That's my seat," he heard a low growl behind him, and turned to see Leona looking annoyed.

"Pardon?" Jamil asked.

"It's my turn for that seat," Leona said, looking, annoyed, between the two of you.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit

[opinated-user]

aww, i'm not the Brittany Gallade Stalker anymore? guys, i lost one of my titles. i don't know who i'm anymore! as long i'm still one Brittany then i guess i'll be fine... but also... i hope i don't have to tell people to not go bringing up my posts to LO. not because i mind she responding, i know she'll anyway if she feels like posturing about something, but because i have said many times before to not interact with her, period, just to see a reaction out of her. i encourage people to not interact with her at all. the whole point of this blog is to spread awareness about her and deplatforming her. i can't do that if people just keep validating her platform by going to interact with her. plus, we all know she'll only use it as more fuel for her own victim narrative so, really, why would you want that? i know it's possible that LO send herself that message, but just in case i want that said: don't interact with LO. don't watch her videos directly, don't try to get a response out of her. moving on... who is going to tell LO that this the very first time she openly talked positively about the art of her wife? (it's rethoric, don't actually do that). by that i mean, she just uses the art of MO, whines in stream about how MO isn't drawing pokemadhouse fast enough, whines about how she has a life that impides her being exploited even more and talks about how many more fanart she'll keep ezqueezing out of her.

oh, and i'm meant to assume that the quality of her art has nothing to do with why you aren't showing your avatar anymore in any of your videos?

those two pieces of art are actually an example of the kind of problem that people do notice with MO. when she's doing things fast enough for you not to whine about it and churning out as many fanart as you want, it looks rushed. it looks unfinished and halfassed because you constantly tell her to make art that way. that can't be healthy for any creative person, just about in general. the fact that she's not even being paid for it speaks badly of you as a partner and a boss. that's not me saying it, it's a fact. one piece of art here and there is just a perk of having an artist as a partner, but you very much has abused that by having MO making entire animatic, multiple visuals for videos, an entire webcomic that you want fully coloured, animatic for that webcomic and all without any paid at all. but when MO can have all the time of the world and there's no wife telling her to forgot anatomy, it looks just so much better. for one, the color choices for the character designs are miles better than whatever is that you're asking her to do for your OCs. there's more flare, life and drama in that one picture of the green character that has ever been in all of pokemadhouse. i don't know why you won't just let her dress saige with something nice for once.

i literally said that MO on her own is a decent enough artist. funny enough, that's the one point that all critical blogs agree on. it's really quite transparent the kind of gasligting you're doing when people can clearly see me saying as much in that message, but still choose to present it otherwise and just ignoring entirely the rest of the point. your constant request for art from her and telling her to halfass it to make it as quickly as possible are my issue. a seasoned artist can do with a quick workflow because they know what they're doing, but MO is not there yet. so all you're really doing by using her like a slot machine for more art and fanart with your weird ideas of "right proportions" is keeping her away from actually learning. for the record too: i call you LO because Lizzy and Courtney, with Lizzy's blessing, wear the last name Orchard better than you. we went over this already.

#lily orchard #lily and mikaila orchard

[nicejewishcharactershowdown]

Nice Jewish Character Showdown 2023 - Round Two Eliminations

Another round has passed, one I'd liken to a bloodbath, and we're down to 8 competitors in the race for the NJCS 2023 title. Before the quarterfinal votes go live, let's check in with those disqualified contestants and discuss what makes them such Nice Jewish Characters.

Match One Elimination: Cristina Yang, Grey's Anatomy Probably the most well-known Asian Jew in television, Cristina Yang is canonically Jewish, thanks to her step-father who raised her in it (her mother converted). Grey's has a weird relationship with Judaism, like a lot of medical dramas, but it definitely gets points for the rare and definitely appreciated look at how diverse the Jewish population is.

Match Two Elimination: Tevye, Fiddler on the Roof It's the quintessential Jewish musical, it's one of the main reasons we've seen a shtetl-core resurgence, it's Fiddler! It was definitely the match-up of the dads this time around, and as much as I love this man, his success rate in reference to loving and supporting his daughters is, well... not a perfect score. Thank you Sholem Aleichem for the original stories, thank you Chaim Topol for your iconic portrayal in the movie, alongside Zero Mostel, Leonard Nimoy (yes, Nimoy played Tevye for a bit!), Alfred Molina, Harvey Fierstein, Danny Burstein, and many, many more. Nothing truly hits like being a Jew in the diaspora and watching Fiddler. Still bummed I haven't had a chance to see Yiddler, the Yiddish remount. (Oh, and Fiddler tends to be free on Youtube, so if you haven't seen it before -- or want to revisit Anatevka, treat yourself!)

