#gentle reader i did not

[astralstarlight]

pairing: wriothesley x reader

summary: you really want to spend time with wriothesley right now.

word count: 1.1k+

warnings/tags: 18+, nsfw content (under the cut), umm praise from wriothesley??, kind of shy/insecure reader, fingering, fem/female bodied! reader, he calls you sweetheart and baby, i was gonna let him use his cuffs and then i forgot so he's extra gentle instead

a/n: i need him.

Every time you visit Wriothesley in his office, he knows it's because you're needy. You don't make the trip all the way there for no reason.

"I just missed you." You'll say, leaning against the table with a pout. It's the way you're avoiding eye contact with him and staring your shoes that gives you away. Not to mention the fact that you're standing right in front of his seat and forcing him to look at you instead of the paperwork he has on his desk.

He resists the urge to laugh. With a slow and precise movement, he leans forward so that he's meeting your gaze again. "Yeah? You just wanted to spend time with me?"

"Mhm." You feign innocence. Archons, you're even blushing.

"Still too nervous to use your words, huh?"

He watches as your shoulders tense. Guilt is written all over your features. He watches as you take a deep breath in to try to calm yourself, meeting his eyes with a flash of confidence this time. There's a rigidness in your form still though, and your mouth opens to say something. But he doesn't let you.

His hands clasp around your thighs, pushing them open so he can move forward on his seat to put himself between your legs. Before you can continue your sentence, he kisses you.

He knows you're about to apologise for something inane, like bothering him when he's clearly so busy, but he wants to remind you that he'll always make time for you. This isn't annoying for him. And it never will be. Besides, it's not like he can focus on anything while you're here.

It's a gentle kiss, and he lets himself part from you just a little before he's speaking again.

"Shh. I'll take care of you, okay?"

It's so quiet that you can hear how loud your breathing is. It's long, languid breaths at first, even as your heartbeat thuds quickly in your chest.

He's barely even touched you, and you still feel your breath hitch as he traces his fingers over your clothed pussy. You don't say anything, just letting his hands explore you and letting him squeeze and caress without complaint. He'll never tell you, but he likes holding you like this; likes knowing you're comfortable enough to let him just touch wherever. His hands never wander above your waist, and his motions slow as he tries to figure out what you're after today.

In exchange, you tentatively run your fingers through his hair. Once. Twice. And it takes you a couple seconds to realise that he's still just tracing his fingers over your thighs because he's waiting for you to ask for what you want. A small sound of frustration leaves your lips. This doesn't need to be this hard. But the soft intimacy of his hands touching you seems to add a knot in your throat. So you do the next best thing. You nudge his hand to where you actually want him to touch.

"There." A sigh of contentment leaves his lips. "That wasn't so hard, right?" And he still has the audacity to look up to you with a cheeky grin that sends your heart racing.

His fingers are gentle — pushing inside you and feeling, before they become searching, and all you can feel is a pleasure running up your legs and curling in your stomach. A breathy huff leaves your lips and that has him properly chuckling. You can't really help it if your hips jerk upwards to meet his touch a little better.

But he stills you easily.

He stands up, curving his arm around your waist and pulling you further to the edge of the table so you can't escape the way his fingers curve inside you.

"Wrio—" You moan against his ear, not entirely sure what you're asking for or what you're wanting, but wanting something nonetheless. He's quicker at thinking of it than your pleasured-muddled mind. His lips connect with yours again and you're barely able to kiss him back properly. It's all open mouthed, and a little sloppy. A warmth pulses through you as he traces his lips across your jaw forgivingly, down the side of your neck, nibbling lightly all the way. An uncontrolled whine from your throat has him huffing a laugh against your skin.

"Like this?" He mumbles, brushing his lips against your collarbones while his fingers push on a spot that has you moaning again.

A panic runs through your veins when you hear knocking at the door, and you put your hands on his shoulders, ready to stop him and scurry away. Except he's already murmuring out a reassurance against your neck before you can try.

"Shh, sweetheart. It would be a shame to end this now." He whispers casually. "They can wait." And really, with that purr in his voice, he could get you to do anything.

You let out a strained whine, trying to be quiet as he praises you, marking you with soft kisses across what bare skin he can get his mouth on. It's so easy for him to make you cum like this. And you do, with a sigh and with your eyes closed, as the knocking echoes through his office once more.

He's patient with you, tucking your shirt back over your shoulder where he pulled it down and you hadn't even noticed. His hand moves from your waist to your hair, tussling it. All while he's whispering sweet words to you.

"You okay? That was so good, baby. You were so good for telling me what you wanted, okay?"

You're barely listening, still trying to come down from the pleasure and trusting him to let him tidy up your frazzled form. Once he's finished, he kisses your forehead, sending a spark through your body. It's his way of giving you a small confidence booster as he leaves your side and walks around his desk and calling for whoever was knocking to come in. By then, he's already moved you to the more comfortable position of his chair.

Wriothesley greets whoever is behind the door with a twinkle in his eye, barely looking at whoever is speaking because he keeps taking glances at you. You're still perched all pretty on his chair, the perfect picture of attentiveness as though he didn't just finger you a few moments before. It's the small, impatient wriggle that you do on his chair that gets his full attention again. There's a look in your eyes and he knows he's not finished with you. Not yet.

He'll have to continue what he's started once this conversation is done. He did promise to take care of you after all.

#wrio x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #wrio smut #wriothesley smut #— alathea writes #genshin smut #genshin wriothesley #i need him oh my god #i'm so upset that i was still on break from genshin when his banner was out :((( #did his story quest and everything bc i loved him sm!! #he would be so gentle with you okay #i'm gonna cry #thinking about him and aftercare :((

[milf-murdock]

Ghost accidentally elbowing you in the face during sexy time

The mood obviously broken, but goddamn the profuse apologies and general tenderness that ensue might just be worth it

When he gingerly presses the ice pack to your nose, double, triple, quadruple checking you’re okay 🥺

That’s it, send tweet.

