#but i have been busy sewing and working and have not gotten to watch it.

[girlblocker]

they call it night at the museum 2 because if i dont get to watch it right now i am going 2 die

#releasing this from drafts jail it has been there for 2 days #but i have been busy sewing and working and have not gotten to watch it. #SAD!!!!!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

pookie first of all: CONGRATS ON 1K OMG!!! SO PROUD OF YOU🫶🫶

also: loving all the arranged marriage fics they’re all soso good I’m so happy and grateful ❤️

anywayss, I have a new idea!!

-either a new girl reader, and sejanus is immediately infatuated w her

-orr more of a peacekeeper!sejanus with a district/covey reader bc it’s literally stuck in my head so badly rn😭

thank you so much, congrats again🫶🫶

ps: wish me luck on midterms this week, I’m dying🙏

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 🥰🥰🥰 im sorry this took so long, but im sure you did amazing on your midterms <3 also, peacekeeper!Sejanus and covey!reader mean the world to me (as does matchmaker Lucy Gray hehe)

The Covey are a flashy people, performers to their very soul and the most lively bunch you’ve ever seen. With a love of bright colors and music, it’s hard for any of you to fly under the radar when compared to the rest of the citizens of District Twelve, the people who will never claim you as their own but are happy to dance to your songs and send your cousin to fight to the death.

You, however, aren’t built for the stage. Your voice is better suited to singing lullabies than it is to performing on stage, and even the thought of that many eyes on you makes you feel like you’re on the verge of throwing up. Still, you contribute where you can, helping your cousins write their songs and being a willing audience when they need to test out something new, and you still work, sewing new clothes and patching up the old.

Lucy Gray is something of a momma bird, despite the fact that she’s only a handful of weeks older than you, and she’d rather see you set up and happy before running off with Coriolanus. Luckily for you, he has a friend who, in your opinion, is much kinder and cuter than his blonde counterpart. You’d tell him that, if only your tongue didn’t tie up in knots every time you made eye contact.

Walking towards the lake, Sejanus is sure to push any low-hanging branches out of the way for you, holding out his hand to help you over loose rocks and tangles of roots. The two of you talk the entire way there, almost oblivious to the people surrounding you and the feeling of Lucy Gray staring at you. If you turned around, you’re almost certain you’d catch her grinning.

When you finally make it to the dock, you try not to stare as Sejanus pulls off his shirt, turning away to pull off your own clothes, completely unaware of the way he blushes as he turns back towards the water, for reasons unrelated to the beating sun. No matter how obvious Sejanus makes his affection, it seems impossible to you that somebody like him could love you, and even just friendship seems a little unbelievable sometimes.

The two of you wait for your younger cousins to go splashing into the water, certain that if you had jumped in first, you would have gotten pummeled with water and flying limbs. Launching yourself into the water, you resurface with a giggle as you watch Lucy Gray leap into the lake with Coriolanus hot on her heels. Sejanus is treading water next to you, and the two of you share a smile as you watch Lucy Gray out of the corner of your eye.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” You wish you were as trusting as Lucy Gray, able to just accept affection like you deserved it, but you’re too busy daydreaming to realize that Sejanus is looking at you like you’re something to be admired.

After about twenty minutes of Maude Ivory’s splashing, you grow tired and heave yourself onto the dock, drying off in the sunshine and dangling your feet into the water. Sejanus sits next to you, claiming that he’s never been the strongest swimmer and he’d rather sit with you on mostly-solid ground, but from the way Lucy Gray winks at you, you’re almost certain it’s just an excuse to sit next to you.

The rest of the afternoon is spent lying side by side with Sejanus in the sun, talking about whatever comes to mind and kicking at your younger cousins whenever they decide to try and tug you back into the water. It’s all sunshine and giggles, and there’s a strange feeling forming in your chest, right in the center of your ribs, a feeling that grows whenever Sejanus looks over at you, eyes half-closed from the sun but still full of a sort of adoration that’s completely foreign to you.

These are always your favorite days, your favorite moments, little pockets of sun dappled peace for you to hold close to your heart and revisit whenever you’re feeling down. The way Sejanus looks at you, smiles at you, laughs at your jokes, places a gentle hand on the bottom of your back to guide you over rough terrain, catapults today to the top of your heart, a precious little jewel to hold onto.

In those moments, replaying the day over in your head with a dreamy smile on your face, you don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or reading too much into the way Sejanus seems to orbit you like you’re the sun, you just get to smile at the memory of the way his eyes crinkle with the intensity of his joy and the ghost of his warm palm on your back. And, no one can scold you for replaying these moments over and over, even though you’re much too nervous to ever say anything to Sejanus about the way your breath catches and your heart constricts whenever you see him.

Tagging my beloved @beybaldes because it feels illegal not to at this point

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[16eggsforxio]

weight in gold

Joshua x Reader (Joshua with a crush vs incredibly socially unaware reader)

2045 words, fluff

Summary: You get a present for Joshua’s birthday and help him with it.

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

When Clive called you over, you straightened your back and braced yourself, fully expecting another harsh assignment mandating having to travel halfway across the continent, brave the severe weather elements and bypass thirty different bloodthirsty monsters all to retrieve some rare leaf of some sort. You wished you could say this was an exaggeration, but… well, the previous assignment was leaving you a little sullen.

Jill was standing next to him, with a strange smile on her face. You liked Jill. But prior to calling you over, they’d been whispering to each other. You didn’t like that. Suspicious.

“Sorry for bothering you,” Clive began. You didn’t feel bothered, so you shook your head. “Did you know Joshua’s birthday is in a few days?”

No, you hadn’t. “When?”

“A week from now.” He judged your reaction, of which you didn’t have much of one, uncertain of what to do with this information. “Are you thinking of getting him anything?”

A birthday present.

You knew about the concept, but you weren’t terribly familiar with it. You’d never gotten one, because you didn’t know when your own birthday was; growing up an orphan tended to have that effect. As for others’ birthdays, you had a few friends from the Hideaway, but they had always insisted you shouldn’t concern yourself with it. In hindsight, it was probably out of pity for you. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. Whatever.

Joshua had always been good to you. You had a habit of injuring yourself along your line of work—not on purpose, just out of unfortunate clumsiness—and he had taken to finding you after you returned to nurse your wounds with the Phoenix’s fire. Multiple times you had told him it wasn’t necessary, but he had always waved you off.

Come to think of it, you didn’t see him doing the same for others, but you probably just were busy playing with Torgal and not around to see it.

You supposed you should get him something as a token of gratitude.

“I guess I will,” you affirmed.

Jill nudged Clive with her elbow and they exchanged funny-looking smiles. You did not pry.

…You did have a problem with money, though.

You considered something handmade, but you had discovered your fingers didn’t know how to cooperate with one another. Once you had had to sew your sleeve after it had gotten ripped in the wild, and you had poked your fingers till they were perforated.

You could probably figure something else out.

“What does he like, though?” You knew about his infamous disdain for carrots, but disappointingly you found it hard to recall what he appreciated.

Jill reached out to rest a hand on your shoulder, smile mysteriously amused. “I’m sure he’d appreciate anything you get for him.”

“...Really?” You quirked a brow at Clive. He knew his brother best, right?

Clive laughed, fingers fiddling with his earring.

You blinked.

As you watched Clive and Jill walk away, still speaking to each other in low, hushed voices, you found your hands full with a strange assignment.

…Why did they tell you this, anyway?

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

A week later, with your arms behind your back, you found Joshua where Clive told you where he would be—the infirmary, which was starting to become his bedroom at this point.

“Joshua?”

As usual, he was past the partition, red scarf and gloves removed as they normally were during Tarja’s treatment. When you hesitantly stepped into his view, his eyes lit up, and with the softest of smiles, he greeted you by your name.

It was supposedly his birthday, which was supposed to be his special day, from what you knew, but it felt like any other normal day—Clive and Joshua had just returned from one of their expeditions that had spanned a few days, and Tarja was tending to the leftover injuries and ills from that. (Clive too, but being much healthier and sturdier, was allowed to be up and about by then.)

You bowed to Tarja, who was on the other side treating someone else, on your way in and strode towards his bedside.

“How was your day?” he asked, eyes trained on yours. He was sat on the edge of the bed like always, as if poised to bolt out of the infirmary.

You cast your glance to the side, fidgeting. “I just had a short assignment.” You looked back at him. “Happy birthday.”

Surprise streaked across his features, brows raised. “Oh—thank you.” A pause, then he slowly continued, “How did you know? I don’t recall telling you.”

“Um, Clive and Jill told me.”

For some reason, Joshua looked exasperated at your answer.

You didn’t think too much about it. Swinging your arms to the front, you presented the small parcel that had been hidden behind your back. “I got you a present.”

His eyes brightened with a light that could illuminate a dozen cities. He extended his hands and slid them under yours, which carried the brown box, bowing his head forward until his forehead gently bumped the surface of the box.

“Thank you,” he said. With his face facing the floor, you couldn’t see what kind of expression he was making. (Hopefully, a smile.) “I can’t express with words how happy I am.”

That made you fuzzy inside to hear.

But you weren’t very sure how to respond. Joshua always had a bit of strange mannerisms—you felt they were strange, anyway, and Mid had agreed with you—because of his upbringing.

You really didn’t want to be rude, so you mimicked what you had seen Clive doing to him before: slipping a hand away from his grip, you reached up to stroke the golden locks on the top of his head. They felt silky, soft enough that you wondered if your fingers might accidentally slip in and fall somewhere.

…Was that just his skin tone, or were the tips of his ears a little red?

Joshua raised his head to look at you.

Jill had said anything would be fine, but a nagging feeling in you wondered if he would open it and hate it. Up until he was ten, he must’ve been lavishly pampered with gifts unthinkable to a normal person like you. And then being with the Undying, who had all but dedicated their entire lives to him… you didn’t really know, but whatever it was, what you had prepared for him was arguably the least impressive thing he was about to receive in his life.

All this manifested in a quiet mutter: “I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

Joshua, wide-eyed, riposted, “Of course I will.”

“It’s a bit cheap.” Although it had cost about a painful chunk of your savings.

“And?” He waited for you to go on.

There was no “and”. You shook your head.

Joshua judged your reaction, then brought his hands over to clasp the box, retrieving it and bringing it closer to him. You weren’t touching anymore, and your hands dropped to your sides. They felt cold now. “May I open it?”

“Sure—I mean, it’s yours, so…”

His fingers deftly found the bottom of the lid, prying the top off slowly like it would rip to pieces if he went too fast. The lid popped off, and his breath hitched.

Clive and Joshua had starkly contrasting appearances; Clive rugged, firm and built for bloody battle, while Joshua with a delicate frame and enchanting features. But they were still brothers, and probably vaguely had some similar interests, and something Clive had and Joshua didn’t had piqued your interest.

You didn’t know if Joshua had ear piercings, so you had opted for clip-ons.

“They’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said, with so much sincerity that you almost felt every other sentence uttered to you in your life was a lie.

Tension you didn’t even know you had receded, and your shoulders finally dropped from where they’d been squared. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He lifted them out with one hand with the fragility one would when handling precious stones—even though they were nothing close—and ran them over with his thumb. “I’ve received many gifts—countless, and especially extravagant before… well, during my childhood.” Before that fateful day at Phoenix Gate, was left unsaid. “Enough to be any aristocrat’s dream. But out of all of them, I think… no, I like this the most. Thank you.”

Truthfully, you were a bit perplexed. You’d bought them off a random peddler in a village close by to one of your assignment destinations, and as hopeless as you were with the finer things in life, even you could tell the material was cheap and the craftsmanship subpar. The edges were bumpy and uneven in some areas and the surface would probably completely tarnish in a few years. It was nothing to marvel at, so you didn’t know why he was looking at them with eyes full of wonder.

“I—was worried you wouldn’t want to wear them at all,” you confessed, folding your arms almost sheepishly. After witnessing Joshua’s reaction, you felt a little silly; he had never once breathed a ghost of a mean-spirited comment towards you. You shouldn’t have doubted him.