Match Three Elimination: Rebecca Bunch, Crazy Ex Girlfriend *hits top of a car* this baby can fit so many song titles from CEXG in it When looking for representation, it can often feel like no one else is singing your song. Sure, there are the characters whose Judaism is restricted to reminding you that we've suffered, or who become props for some Christmas Special. But then we get a gem in the rough, a girl in love, a Jewish American Princess who moves across the country to follow a former summer camp crush. Crazy Ex Girlfriend was a rarity, and the four season run blessed us with a lot of quality television, and something even rarer -- a multidimensional Jewish lead. If you haven't had a chance to meet Rebecca, the entire show is available to stream on Netflix. And yes, when I realized how much she was losing this round, this song was on loop in my brain. Apologies to Rachel Bloom and the rest of the CEXG team, I seriously thought you'd sweep this thing. What a twisted fate.

Match Four Elimination: Lily Moscovitz, The Princess Diaries Oh, Lily, I think the internet misunderstands you more often than not these days. But to ignore your Jewishness is an absolute faux pas, whether you're looking at the movies or the much more blatantly Jewish representation you get in the books. Seriously though, I can think of at least a handful of Jewish girls I grew up with who remind me of the headstrong public access host. Side note -- to all the girlies who grew up hating their curly hair because of the nightmare of a makeover Mia got, I'm right there with you, and we'll get through this together. Honestly, I think there's something to be said about Jew-coding's relationship with makeover scenes, but we don't have the time for that right now.

Match Five Elimination: Francine Frensky, Arthur I've mentioned before how I grew up on public access television, so is it any surprise when I say that Francine was (probably) the first time I saw myself on television? Even if it didn't come up a lot outside of holiday episodes (at least in the seasons that aired when I watched), Francine's Judaism felt recognizable. Plus, if you told her she was just token representation, she'd probably sock you in the face. Oh, and something I found while researching -- THE GOLEM IS A PLOT POINT IN A HALLOWEEN EPISODE?! Seriously, props to PBS.

Match Six Elimination: Ferris Bueller, Ferris Bueller's Day Off Finding good representation in any 80's movie is going to be an uphill battle, considering well. The 80's-ness of it all. So when looking for a good Jewish character, it's much easier to default back to the transitive property of Jewish media (art made by Jews being Jewish by way of their perspective being translated into the text). Since Matthew Broderick, Ferris himself, is Jewish, who's to say the most beloved delinquent of his era isn't too? Plus, he's a stock standard rebel against restrictive institutions. Listen, I have the original Footloose on my coded Jewish representation Letterboxd list, I have no room to judge. *Points to Ferris* That's a NJB right there.

Match Seven Elimination: Truman Burbank, The Truman Show Speaking of my coded Jewish representation Letterboxd list, this movie SCREAMS Judaism to me. Come on -- it's so critical of Christianity that it almost falls backwards into Judaism. Free will in spite of a higher power? Disagreeing with authority so much that you flee your home, your world, your reality? Helps that his hometown is so heavily designed after post-war 50's suburbia, which has its own relationship with being Jewish. So is Truman Jewish? I think he can be -- watch the movie and make the call for yourself. It's a classic for a reason, and I won't rob you of the experience.

Match Eight Elimination: Wall-E, Wall-E Wall-E, my robot blorbo, the most Guy of any Pixar protagonist -- what makes him Jewish? He loves Barbra Streisand, collects tcotchkes, and is relentlessly working to make the world better, even if he's the only one still doing it (tikkun olam has NEVER seen a cuter mascot).

#post round analysis #nice jewish character showdown round two #nice jewish character showdown 2023 #nice jewish character showdown

[legendofzoodles]

The Chain in an Escape Room

Crackpot modern AU version of this post. 

Time helped set this up as a team-building exercise and starts regretting it seconds after the door shuts behind them. He knows most of the solutions and tries to hint at them as a passive observer but lord help him no one listens. Or if they do it’s in the complete opposite way he meant. Trying to keep things together is outside his range of skills, so whatever happens, happens. 

Warriors bragged that a friend of his did it and it was super easy, but doesn’t end up contributing much. In fact he’s the opposite of helpful. He would call the friend who’s completed it for ‘hints’, but would end up having them tell him everything and use that knowledge to mess with the team. Adding red herrings and false clues, drawing attention away from the real solutions and more importantly, wasting time. Don’t worry, the rest eventually catch on and end him, if Time doesn’t put a stop to it first.   