Definitely Not based on real life experiences tonight

#lowkey bummed I didn’t get my back blown out but hey #what can ya do #the sweetness afterwards really did make it almsot worth it though #and I can just SO CLEARLY SEE the concern and horror in ghost’s eyes as he realizes what’s happening #and then those big ass hands being so gentle on your tender skin #ugh it’s fine I’m fine I’m so normal about this man #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[mrs-lockley]

where the spirit meets the bones

Summary: Above, a merciful Sirena roams the seas of the East. Below, a lonely king seeks retribution. Your paths cross one war-torn night when you save the life of a man from the sea with feathered wings on his ankles and ears that point to the sky. Enchanted by your siren song, the feathered serpent king becomes determined to find you, even if he must wait for half a century. 

Posted on AO3 here.

Pairing: Namor (K’uk’ulkan) x Filipina (Kapampangan)!Fem!Sirena!Reader 

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Mentions of colonization (burning of a Spanish flag in a sea storm but nothing graphic), mentions of drowning and burning (nothing explicit), slow burn (pun not intended), mutual yearning and pining, mentions of death and the afterlife. Physical descriptions of the reader include dark hair and eyes

Tagging: @justrunamok @artsynellyyy @theatreslave @musing-magpie​ @lostfleurs @alathan13 @velvetmel0n​ @mattmurdockswife​ @ameliachastain​​​

Author’s Notes: Hello my darlings! After nearly two years, I have written my first fic. Please be gentle when giving feedback and I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty. But this fic is very loosely based on the Little Mermaid with some Philippine and Maya mythology. 

The reader is Filipina, but from an unidentified region from the province of Pampanga, Philippines. Kapampangan is also the reader’s first language (and my second language) and does not speak Tagalog. This is the first part of a trilogy.

Translations: Kapampangan, Yucatec Mayan, and some Tagalog is used in the fic. For smaller phrases, translations are found throughout the fic in italics. For longer sentences in Kapampangan and Yucatec Mayan, translations are found at the end of the fic (with additional author’s notes). 

Namor’s monologue is in italics in respect to his language. An online translating generator was used. If there are any errors in Kapampangan and/or Yucatec Mayan, please let me know and I will correct it. 

How’s one to know I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bones in a faith forgotten land?

Lubao, Pampanga, June 1827

The moon was full when you rose to the surface, the night quieter than usual. Rain clouds begin to depart as the rain lightens into a steady downpour over the calming sea. The quiet after the storm, but your burning skin and aching bones say otherwise.

On the beach, a mother cries in relief as her daughter clears the water from her lungs, her arms immediately circling around her as she thanks Apong Díos and the angels above. Beside her, the father embraces his family with a joyous shout. 

You had caught the girl wandering the beach earlier that evening at the peak of the rainstorm. It was high tide then, the water lapping too close and too angry as she ran along the shore. One moment she was playing on the sand, and the next, the ocean had tried to swallow her whole.

You fought against the current in search for her, your lungs aching for air as the water screamed in defiance. Your tail cramped as you dove beneath the surface, narrowly fitting between the crevices of the sharp rocks and stones. Only slivers of moonlight guided your path through the dark stormy waters.

But you found her a moment later with her head barely above water, her arms and legs thrashing to stay afloat. Her pleas for help were drowned over the sound of the beating ocean and pouring rain, falling deaf on human ears. The girl’s panicked movements only propelled her deeper into the sea, and it was a matter of seconds before she would draw her last breath.

Softly, you began to sing to her. At the sound of your voice, the girl began to still, her movements drawing to a halt as you approached her. Her eyes fluttered shut, but her breathing slowed as her body was calmed by your song. The water around you began to bend to your will the louder you sang, enchanting the creatures and tides around you into submission. 

With ease, you wrapped your arms around the child and held them in a tight embrace as you swam to the shore. Her head on your shoulder, you continued to sing softly to her to quiet her mind and relax her body. 

You returned her to the surface as you gently laid her body on the sand, your hand cradling the back of her head. In the distance, the yellow lights of a nearby village hut began to flicker with shadows racing across the window. Quickly, you brushed her hair out of her face and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, your hand squeezing hers. 

“Gumising na.” Wake up.

At the sound of approaching voices, you released her hand and returned to the sea. 

The little girl stands and holds onto her mother’s hands as they depart from the shore, but she hesitates. You watch as she tugs on her mother’s hands and turns to her, urgently pleading for her mother to listen. The mother gazes at the sea, her expression unreadable as her eyes search for answers. The girl turns and points, but her mother shakes her head and carries her in her arms as the father shields them both from the rain, retreating into the safety of their hut.

You ignore the sharp pang splintering in your chest before you turn, floating on your back with your arms outstretched and offering yourself to the sky. Up above, the clouds continue to depart as the rain slows into a whispering shower kissing your skin.

As you bask in the moonlight, you run your fingers over the curved surface of the golden pendant resting on your chest. It was the last relic of your past life, the only physical memory of who you were before the ocean had claimed you as its own. Tonight was far different than the last night you walked on land, but it was quieter nights like these where your mind wandered into the past. One by one, it all came back to you. 

A gentle mother’s touch on your hand during a monsoon. A sister braiding your hair by the window. A father teaching you how to sail. A lover sneaking a kiss between dances. 

The heaviness in your chest deepens, spreading to your neck and to your eyes as they sting with tears. With pieces of your past echoing in your mind, you look up to the night sky and beg for comfort. One hundred years you have served the ocean. One hundred years you have saved your people from drowning. One hundred years of protecting the secrets of the sea. 

But it has also been one hundred years of loneliness. 

You were unlike the other creatures who dwelled in the sea. While the sirenas feasted on men and dragged them to their deaths, you rescued them and returned them to the shore. The kataws walked on land and were mistaken for humans as they manipulated the water to their will, while you tamed the water to save the innocent. Siyokoys devoured mortals, but you loved your people who walked on the land and found beauty in their world. While you have the sea turtles and dolphins at your side, your heart remains heavy as they whisper behind you. You were not their kind, why would the ocean choose to have mercy on you?

Gazing at the moon with the water holding you close, you stretch your hands and pray. Why did save me? Must I always bear this loneliness?

The only answer you receive is the pause of rainfall and a full moon sighing in the sky. 