Joshua placed the box in his lap, then reached out to place a hand on your arm and squeeze it ever so lightly. “I would right now if I could.” He grinned a little hopelessly. “But I’d need a mirror. I’m not quite good at just feeling my way around my ears.”

“Oh.” Fair. “I can help you with that.”

Joshua’s stare froze on you and you wondered if you said something wrong.

“The lady who sold it to me showed me how to wear it, so I know how,” you added, hoping that would dispel some of his concerns.

It was taking Joshua a long time to process your words, even though you hadn’t said anything complicated.

After seconds that stretched on for far too long, Joshua tilted his head so you had better access to his ears. “All yours.”

You avoided looking at his eyes when you reached down for one of the clip-ons.

Your fingers found Joshua’s exposed ear, and you paused to brush some stray blond strands out of the way. Joshua squirmed.

Right, the ears could be sensitive. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Your fingertips touched the lobe of his ear—you had ears of your own, of course, but his felt so fleshy and supple compared to yours or anyone else’s. Sliding the accessory to cushion the rim of his ear, you pushed the ends together to tighten its grip, slowly hovering your hand away slightly to test its stability.

“Does it hurt?” you asked hesitantly.

Joshua lifted a hand to touch where the earring had been attached, his fingers grazing against yours.

“Not at all,” he reassured, eyes flicking to meet yours. “I can barely even feel it.”

Without pulling his eyes away from you, he angled his head the other way for his other ear. This time, you tried not to compute the finer details of his ears too much.

The second clipped on without fuss.

“All done.”

He exhaled softly, saying nothing for a few seconds. His gaze did not break away.

You drew your hands back with uncertainty. “Does it feel funny?”

“No…” he said, his voice almost a drawl. “I was wondering what I’d done to have the fortune of meeting you.”

What did he mean? You would ask, but you suspected this was the kind of question where he would give a cryptic answer.

“I think it’s because you’re an amazing person already,” you replied.

“Well—” Red dusted his cheeks. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your words. Then he leaned forward, sighing, bumping his head against your waist. “I hope no one ever claims you as theirs.”

Theirs..? As in, their child? Why was he bringing this up? Was this because he knew you were an orphan? “My parents are dead, I think, so I don’t think anyone will.”

“Hmm.”

Sometimes you didn’t understand his train of thought.

That was okay. It had turned out better than you had expected, and Joshua was humming a very contented tune, and that was all that really mattered to you right then.

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

Author’s note: I was going to describe the clip-ons but I got lazy and said whatever!! Imagination is bliss!!

I know Joshua had ear piercings when he was a child, but it seems like he doesn’t post-timeskip? (please tell me if I’m just blind because that is an unsurprising possibility!!) I figured it would’ve closed up, but it doesn’t matter much... If you don’t like it just pretend it’s an earring I just wanted to write an ear touching scene for my ear fetish idk

I also know Joshua rejects help usually but I feel like he’d want to be spoiled by the person he likes... anyway, that’s enough. Hope you enjoyed!!

#joshua rosfield #joshua rosfield x reader

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Vampire

Media The Artful Dodger (Pre Show Release)

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SMUT

I sat on the top step as I waited eagerly, I tapped my boots against the wooden stair. I heard the clutter, clatter with the overhung chatter of people as they left having paid their coins, drunk their wine and watched a man lose a liver. And would now head home weary, woozy, and weirdly excited to their beds beside their wives. The Man in question, now a liver-short was ushered away by the paying family with a mix of emotions, joy from their loved one receiving such life-changing treatments, the sickness of having to watch it, and the fear of knowing both the hard road ahead for him of recovery and of course the Bill that would be dropping on their doorstep Monday morning. The last to leave was the town nurse who was often on hand to help with such business she left the office took her coat and hurried away out the door.

And that was my cue.

I scampered down the stairwell into the office and shut the large doors behind me, immediately the smell hit my nose of fresh blood.

The seats now sat empty, the table empty too, blood across the floor and even the wall. Amongst it all a weary Jack in his usual garb having just thrown his apron to the side to later briefly clean, his sleeves rolled up high his hands and forearms coated with dry and wet blood which he did attempt to dap off with a dirty rag which merely just seemed to move the dirt and bodily fluids around more. Even if he had worn the apron blood had still gotten to his clothes and he now stood tinkering about the room sorting his tools and such where he had moved them in his rushed work and how finally had the time to clean them off and return them to their proper places.

"How'd it go?" I asked

Momentarily he jumped "Oh fo- Y/n." He sighed

"What?" I giggled

"I- I bloody knew you'd be down here," He said before continuing with his work

"How'd you know?"

"Because you always find your way down here when I'm done working. I swear you have a sixth sense for when I've just finished sewing someone up," he said

"I like coming to visit when you're done with your work," I giggled as I fiddled with my fingers

"Ummm" he glared "Sure you do."

"I can't help it. I just like coming to visit," I giggled, I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around him letting my head on his back

"That's very sweet y/n." he said as he tapped my hands "What did you want then?"

I smiled and tugged him around to face me, as soon as he was faced with me I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss he happily kissed back as he settled his hands on my waist my hands slowly moved up finding their way into his roots and twisted my fingers into his hair and in response, he eagerly pulled my waist closer until our chest's where pressed against one another. Till we both pulled back for a breath.

"So? What did you want?"

"What do you think I want Doctor," I smiled as I took the tie around his neck in my hand and pulled it hard to drag his nose to my own and I kissed his nose, then down his jaw, and his neck nibbling and kissing.

"I swear you're a vampire." He chuckled playing with my hair

"Why?" I giggled and pressed my chest to his a little harder as I kissed

"You always show up as soon as I'm done with work like you've got a sixth sense, you always get so cuddly when I've been working, and you do this. You burrow yourself into my neck like you're trying to bite me!" he chuckled playfully and shifted his hips against my own

"Maybe I am a vampire," I giggled as I left a hickey on his neck

"Ahh! You evil little thing!"

"Evil?!" I pouted "That's not very nice Jack."

"You bit me!"

"Hummm that's not very nice," I whined as I pushed my bottom lip out

"If you're going to be a little vampire I'm allowed to tell you off for it" he smirked and rubbed his nose on mine

"Aren't you meant to be nice to me?"

"I think I'm being very nice, Shouldn't you be nice to me?"

"Alright." I smirked and tapped his nose playfully "I'll be nice. Maybe this way you won't be complaining when a part of you sits snuggly between my teeth," I smirked as I moved to my knees on the still bloody floor I made short work of his trousers and gently stroked his shaft with my hand as he leant against the desk leant his arms back excitedly

"So long as you don't bite my little vampire," he smirked

"No promises," I smirked as I took his shaft into my mouth and made sure to kitten lick my tongue across his head, he threw his head back and his jaw fell loose, his fingers gripped the edge of the desk hard as his lustful moans cascaded from his lips

"Ughhhhh- Uuuuuhhh - Ohhh fuck-" He groaned

I made sure to suck and lick knowing his needs by the sounds he forced out even made a point to grace my teeth against his shaft to toy with him until he grabbed the fabric of my dress at my shoulder and pushed me back so his shaft left my mouth and he tugged me back to my feet.

"Yes?" I giggled

"Upstairs? Or would you rather we just make a mess of my office?" He smirked

"It's messy enough" I smirked grabbed the tie around his neck tugged him aggressively as I backed towards the surgery table

"Ummm Alright my little Vampire" he growled 

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #jack dawkins #jackdawkins #jack #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger

[kicktwine]

get licked idiot (2142 words)

“Tataru,” Ch’ari blinks, one end of his mouth twitching. “You wouldn’t happen to have been… sewing upside-down, would you?”

“Why, no! Nothing of the sort. What makes you ask?”

“You’ve got, um...”

Tataru looks down in confusion and fusses with her clothes a moment, seeming satisfied as she straightens her overalls and completely misses the massive cowlick sticking straight up off her head. Ch’ari twitches. 

To make matters worse, she sits down next to him — still armored in his dragoon gearset after a day of hunting fiends out near Coerthas — and snags a bottle of rum from behind the counter to pour herself a drink. “Though I admit I was a bit busy. You’ll have to wait and see what with,” she says, trying to have a little conversation with the midnight crew.

Nursing his own bottle (a cheap unopened mead that he never pours into a cup, not that he needs to), Ch’ari can’t figure out how to respond and just watches her take a sip. The cowlick bobs comically with the motion. 

“Lemme just…” Ch’ari reaches over and flicks it. It pops back up. 

“Hm? Oh, is there something in there?”

“Hold on.” Ch’ari licks his finger and combs it down. It stays for maybe a second, and then… pops back up. He bats it reflexively. 

He’s aware his pupils are probably dilated as far as they’ll go, but this is his prey now.  This is his quarry. This bouncy cowlick. It will submit to him, this cowlick. 

He looms over Tataru’s head, and luckily she’s familiar enough with him to simply raise an eyebrow and not wonder if he’s going to eat her like a python. Ch’ari proceeds to insistently lick his fingers and smooth out her hair, as if she were a diminutive Miqo’te. He’s tempted just to — just to lick it down so his tongue can do the combing, but he’s not sure that Tataru would be amenable. He does care about her as a friend, and is aware Lalafell do not groom each other like his instincts want him to do. Even if it’s, getting fixed one strand at a time, infuriatingly, fighting him the whole way.

Eventually — eventually — Tataru’s hair looks… presentable. The cowlick, at least, is gone and not offending Ch’ari’s sensibilities, and the rest of it looks like it usually does outside her messy bun. Ch’ari growls at his work in satisfaction, and returns to his mead, starting to turn a bit pink despite his scowl. 

“…Was it really that bad?”

“You looked like a coeurl toy,” Ch’ari mutters. 

Tataru chirps a little delighted laugh. “Well! Then I’m glad I have you to protect me!”

••

For some reason, everyone had been fine upon arriving to Ishgard — freezing cold, yes, a bit miserable, but not sick. Alphinaud had, however, upon returning to the Rising Stones to recuperate after the defeat of Nidhogg, gotten a nasty cold and the worst sniffles known to man. He had been knocked out in bed for the past two days, and just barely able to shuffle about and pretend to be normal for about ten minutes in the morning for breakfast. 

Key word “pretend”. Despite his airs, it was abundantly clear to anyone who looked at him from closer than five feet that he had dragged himself out of bed to be here, and as soon as he had a croissant in him he was going right back to bed. It was how Ch’ari knew the cold was bad — he wasn’t off making it worse somewhere and ignoring it. 

Which is why Ch’ari almost excuses his dreadful upkeep. Unfortunately, it’s dreadful. 

He slumps carefully into the seat next to the Warrior, a croissant in his hand and a wheeze escaping his nose. His hair is pulled back in a looser braid, which is messy, but forgivable; his whiskers, however, are entirely crooked. The soft fluff around the base of his ears looks glued on and sticking up in places, and his fringe is almost sideways. Unconscionable. 

“Good morning, plague bringer,” Alisaie says by way of greeting. Alphinaud grunts in response. 

Ch’ari does not greet him. Ch’ari places his hand on his head like he’s a pickle jar and starts licking his fluff. 

Alphinaud jerks backwards, fast for a sick boy but dazed enough to be unable to break out of Ch’ari’s hold. The croissant drops to the table in a shower of crumbs. “A-Ari!” he splutters. 

Whatever the fluff is made of, it’s thinner than Miqo’te hair, which means it’s thinner than his papillae are really good for combing through. No matter, he will just have to do a more thorough job. He continues to lick and Alphinaud continues to writhe, and as he does his ear keeps flicking Ch’ari in the eye every time he runs his tongue near it — Ch’ari brings his other hand up and slaps it down, trapping it against the Elezen’s head. He pins Alphinaud with a glare. 

Alphinaud withers and stops trying to wriggle free, shrinking down in his seat. Pointedly ignoring Alisaie, who is watching the spectacle with her mouth open, Ch’ari snorts and continues his ministrations. One side done and straightened, he adjusts the boy’s head and works on the other. 