Twilight would be the theorist. He doesn’t actually try anything or do anything practical, he’ll just throw ideas out there based off the most irrelevant stuff and look for a deeper meaning in everything he sees. “Is that painting of a cat playing with string a clue?” “This shelf is missing a ledge could that mean something?” “That mirror has a crack in it...maybe...”

Sky, bless him, will leave helpful notes for the next group of people. He’ll have post-it notes out and ready (just because), so whenever the chain finally makes a breakthrough he’ll jot it down and leave it somewhere not to obvious. He’d also write down little compliments and motivating things like: “You can do it!” and “Almost there!” though it would get confusing when they inevitably backtrack:

Legend: [picking up a post-it note] Guys I found clue!

Note: You look nice today! :)

Legend: [scrunching it up] Dammit Sky!

Legend, will hoard anything and everything he thinks ‘might’ be useful. That random chess piece, that picture frame, maybe those marbles, all vital items. The others will help him break stuff without him even needing to ask. So long as they’re not damaging anything too expensive, Time will allow it. 

Wild will take pictures, selfies and videos of everyone suffering. He wouldn’t help since Time won’t let him cheat or break themselves out, so he’ll just enjoy himself by documenting the chaos for everyone to look back on and cringe. Or maybe he’ll live-stream the whole thing to his 10 followers.

Four will constantly remind people of the time. If they’re taking too long on a puzzle he’ll be literally counting down the seconds insisting they think faster. He won’t take any kind of goofing around because that’s wasting valuable time. When they do eventually figure something out he’ll be the one to lament how easy it was and how it shouldn’t have taken them that long.

Hyrule, the oddball, will try to get into the mind of the creators. Start psychoanalysing them from the word ‘go’, and try to figure out the thought process that went behind the puzzles. He’ll look at suspiciously places objects and clues and think, “That has Time written all over it” or “Yeah I can see him doing that”. When that predictably fails, because he’s terrible at it, he’ll ask Time roundabout questions to try and see into his mind. That doesn’t work either. 

Wind, when he isn’t co-hosting Wild’s livestream, helping Warriors mess with the chain or collecting items for Legend’s hoard, like the tiny gremlin he is, will be opening the nearest window and screaming for help into the street. 

This, to Time’s horror, actually works and a random pedestrian hears the boy and calls the fire brigade thinking they were actually trapped in the building. 

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist 

Headcanons: Parkour team, Honorary Gorons, How each member of the chain laughs, Flora is Feral, Is Malon Real?

AU Ideas: Midsommar AU, Hyrule centric idea

Short Stories: Smoke Signal (LU Wild x reader), Ancient Masonry (Sky and Wild), Blunt Crown (Wild and Flora)

#i am twilight #i'll literally throw out any idea i have and do nothing with it #linked universe #lu #linkeduniverse #lu headcanons #linked universe headcanons #lu drabble #lu time #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu four #lu legend #lu sky #lu twilight #lu fic idea #lu fic ideas #linked universe time #lu incorrect quotes #linked universe incorrect quotes

[gabessquishytum]

Hi i wrote the phrase "the Corinthian nurses" [his drink] but now i CANNOT stop thinking abt milky achy Corinthian after those pregnant Corinthian asks you got... he didnt even know he could get breasts!! I think it would be sooo sexy tho if dream and hob were trying to knock him up and dream insists he better "practice" first and Everyone Likes That! The Corinthian gets these perky little tits, just large enough he cant hide them easily, but that doesn't even matter bc hes always soooo leaky.. (almost like someone is making his breasts leak on command at the most sexy humiliating moments 🤔) at first he got a bit too cocky and he wants to surprise his lovers with some lingerie but in public he starts to leak through his black bra through his shirt!! The shirt was thick enough that he normally wouldn't have to worry about a thin black bra being seen but the lack of padding ended up working against him and now hes all wet and everyone can see what pretty milky tits he has wrapped up under his shirt... his hunt is essentially ruined and he cant pull off the aura he usually goes for like This... (im thinking dream allows him to "hunt" in the waking like he did but he cant kill or fuck the guys, just put them to sleep when they get home and haunt the nightmares for like,, enrichment) he now gets the reverse of the prey feeling he gives other people being leered at in this club with his virgin cocktail... he runs back home with his tail between his legs and hob and dream coo over how teary and embarrassed he is and drain him dry for the first time. The orgasm he gets more than makes up for it!

-🔪

Corinthian with boobies! Corinthian with leaky milky titties! I love it!

At first he thinks he's gonna be so sexy and seductive and he's gonna make his boyfriends so horny. He just wants to be devastatingly sexy and powerful you know? And he's convinced that his new tits are going to give him the upper hand in the relationship.