Mérida, Yucatán Peninsula, July 1858

By the time you open your eyes, the last of the sun’s rays had settled under the sea with the cool ocean breeze tickling your skin. The dolphin who carried you whistles softly as you wake, its tail brushing against yours as it waits for your command.

“Dakal a salamat,” you whisper. Many thanks. 

With a soft smile, you affectionately run your hands over the dolphin’s back as it clicks before disappearing into the sea. 

You do not know how long or far you have traveled, but as you take in your surroundings, you realize that you have wandered into foreign territory. As the sky darkens into the blues, violets, and greens of the night, the ocean welcomes you into its soft embrace. Around you, the waves fall into a steady calmness. Just as you enchant humans with your voice, this new ocean comforts you in a strange way you could not quite understand, almost as if it were welcoming you home. 

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to relax in these new waters by diving into its arms. As you swim beneath the surface, you find yourself finally able to breathe for the first time. You were far from your home in the Pacific, and you were far from the angry voices of the merfolk who haunted you. 

“Alang cuenta,” the sirenas sneered at you when you had rescued stray fishermen from falling into their trap. Furious at your intrusion, your sisters lunged for you and tore at your tail and skin with their webbed claws and bared teeth. You screamed for mercy as you fought back, but their teeth and nails were stronger as they dragged you deeper into the darkness of the sea.

Either out of boredom or mercy, your sisters finished their prey upon you and left you in the cold depths of the ocean where the light of the sun did not reach. Hours passed before you were able to move and swim to the coral reefs where the dolphins and sea turtles found you nursing your wounds. With your arms covered in bites and your chest and tail in cuts, you found refuge in the dolphins and allowed them to carry you far away from your tormentors. 

Rising to the surface, you push your hair back and run your hands over your face, suppressing a childish giggle at the realization of your newfound freedom. For weeks you traveled with the dolphins to escape their persecution. Despite spending the past one hundred years alone, for the first time in over a century, you feel nothing but relief. You were never welcomed by the creatures of the ocean back at home. Perhaps you could find a new home here. 

You pause. Around you, the ocean suddenly grows cold as ripples slowly reverberate throughout the surface of the water. A chill descends your spine as you suddenly become breathless and frozen.

On the seashore, a man slowly rises from the water, holding a scepter adorned in engravings in one hand with his back turned to you. A golden plate rests on the back of his neck with matching cuffs on his arms, wrists, and legs reflecting the glow of the rising moon. A similar belt rests on his hips and above a pair of dark green shorts, the only article of clothing he wears. In the dim light, your eyes trace the broad expanse of his shoulders and the thick muscles of his back, arms, and legs. An air of regality surrounds him as he fully emerges from the water and stands in his full form. 

This man is not human, you realize as he walks along the beach, the water yielding to his presence. He is a man of the sea. 

Your brows furrow in confusion as he kneels on the sand. 

Wings. There were wings on his ankles.

Something inside of you whispers to swim closer to the shore. With the waves beckoning towards you, you have no choice but to obey.

Holding your breath, you submerge yourself deeper into the water and hide behind a rock to avoid being seen. On the sand, the man with the winged ankles speaks softly in a language you don’t recognize.

“Jach tak in wilech,” he whispers and lowers his head. I miss you. 

His movements and words are gentle as he places a white flower on the sand, his voice soft and low as he continues to speak. Your heart pounds in realization as you watch him revere someone who could not be seen. This was a grave. 

Guilt consumes you as memories of your past life flood to the surface, your pendant weighing heavily on your chest. Turning away from the shore, you close your eyes to force down the tears that threaten to spill. How silly of you to think you could run away when your family rests at home across the ocean. Here, the water belongs to another. Who were you to leave your home behind and reside in a place as sacred as this?

Wiping at your eyes, you turn back to the shore and find the man speaking to the spirits. Even in the dim moonlight, you catch a glimpse of his face, his dark eyes full of emotion and grief.

Slowly, you reach for the sampaguita flowers in your hair and cradle them in your hands. One by one, you sing quietly to yourself as you place the flowers in the water. You linger for a few moments, your fingers running over the pendant on your chest as the water guides them to the beach. 

“Patawad na,” you breathe. I’m sorry.

With a final prayer, you return to the sea. 

On the beach, a soft hand reaches for the jasmine flowers. Dark eyes look to the horizon in search of the one who brought them, but the only answer given were the quiet waves lapping at the shore. 

Gently, the man with the winged ankles places the white flowers on the sand, creating a trail from the grave and towards the spirit’s old home before disappearing into the water.

The only evidence of his arrival is soon washed away by the rising tide of the ocean.

Philippine Sea, near Manila, August 1894

Tonight was much like the last night you walked on land.

The air was laden with tension and uncertainty. Word from the fishermen and villagers had gone around that the conquistadors were having trouble with their colonies in the West. On the surface, you often found the land-dwellers running through the shadows of the trees in the jungle. The islands seemed to hum in anticipation at the whispers of a possible revolution.

In times like these, you turned a blind eye to your sisters drowning the oppressors on the beach. But your hands weren’t clean and bloodless either. As your sisters feasted on their flesh, you were the one to sing to them, distracting them with your sweet voice and innocent smile. 

(You would do it again in a heartbeat, you soon realize. With each conquistador that steps into the water, another revolutionary returns safely home.)

But tonight was different from those quiet nights of revolutionaries lurking in the shadows of the jungle. Tonight was a war.

Lightning strikes through the stormy sky and fuels the flames licking at the near abandoned trade ship drowning in the fury of the summer typhoon. The white sails darken into ash as the Spanish flags fade into dust. 

Around you, your sisters call to them with outstretched arms, promising to save them from a violent death. You do not sing to invite them further in, nor do you move when your sisters feed on their flesh. You watch silently as your enemies fall and drown to their death, your skin heated by the scorching fires of their sinking ships. With memories of your last night flashing through your mind, you gaze at the burning flags in contempt. It is only fitting that the last thing they see is your face before falling to their demise. 

Suddenly, one of your sisters screams and points to the sky. 

Aswang!*

The sirenas shriek and recede into the water as the remaining men on deck scream in terror. Lightning illuminates the sky once more and reveals the silhouette of the figure flying in the air. 

Your breath stops in your throat as you glimpse at the figure, your eyes falling to their feet. 