Alisaie mouths something to her brother, who does not dignify it with a response, whatever it was. At least he’s given up on trying to get out of being cleaned, but Ch’ari could feel the heat coming off his face from a malm away. Wether it’s embarrassment or fever, he doesn’t care to know. 

“You’re next if I catch you unkempt, red girl,” Ch’ari says, and he hears the click of a certain jaw being snapped shut. And an impulsive brush of hair being checked. 

The fluff successfully smoothed out and clean, Ch’ari decides to spare Alphinaud any further public displays of affection and only gives his fringe a cursory swipe through. 

“You may eat your croissant now.”

“…Thank… um. You,” Alphinaud mumbles, caught between a rock (mortification) and a hard place (critical unknown etiquette situation). He does not look at anyone else as he picks up his food and shuffles off back to bed.

••

Doman summers are humid. That is not the excuse Ch’ari has to make to get Alisaie to peel herself off the floor, but it is one of the ones he has ready. 

It only takes two excuses — namely that everyone else is asleep and so should you be, and that he insists come over here the futon by the window is more comfortable than the stool yes even if it’s small you’ll get a horrible crick in your neck just slouching there. It probably helps that she’s allowed to keep watch over her brother, and Ch’ari isn’t forcing her to go to the room she’d been provided with to go to bed. He’d be a hypocrite, anyways. 

She situates herself on the opposite end with a blanket, lost in thought. Ch’ari always thought the Leveilleur twins to be in their heads a bit often — as a negative trait, in the past, though it had morphed to being endearing to neutral in recent months. Always worried about such big pictures that the small ones scamper away outside their notice. Or always so preoccupied with what they can or can’t do to be useful, to change the things that aren’t fair about the world. So afraid of failure. Such a self-made burden on their fragile shoulders. 

That trait drives them underneath all their sweet selflessness and stubborn idealism. And it gets worse and worse with fear, the kind of fear that narrows the world down to two or three people at a time when the world demands thousands be paid attention to. 

Ch’ari has always been good at caring about two or three people at a time, and one or two things at a time. The title of hero is one he ultimately doesn’t deserve if one casts aside the ends and asks the means. He’s really more of a sword to be pointed, to intimidate. All the talk of politics, the big world important stuff his twins care about so so much, had washed over his ears a bit, ears that are not even now accustomed to a world bigger than a twenty yalm flat. He cares for the world and the whims of its protectors because there are people who live in it he cares about, as a sword loves its wielders, and they care for the world in that grand and wonderful way they do. 

Ch’ari has his thoughts, Alisaie has hers. He thinks she’s probably running herself in circles about the fate of the star and the fates of her loved ones, and Ch’ari is here thinking only of how he might be able to get her to stop. 

As it is, it’s ultimately not his decision. Guards patrol the Kienkan at night, and pass by windows with intermittent frequency, and it is as one shadow filters through the moonlight and shutters that Hydealyn deigns to grace him with a splitting migraine — but it’s a migraine he knows, it’s familiar. Not the overwhelming voice of the Call. He flinches backwards, claws to his head.

Alisaie startles and jumps to her hands and knees, gripping the blanket. Gods, not now, he has to-

“Echo. Echo—“ Ch’ari manages to choke out, before the memory takes him. 

There is nothing. 

It is a peaceable morning devoid of aught unusual, aside from its expansive, yawning emptiness — the soldier stands at the edge of the river, hand to his head in confusion as water sprites wink out and wither, far along the bank. No birds. No fish. No efts. Nothing. Even the babbling of the stream seems muted. 

The nets are empty. He goes home. 

Ch’ari comes out of the — short, but rather to the point — memory with a heavy shake of his head. He gets the message. At least the mother crystal is not one to dilly-dally when she has something to say, though he wants for priorities. There is so much going on, would Hydealyn have him abandon all else to fix this problem? Where to begin?

He comes back to awareness with Alisaie’s hands on his knees. 

Bereft of a good reassurance, he gives her a little thumbs up. She nearly deflates with relief. 

“Gods, Ch’ari. Do not do that again.”

“You’ll have to neg Hydealyn for that one.”

“Ari.”

“I’m fine. We’re fine,” he rasps. A dangerous wobble is sneaking into her eyes, born of stress and more stress and comatose family and the fear of being the only one left and in a room with her empty brothers. Ch’ari is struck as if with an axe at how much he would do to stop her. 

Any other circumstance would be met with characteristic yelping and protesting and perhaps a death threat or a tussle, but Ch’ari beckons and helps Alisaie (so light! Like a chocobo chick) into the crook between him and the window and puts his head atop hers and curls his tail around her feet and she doesn’t protest. Instead she tucks her arms around herself and pulls her tail in against his legs and drops her head right on his chest and does not cry. 

“We are fine,” she mutters. 

“Very. And if we are not, we will be not fine together.” The axe still embedded deep in his chest, he does not much hesitate to start licking through her bangs to smooth them out. 

She stiffens, her ears swiveling upwards as if to figure out what it is. Then, slowly, they drop back down, and her tense posture eases ever-so-slightly. Evidently, Alphinaud’s investigation into Miqo’te culture after his encounter with Ch’ari while sick was shared for scientific discussion. What fast learners. Even if Y’shtola had shared with him the disastrous results of Alphy asking her for tribal advice. Chuckling under his breath at the memory, his purr starts up without his bidding. 

“…How are you vibrating?”

Ch’ari stops and heaves a great sigh, and then bullies her head back down from where it had tilted up at him quizzically. “Your brother asked the exact same thing. It’s not vibrating, it is purring. It means I’m happy.”

“Oh. …oh,” Alisaie says, quieting. She casts a long glance at the bed set up against the wall, its occupant not even snoring or shifting. “I wasn’t aware you could feel it.”

“Little opportunity to find out, th’ past while.”

She pauses for a long moment. 

“Even now?”

“M’ happy you’re still here.” He turns his attention to her part, carefully grooming apart the mis-tied strands. “Not a fan of being alone.”

“I see.” Her tail shifts, the inflexible tip curling closer like either a stuffed toy to clutch or a protective sheet to block the world from hearing. “Neither am I.”

“Lucky.”

#cat time #claps HEY ok I finally feel like I’m getting some of my chops back #starting to Resolidify my writing #anyways. Ch’ari is a cat and grooms his friends even if they are wildly embarrassed about it #my writing #ffxiv #Ch’ari #alphinaud leveilleur #tataru taru #alisaie leveilleur #End of stormblood postpatch spoilers vaguely

[dulcewrites]

I love your writing! Could you write where black!reader is tired of Austin!Elvis spoiling her and constantly buying her jewelry, gifts, basically being a sugar daddy and how she loves him for him 🥹.

Can’t Buy Me Love

Paring: austin!elvis x black reader

Requested: yes (thank you!)

Warnings: elvis having very old fashion ideas about relationships

A/N: I swear I feel like you guys can see my brain. I had an sugar daddy!elvis idea on my idea list but took it off once I got this. I might still add it bc it was a bit different. Less I love you for you and more get bread, get that head, and leave with 70s elvis lmao. I feel like the Hollywood sign look was a very #expensive look. It’s giving money, it’s giving I’ll drop a couple of bands on my girl like it’s light work

You learned very quickly into your relationship with Elvis that he is a giver. Yes, you had been pursued before, but it was nothing compared to the stops Elvis pulled out after you two met.

It all started innocently. Your mom owned a women’s clothing boutique where you worked as a designer and seamstress. The business had started to transition into making costumes for tv and movie productions. So, you didn’t think much of it when you found yourself on an MGM set helping out. That was until you met Elvis.

You didn’t consider yourself someone that’s easily charmed. But when one evening he brushes a curl out of your eye and tells you he hopes you two can see each other after shooting ends, you realize you’re a goner.

The gift giving starts on the first date when he gives you a brand new sewing machine. At first you were a bit put off. Is this what he does? Butters women up with gifts, and expects things in return. But then you see the way he treats his dad, friends, and staff; Elvis would give away every penny to those close to him if he could. He’s wants everyone happy, almost to a fault.

It’s been almost a year since that first date, and the gifts haven’t slowed down like you thought it eventually would. He has you now; no need for excessive displays of affection. But here you, staring at the Tiffany bag he set in front of you while you were sketching.

“Baby….” You trail off trying to think of the words say. Dispute what he may say, Elvis is sensitive. You know how he will get if you say you don’t need more jewelry.

“Think of it as an early anniversary present,” he beams at you.

You thought the trip to Lake Tahoe that you two were taking was the present. Slowly, you open the bag and pull out the velvet box. Inside is a sparkling tennis bracelet, and your eyes get a bit wide. This has to be the most expensive piece of jewelry he’s gotten you.

“It’s beautiful,” you watch him take the bracelet out of the box and start to put in on your wrist. “But-“

“But,” he interrupts with furrowed brows. “Did you not like like it?”

You sigh. How do you even go about explaining this to him? That the thing you love the most about him, his big warm heart, is also the thing that can drive you up a wall sometimes.

“Baby, do you know why I wanted to take that Lake Tahoe trip,” you ask softly. “It’s not because I just love skiing so much. I want to be with you… alone.”

Another thing you learned once you started dating Elvis is that if you’re dating him, you’re basically dating his friends. It was made clear to you that to be accepted by him meant being accepted by the boys. You love being around them, but it does get exhausting not having your boyfriend to yourself. Between the movies, the music, the posse of friends, and your job, alone time is something you both have to fight for.

“I appreciate the gifts. I understand they’re a gesture of love, but it’s not necessary,” you take his hand and squeeze it. “I’d take having you for week with no one bothering us over an albeit very beautiful bracelet.”

Elvis gives you soft look, blue eyes swimming with something you can’t put your finger on.

“How do you manage to do that?”

You tilt your head to side curiously.

“Do what,” you ask confused.

“Manage to make me feel like I can be myself,” he leans his forehead against yours, and you grin.

“What can I say, I have that affect on people,” you shrug playfully.

You look down at the new jewelry on your wrist. It is a really nice bracelet. You hop into his lap and wrap your arms around him.

“Why don’t I give you an early anniversary present too,” you lean down and kiss his neck.

Elvis hums in response before surprising you and picking you up bridal style.

“I have a feeling I’m going to like that present.”

#austin!elvis x reader #black!reader #elvis 2022 #my writing #requests #austin elvis imagine #elvis x reader #black!oc #austin butler imagine

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 2

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 1

Still sleepin’ eh? Must be tired from all she's been through these last few days. Guess I'll work on the chemise ‘til she wakes up…

Laying the fresh bread aside and spreading the newly bought fabric across the table, you begin patterning out a simple shift — front, back, two sleeves and two gussets — all from a single length of linen. A trifle given that you've been sewing your own garments since you were a child.

As you begin to absentmindedly stitch the bodice together, your thoughts drift back to last night. By the time you had managed to stem her tears there were only a few hours left until daybreak. Too riled up to fall asleep and too little time to bother forcing it with medicine, you instead sat by the crackling logs and contemplated what you'd gotten yourself into.

I already saw men from the brothel skulkin’ ‘round the neighbourhood this mornin’, just waitin’ for her to come out alone. I could scare ‘em off easy enough, but if I let her go back out there now, her old man’ll probably just sell her again. That's if the bastard found her first. When his moneylender hears she's been freed, no doubt he'll be after her too.

Yet you know you can't keep her here long. The second you complete your mission you'll finally be free from this empty shell of a body.

But there ain't nowhere she could go right now that could guarantee her safety except a nunnery, but those institutions are no better than the tyrannical nobles and royals we're forced to obey. The only difference is they make you swear a life of poverty along with unquestionin’ obedience. I didn't free her from prostitution just to send her to a religious prison. There's gotta be somethin’ else…

An hour or more passes while you're lost in thought until the gentle rustle of sheets draws your eyes from the seam between your fingers to the huddle of blankets she sits curled up under.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” you coax gently, noting the fear lingering in her gaze and posture. “Y’ hungry?”