But oh dear, he forgot that Dream can exert a certain level of control over Cori's body, as it is his creation. He can make those sweet tits swell with fresh milk until they can't hold any more, and he can make them leak until Cori is soaked and utterly humiliated.

And Hob might not be able to control Cori's physical body, but he can tease him. He likes to come up behind Cori in public and snap his bra strap, and reach around to thoroughly grope his leaking breasts through his damp shirt.

Cori tries so hard not to cry, but... he's blaming it on the hormones, ok? The bottom lips of his eyemouths tremble, and thin streams of bloody saliva trickle down his cheeks. He's such a pretty picture when he cries - his eyes leaking in time with his firm pink nipples.

He does get to dress up in pretty things, though. Even if his nice lingerie sets get spoiled with milk, Dream and Hob are so appreciative of Cori's curvy body and his generous tits. They're both hungry for his milk and suck him dry until they're groaning and full. It's the kind of attention that Cori has to admit he loves... he cums so hard when he gets his tits played with, bless him. He hopes they get bigger when he's knocked up for real 😌

#🔪 anon #the sandman #hobrintheus #the corinthian #cw mpreg #cw lactation

[straightupsickfics]

Holiday prompt: Ed gets sent home sick from work. (I can't stop thinking about that post from the other day where someone comes in the door and the other person just hears them sneeze from the doorway and *knows* they're sick)

It's only lunch time when Stede hears the front door open and close, and he doesn't even get the Edward? out before Ed sneezes.

And sneezes.

“hehh… ehhISHhoo! Hh'UTshhh!"

And sneezes.

"huh-ISShhuhh! Fuck me..."

Stede winces in sympathy, those sounded like they hurt.

"God bless you!" Stede says by way of greeting, making his way to the front door just in time to see Ed sniffling helplessly against his wrist. He looks far worse than he had this morning, his eyes streaming along with his nose, his handsome face tired and drawn.

"Snf! SNF! Thanks," Ed sighs. He looks like he wants to collapse right there in the foyer, but he takes a step back when Stede moves towards him. "Better n'dot..." Ed shakes his head. "You really don't want this, trust mbe..." He sniffles again, blinking back irritated tears. "Couldn't even make it through the d-dIhh! iiTSHH! Through the day..."

"Edward, dear, I love you, but there's almost no chance I won't catch this anyway, and besides, you look so..." Stede trails off, choosing instead to wrap himself right around Ed, pulling him in close and warm. It's freezing outside, which didn't help anything, Stede knows, and Ed's nose is cold and damp against the back his neck.

"We have plenty of tissues and cold medicine now," Stede murmurs. "I may have went out after you left this morning." Ed hadn't sounded quite so bad this morning, but Stede knows how fast and hard Ed's colds hit him, and figured it couldn't hurt to be prepared.

Ed pulls away, looking at him, brown eyes tired and fond, and shakes his head. "You're too good to me."

"Mm, nope, not possible," Stede promises, and brushes a quick kiss to the tip of Ed's nose. "Here, let's get you out of that and into something more comfy, then we can see what we have for lunch, alright? I think tea is in order..."

Ed nods, content enough to let Stede boss him around a little, which is enough of a sign of how badly he's feeling, Stede knows. He pulls out an old, warm sweatshirt and a pair of black joggers for Ed to change into, and he's digging out some thick socks when he hears Ed's quick, shuddery intake of breath.

"Hh'iiuushhh! hDT'TSHH!" Ed muffles the sneezes right into the sweatshirt, muffling them into submission, then groans. "Fucking disgusting, sorry," he mutters.

"Shh, none of that, alright?" Stede admonishes, tossing the socks onto the bed. Ed really does look entirely contagious.

"Stede," Ed protests, voice thin. "You should really sequester mbe to the guest room and save yourself, I wouldn't even be mad."

"Not a chance," Stede says, and kisses him for good measure. He sits down on the bed and tugs Ed down beside him, so close he's almost sitting right in his lap.

Ed heaves a sigh, which makes him cough, then seems to give in entirely to Stede's warmth, snuggling himself in as close as he can, face pressed against the soft fabric of Stede's sweater.

"There, isn't this nicer than being alone in a guest room?" Stede asks.

Ed gives a small noise of appreciation against him, hugging him tighter.

"We can do grilled cheese and soup for lunch? That might be nice... warm, too, then we can get more medicine in you..." Stede muses aloud.

Ed gives another noncommittal sound, then lifts his head long enough to ask: "Maybe in a bit?" Before settling himself in against Stede again, exhaustion taking over.

Stede runs a hand through Ed's soft curls. "In a bit," he agrees.