The man with the feathered wings on his ankles.

You look up at him, your heartbeat mirroring the resounding claps of thunder. The man with the wings pays no heed to your sisters retreating into the safety of the water. Instead, his gaze is focused on the colonizers clinging onto the debris of their sinking ships.

He raises his spear and strikes. 

The ocean thirsts for violence as crimson stains its waters. With each strike of lightning and roar of thunder, the further the Spanish ships sink to the bottom of the sea. Screams and gunshots plague the night as the monsoon beats its anger onto the surface world. One by one, the colonizers perish by the sea, the bloodthirst of your sisters, or the man exacting his vengeance from above. 

Your eyes widen. On the deck of the last ship sailing, a colonizer opens fire and aims his weapon at the sky.

“Saguli-!” You shout. Wait!

Everything moves in slow motion. Before the trigger is pulled, bursts of red, orange, and yellow blinds your vision. Your ears ring from the explosion as your left shoulder is consumed by a sharp pain that resembles shark teeth digging into your bones. 

As your vision begins to clear, the rain continues to pour. Furls of silver smoke surround you as the burning fires devour the last wooden planks of the sunken ship. Despite the rumble of thunder and cries of the sea, the night is suddenly quiet with only the low crackle of flickering flames filling the silence. Your sisters have disappeared. The colonizers have perished. 

In the sky, the man from the sea burns before falling into the water. 

Without hesitation, you dive into the sea to search for him with the flickers of the dying flames guiding your path underwater. In the distance, the glint of his spear reflects the light of the surface fires with its owner sinking beside him, his eyes closed and his back covered in black ash. 

Ignoring the pain in your shoulder, you wrap your arms around his torso and hold him close as you swim towards the surface.

Please be alive, you pray as you break through the water, your lungs aching as you carry the man in your arms. Please.

...

The monsoon begins to falter when dusk brightens the sky. The rain slows into a steady downpour and the wind turns from a thunderous gust and into a whispering breeze. Gray storm clouds weigh heavily in the sky, but cracks of sunlight peek through the horizon. 

Tears burn your eyes as your cries echo in the cove. Pain engulfs your left shoulder and your body screams in agony from fighting against the violence of the waves and the rage from the skies. With a cry of pain, you push yourself up and untangle your arms from the body of the man you rescued. The man from the sea with feathered wings on his ankles. 

A gasp of relief escapes your lips the moment you feel the steady drumming of his heartbeat underneath your trembling fingertips. 

“Salamat,” you breathe, a childish laugh rumbling in your chest as you wipe at your eyes. “You’re alive.”

With a gentle hand, you brush his dark hair back. The dusky rays of sunlight kiss his tanned skin, casting shadows of the planes and contours of his peppered cheeks. Drops of jade sit beneath his pointed ears and mirror the jewel on his nose. Beads of white pearls and golden rings adorn his neck. A large plate rests on his chest with two deep blue serpents meeting in the middle, a large pearl sitting in the center. 

In the dim light of the early morning, you cannot help but gaze in awe at the beautiful man laying in your arms. 

Who is he? You wonder as you softly trail your hand from his hair and down his arm, a frown settling on your lips at the sight of dried blood and deep bruises at his side. 

You glance back at his face once more. You should be afraid of him, a stranger from a foreign land who showed no mercy to his enemies. But despite the violence of the previous night, you remember the first night you saw him on the beach in the Atlantic. You remember his dark eyes full of grief, his gentle hands cradling the flowers, and his soft voice whispering in the wind.

The man sleeping before you now was not the same man that tormented his enemies at sea, but the man you met on that summer seashore.

Gently, you lean forward to caress his cheek and sing.

“Potang paintunan mu ku, lumwal ka, talanga ka. Akit me ing bulan a masala karin mikit kata. E na ka matakut, e na ku naman migaganaka, uling balu ku balang beni mikikit ka king laman ning bulan a masala.”

As you sing the last note, the man begins to stir. 

Panic floods through you as you look down to find his hand wrapped around your right wrist. His grip is firm but gentle, with the heat of his skin warm against yours. 

Swallowing the ache in your chest, you lean forward to cup his face with both of your hands, your thumbs stroking his cheeks as you gently press your lips to his forehead. 

“Mikit tána pasibáyo,” you whisper. We will meet again. 

With one last look, you squeeze his hand and retreat into the water. 

…

Whispers of a man from the sea with feathered wings on his ankles spread across the surface. From the villagers and fishermen to the convoys and rulers, people spoke of his existence in hushed tones, afraid that speaking his name would incur his wrath. Parents passed his story to their children as folklore, but those who were old enough remembered seeing him walk along the beach before his footprints were washed away by the waves of the ocean. 

K’uk’ulkan, they called him. The feathered serpent god. 

The King of Talokan prided himself as a benevolent ruler and a protector of his people. For three hundred years, K’uk’ulkan kept their kingdom a secret under the sea. He lived, breathed, and bled for them, enduring the pain from the surface world to protect the Talokanil from the violence of the land-dwellers. For this, K’uk’ulkan reigned as their king, their feathered serpent ruler. 

While tales of the feathered serpent were considered myths to the tribes on the beach, another name was whispered across the seven seas. From the clergy and the admirals, no one dared to speak the moniker out loud. 

El niño sin amor, the Spanish priests warned. The child without love. 

“Namor,” his enemies gasped as they looked up at him, their eyes wide with fear. 

It had been five weeks since the Spanish ships departed from the Atlantic. Five weeks before he finally found the ships that had stolen the resources from his kingdom. As the monsoonal rain raged its wrath over the blazing fires of the splintering ships on a foreign sea he was not familiar with, Namor raised his spear and struck with no mercy. 

It all unraveled so fast. One moment he vanquished his enemies, and the next he was swallowed by flames.

He vaguely remembered the ocean welcoming him as he fell from the sky. In the dark stillness of the water, Namor could only watch a dark shadow pass above him. Three hundred years he served his people as their king. Three hundred years he fought, protected, and bled for his kingdom. Maybe just this once, he could overcome the trials in Metnal* and leave the crown behind.