She nods once, cautious and timid.

“Lemme just finish this up so y’ve somethin’ decent to wear and I'll fix breakfast.”

While you stitch the gussets into the sleeves her eyes trail cautiously around the unfamiliar room. From the fireplace in the corner and the cauldron hung there to the dresser behind her and the single item that sits atop it.

Her gaze lingers on the scruffy purple teddy bear, threadbare and patched, but she says nothing. To your relief, neither does she attempt to touch it. By the time you've finished up one arm, her attention has waned, now shifted to her feet. Again, she doesn't dare speak; she simply stares down at the socks hiding numerous bandages.

“Here y’ are,” you tell her in a hushed tone trying not to startle her from her daze. “I won't look while y’ change. I'll be over there cookin' breakfast, eh?”

A frantic nod is her only reply.

You busy yourself throwing leftover bits of smoked ham, cheese, milk, and eggs into the ceramic pot before placing it over the coals of last night's fire. With only one spoon and one fork you'll have to wait for the custard to thicken enough to use either utensil.

“Thank you… Luke,” you just barely hear a strained whisper over the fire.

As you turn around you see her wince when her feet touch the floor.

“Oh. Stay there a sec’.”

Shoving the table towards the bed you arrange it in front of her so she need not stand. Most of the cuts seemed shallow last night, but you'll have to watch for infection when you redress them. Heaven only knows what's on the floor of that brothel.

“Better?”

She nods, the look she wears not a smile by any stretch of the imagination, but not nearly as fearful as when she woke up.

“The chemise fit y’ alright?” you ask over your shoulder as you move back to the hearth.

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

“Hm? What for?”

“You had to go to so much trouble because of me. I'm not good for much other than cooking and looking after livestock… but I promise I'll try to pay you back somehow…”

Grabbing your only bowl, you fill it with your favourite pick-me-up. “I told y’, y’ don't have to earn y’r keep here, Honey,” you frown and hand her the drink.

“But…”

“Listen. I'm not a good guy, but that doesn't mean I'm some creep who wants to use y’ either. Nobody belongs in a place like that, but not many can be helped once they're in the thick of it… There was no reason to let y’ get dragged into that living hell…”

Not when y're so young and innocent like she was… Not when it could’ve been prevented…

With a reluctant nod she takes a cautious sip of your offering and the tension in her brow melts with the warmth.

“Good?” you query with satisfaction.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Warm milk and wild honey. It's good for calming the nerves. I've never met a problem honey can't fix.”

While you set the custard on the table and slice the bread thick to use in place of plates, she asks nervously, “So… what are you going to do with me if you don't actually want me…”

“Dunno yet. Y’ can't stay here forever, but if y’ try to start workin’ somewhere in town sometime soon I'm sure y'll end up back where y’ were last night. What with y’r old man owin’ as much as he does he'll no doubt haul y’ off and sell y’ again.”

By the time you look up from the cutting board you're too late to stop the tears that have pooled in her empty eyes from rolling down her cheeks. Hurriedly taking a seat on the bed next to her, you grab the milk from her shakey hands before it ends up on the floor and pull her into your arms right after.

You don't know what it's like to be sold by your own family, but the mere thought reminds you too much of growing up despised, losing the only thing you held dear in an instant, being hauled off half dead to an orphanage in another country, and learning quickly that you would only be as valued as you proved useful.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. Y're safe here. Y're never goin’ back there. It must’ve been terrifyin’, I know. I know,” you coo and stroke her back.

Beneath the thin chemise you can feel the welts where she was beaten and you remember the rope burn around her wrists.

“Y've been through a lot. It's okay to cry, but y’ don't have to be scared.”

From under your chin she slurs with a sob, “But where will I go? I'll never be safe! I promise I'll work hard! Please don't kick me out!”

“I'm not gonna throw y’ out, Honey. Look at me.”

Prying her up by the chin you make her meet your stern gaze.

“I'm not gonna do nothin’ that would put y’ back in danger. I'm gonna protect y’ ‘cause that's my responsibility after bringing y’ here last night. I chose this. Y’ don't have to trust me, and y're free to leave whenever y’ want. But ‘til we find y’ a new life where y’ can be safe I'm not abandonin’ y’, okay?”

Bottom lip trembling she looks anything but convinced, but in her riled up state nobody would hear reason. Who knows when the last time she ate was. So you keep one arm around her and reach for the spoon.

“C’mon. Let's get some breakfast into y’ ‘fore it gets cold,” you coax and bring a bite to her mouth.

When she meekly accepts the offer you're quick to reward her with praise. “Good girl. Think y’ can eat by y’rself?”

Though she takes the spoon, you stay at her side and keep her in your embrace until you've both polished off your bread and eggs. With a warm meal inside her she certainly looks less gaunt. When you rise to clear the table you hear her ask timidly if she could wash the dishes.

“Maybe when y’r feet’ve healed and y’ can stand without pain, hm?”

Wrapping your patchwork quilt around her once more and curling her knees into her chest again she watches you tidy up.

“What's all that?” she queries so quietly you almost can't hear her over the rustle of the fabric you're busy spreading out over the floor.

“Wool for y’r dress,” you answer over your shoulder as you begin patterning out the pieces with chalk.

“Hope y’ don't mind the colour. I got yellow ‘cause I figured the bright colour might cheer y’ up.”

“I've… never had new clothes…”

“It won't be nothin’ fancy, but it'll at least be comfortable.”

“Thank… you…”

She sits in silence after that, looking on while you cut out the pieces from the yards of fabric. Only when you start backstitching the bodice together does she speak again.

“How did you learn to sew so well?”

“When y’ live on y’r own y’ learn how to do everythin’. I make all my own clothes. This little guy too,” you answer and nudge the tiny bear tied to your holster.

You catch a glimmer of light in her eyes for the first time as she stares at the creature dangling from your chest.

“Did you make the one over there too?” she asks and looks at the worn out teddy sitting on your dresser.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly and immediately change course. “Can y’ sew?”

“Um… Sort of... I've never patterned, but I can patch.”

“Can y’ baste the skirt?”

She nods hesitantly and you pass her the length of vibrant colour.

The morning ebbs into noon quietly, words only exchanged as needed, yet with every passing hour you notice she seems more at ease than the last. Her features soften as her focus shifts from internal anxieties to keeping her stitches even.

“There's still some fabric left. You want a bonnet to match or somethin’?” you ask when you finish attaching the skirt to the bodice.

“Actually… could I have a little bear?” she replies, her knees once again up in her chest.

“You don't want somethin’ to match the dress?”

Apprehensively balling herself up tighter, like you might lash out at her for wanting something else, she mumbles, “Um... A little bear would be much nicer to hold at night.”

Comfort and protection…

That was the story Leyla told you of the bear who helped the lost girl in the woods…

That was all she ever asked for… and you couldn't even manage that in the end…

“Sure, I'll make it after lunch?” you offer, a mix of emotions hazing over your eyes.

A sheepish smile from behind her knees is her single reply.

Part 3

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen luke #ikemen prince luke randolph #luke randolph #ikemen prince luke #ikepri luke #fanfiction #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfic

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - The Splinter

Jaskier likes learning new ways to do things. There's alway more than one way to do the same task, and he likes watching people to see how they do it diffferently. And then he wants to try doing it. Especially if it makes the task easier, or more fun.

He gets plenty of time to do just that as he travels with Geralt. Geralt will see him doing something oridinary, like folding up his bedroll, and he'll just wander over and show him a more efficient way to do it. Or a faster, easier way to start a fire. Jaskier never knew there were so many ways to get wood to burn, even green, unseasoned wood.

So when Jaskier gets a splinter in his palm, he tries to get it out like he usually does. First, he tries picking at it, trying to worry it out. When that fails, he tries to use the tip of one of his daggers to dig it out. He's still trying to dig it out when Geralt sees him and wanders over.

Hmm?

Oh, i've got a splinter in my hand... I've almost got it.

Hm.

Well, of course. All I have on hand is a dagger. Son of a...! Do you have a sewing needle? I could probably winkle it out in half a second with a sewing needle.

Hm.

What do you mean, I'm doing it the hard way-!

Jaskier is still talking when Geralt just reaches over and grabs his hand. Before Jaskier can react, Geralt is pressing his mouth on his palm. He does a complicated thing with his teeth and tongue as he sucks hard. The splinter comes out far enough for Geralt to grab it with his teeth and pull it out.

Wait-! What are you-? Oh... How did...? Wait... WhAt???

Geralt just grunts and rubs some salve on Jaskier's palm, then goes about his business.

Well, that had been interesting...

And of course Jaskeir wanted to learn how to do it. He nagged Geralt for days, asking in increasingly annoying ways as the Witcher continued to deny his request. He'd begged, pleaded, whined, made up an annoying song, and even tried clinging to Geralt's leg.

He almost got himself knocked into next week when, as they were riding through town, Jaskier whined loudly "Come on, Geralt! Teach me how to do that thing you did with your mouth the other night!" Geralt had frozen on Roach's back.

*Geralt.exe has stopped working*

Roach conintued to walk as people turned to stare while Geralt's brain rebooted. He gave Jaskier the most severe look the bard had ever seen.

Jaskier just grinned back at him, unfazed thanks to his high concentration of sheer audacity. Geralt gave up and showed him how to do it when they next made camp. It was either give in, or be publicly embarrassed, or privately harrassed to death.

And of course Jaskier had to try it out the first chance he got. That winter, he got his chance.

Lambert had gotten a large splinter stuck in his index finger. He'd spent several hours trying to get it out. He'd succeeded only in pushing it deeper into his finger.

"Just leave it alone, Lambert!" Coen had grumbled as he'd watched Lambert trying to dig the annoying piece of wood out with a sewing needle while they ate dinner, "You're only pushing it in deeper. It will come out on it's own."

Lambert grunted but kept picking at his finger, intermittently cursing or snarling to himself. He was considering cutting his finger off just to be rid of the annoying pain. He squeezed it as hard as he could stand, and managed to squeeze the end of it up just a little bit. He tried to get it with the end of the needle, but ended up pushing it back into his skin.

"F**k, sh*t, b*tch, c**k, c**t, a*sehole, motherf**ker, godsd*mnit!"

He became aware of Jaskier standing next to him. "You've got a splinter?" He reached over and caught Lambert's hand, pulling it towards him for a closer look. "I can help you get it out-!"

Lambert just growled at him and tried to tug his hand back.

"Don't be a jacka**, Lambert," Coen warned "Songbird is just trying to help!"

"I can do it myself."

Lambert and Jaskier had a brief tug of war over Lambert's hand. Lambert insisted he didn't need help, while Jaskier insisted he did. He began growing more and more annoyed by the persistent bard.

Jaskier finally got fed up with Lambert's stubborness.

"S*d off, I don't need your help-!" Lambert's protest turned into a surpised squawk as Jaskier's mouth closed over his finger.

Lambert: * Windows Error Message sound*

Jaskier: *his mouth doing something intimate to Lambert's finger*

Lambert could only sit there stunned, making an odd, strangled sound in the back of his throat, face going hot as he felt Jaskier's teeth and tongue move against his finger.

His brain tapped out and started a cascade of error message pop ups before blue screening as Songbird sucked hard on his finger.

Jaskier spat the splinter out while the other Witchers laughed raucously. Lambert was shook. As soon as the splinter was out, he glowered at Jaskier, then stalked out of the Great Hall, his expression stormy.

Jaskier had been a little hurt at the reaction. He thought Lambert would be happy to have the splinter out of his finger, but instead he'd looked p*ssed. Was he mad because his brothers were laughing? Why were they laughing, anyway?

What do you mean that's not how you usually do it? That's how Geralt showed me-! GeRaLt!!!!

As soon as Lambert was out of earshot, he sprinted for his room. WhAt dA fUq, wHaT Da FuQ, WhAt dA aCtUAL FUQ jUsT hApPeNeD????