#superstringtheory #my fic #of//md

[twst-the-night-away]

Savvy and Caroline, what was the best part of growing up in Port o'Bliss, and also, how did you spend Bontemps this year?

Savvy: "Well, the parties were awful nice. There's always something going on, you can't stay bored in Port o'Bliss for sure. But you can't have those parties without the people! Most of the folks I know back home are welcoming and generous, and they're always trying to make the best of any situation they find themselves in. That's why I love taking my friends back home, everyone's so sweet. And ... well, there's a lot of unique folks down there, too. You'll just have to come by and find out! ... *heavy sigh* Don't remind me, darlin'. You know what happened this year? We had midterms the same week as Bontemps, so there was no way I'd get back home to see it. Carrie, bless her heart, tried to show me videos of it live. But it just wasn't the same."

Caroline: "The best part was the parties, of course! You couldn't turn the page of the calendar without another big festival, or parade, or party on the way! I tell you, it keeps a girl busy busy busy being on all these planning committees, but it's worth it to see how it all comes together! ... This year was no different, either. LaPerle sponsored the junior band competition, so I was running all over the city trying to hunt down people to be judges and volunteers and all that. By the time all that was over, though, I didn't have to do anything else, so I got to sit on the balcony and watch the parade without worryin' about a thing! Only thing missin' was my sweet li'l sister. I tried streaming the parade to her on my tablet, but it didn't work out so well ..."

Ask my OCs anything!

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #savvy laperle #caroline laperle #please imagine caroline speaking 500 miles a minute and giggling the whole time

[coughdontfeelwellcough]

Sicktember - I shouldn't be worried about you, but for some reason I am

Fandom: my own ocs Sophie and Casper

Words: 1311

Author's note: Part two of a trilogy with these two.

Part 1 Part 3

Hope you enjoy!

The Nook was a bookshop in an almost forgotten corner of Notting Hill in London. The shop itself was cosy and warm, sandwiched between a bakery and an empty building which had been abandoned so long ago that nature had mostly reclaimed it. Normally Casper was happy to be the one to open the little shop. He loved working at The Nook, helping customers find the specific books they were looking for and on quiet days he could sit in one of the comfortable chairs and just read until it was time to go home. However on this particular morning Casper wasn’t in the best mood, he’d woken up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, a sure sign a cold was on its way. 

The door to The Nook was old and heavy, made of wood that had been once painted a bright blue though it had been mostly faded by the sun. Casper sniffed as he pushed it open, groaning as the weight of the door fought against him. He was thankful it was warm inside, the early morning sun streaming through the windows and making the place feel cosy. 

“Morning, ‘ole girl,” Casper greeted, clearing his throat. 

He always liked to greet the shop when he arrived, especially on a Monday when they’d been closed. It was like greeting an old friend though sometimes Casper wished the old building could reply, sure it would have plenty of its own stories to share. 

Casper set about getting the shop ready to open, turning on all the lights, sweeping the floors and putting the change in the till. It was a natural routine, one he’d been doing on his own for the last two years. Casper didn’t own The Nook, that pleasure was held by a Mr Henry Ludwig. Mr Ludwig was a nice man in his eighties, he’d been running the shop for many years and had hired Casper two years previously but as he’d been getting on he’d started leaving the day to day running to Casper, only popping in now and then with new deliveries and occasional words of encouragement. It had been just over a week since his last visit and Casper wasn’t worried, they’d had a new stock of Agatha Christie’s arrive over the weekend that would keep them going for a while longer. 

Casper finished sweeping up and was about to turn around the open sign on the door when he felt a tickle in his sinuses. 

“Hhh…HhNTGH-shh! HTSHH-httshw.” he sneezed into his elbow. 

Urgh. 

Casper hated being ill, it reminded him of being a sickly kid. He was always the first one down and the last one back up. He could still hear his mother scolding him as he came from school with yet another cold. Just then there was a knock at the door and his first customer of the day had arrived. 

“Hello Casper,” Mrs Hudson was a woman in her seventies who came in every day to see the new books and to chat while she waited for her knitting group to start. 

“M’borning,” Casper replied, his voice already sounding stuffy. 

“Anything new over the weekend?” she asked, peering at the shelves nearest the door where he always put the newest releases. 

“Just a bo… box… off.. hhHH-HNGHH-eww… hhHH-ISHHHwww!” 

Casper sneezed into his wrist. “Sniff Sorry… A box of Agatha Christie’s,” 

“Bless you! Oh shame, I read all those in the seventies,” she replied. 

Casper sniffed thickly, he could already feel the congestion building in his sinuses. 

“Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a cold, remember the saying dear; feed a fever and starve a cold.” 