But the gods had other plans for the King of Talokan. Behind the dark veil of his eyes, a soft voice called out to him. The voice was different from the songs of the Talokanil and sung in a language he did not recognize. Her voice was lower, deeper, but sweet and comforting. 

A siren song. 

With eyes as heavy as stone, Namor willed his body to move, his hands grasping at rough skin. It was a song that willed him to return to the land of the living, willing him to carry the crown and breathe. 

For a brief moment, he felt the ghost of her hands stroking his face and her lips on his skin. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in a cove with the monsoon slowing into a whisper. 

Running a tired hand over his face, Namor sits up and breathes a deep sigh. His lungs ache from the sharp exhale as he takes in his surroundings. Straight ahead, the wide entrance of the cove welcomes the quiet low tides of the sea. Despite the storm clouds, the horizon brightened into hues of deep blues and violets with the distant call of songbirds singing in the distance. 

In the calmness of dawn, the King of Talokan could still hear the soft whispers of the siren song singing to him in the cove. Like a fog, his senses were enveloped by her, his skin prickling at the memory of her touch and his ears mistaking the sound of songbirds to the likeliness of her voice.

As he stands, his eyes flicker to the reflection of the rising sun in the water, a small burst of light catching his gaze. Ignoring the pain in his back, Namor rushes to where the edge of the rock meets the sea. 

His heart pounds and his head spins as he cradles the item in his hand, his breath halting in his throat.

In his hand was a golden necklace with its delicate chain torn in two, a pendant of a small flower resting in the center. 

The same flower he found on the Yucatán seashore. 

“Yaan in kaxtikech,” he breathes. “Ma importa u tojol.”

I will find you, no matter the cost.

Philippine Sea, December 1910

It had been sixteen years since Namor heard you last.

The skies disagreed with him when he returned to the sea where you rescued him. For several months, the monsoons raged throughout the region. Time to time, he encountered trade ships from the North, South, East, and West sailing through the merciless monsoons. Other times, he found war on the sea with different flags flying through the wind and crimson being spilt on the waters. Echoes of gunshots, fire cannons, and war cries sounded throughout the night with the tumultuous tidal waves consuming everything in its path. 

With each passing ship, Namor heard the distant sound of the siren songs calling to the unsuspecting sailors and soldiers. With their heads barely above water, he watched the sirens bewitch their prey, their eyes glassy and unseeing before falling to their death. More than once, he found himself entranced by their voices. But each time his ears registered their harmonies, he turned away. 

Their voices were beautiful, but they were not you. They were not his sirena. 

Only you were the one to enchant the feathered serpent king. 

Tonight was different from that summer night, for it was the start of the dry season. Up above, the moon glowed brightly in the night sky without a single cloud in sight. The luminous glow of the moon reflected on the surface of the water, but its reflection was distorted by the growing ripples and the quiet tide of the sea. 

The air cooled his skin as Namor reached the surface, his back turned to the full moon. It was almost as if no time had passed since the last time he was in the cove. Although the tides were lower, Namor could still hear the distant melody of your song echoing throughout the cove. It was as if he were drowning in you all over again. 

Sixteen years ago, he first heard your siren song. But it had been fifty-two years since he first met you. 

A deep ache ate at his chest that particular night. After distracting his generals and evading their watchful eyes, Namor sought refuge on the sand. For three hundred years, he reigned as the King of Talokan. When the crown became heavy to bear, he would slip away from his advisors and find solace in visiting his mother on the surface. He carried the souls of the departed in his heart and their memories in his mind, but sometimes the water suffocated him. Nearly two centuries have passed since he last laid his mother to rest and cleaned her bones, but her memory was clear as day in his mind. He may have been born in the water, but his mother had walked on land - it was all in his blood.

“The Talokanil look to me as their King, their God. I would do anything for them,” K’uk’ulkan whispered as he gently placed the water lilies on her grave. “Just as you did everything to protect me.”

He loved his people just as they loved him. He did not regret taking the throne at a young age and the responsibility of leading and protecting them, but there was a heaviness growing deep inside his chest. An emptiness that he often ignored, but was constantly consumed by its hand.

He remembered watching her hair turn silver and the fine lines settling on her skin as he remained young. In the eyes of many, he was still a child. Yet, he carried the years inside him as centuries passed, watching the people he loved age before they breathed their last breath.

“Every day I see our people grow old, but I remain young and know one day I will mourn and miss them as much as I miss you, na’*.”

The only memories K’uk’ulkan had of his father were the stories recounted to him by his mother. When he sat on her knee, he remembered the smile on her face as she showed him the bracelet she wore on her wrist. Tracing the pearls with his fingers, he could feel his father’s love radiating from each bead. Despite their circumstances, he admired the love his father had for his mother, the same love that he carried in his veins. 

“I may be King, but I stand at the throne with no one to share it with, and sleep with no one to hold at my side,” K’uk’ulkan whispered. “I am lonely, na’. So incredibly lonely.”

He wondered what it would be like to love just as his parents did. To have someone to wake up next to, and to fall asleep with every night. To hold and be held by the arms of someone who loves you.

The King of Talokan did not expect an answer, nor did he expect to see white jasmine flowers drifting towards him on the seashore.

The very same flower that rests in his hands now.

The petals are soft in his hands as he places it on the quiet whispers of water. In the beginning, Namor thought of the flowers as a strange coincidence. He knew that such flowers were native to the lands in the East, but he had seen trade ships sail across oceans and between continents. It was possible that cargo could have fallen through the cracks. 

Initially, Namor tried to ignore it and stop himself from jumping to conclusions, but something foreign gripped his heart. A small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there meant for him to love and be loved.

It had all come together when he found your necklace on the rocks. 

For sixteen years, your siren song haunted Namor. He had met sirens and other merfolk throughout his lifetime, but there was something different about your song that called to him. Other siren songs were meant to hypnotize their prey before they drowned or were sacrificed to water deities. Their songs meant destruction to anyone who heard their voice, but your song was sweeter, more gentle. Rather than death, your song brought him back to life. 

That was something he still did not understand. Why would you save him? 

With the jasmine flowers as an offering, the King of Talokan begins to sing.

“X ciih x ciichpan u tz’ u likil yook kaax; tu bin u hopbal tu chumuc can caan tux cu ch’uuytal u zazicunz yookol cab tu lacal kaax chen cici u tal iik u utz’ben booc.”