He has to have a lie-down while he tries to forget about how he just had his finger violated.

Lambert literally hides in his room for a week before he plucks up the courage to come out. Then he just has to deal with the teasing and jokes. And that f***ing hurt look Songbird keeps giving him because he thinks he's mad at him.

And Melitele, are things awkward the rest of the winter!

#the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #the witcher headcanon #kaer morons #twn #the witcher netflix #lambert #witcher lambert #lambert the witcher #the splinter headcanon

[nyxnygma]

Sly Fox PT1 || Eric Carr

[Eric Carr x Fem!Reader]

Summary: What would happen if Eric was dating Paul Stanley’s Sister without him no one

Warnings: lying, innuendos, protective Paul

PART 2

!! Not proof read!!

Masterlist

When your brother rose to fame, he took you with him to all his concerts. He even got you the job to assist in designing and making their outfits and helping with make-up mishaps.

Paul had been quite protective of you since the beginning but now it’s gotten worse. One of his main concerns is people may be using you to have a connection with KISS and get famous, this happened once. He would also kill anyone if they break your heart. He even sat his band down to tell them they cannot date or do any funny business with you (he made this clear to Gene three more times).

This rule has never been a problem for you. Yes, the three men were attractive but you’ve never fallen for one of them. However, that all change when Peter left the band and was replaced by Eric.

He was like no one you’d ever met. He was kind, sweet, cute and he a jock raise to fame did not affect him. You had to spend a lot of time with him as well at first since he needed a persona. You both came up with The Hawk at first but that idea was scrapped fast. Luckily, Eric had a great idea.

“What about a fox?” He looked up at you with a nervous glint in his eyes. He looked so cute just sitting there on his chair, worried you wouldn’t like his suggestion.

“That a great idea!” You praised, “what size feet are you?”

“What?” He looked so confused.

“I think you’d fit Peter’s boots,” You explained. He fit the shoes perfectly. “You go home and come up with some make-up ideas and get some sleep. I’ll start making your outfit, hun.”

He blushed and nodded, “thanks, Y/N. Goodnight.”

“Good night,” you smiled. You didn’t waste any time that night, you quickly started sewing up old costumes to make a perfect one to fit his new persona.

“Rise and shine, Y/N,” Ace laughed. You must have dropped asleep after making the costume right into the table.

“Did you stay here all night? Have you eaten?” Paul questioned.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll get some breakfast in a second,” you huffed, “how’s this?”

You held up the outfit up to the four men. “God. That’s amazing,” Eric praises. You smile.

“Looking good,” Gene approved, “better try it on, Eric, with the makeup.”

He nodded and you all left the room to let him change. He came out of the room with his makeup design and outfit and it looked perfect, even with his big boots he was significantly shorter than the others.

You waited til he was in his normals clothes, the other guy have already left to carry on getting ready to travel or something, and walked him out the building as you interrogated him about what changes he wanted made to the getup. He insisted it was perfect.

“Do you want to get some lunch?” You asked him.

“What?” He blushed, “I mean yeah. I would loved to.”

He shook the idea that it was a date out of his head. He convinced himself that this was a work thing.

“Good. I’m wanting a burger,” I smile at him. He just nods and follows you as you lead him to a diner.

You both talked and talked all the way through the meal. You talked about what bands you listened to, he was a big fan of the New York Dolls, and what movies you like to watch. Your conversation even lasted after the meal as you sat eating cakes and drinking coffee. You finally left after three hours.

“This has been fun,” you smiled at him. He blushed.

“Yeah it really has. We should do this again.” He was about to speak again but you couldn’t stop your lips crashing into his. He didn’t seem to mind as he reciprocated the kiss. It only last 30 seconds but it felt like hours. “That was.. a shock.”

“Really? I’ve been flirting with you since day one,” you giggled.

“Oops,” he chuckled at his own obliviousness.

“My brothers gonna kill us,” you breathe, “he hates the idea of one of his band mates dating me.”

“What?” he stared blankly at you.

“Yeah..” You cringe, “I just want to say that I genuinely enjoy your company and like you.”

“I feel the same,” he grins. You both came up with a plan. It wasn’t a good plan but it was a plan.

You were both going to sneak behind you brother’s back and date. It sounded simple but it wasn’t. Especially when we were in Australia.

“Where did you two run off to after the interview,” Paul queried.

“I went to my hotel room,” you both said at the exact same time.

Paul raise his eyebrows, “Okay..” he the exited the room with Gene.

Truth was you weren’t in your room but in Eric’s bed. You spent the night together and left him at 6 am before Paul woke up.

“Lying to your brother?” Ace tutted from beside you on couch.

“What?“ you attempted to suppress your surprised. Eric eyes widened.

“My room is next Eric’s. I heard a woman’s voice and other things,” he raised his eyebrows up and down, “and I woke up at 5:50 and went to get some ice. When I returned I saw you sneaking out of fox’s room.”

Eric was frozen. He was scared Paul was going to boot him out of the band because he as soon as he joined the band he started dating his sister.

Part two

#kiss band #kiss #eric carr x reader #eric carr #the fox #paul stanley #starchild #the starchild #ace frehley x reader #ace frehley #spaceman #the spaceman #gene simmons #the demon

[existingonthisplane]

Okay so listen, as some of you know, I had the unfortunate realization that Will Byers is a jorts wearer.

But little did I know that that was a blessing in disguise!!

I would like to welcome you to:

The El Hopper and Will Byers Clothing style HC/How it started ??!

(That title is honestly too long)

So, if you’ve seen some random posts on here (or read the fic I’ve been writing) you already know that I HC Will and El (mainly El but Will gets roped in) to start exploring their clothing styles.

El gets super into it because it’s another way to express herself. It started off with Max in S3 but it’s gotten pretty big as she’s gotten older. At first starting off with just her finagling something together off of hand-me-downs and store bought things to her finally being able to explore other options once she has a source of income. She even starts sewing n stuff!!! It’s cool!

And because El gets as passionate about it as she does, I have no doubt in my mind that she starts testing and gifting things to her family.

Jonathan outgrew one of his favorite shirts? Boom suddenly it’s altered with extra patterns! It’s not the same but he still loves it.

Joyce has an old dress from when she was in hs that she doesn’t get any use out of anymore? Surprise! A brand new top and matching skirt just for her.

Will ripped his jeans randomly? Poof, suddenly they’re patchwork and distressed!!

It doesn’t always turn out great but it’s fun! And she’s experimenting and she just gets really really good at it. It’s becomes one of her stress relievers along with other arts and crafts.

Now to me, I think the Hopper-Byers siblings have a tradition. A tradition of sharing their art with each other. The whole trio are creatives in their own right and they love to mash those abilities together!

So when El gets her first wind of fashion shows and models and how all that works you can BET she’s sharing it. Telling how she’d think it’d be fun to do one. This is probably a little further into their stay at Lerona, Jonathan isn’t around as much and their mom is constantly busy. It’s just been Will and El, El and Will. They’ve gotten a lot closer.

Will is a little reluctant at first because he isn’t so sure about the whole “modeling” thing but El is pretty convincing and so after some designing (El showing her ideas, Will throwing in some of his own, then drawing together) and creating and everything else they’ve finally got outfits! And Jonathan offers to take pictures and Joyce gets out a video camera!

And the wonder twins make their debut wearing the most on brand Hopper-Byers family outfits but it’s got this El-ness about it. All clashing patterns but still a cohesiveness to it. The video doesn’t go anywhere and the photos get hung up within the house but it was so fun for the both of them. It was just silly and good and Will realizes he likes explore fashion with her. That them designing things together was super fun! Thus the WillEl fashion exploration extravaganza begins haha

At first it’s really just them spending time together. Will working on his art (probably the painting at this point) and El designing while she relaxes in his bed. But eventually it evolves a bit, where sometimes they design together or they just talk about it in general while their doing their own things.

El starts wearing some of her stuff more and more to school. She’s still having a rough time there and Will notices this. Especially when they get home one day and he watches her rush to her room and slam the door hard after a particularly rough day of bullying. He wishes he could come up with something to say. But he’s more of a show and not tell type of guy so he comes up with something else.

He’s a little nervous about the solution he’s come up with but he thinks it’ll help a lot. He turns on El’s hand me down sewing machine (she’d left it in his room the day before when they’d been art-ing together) and gets to work. That night he knocks on his sisters door and gifts her a flannel of his completed with a very messy but lovingly embroidered “Wonder Twins” written in purple on the breast pocket.

Will is wearing his own flannel, it’s not the same one but it’s close enough to what shes been given. His also says “Wonder Twins”, even messier than her own, and in yellow. Will goes on a whole explanation about how her bullies are dumb and don’t know what their missing out on. That she’s the coolest person he knows and he’s proud to call her his sister.

He nearly gets the wind knocked out of him at the force of her hug but it’s worth it.

She puts on her new shirt, and laughs when she notices that the breast pocket’s been sewn closed.

“You probably should’ve used the embroidery kit we have.”

“You mean the sewing machine?”

“No.” And she’d laugh some more.

The next day they’d wear their shirts to school. And El would probably still be getting picked on but it’s not so bad when she knows she’s got Will in her corner.

That’s how the tradition starts though, they start matching every now and again. Usually a Wednesday or a Friday. And at first it’s just little things but eventually it starts becoming full on outfits (I will draw these for y’all) and they evolve as the two of them discover what they like to dress in.

Eventually when they get back to Hawkins the tradition doesn’t really stop. It slows some during the War with Vecna and it’s a lot different considering it’s the apocalypse but they never drop it.

And when things are finally over and they can finally live a life that isn’t full of battling interdimensional creatures they’re able to bring it back full force. And it’s really full force because now they don’t care about what others think, about the kids their age would say or what they’d do, not after all the stuff they just went though. 

So all through their last year of highschool, you get some crazy imaginative fits. Some of them are sleek and cool and others just go absolutely crazy.

El’s style is a mashup of so many things. She’s very versatile but it’s always always accompanied by some form of patterns and color. She is not a dull color kind of girl and it really shows. Her favorite thing to do is also accessorize, she’s got all kinds of things, a lot that she’s made. Earrings made of things she’s found around the house and repainted, charm brackets with giant charms, you name it!

Will’s own style is a lot more simplified but the edges of El’s influence still show on him. He’s kind of got like a preppy, neat and tidy look. But that’s just in the way that he fits the clothes to his body, all tucked shirts and ironed pants. No wrinkles. If you were to take that away it’d be a bit more grungy but with lots of color. A distressed undershirt here and there covered by a button up he’s left opened and tucked for example. El’s influence comes into place with the patterns. Sometimes he’ll get shirts that have crazy patterns on them that he really likes looking at (he starts to do this more as he gets older too) but mostly his crazed patterns can be found on the socks he’s wearing. He’s got a whole collection and it starts to become a habit for others to randomly gift him some too.

Eventually this kind of things starts to rub off on the whole party and now everyone has at least one pair of absolutely atrociously styled socks!

It’s a regular Wednesday morning. The party is meeting up in the cafeteria before school starts like they’ve been doing everyday for the past 2 months. Lucas is running late and the party is discussing where he could be considering how timely he usually is. Suddenly Lucas is bursting through the door “you guys won’t believe why I’m late” he says but everyone is too busy staring at his pug covered socks that he has on full display.

Dustin walking home after a DND meeting sporting a freshly bought pair of Albert Einstein socks where the guys face is on one half of each sock and if you stand together you get the whole face.

Max and El, chilling in her room. Max’s socks say sk8er girl in crazy fonts and random colors. El’s socks having kitten faces all over them

Mike and Will wearing matching Bob Ross socks that Will’d been given an extra pair of (fun fact i have socks exactly like these)

Do you see the vision???