“Yes, thank you Mrs Hudson. I’ll remember that,” 

Mrs Hudson continued talking to him about her grandsons as he straightened up the autobiographies until it was time for her knit and natter club to start then she was off, wishing him well as she went. 

Casper continued about his daily routine, walking loops around the shop, tidying books as we went. It was never partially busy in The Nook and even less so on a Monday morning, he’d been open for over an hour before he sold his first book, a copy of a new Lee Child to a commuter who gave Casper the most disgusted look when he’d sneezed while handing him his change. His cold was really starting to take its toll, his head had started to pound and his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. But before Casper could find himself a comfy seat and a book of his own the bell rang, signalling another customer. 

“Hey Casper,” 

He turned to see the girl from the bakery next door, she was holding a takeout cup and brown paper bag. If Casper had been able to breathe through his nose he’d been able to smell the rich coffee and pastry. 

“Hi Sophie,” he rasped. 

“I got concerned when you didn’t come in for your usual order so I thought I’d bring it over, is everything alright?” she asked. 

Casper hoped his blush wasn’t too evident on his pale complexion. He’d been going into Sophie’s bakery every day for breakfast since he’d started working at The Nook, and in those two years they’d gotten to know each other quite well. 

He knew that she’d taken over the bakery three years ago from her Abuela and how’d she’d been around baking her whole life, and she knew how much he needed his books and his coffee to function. 

“I’m fine, just got a bit of co.. hhHHhhH-HHTTSH-tisw.. hh..hh..Col…hhHH-HSSHH-Eww.. A cold.” Casper ducked away to sneeze harshly into his elbow. 

“Bless you! Are you alright? They sounded like they hurt,” Sophie asked. 

“hhuuhhHGITZHH… hhh-UHH-GITZT…Ugh.” he could really feel the congestion settling in, making him feel headachy and dizzy. 

“Jesus, bless you again. What are you even doing at work? I’d have called in sick,” Sophie asked, putting his coffee down on the counter. He wanted nothing more than to drink it but the pain in his throat said otherwise. 

“No one to call,” he rasped weakly,

“Still.. Wouldn’t you rather be in bed?” 

Casper shrugged, running a hand under his dripping nose. He hadn’t felt that bad when he’d gotten up but his cold had been steadily getting worse and yet the idea of going back to his lonely little flat left him hollow. 

“The books are good company,” he coughed. 

Sophie gave him a look that might have been sympathy, he was used to being alone and dealing with illness alone was just one of those things. Most of the time he just got on with it and figured it would go away on its own. Which worked out fine, till it didn’t.

“Okay, but, just look after yourself. It’s just I shouldn’t be worried about you but for some reason, I am. Especially after that laryngitis you had a few months ago, you were miserable.”

Casper felt his heart clunch or it might have a cough. “I’ll be okay, it’s just a co… HUSHH-TEWW… HHHuhhh.. HITISS-hEWw.,” he sneezed before breaking into a productive cough. 

“Bless.. Just promise me you’ll go to a Doctor if it gets worse.” 

Casper nodded,coughing against his wrist. He was starting to feel really lousy and wanted nothing more than to curl up with a book and sleep off this cold, but for some reason he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding. 

“I won’t, I promise. Then where would I get my coffee?” 

She smiled. “Feel better Casper.” 

“Thank you Sophie.” She waved goodbye and left the shop, the bell dinging as she went. 

The rest of the day went on as they usually do; the customers came and went with their books. Casper soldered on, despite his cold leaving him sneezy and drippy, the thought of the girl next door keeping him going. 

#sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sickfic #snez #snezblr #coughing #sorry this is late

[rheaitis]

See your Female Arjuna and crave for reverse, what if Karna born girl

“I do not have a son,” Pritha says once her husband has finished his enumeration of the ways in which they could obtain heirs despite the curse keeping him forcibly celibate, just as though she is an ignorant girl in some backwater village. Behind his back, Madri rolls her eyes in what would be brazen mockery from one less graceful, and is still amusing enough to make Pritha purse her lips to avoid a smile.

“Ah,” Pandu says. “Very well, O Blessed One, we will contrive a solution.”

They know, each as well as the other, what solution it is likely to be: one from the getting of a child and the other from being begotten. They look away to the soil, to the sky, both mortified, while fearless Madri glances from one to another, curious.

“I do not have a son,” Pritha says again, “but, O King, I have been blessed by the sage Durvasa and can summon the gods into my embrace.”

Pandu’s head swings up, eyes shining eager, pale face flushing a blotchy red. So eager, her valiant husband, like a boy on his first hunt, a pup on the scent.