As he sings, the tidal waves begin to slow into a lull. The ocean did not dare to drown his melody. 

“Pitah nookeex luuz u kaxil a holex ba teneex hee cohiceex uay yokol cabile x zuhuyex x chupalelex hel u.”

The water stills on his last note, but the ocean breeze carries his lullaby throughout the cove. His heart beats heavily, his grip tightening on the necklace as he turns. Dark brown eyes flicker to every corner and crevice of the cove and his ears strain to hear any sudden sounds that could indicate your presence. 

It is not often that the feathered serpent god sings. Rare and far in between, the only times he ever sang with his heart was with his mother. She taught him the songs she learned when she was a child on the surface, especially this song. 

“When I was young, my friends and I would gather and sing this song to keep and bring back a lover.”

“Did it work?”

His mother smiled sweetly at him and playfully poked the tip of his nose. She could not help but laugh when he scrunched his face. “It did. This song was how I met your father. It is the reason you are here.”

He holds his breath as he waits for your arrival in the cove. With each heartbeat echoing in his ears, a heaviness begins to settle in chest. Hope turns to fear, its icy hands crawling at his skin as the waves rise with the tide. 

Shadows of the waves dance across the dimly lit walls. Above, the stars whisper to the moon as the celestial beings await your arrival.

Swallowing the growing ache in his heart, Namor turns his back to the moon and starts his way towards the darkness of the cove. 

A small splash disturbs the silence.

“Maryu ka man kabug ning salu mu, saingsing mu panamdaman ku.”

The King stops in his tracks.

“Balu ku, atindian ku.”

It is you. His sirena.

“Akit me ing bulan a masala, karin mikit kata.”

Like ivy growing around a stone, your song ensnares him. 

“E na ka tumakut, e na ku naman migaganaka.”

Slowly, he turns around. Underneath the silver halo of the bright moon, you rise to the surface. 

“Uling balu ku balang bengi mikikit kata king lalam ning bulan a masala.”

Hanging onto each word, Namor walks towards the edge, his senses enveloped by you. Your voice is soft and deep, comforting and captivating as you swim closer to meet him.

“Parati mu sa’ng tandanan, muran man atiu ya ing bulan.”

Your dark eyes meet his gaze as you look up at him. His eyes never leave yours as you sing the final note with a small smile gracing your lips. Time seems to still, his heart skipping a beat as you finally meet where the land meets the sea.

You are more beautiful than he could have imagined. White jasmine flowers adorn your dark hair like little stars shining in the night sky. In the moonlight, he catches a glimpse of your dark green tail, its scales reflecting the glow of the moon beneath the surface of the water. 

His sirena, his lool.*

He finally found you.

The feathered serpent god slowly falls to his knees right in front of you, his head bowed in respect.

“Because of you, my people still have a King,” his voice is gentle as he speaks. “You saved my life, and I will forever thank you.” 

He still remembers that morning when he returned to his kingdom. For almost a week, Namor had left Talokan in search of the Spanish ships across the Pacific and placed his leadership into his advisors and top generals. This was not the first time he left to protect the borders and identity of Talokan, but it was the first time he did not come back on the day he promised.

Fear flooded his mind when he fell through the sky. He was always strong enough to destroy his enemies, but he was never this defenseless when his unconscious body hit the water. Any remaining survivors could have exploited his lack of defenses, but he was stunned to wake up in a sea cove with his wounds nearly healed. 

You reach for him, your gentle hands cradling his face as you silently plead for him to look at you. Almost hesitantly, he follows your command.

“Who are you?”

He has many names, but he wishes for you to call him only by one name. 

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.”

K’uk’ulkan closes his eyes and leans into your touch as your fingers delicately trace his face, your voice enchanting him once more as you repeat his name. 

He remembered your palm caressing his cheek and your lips on his skin. As King of Talokan, he often hid this soft side of himself away from his people. But with you, his walls crumbled like tidal waves dissolving castles in the sand. 

Pulling himself out of his trance, he opens his eyes and covers your hand with his own, his thumb lightly tracing over your knuckles. 

“What is your name?”

Your voice is quiet as you speak, almost as if you are hesitant to reveal yourself. 

“Y/N.”

A beautiful name for a beautiful soul.

K’uk’ulkan repeats your name as he grasps your hand and gently raises it to his lips. 

For a brief moment, the King catches a flicker of sadness in your eyes, but it vanishes as you conceal it with a small smile. 

Little did he know that he is the first person to call you by your real name and touch you with such care in two hundred years.

Not wanting to frighten you, K’uk’ulkan softens his voice as he speaks. “I believe I have something that belongs to you.”

Confusion passes over your face, your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a silent question. 

Although he did not know the importance of your necklace, he noticed the rust and scratches that eroded at the delicate metals. The necklace was worn with love, but it was crafted by human hands and not intended to withstand the cruelty of the ocean. With care, he brought the necklace to his jewelers to restore it to its former glory with the addition of two pearls and the revived jasmine pendant in the center. 

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he presents your necklace to you, your eyes wide as they brim with tears. 

“May I?” He asks quietly.

You nod and bow your head.

With soft hands, the feathered serpent god leans forward and places it over your head. Once it settles over you, you cradle the pendant and pearls in your palms in awe. 

“I thought that this was gone forever,” you whisper as you look up at him, a stray tear streaming down your cheek. “Thank you for bringing it back to me.”

“Nothing is gone forever, only lost until it is found.” K’uk’ulkan cups your face gently, his warm hand brushing away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. 

His heart warms at the sound of your soft laughter and the sight of your smile. How true his words were. In the fifty-two years he had met you, he thought you were a dream, a possible figment of his imagination that his mind created to cope with the growing emptiness in his bones. But you were real. You were the one watching over him when he found the flowers on the seashore and rescued him from the scorching fires that raged across the sea. He vowed to find you, but he had gotten it wrong. 

Each time, you were the one to find him. 

Looking into your eyes now, he finds himself drowning in them. Dark, deep, and inviting, a silent storm brewing inside of them. The King of Talokan had seen eyes like yours before– eyes that look young, but have seen years of pain, heartbreak, loss, and grief– yet, there was a vulnerability to them. Despite the centuries you carried in your heart, he knew and understood the violence you endured to be this kind. 