Now to wrap it all up, I started this post saying it was a blessing in disguise that Will canonicly wears jorts and that’s because in reality, he probably still will even after his whole fashion exploration. But it is because of this that we now get the most cursed image of

Jorts wearing, patterned calf socks having, elevated bowl cut styling, Will Byers

#byler #rené’s thoughts #rené’s writing #rené’s hc #am I going to draw this? #probably #willel #el hopper #will byers #the party #the party stranger things #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #max mayfield #mike wheeler #stranger things hc #willel wonder twins

[kingofthebeskargoats]

hello i’ve been reading through ur fics and i love them ! i was wondering if i could request a din djarin or joel miller (up to you) x male reader fic based on the song open arms by sza (solo version). not really a song fic just kind of having the message of the song. in case u haven’t heard it the song is abt loving someone so much that u devote ur life to them but realize that they hold u down (sad story lol) it’s mostly fluff ig but with angst

Mandalorian fic referenced to the song Open Arms by SZA

Gender-neutral reader x Din Djarin / The Mandalorian

Rating: sfw, angst

Word count: 967 words 

Warnings: mentions of blood, injury, stitching up wounds, arguments and fights

Comments: I wanna thank the anon who requested this, I am sorry that it is late, I was a bit busy these few months so I hope you can forgive me and I hope this is the fic that you wanted. Thank you very much anon! also sorry I did mostly angst for this fic

gif made by me: 

You had been with Din through the thick and thins of his job, always caring for him when he had been struck during a battle with a bounty and ensuring he was safe and secure for his next bounty job. You were always at his side supporting him during the tough times that came with his religion even when he wasn't at yours during the hardships and struggles during your life with him. You always devoted yourself and your love to him, making it known that you love and care for him and you love and care for the child, tending to its needs and wants to ensure that Din isn't bothered by the child when he has a much-needed sleep. 

However, today was the day that you took off your rose-coloured glasses and realised that he wasn't the man who had made you laugh or had made you feel like you could fly that you had first met those few years ago. You were tending to his wounds again, a strike to the shoulder leaving a bloody gash to the skin and muscle that covered the joint and helped it work, he was quiet while you were working on sewing the skin and muscle layer back together, applying bacta spray to prevent infection and to speed up the healing process. 

It was not unusual for him to be quiet while to tended to his wounds, but in most cases, he would mumble out a whispered thank you before, during and after you had cleaned him up, but the last few wounds he has just been quiet, no thank you or apologies. Not that you had required any words from him during the process it just felt nice to be acknowledged just like how to thank him for getting you supplies to cook with or to help him with his armour and weapons or thanking him whenever he's gotten you an extra shirt or pair of pants or clean clothes for the child. 

You must have spaced out because when you looked back down all the stitches were done and were in place, holding the skin together. You finish up and bandage the shoulder wound, rubbing his back before helping him get dressed. After a few moments, before he heads up the ladder towards the cockpit, you talk. “Din, are you ok? You haven't said anything to me today.” your face and voice tainted with concern. He looks back at you, “I’m fine.” he says in a gruff tone of voice. He heads up the ladder into the cockpit while you sit in silence.

Last week the both of you had an argument about the number of wounds Din was acquiring. It was a small back and forth before Din raised his voice at you telling you to stop worrying about him and that you were too overprotective. Since then he hasn't talked to you aside from a few gruff okays and no’s which worried you. 

You decided to head up the ladder and speak with him, you didn't want to sit in silence anymore and help a man who didn't even want to talk to you. You reached the cockpit and sat in the chair behind him, knowing that he noticed you enter you start to speak. “Din, what's wrong, you haven't talked to me, you barely even want to be in the same room as me? Are you ok?” you watched as his body stiffened at your words and for a few moments the room was doused in more silence as he put the Razorcrest on autopilot.

He turned around, looking at you through the visor of his silver helmet, a few more moments of silence before he spoke, cutting through the thick fog like a knife through a cake. “You are always with me, always helping me even when I don't need it, I just want some peace,” he said quietly, keeping his visor on you. You frown and stare at him back before talking. “Why didn't you just ask me to leave or to get off your back?” you ask in a confused voice. He shook his head “No, I just want you to leave me alone, I don't want to have to tell you,’ he confesses before turning the chair back around to face the controls

You like you have been shot, shock and sadness bubbling up in your chest, not saying anything as you feel tears well up in your eyes before leaving the cockpit to go to your small room. You sit on your bed, tears streaming down your face as you try to wipe them away. This was the moment that you had fully pulled away from the Mandalorian who was named Din Djarin

A few days had gone by after the conversation with Din and you couldn't help how it was circling in your mind constantly. You had been focusing your attention on the child and refusing to acknowledge Din aside from the very few questions that he would ask. You still kept him some leftovers whenever you made dinner for yourself and the child. But after those few days of contemplation when the Razorcrest has landed just outside of a small city is when you decide to leave, packing your bag with the essentials that you need to survive before you say goodbye to the child, promising to visit them when you can. 

You open the door of the Razorcrest, knowing that din had heard tp door open but hadn't come down to see why it was opening. As you left you couldn't help but feel sadness yet also relief as you walked towards the city, away from Din Djarin and hoping one day you'll see him again but hoping that the time would have changed him 

taglist: @lucrezia-thoughts @thewayofthemandalorian @absurdthirst @f0rever15elf @tintinwrites @littlemisspascal @maxwell--lord  

masterlist

#my writing #anon #ask #din djarin #the mandalorion x reader #the mandolarian #din djarin x reader #tw blood mention #tw injury #gender netural reader

[moroneur]

Wishing upon shooting stars

this oneshot's a little angsty :o Characters here are YOU, Fellswap Gold Sans (Wine), Underfell Sans, and Sans undertale (breifly mentioned)

It’s been a year since you and Wine started dating. You always thought that things have been going alright in your relationship. From passionate nights in a hotel room, walks in the park, to him only having time to cuddle with you, and eventually not having any time to spend with you at all. But you’re pretty sure that's normal in a relationship; things die down a bit overtime, there's nothing wrong with that. Wine’s just been busy with work. He always came home late, having already eaten dinner. You understood. You were just glad he had enough time to celebrate your anniversary today.

At least, you hoped he had. You’ve been excusing yourself to Grillby from ordering until your boyfriend arrives. …It's been almost ten minutes now. The warm feeling of the pub had long left, the chilling feeling of loneliness bothering you again. Had Wine forgotten about this event? You hoped not, you texted him this morning to remind him of tonight’s planned event.. Your worries were drowned out when a familiar grunt was heard from the main doors of the pub. The loneliness had yet to fade away completely. 

Wine, in all his fashionable glory, walked towards your bar stool, an unimpressed expression settled on his face(skull). He sternly greets you, most likely unhappy with the eatery you've chosen—He’s always preferred more fancy and glamorous restaurants. He sits next to you and orders the best wine the pub can offer, not really sparing you a glance. You decide to kick off a conversation. 

“So, how was your day today, dear?” You lean on the bar to take a better look at the skeleton, a pleasant smile making its way onto your face. “IT.. HAS BEEN BUSY, YES.” he sighs out of frustration. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest — you really didn't mean to make him remember his shitty job. “It doesn’t look like you haven't been resting enough, Wine. Should we return home… call it a day? We could watch a movie. There's one that I've been dying to see, and I think you’ll like it.” You really didn’t want to, but you wanted this date to be comfortable and enjoyable to the both of you. “DON’T BOTHER… DEAR… HUMAN. YOU’VE CLEARLY BEEN VERY EXCITED FOR THIS OUTING.” You nod, grateful that all of that effort into your outfit won’t go in vain. The night continues seemingly normally. You were telling Wine some fun stories you experienced, already embracing the warm atmosphere of Grillby’s. He was focusing on what you were saying by staring at a wall or looking over the crowd, though occasionally he nodded or hummed, which you’ve gotten used to.

You decide to ask about Coffee, Wine’s younger brother. He enjoyed talking about him often. Your interest and curiosity grew as Wine fondly spoke of his brother, yet he never let you see him. He did show you pictures of his precious bro as a baby bones, and even met him in a cafe (accidentally in secret). He was accompanied by two very bulky-looking guards, but that didn’t scare you off, and in the end, you managed to get his phone number! You’ve been chatting online ever since. 

Wine narrows his eye(sockets) at you. What he was about to say goes unheard, the doors opening catches his attention. It was a group. Two skeleton monsters accompanied by a human woman. They come near, she sits down next to Wine, the others take a seat next to her. They order. Your boyfriend watches them throughout the whole thing. You’re confused. “Um..” He looks back at you. “MY APOLOGIES, WHAT WAS THE QUESTION?” You blink. What's so interesting about a group going to sit down at a bar that he completely forgets what he was going to say?? You decide to drop the topic and ask him about his sewing projects. Wine then engrosses you into a big rant about how his sewing machine stopped working a few days ago, very passionately. While this was happening, Grillby served the group next to you, and Wine, who was very passionately ranting about his work, spread out his arms and sent the human girl’s drink flying, right on her pretty dress. You still as she gasps, observing the way one of her companions jumps out of his seat to snarl at Wine. He raises a brow bone, promptly ignoring the threat. “HUMAN. I DID NOT  MEAN TO SPILL YOUR DRINK.” He started and pulled out exactly 245 human dollars out of his wallet. “CONSIDER THIS AN… APOLOGY.” the other skeleton growls as he summons a sharp bone. I was floating over him.  “ya think ya can buy our silence, asshole?!” Wine finally spares him a glance. Before he could speak up though, the human girl hushed him. “That’s.. The exact amount of money I paid for this dress..” Wine puffs his chest, proud that someone recognized his extraordinary memory. “WELL OF COURSE, I AM A MONSTER OF GREAT MIND AFTER ALL.” a smirk grows on her face. “How come I’ve never heard of you then?” 

…

It's been five minutes since he started talking to that woman. He ignored you even when you called out to him. He was seemingly so engrossed in their conversation that he stopped reacting to others around him. So, you end up silently sitting right next to your boyfriend, drinking and listening in on them. Now not only Grillby, but the two monsters that came along are looking at you in pity. You order another drink, getting wasted became top priority tonight.

After feeling relatively tipsy, you buy a whole bottle of Whiskey. You silently get up. You’re too tired to care if your ex noticed your movement. You stagger to the exit, pitying gazes heavy on your shoulders. The cold air of the outside was much needed; it was a stroke of comfort, and it sent pleasant chills up your spine. Unceremoniously opening the bottle, you take a swig of your new best friend for this evening. Now, for seating.. The pavement wasn't as comfortable as the stools in the bar, but it’ll have to do. 

You hope he knows there’s no chance you’ll still date him after this. Fuck, what to do now…

“hey, mind if i set ‘ere?” The skeleton who previously shouted at Wine was now standing behind you to the right. One could not see his face, as the lights emanating from the pub’s doors framing his figure were too harsh for your drunken eyes, but you could tell he was unsure. You shrug. He sits down next to you with an airy ‘oof!’ and watches you as you chug the bottle. You let yourself breathe, and with great strength lift your heavy head up and stare at the night sky. The skeleton followed suit, then suddenly pointed at the sky with a chuckle. “‘S yo lucky day. Better make a wish.” Lucky day? As if. Everything was fuzzy, but you tried your hardest to focus on where he was pointing to and— holy shit it was a shooting star! Not really thinking, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind:S

“I want to be happy.”

And it truly is what you desire right now. You’re sick of feeling anxious and scared. Sick of lying to yourself that everything was fine; it wasn’t. Nothing was alright right now and you wanted to scream and cry and punch something— The stranger interrupted your hurricane of thought with an awkward laugh “Holy shit, kid. ‘sit really that bad?” You nod helplessly and turn your head in your hands a bit to look at him. The skele-man had a single red glowing eyelight, a golden tooth standing(shining) out in his confident and laid back smile. He looked really cool. He laughed and grinned smugly. ”Glad ya think so kid. I called’ya a cab so you arrive home safe, seems like they’re ‘ere.” Your fuzzy brain didn’t allow you to feel embarrassed. Instead you looked at the car that was suddenly REALLY close. How did that get here? After getting up and brushing yourself off, you make sure you have everything- your wallet, keys and phone. The skeleton monster helps you get in the car and with your help directs the female driver to your place. As if suddenly remembering that you don’t know this monster, you turned to him from the window. “Who….’s your.. Uh, name.” The fire of admiration and thankfulness burned in your eyes. This stranger had given you more companionship than Wine has these past few months, you wanted to at least know his name to find him and maybe ask him to hang out once you're sober. He kept looking at you, and just as the car window was closing, his already big grin widened in pride and he smugly said: “Name’s Red, darlin’. Ya better remember dat.” 