It is Madri who says, “May not such gifts be perilous in mortal hands? You may win a son and lose a wife, O Husband.”

It would be heartwarming if Pritha could be certain it wasn’t manipulative instead. Regardless, she reaches out to tangle her fingers with Madri’s, and smiles at Pandu before saying, “I cannot be certain it will be a son, but you will lose no wives to this quest. In my thoughtless youth I summoned Aditya to my bed and he left me a daughter golden as dawn-bright Usha.”

Vasu is conscious of the stares she’s getting, on top of the stares all of them are getting. It is foolish how unprepared she feels for any of it when they had discussed the likely situation every night after the younger children had fallen asleep, she and Yudh shoulder to shoulder facing their mother like disciples, supplicants. Queen Pritha was lovely in the forest, but with every day on the road she has grown more splendid: at the head of the procession now she looks like an idol into which some god has breathed life. Her children and stepsons, Vasu diagnoses with an expert eye, are far less presentable. Vasu is the only one of them to have ever inhabited a city, a palace, and she was only four when outriders from Pandu took her from the arms of the nanny she’d thought was her mother.

“They’re looking at us,” Arjun complains from behind her shoulder, his pony nudging at her geldling. “I don’t like it.”

Arjun is her absolute favourite, a thing which she does not even attempt to disguise. But he is, like all little brothers—and Vasu is an expert in the matter, having five—an annoying brat with a gift for overstating the obvious.

“It’ll be worse when we get to the palace,” Bhim says ghoulishly. “All those cousins!”

“I’m sure they’ll be nice,” Vasu tells him. “Now look after the twins, I need to go talk to Yudh. Don’t hare off on a ride, this isn’t like home.”

It would be home, it would have to be, but for all she’s nineteen and a woman grown, Vasu feels for a moment as shockingly young as Madri’s sons: nine and still bawling for their parents every night.

The cousins are awful. The aunt is fine if remote, the uncles are… Vasu isn’t sure what she thinks of the uncles, for all they make it very clear what they variously think of her: Shakuni a tool, Vidura a protege, Dhritarashtra the possibility for an alliance. Grand-Uncle Bhishma, if he notices her beyond the archery, does not approve. It’s fine, Vasu’s not looking for approval and she is, she knows she is, an aberration, out of place in the neat story of Pandu’s sons, like an extra thumb on a hand.

But the cousins, oh the cousins. The eldest of them is the girl, Dushala, a month or so younger than Yudh and nearly as quiet. Then the unending stream of boys, led by Suyodhan who would be comely if he weren’t scowling and Sushasan whose name is a despairing parent’s fond wish. Vasu felt guilty for not being able to keep all their names in mind, but only a little because Yudh couldn’t either. Probably their mother could, as she’d always known not only the names but histories of all the servants, sages and itinerant mendicants they encountered.To Vasu they’re a river of troubles that Bhim keeps enthusiastically diving into to take on the crocodiles and eels in the depths.

And then the river tries to drown him. Vasu listens dry-eyed to their mother’s reasoning and agrees to keep it quiet. Then she and Yudh go out to their favourite hiding-place—and what a horror it is that they need such a spot, here in the home of her brothers’ father—and drink their way steadily through the last of their year’s stash of honeymead. In the morning she bawls them all out, makes them swear to never venture away from each other, never listen to their cousins, never trust anyone in service to the princes of the Elephant Throne.

It should, Vasu knows, be rather a surprise that it has taken so long for anyone to plot her marriage than to find it in her mother's plans, but it has been so long, and she is twenty-one and old for it, that it comes as a shock to have Queens Pritha and Gandhari turn to her one morning while she's doing her best to be unobtrusive, and say

"It is a good match."

"We do need eyes in Kampilya."

Another thing unsurprising, that it is her mother who cares for the politics of it openly and her aunt tries to disguise it with words of care.

It is, and they do. Vasu does not bother protesting that she has little interest in men and less in marriage, or that she would far prefer to watch her brothers grow into the glorious heroes they’re sure to become. She is Pandu’s daughter by adoption and Pritha’s by birth, a woman of the Yadavas far more than of the Kauravas: a political animal from curled hair to painted toenails. Better alliances will keep Yudh’s throne more stable, and their cousins have sent away their only girl.

The boys are gratifyingly miserable, Bhim cooking up a storm and Arjun coaxing her into archery lessons he no longer needs and the twins mutely clinging. With all that it is hardest to bid farewell to Yudh, who takes it all with dry eyes and a clenched jaw. He is seventeen, too old to need or heed her assurances, this brother whose birth restored her to her mother's arms and found her the only father she has ever had.