You thread your fingers with his, your hands locked in a delicate embrace as you begin to pull yourself away from the rocks and swim closer to the waves. 

You call his name tenderly, your voice a soft plea. “K’uk’ulkan.”

With a gentle tug on his hand, the feathered serpent god descends into the water. 

Come with me. 

There is no song to entice him. It is only you.

Long ago, K’uk’ulkan heard tales of a red string of fate that tied two soulmates together from the Far East. Perhaps it is the red string that pulls him closer to you now as you guide him deeper into the water, your hands entwined together, your lips whispering against his and your tail curling around his legs. With your dark eyes and gentle voice, he has no choice but to follow. 

Only the bright full moon bears witness to the reunion of the sirena and her feathered serpent king disappearing into the sea.

Translations

Alang cuenta (Kapampangan) - Useless, no meaning

Aswang (Tagalog) - Monster

Potang paintunan mu ku, lumwal ka, talanga ka (Kapampangan) - When you look for me, go outside, look up

Akit me ing bulan a masala karin mikit kata (Kapampangan) - We will see each other when there is a bright moon.

E na ka matakut, e na ku naman migaganaka (Kapampangan) - Do not be afraid, do not worry.

Uling balu ku balang beni mikikit ka king laman ning bulan a masala (Kapampangan) - I know one night we will meet underneath a bright moon.

Na’ (Yucatec Mayan) - Mother

Metnal (Yucatec Mayan) - The Yucatec Mayan term for the Underworld. Not to be confused with Xibalba, “the Place of Fright.”

The Flower Song (Yucatec Mayan) - 1, 2

The Flower Song is originally ancient Maya lyrical poetry from the Songs of Dzitbalche. According to John Curl, the Flower Song was a “rite” to keep a lover that was traditionally sung by a group of women–typically under the supervision of an older woman– and performed under the moonlight. Later parts of the poem mention offering plumeria flowers to create a love potion. 

For the purpose of this fic, K’uk’ulkan learned the song from his mother. 

X ciih x ciichpan u tz’ u likil yook kaax; tu bin u hopbal tu chumuc can caan tux cu ch’uuytal u zazicunz yookol cab tu lacal kaax chen cici u tal iik u utz’ben booc - The most alluring moon has risen over the forest; it is going to burn suspended in the center of the sky to lighten all the earth, all the woods, all the lights shining on it all. 

Pitah nookeex luuz u kaxil a holex ba teneex hee cohiceex uay yokol cabile x zuhuyex x chupalelex hel u - Take off your clothes, let down your hair, become as you were when you arrived here on Earth. 

Maryu ka man kabug ning salu mu, saingsing mu panamdaman ku (Kapampangan) - Your chest/heart will feel heavy when we are apart

Parati mu sa’ng tandanan, muran man atiu ya ing bulan (Kapampangan) - Do not forget that the moon will be there when it rains.

For the complete lyrics and song, please refer to the YouTube link here. 

#namor x reader #namor x fem!reader #k'uk'ulkan x reader #namor x filipino!reader #namor x filipina!reader #namor x woc!reader #namor x asian!reader #namor imagine #namor x you #the amount of research i poured into this to make sure i did it right- if there are any errors please let me know #please be gentle with your feedback too #I'm sorry for using emojis but i do not know HOW to make a nice banner like some y'all between paragraphs

[gifti3]

What if Asmo got gum stuck in his hair, like really in there and somewhere he cant see easily

But MC helps him get it out and they manage to without damaging or cutting his hair

#Not to be thirsty early in the morning but i think thst would really get him going #but seriously i was imagining this scenario in bed this morning #like making him sit in a chair (or on a pillow on the ground next to his bed) #whatever works for you #using hair clips to pin the nonstuck hair out of the way #theres like several different ways that can help remove gum--including peanut butter #Anyways mc is just searching up what to do and is like “okay...” #“we got this 👍” #and theyre so gentle when handling his hair cause they know how much he cares about it #obey me asmodeus x mc #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #My question tho is how gum got stuck in his hair like that lol #He let his guard down for 3 seconds and laid his head against a wall outside or something without thinking maybe #Or some silly cartoon shenanigans #Where someone is just blowing and big gum bubble and it pops and gets everywhere lmaoo #I like the cartoon one #Cause its silly #i pray for whoever did that tho cause ik he was mad mad #but seriously hes so thankful and pleased #like staring at you with sparkly anime eyes type shit #(//☯^☯//) #maybe something like this lol #and probably kisses and hugs too #....i think asmo would use emoticons actually #hes an XD user so i dont think its far fetched #let him send emoticons in the chat it would be funny and the brothers would probably want him to stop #except levi actually #levi joins in #ahhh my brain is so cute this morning WOW

[rabbitbakery]

The queen and her subject <3

I can explain 👁👁 I’m gay an I’ve been hyper fixated on this silly lil goddess I made soooo I’m dragging you all with me >:)

(NEEDED CONTEXT: a Crystalline is the species that Iris is, they rule over villages similarly to kings?? Think goddess but with crystal. Also she can like, make crystals???? It’s hard to explain but I promise it’s better shown than told.) all of Iris’s lines will be in purple

(warnings: yandere behavior, arranged marriage, kinda violence? It’s implied ig, big woman, like so much fluff) do not seek a relationship like this EVER in real life capish. Your a female in this too bth ———————————————————————

Divine, all knowing, and all seeing. Those were the words to describe her. The being who oversaw your small village was a Crystalline, an Amethyst one at that. She was seen as the most gorgeous being in all of your region! So why was a lowly geologist like you being summoned to her cave?

Deep, deep into the woods was a plentiful cave full of amethyst and other wondrous artifacts. This is where she made her home. Her name was Iris, she watched and ruled your village. You yourself were eager yet frightened to enter the cavern, no soul has ever been summoned to her home for good reasons. But you couldn’t help but the wonder what you could have possibly done? You were a good, hardworking, and friendly member of the community. You have done no wrong from what you know! Which only left one simple question, why were you being summoned? 