The car drove off.

…

Lo and behold, After a 15 minute drive, you’re finally home. A bit sobered up, angry, and terrified of the future. Doesn’t matter, what you have to do now is deal with the current situation. 

You fumble with the keys and open the door to you and Wine’s shared apartment. You enter and shiver when his scent, the perfume he’s still been using ever since you gave it to him for gyftmas, completely enveloped you. The windows were opened immediately. With unstable breath, you open the door to your shared bedroom. Even though Wine had taken to sleeping on the couch (he said he wanted to keep watch. His underground had been brutal, so you let him guard you at night. He wasn't as grumpy then.) there were many knickknacks that reminded you of him. Of the happy times. Every single piece of memory that you made with Wine crashed onto the floor loudly, your bottle not in your hands anymore. “Fuck this.” You heave, aggressively wiping away your tears. 

Your thoughts wandered while you packed Wine’s bag. You’ll have to get your locks changed asap, and also call his bro and update him on things. Maybe you could take a trip and visit your parents where you could deal with the breakup peacefully..

“..HUMAN?” 

This makes things easier. The case won't have to go flying down the window if he's here to carry it. “I’m packing your bags.” he stands frozen by the doorframe. “...WHAT?” You go back to your wardrobe and throw any kind of clothing that you don't remember owning on the bed behind you. “I’m packing your bags.” You repeat sternly while stuffing all of his clothes haphazardly in his suitcase. A moment of silence. He was expecting you to say something. You don’t know what exactly,  but you don’t really care right now. “I’m breaking up with you.” He doesn’t move from his spot, his eyelights tracking you like prey. “YOU’RE DRUNK, HUMAN.” You finally burst. The clothes in your hands are suddenly somewhere else and your whole body turns to face Wine, arms in the air. “And?!” You scream, “You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me tonight, you ditched me, IN FRONT OF ME. You don’t eat my food or spend any time with me, you don’t let me get close to you emotionally, You can’t even call me by my name like you used to goddamn it!! What the fuck else am I supposed to do?!” Hot tears are making it hard to see the target of your grief and general misery for tonight, and a part of you is glad for that. You blindly reach for the bag behind you, make sure it's closed and then throw it in Wine’s direction. He doesn’t move to pick it off the floor. “Leave my apartment this instant.” You heave, aggressively wiping away your tears. “I never want to see you again.” Wine keeps watching you with a blank face, analyzing you. Then, he reaches into his pockets and takes out the apartment keys. He takes out the apartment keys and throws them to your feet, then reaches for the bag all while scrutinizing you whole. Your ex slings the backpack on his shoulders and slowly turns his back to you. He waits, as if he’s waiting for you to take everything back; you don’t, and when he realizes his expectations won’t be fulfilled, he frowns. “Goodbye.” Wine tells you as he walks away from your vision, and life. The moment you hear the main door shut you scramble to lock the door. 

You cry yourself to sleep that night. 

PART 1 {} PART 2

#one shot #oneshot #fellswap #underfell sans #uf sans #fell sans #sans #wine #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #undertale #fellswap gold #fellswap gold sans #breakup #bars #gonna post this on ao3

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Calm Before the Storm: Rooftop chat

collab. drabble w/ @ro-valerius [also credit to Ro for the gpose shot ^^]

Characters:

Tofu Curry [guest appearance] (ro-valerius)

Kore Grimvik [mentioned] (@sorrel-haven)

Miyu Murasame

Miyu has a chat with Tofu following a recent attack... [initial post]

When Miyu saw Tofu on the roof that night, initially they didn’t plan to bother him. They were intending to leave him to his careful watch, and return to sewing the latest clothing article they were working on – a gift. But as they stared at him from a distance, the more they focused on his expression. And their thoughts began to wander to his feverish nights, to both surprise attacks, and what was to come. Despite their uncertainty, they went up to approach Tofu, doing their very best not to rip their favorite dress on their way up the back of the house. 

“Well, I don’t suppose you’re stargazing right now, hm?” they greeted him with a soft chuckle, slightly breathless. 

Tofu had noticed Miyu long before they had decided to join him on the roof. He had gotten used to his swirling thoughts of late, and could remain in high alert as he struggled to organize what was going on in his head. He stared at them a moment after their greeting, hoping that when he spoke, his tone wouldn’t sound too cold.

“I’m not,” he said, and though he didn’t sound cold, he still sounded flat. Like there was nothing there.

Miyu caught on quickly to Tofu’s manner of response. Their expression didn’t change, though their ears twitched low with a slower movement of their tail. They sighed softly through their nose. Slowly, they walked over to join him, taking a seat beside the Viera with ample space between them. “Yeah… hard to see the difference in a couple million stars after seeing it for so long… and doesn’t help when your mind is all… busy.” They leaned back on their hands, peering over at Tofu from the corner of their eyes. There was a moment of silence where they just looked at him, contemplating what to say. 

“A lot has happened. A lot to think about, I’m sure. If you need help easing some thoughts… you know I’m here for you.” They tilted their head to one side, brow furrowing in concern. “What troubles you?”

He was quiet for another moment, eyes scanning the area around them as he thought about how to articulate what he was thinking. Without meeting their eyes, he murmured so softly it was a miracle if Miyu could hear him.

“Has Kore told you about what happened when she took over watching me…?” he asked.

“I have not heard yet – no,” they reluctantly responded, scooting closer to hear him better. Gently, they brushed their fingertips over the back of his hand. A simple, fond motion to show they were there for him. “What happened?”  

He glanced over at them and shook his head slightly. “I’m more worried about her, honestly. I’ve dealt with my past for years, had years for it to dull. She took all of it on at once, in force, unprepared.” He paused, lowering his eyes. His hands clenched into fists. “No…that’s not quite right. I mean, it is, but… I haven’t relived it that vividly in years. Seeing it all, all at once, with everything else going on…”

Miyu’s eyes went wide. Given Kore’s abilities, and the nature of Tofu’s dreams, they could surmise what happened. “Oh my…” they murmur, looking away as a deep sadness overtook their gaze. 

‘Poor dear,’ they thought to themself, tapping their fingers as they considered how to check up on Kore next. 

“Yes, that does sound troubling – for the both of you. And you’ve spoken to her?” 

Tofu put his head in his hand, letting out a deep sigh, before returning to the area scan he’d been keeping up. 

“We spoke when it happened, but not since. I…don’t know how to bring it up with her without her trying to turn it around to comfort me. I don’t need the comfort. Not the kind that comes from talking things out, at least. So I just…haven’t yet,” he murmured, an edge of sheepishness in his tone. A hollow smile crossed his face. “Remember when you said ‘too many new things all at once’? I think I understand how you feel now. Too many new things at once, indeed…”

Miyu gave a little nod in understanding. They wouldn’t know how to approach this situation, either, frankly. Their hand twitched as they watched Tofu’s head dip away into his hand, eyes lingering on his shoulder a moment. They didn’t budge again just yet, though. First, they needed to figure out what to say.

“Well… maybe what I say may not amount to much. But I do believe things will come to work out. You both care greatly for each other. Perhaps… a bit of a nice distraction is needed,” they murmur in thought. “And then, the two of you can talk about it.. Potentially.”

Their heart gave an ache. Indeed, many new things at once. 

Miyu’s gaze remained on Tofu as his own were turned to the surrounding area. “Well, at least not all new things are bad.” 

“Not…bad, no. Confusing, yes.” He thought about elaborating, but decided against it until he could understand things for himself better. He drew in a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I think the distractions are going to have to wait. Unless you want to quantify our sailing trip coming up as a ‘distraction’, but I doubt that is what you meant.”

Confusing, of course. They couldn’t agree more. Miyu gave a little sigh, nervously fiddling with the gifted ring from Tofu as they stared out to the sea of stars above. At the mention of their sailing trip, their expression dulled. 

“I… know I’ve been a lot of trouble for you lately. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re not trouble at all. Don’t apologize, you aren’t to blame. For any of this,” Tofu cut in quickly, finally fully turning to look at them. He did wish his voice would just…have something to it, but he couldn’t get it to express anything. He reached over and took their hand, the one wearing the ring he had given them, hoping he could convey what he wanted through physical contact.

Miyu was appreciative of the contact, their hand wrapping around his, but the guilt in their eyes didn’t relent. 

“I complicated things myself. You… could’ve had more time for yourself, for your situation. You ran out so fast that night, and you had only just gotten over your fever - I was…” They trailed off a moment, giving his hand a squeeze. “I know you can handle yourself. I am terrified to lose you.”

A bittersweet smile tugged at Miyu’s lips. “I suppose the nature of just how much I care for you is one of the new and… confusing… matters. Not a bad one. But being in a bad situation does make this scary,” they remark, somewhat vaguely. 

“...Seeing the state they put you in, I couldn’t just…do nothing. I…I’m afraid to lose you, too…” He lowered his eyes, his brow furrowing as he tried to put his thoughts in order. His conversation with Blomma kept running through his mind. 

Miyu’s eyes softened. They clung to his words, even if their judgment told them that this was just how Tofu was with his friends. Their senses screamed that this wasn’t good for them, that they needed to let go. 

Instead, they held on tighter. Miyu brought their clasped hands up to their face, and they softly left a kiss on his knuckles. 

“Of course — that’s how you are. You’re sweet, and you have a big heart, despite how walled up everything is.” They lowered their chin as they averted their eyes. “It's easy to go all soft on you.”

They blinked. “Not… in the fighting sense. I could probably kick your ass.” No, they couldn’t. But they at least attempted to throw some humor in there, even with their nervous tone.

Tofu tilted his head. Was that just how he was? Sure, he cared about his friends very much, but a lot of his confusion came from it feeling…different when it came to Miyu. And he didn’t know how to quantify it. Then there was what they said about going soft…they’d said they’d gone soft on someone before, and that it was affecting their work. Something about sinkhole feelings. He didn’t fully get it, but… His eyes lingered on his knuckles, where they had left a soft kiss. Once more, Blomma’s words came to mind. And his face burned. He had to look away again.

“I-I… Miyu, remember how you said you would wait for me to figure out what emotions are? And what they mean?” he asked softly. “I-I hope that hasn’t changed.”

Miyu blinked. They were quiet for a long moment after Tofu’s response. After all, they were expecting his usual ‘ah…… right.’ 

“Of course.” They swallowed hard. “But… I don’t want to influence your choices based on what I want — I want it to be what you want. If these… emotions… don’t align with my own. That’s okay.” 

Miyu took in a deep breath, their limbs tense. Their hands seemed to quiver slightly as they held onto Tofu’s, but they didn’t fall away.

“I’m always going to be here for you, in any way, regardless of that.”

He felt their hand shake in his and squeezed lightly. Before he could think too hard and decide against it, he mirrored their action, bringing their hand up and placing his lips against their knuckles softly. As he pulled their hands away slightly, he paused, keeping his eyes affixed to their hand in his. He noted that the action…didn’t feel wrong. His cheeks lit up again as he dropped their hand and turned away as the realization hit him like a rogue chocobo cart. 

Miyu couldn’t be more thankful that it was night out, given the flush that quickly washed across their face. They stared at him in a momentary quiet after the drop of their hand. Not wanting to overwhelm him too much, they decided that they’ve perhaps pushed the limits already a bit too much tonight. Not that they felt any guilt for it, really. 

“I’ll see you again tonight, my dear one,” they murmured, pressing their lips to their fingertips before they held that same hand to his cheek. They lingered there a moment before they started to make their way off the roof.