“You will see me again,” she tells him at last, and prods at him when he mulishly rounds his shoulders. “It is not so far in a light chariot, from here to Kampilya.”

“We met the twins’ uncle last year,” Yudh counters, “and our own never to this day.”

“My sons will see theirs,” she tells him as she gets up to dress, as her maids have been begging her for half the morning. “I’ll come to your coronation, little brother.”

Three years, five months and nine days after she sees them for the last time, a messenger comes to Vasupriya with news of her brothers’ death.

Her husband finds her in the outer courtyard of their quarters, methodically shredding a dropped tailfeather from one of the peacocks thronging the walls.

“We set out at dawn,” Shikhandi says, dropping to sit beside her and taking her wringing hands between his. "It is not so far in a light chariot."

#mahabharata #au: always a different sex #cis-swap #karna

[theretirementstory]

14/04/24 I AM HOME, I came back on Thursday after my MRI scan and a transfusion of platelets. Was I pleased? I guess you could say that, Anie called with my shopping, I had a wander around my garden, got the car out of the garage and went to do more shopping, saw my friend Liisa and had a little chat then came home and prepared chorizo pasta bake and garlic bread.

My neighbour sent me the above photo showing the blossom on the cherry tree. I was so pleased to see my garden.

On Friday I had to go back to the hospital for what turned out to be two transfusions. I thought I would have been home by lunchtime but it was 16:30 when I got home.

So I am hoping against hope that I will be home until April 25th when I will be going up to Paris for a long stay, while the next round of treatment is carried out.

Monique had been in touch, she wanted to come down on Thursday but I needed some time to just chill. So she said she would come on Friday. However by the time she could get away it was too late. She did say that one of her twin granddaughters had got scarlet fever so you just know it won’t be long before the other one gets it.

I messaged my cleaner with the dates I am available to have her clean my home before the next hospital visit. She replied that she wasn’t available. That’s ok, hopefully we will get back to normal once all my treatment is completed.

The cough that I was starting with when I went into hospital, has now developed! My nose streams and then I start coughing, it is worse if I have been talking. The medicine they gave me in hospital contained codeine and it said not to use it for too many days. Well in my book, my wariness of medication, meant that I took it for three days then stopped. I didn’t want to become addicted!

The music this week, is really from my youth! I begin with “Love Hurts” by Jim Capaldi from 1975. Going even further back than that it’s “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” from 1965. The video shows Alan Price on keyboard, he will be celebrating his 82nd birthday at the end of next week, Eric Burdon, vocals, who will be 83 years old on a date in May which is the birthday of someone dear to me. Plus Chas Chandler, bassist, who later managed Jimi Hendrix and Slade. Unfortunately Chas passed away in 1996.

“The Trainee Solicitor” has met up with a few Uni friends this week and is going to see another couples new house today. He has been training the new guy at work and although he would prefer to get on with his own work, ensuring someone gets the training they need is the best way to moving onto your own work. Making sure they understand ensures less disruptions to your day.

“The Reconnect Navigator” has had to go out and buy a pair of Dr Marten boots for work. The boots she had bought previously have only lasted 5 weeks. I guess she is getting those “steps” in. It is great that they both have the weekend off as it allows them two days to do things together.

“The Photographer” and “The Jetsetter” spent a nice night in York on Friday evening. The platter they had with the wine looked exceptionally tasty. Then it was time for the “The Photographer” to head off to Boston, to photograph the match with Scarborough AFC. Although it was a 0-0 draw it was a good match (apparently). Plus he was the only photographer, for Scarborough, at the match and the photos have been in the local newspaper. That’s a feather in his cap, for sure.

“The Jetsetter” is busy preparing for her next jaunt (can’t remember where that is to). She does however spend the week in York which is a “getaway place” for a lot of people.

I have had a message from a friend in the UK, her grandson was born on the 17th February at around 26 weeks! Bless him he is still fighting and getting bigger which is such wonderful news.

Nadine (a friend here in town) has messaged to say that she will try to get down to visit at the weekend.

My neighbours have just popped in bringing a piece of flan. They always ask about my sons and grandchildren, I have shown them recent photos this morning and they think my grandson looks like his Daddy.

Now I am going to start getting food prepared. I am hoping that I will enjoy my roast chicken dinner. Then as we are due 22c today I would like to go out into the garden and clear a few weeds.

However you intend to spend your day, have a good one.

I am hoping that the hydrangea paniculata (pictured below) will have a growth spurt and put out some lovely flowers this year.

Bon dimanche!

#trees #nature #barsuraube #Troyes #photography #cooking #60’s music #70’s music #mygarden #france #champagne #livingthedream