#gpose #ffxiv ocs #ffxiv miyu #arc: calm before the storm #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxiv miqo'te #ffxiv viera

[pacinosgf]

               from paris, with love: learning to accept the wonders of life, facing your problems, coming to the realization that love requires a sacrifice that you are more than glad to make. starring marjorie & dorothea, written by isa & amanda.

               How weird it is to write a letter. I know people used to do it all the time, but it's obviously different. now I could simply text you, but what would be the fun in that? Where is the romance? Where is that fuzzy, warm and at the same time aching feeling, like when you are watching a 40s melodrama and the protagonists are intense and passionate and you can't help but feel totally affected by them?

               Exactly, these things don't exist in a text. So write a letter, we must! I see the whole thing as a movie montage of our own: I will write it peacefully, a sweet smile on my lips that will make the audience melt and root for us. I will spray my adored perfume on it. I will put it on your pocket, and in a especially hard moment at work, you will find the letter and feel totally mesmerized by it. When you finally arrive home, I will be at the couch, waiting to embrace you in the most loving hug to ever grace the screens. Not even Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman could top that hug. Our chemistry is so unbearing that producers will consider censoring an embrace! And that's how our movie ends. The kiss scene is for us and for us only.

             Can you notice how much free time I have now? It's almost killing me. Not that I used to do much in Genovia too (at least when I was just the princess), but having an internal depressed monologue took up too much of my time to notice. It's the most free I've been since I graduated college. So, while you are out and I'm here alone, I try to master day-to-day activities to fill the schedule. Cooking, for instance. I know how to make an egg, before you start laughing! This princess does not have a problem with getting her hands dirty. But really cooking, like doing fancy dishes. Sewing too. I suppose tomorrow I will start talking to the rats in the sidewalk.

             Two days before we met, I was in Venice, trying to build some courage and get to Paris to see you. I remember wandering around the streets, uncertain of what to do, considering simply giving up and going home. Then I met this musician and her girlfriend (or wife, I didn't want to ask it properly) and they started telling their history together. How it was against all odds, how the lovers themselves didn't think it could work. The girlfriend was only in Venice for vacations, a break from the busy and incessant big city life she loved so much. But when she met the musician, with her quiet life and sensible tones, so different from everything she'd ever met, she knew it was over. The musician would follow her everywhere, as a melody, as a memory, but never as she truly wanted: in person, out of love. So she stayed.

             She stayed and I rushed out to Paris, following the string that unites us since we met for the first time. I put on my favourite clothes, as a kind of armor. I motivated myself by remembering the nights we spent exploring museums, kissing in every corner and leaving our mark in every bar. Holding hands and feeling the most powerful people in the world. Silently recreating famous movie scenes. The napkins with love notes I used to hide in your bags and pockets, those you probably only found right before washing, because that's simply how you are. A smudged Love you so much - Dotty out of the machine.

             Thank you for always seeing the Dorothea behind the princess. Thank you for understanding that there's no Dorothea without the princess. And thank you for being so patient! I have no idea of what I would have done If I had gotten here and you had someone or just wasn't interested in me anymore. Maybe I'd have killed myself or become queen. Who knows? My first royal assent would be incriminating you of something and making sure that you would be locked up in Genovia for the rest of your life.

             Just kidding! Love you. I think I should start looking for a job. I've read once that adults that don't really want to adult keep getting masters: maybe I should do the same? Former princess-Doctor Dorothea Grimaldi, expert in Social Science, sounds good? Should I put the almost forty years of experience being a princess in my curriculum?

             That's the part where I feel too sensitive to say something and keep joking to distract you. It's over now. What matters is that I love you! I'm so glad that I missed the plane.

                           Sincerely and profusely,

Your Highness, Princess Dorothea.

p.s: I swear that the signature was out of habit.

@gllianowens

#dorothea & marjorie. #esse aqui eu quero mandar um alo especial pro meu namorado pois faz uma semana que to rascunhando esse #e ele teve o trabalho de pegar os rascunhos que tenho no zap e ir recitando pra mim enquanto eu ditava o que queria corrigir e como queria #continuar #e segurou o nebulizador pra mim enquanto eu escrevia NO PAPEL porque o computador me dava dor de cabeça #thanks for being my alma baby <3 #ENFIM eu amo o formato de cartas amiga sou muito romântica. deus abençoe! #e a dorothea é totalmente alguém que gosta de cartas também. she is an old school romantic. #e amo os paralelos entre daisy e natasha e elas nossas queridas europeias #bjosssssss #it's supposed to be fun turning 21.

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

30 Days of OTP: Day 7, Cosplaying

Rating: K

Verse: Human AU

AN: New Zealand has at least 5 cosplays of selected characters that he wears to the Auckland Armageddon expo every year. Once he ended up talking Tonga into cosplaying with him and he does it every now and again.

Also I just recently watched Thor: Love and Thunder and thought matching Thor and Jane costumes would be a cute idea uwu;;

He found it strange enough that Kainga had cooped himself up in his room for the past few days or so. Even stranger that Kainga hadn't explained his unusual behavior, James had only caught glimpses of him going into the kitchen for food. Whatever it was it was apparently very secretive too with Kainga throwing James out his room every time he tried in intrude in. Simply claiming that he should keep his 'Fat fucking nose' out of his business.

Leading James to convince himself that his nose was in fact NOT fat under a surplus of pouty grumbles the New Zealander emit after being kicked out.

Kainga couldn't help but laugh at him a little from behind the closed door. After all, he didn't want to ruin the surprise for James. He worked hard on it for months; he had the needle marks from the sewing machine to prove it. Going from knitting sweaters to making a full fledged cosplay was not an easily achievable feat, the amount of detail every part of it required was something truly remarkable. He wanted to make sure everything on it was completely perfect, sat behind a sowing machine with his signature glasses perched on the end of his nose. Threading every string through the costume with precision and care. Leave it to him and his perfectionist ideals to choose one of the most complicated outfits out there.

He’s impressed, if anything, James simply staring at the creations Kainga had made, the Tongan fast asleep at his desk in the room with a selection of sewing pins and needles cluttered around bare feet and the New Zealander is vaguely surprised to find an embroidery needle still between the others finger tips. His glasses slouched upwards across his face from his cheek resting on his cross arms on the desk. He could only smile fondly at him, bringing up a blanket and wrapping it around Kainga. He didn't want him to get cold after all, cooped up in his room all day wasn't exactly the most healthiest choice. James wasn’t sure how long the other had been working on them or stuck in here, a few months if the bubbling excitement the other had been spewing over the Armageddon Expo coming up was anything to go by, but he hadn’t actually expected him to make his costume, letting out a low whistle as he saw the wigs and facial hair pinned to the wig heads.

It was too dark to see what Kainga was actually working on, James simply placing a loving kiss to the top of his head. Pressing his lips down on the Tongan's curly hair that'd tussled up from sleep. Probably the first he'd gotten in ages so he made sure the blanket was wrapped around him snugly. Something about being able to tuck Kainga in on any occasion brings James so much satisfaction, watching the other cozy up on his desk was rewarding enough for him.

Dawn hit Kainga like a good morning slap to the face. His disappointment is quite frankly immeasurable as he realized he'd creased up some of the fabric he was sowing by sleeping on it. Now he'd have to get the iron out again which was a job within itself as it was stashed away in some unknown corner of his room.

Standing up groggily to try and look for it, only to be met with the silhouette of James leaning on his doorframe. Jolting up in fright as he didn't expect the other to be there, looking as smug as usual with two cups of tea in his hands. James laughed at him gently when he sees Kainga's look like that of a deer caught in the headlights before the Tongan relaxes again.

“James…it’s early, stupidly early. Why are you here?" he looked at him rather startled, hardly even awake yet.

"Kai-boob, it's 1pm now," he said softly, standing off the doorframe and handing him the cup of tea he made for him. "You've been locked up n' here like bloody Rapunzel. Eating nothing but takeout and instant noodles, what on earth are ya hiding from me?"

Kainga seemed to be rather embarrassed by the fact that James was right about his peculiar habit. Bringing the tea up to his lips to stall conversation as he normally does in these kinds of situations.

"I...I wanted to make a costume that matched yours for the Expo this year," he admitted quietly. "You know me, I wanted it to be perfect. I guess I got a little too into it and couldn't seem to stop." He let out a small laugh before finally looking back up at James. "Maybe I should time my surprises better..."

James looked at him in surprise. Almost like he'd expected the answer to be that Kainga just wanted to avoid him but...this was not the case. He couldn't help but start to feel a little warmer than usual.

"Oh Kai, yer mean it lovely?!" he pulled the unsuspecting Tongan into a hug, Kainga let out a small angry yelp at his tea almost spilling all over the two. "This is amazing! We can both go together in cosplay! Oh! Let me see what ya made! Pleaseeee~?!"

Kainga was reluctant at first glance but soon came around once he saw the puppy eyes James was pulling at him. Even though his cosplay had a bit more touching up to do, details only a perfectionist like Kainga would notice, he took it off the sowing machine to present it. His whole face tinted in a deep crimson blush, more than shy to be showing off his creation to James.

"I-It's still a work in progress!" he nervously stammered in defense out as if James would start nit picking at it like the Gordon Ramsey of costumes at any second. "I still need to touch up the cape and armbands of her outfit. You wouldn't stop badgering me about how you wanted to dress up as Thor this year so I figured, I'd go as Jane to match yours." He placed the costume in James's hands, his fingers lingering on it for a bit like it was a priceless artwork from the Renaissance.

James looked completely astounded at it. Unable to even keep his jaw up as his eyes trailed up and down the costume in amazement.

"Ar' ya kidding me?! It looks incredible! Look at that detail! You got everything down to a T Kai! Holy shit this must've taken ages to do!" It wasn't long before James started to go off on an excited ramble about how incredible the costume was. Flipping it around over and over to admire every enticed detail within the threads of the fabric and metal plates of shielded armor.

He should probably stop complimenting the Tongan on it at some point; he’s too modest for his own good and becoming increasingly more and more flustered by the second. But he’d not seen him in a while and an embarrassed and modest Kainga was something that only came round once in a while.

#30 days of zeaonga #hetalia #aph new zealand #aph tonga #zeaonga #hws new zealand #aph #hetalia oc #hws tonga #ao3 fanfic #30 day otp challenge

[fixingmysociallife]

Allowing myself a break from socializing in order to become more social

G'Day Depressos!

Today I'd like to talk about a recent realization about my project and it's negative effects. Pushing myself constantly to be braver, accepting all invitations and trying something new whenever possible has definetly helped with my social anxiety and overthinking, but lately, it has gotten worse again. I've been out partying three weekends in a row, have gone to aikido practice religiously, showed up to several extra college meetings, met my sister for lunch and my friends for dinner, went shopping with my mom and had a movie night with another friend. On top of that, I did my best to keep up with college work since my first exam is in two weeks time. I'm exhausted and overwhelmed, and it's worsening my social performance once again. Being out with my friends, I was nervous, uncomfortable and untalkative. Everything I said felt somehow wrong. Our topic of conversation was one I didn't like, I was overly sensitive to some comments made about me and had a hard time falling asleep afterwards. The best thing about the whole ordeal was the food, sadly. I recognize that I need to cut myself off from everything for a week or so to reset, binge watch a series, sew a new dress or so, and get myself back on track. However, I'm afraid of missing a chance to spontaniously connect with someone, something I still deeply struggle with. Also that plan is not feasible anyway, as college socialization is non-negotiable and not seeing my friends until the new year would be sad too. We are all extremely busy during christmas time. It seems like I have no choice but too keep going until January. Bad for me, but at least I'll have more content to post here, outlining how I'm fixingmysociallife (the premise of this blog, if that's not entirely clear yet). Until next time, byee!

#social problems #friendship #self help #personal improvement #project #self improvement #positive mental attitude #insecurity #emotions #take a break #rest is productive #introvert #healing #burn out #mental health #mental problems #im fucking exhausted #exhaustion #keepgoing #keepmovingforward