As the guards escorted you, faint humming could be heard throughout the forest. As you we approaching closer and closer to the cave, the humming became louder and louder, almost to loud. Your walking slowed a bit in fear, but a small shove from the men kept you moving. Upon arriving, a beautiful cave is presented to you. Amethyst sprawls from the women, covering the walls and ground in the beautiful crystal. As she sees that you have arrived, she stops humming and turns slightly to address you. 

“Hello there my dear! I hope the journey here wasn’t too strenuous!” 

The woman in-front of you was… for lack of a better term massive. Not in a derogatory way of course, just quite literally massive. She was at least a hundred times your height and width. She was always referred to as a gentle giant, but you thought the villagers meant she was a bit on the tall side! As you’re trapped in your, quite surprised thoughts, one of the men pipe up. 

“ I assure you we were gentle with her your liege.” A disappointed sigh was heard from the woman, clearly not happy with the answer given to her.

“You’re aware I oversee EVERYTHING that happens in that village correct?” 

Seems the men failed to inform her of them breaking into your home and dragging you by your hair out. You’re gonna have bruises for weeks from how they handled you.

“Your liege I can-“

“I suggest you keep quiet, boy. I’m not exactly in a “merciful” mood this evening.” 

Iris’s tone was enough to sent shivers down all three of you and the men’s spines. A few agonizing seconds pass before the other knight speaks up.

“My liege, if I may?” 

“Make your words well spoken boy, I don’t have time for this.” 

“Why did you request her?”

Thank the stars you didn’t have to ask, you think in your state you would have fainted at the thought of speaking.

Another sigh is heard before she gives a snappy remark back.

“She is to be my wife, do your men not recall that conversation? Or are you all too incompetent to understand anything I say?” 

…

WHAT? Why weren’t you informed of this! You can’t be her wife- you’re not prepared! You know next to nothing about being a spouse!

You suppose the look of your face gave yourself away, as she speaks once again.

“You all told her she was to be married to me, correct ?” 

“…”

“Oh thank the STARS she is in this room because if she WASN’T!”

Sharp jagged shards of amethyst rapidly spread from her feet and surround the men, who were now standing in-front of you. The amethyst is only about as tall as their boots, but it sends fear into both the men’s hearts, their body language reflects such.  Her pupils turn into small slits, similar to a snake. She withdraws the amethyst shards from the men once she sees your fear.

“My apologies my dear, you two leave now”

They didn’t need to be told as they high tailed it outta there right as she said. You almost wanted to stop them, ask what was happening. The fear of upsetting her stopped you from doing such. 

“My deepest apologies for how those pigs handled you my love! I can assure you that their actions will not go without punishment.”

“…May I my liege?”

“Of course my dearest.”

“…What is… happening?” The confusion in your voice was evident and you were shaken in your boots.

“Ah yes, I suppose an explanation is in order hm? Well as your aware I be requested your here for us to be wed! I’ve been keeping a close eye on you for quite some time~” Iris cooed gently, her voice much lower then before. Your not quite sure what she meant by “keeping a close eye”. Has she been stalking you!? You suppose that would explain your situation, but why? 

“My liege, why me in particular? I’m no noble or Crystalline.” 

“Oh my love, your so much more to me then that, the day I saw you at the moon rabbit festival I knew it was fate.”

Every year your village hosts a moon rabbit festival, to celebrate the many rabbits and bunny’s who wander your village. Rabbits are very sacred to your village, so Iris would attend every year to help decorate and give blessings. You had a stand selling the many crystals and gems you’ve collected from that year. You thought your liege was keeping a close watch on you, maybe too close even. But you thought nothing of it, merely a illusion in your eyes. 

“My liege, I beg you to reconsider! I truly am not spouse material!”

“Oh hush my dear, that’s blasphemy!” Iris proclaimed with a chuckle. As she did, her tail curled around you, trapping you in-front of her. 

“I’m not letting such a beautiful flower wilt under my careful watch~” She gently picks you up without warning, causing you to flinch a little. She holds you gently in her palm and brings you to her face, nuzzling you. 

“I love you more than anything my darling, and I’m not letting my opportunity to be your wife slip from my palm.” With that, she gives you a kiss on your head, leaving you warm and fuzzy inside. Still holding you, she stands up from her perch and walks deeper into her home.

“I suppose I should show you where you’ll be residing from now on hm?” 

She strolls deeper and see into her cavern. It was much bigger than it looks from the outside, yet still as beautiful. Crystals and silver adorned the walls of the abode, shimmering as Iris walked. She cradled you in her arms, occasionally looking down at you with a loving gaze and a warm smile. Her pace slow and steady, her hold firm. This felt… wrong. Your not used to so much attention, positive attention at that. You simply couldn’t handle it! Luckily you wouldn’t have to wait for long as you see a room off of the hallway like stretch of cave. To your left was a separate cavern, a bolder covering the entrance. Iris effortlessly pushes the bolder out of the way and enters the room.

“Here is our bedroom! You’ll be here for a bit before we have our wedding, sorry there aren’t anymore rooms my dove, I’m not quite finished creating the rest of our home just yet.”

The room had the same amethyst coating the walls, the ground a purple rug with shimmering bits in it. The walls had some shelves made of stone, on them were things that you weren’t quite sure what they were, but they looks expensive. And too the right was a small nest of very large purple blankets and pillows, all shimmering with the same shimmering bits  as the rug. All you could do was stare in amazement, you hadn’t the money to even lay eyes on these things, let alone live near them. Iris gently set you on the mound of blankets and sat down to your level, setting her head in her arms. A loving stare poured into you, all you could do is curl up and try not to look stupid.

“Oh my dear, what am I too do with you~” She gently nudges a strand of hair out of your face with her finger and tilts your head up to meet her eyes. After a few seconds of you desperately trying to avoid eye contact, she takes her hand and pulls you into her arms, embracing you in a warm hug. Faint purring is heard from her throat as she crawls into her nest and lays you next to her.

“We should get some sleep my dear, I have to plan tomorrow, and I’m sure you’ll want to be well rested.”

She says as she pulls you into a tight hug. You wiggle a bit, her giggling and holding you tighter in protest. You eventually give up and drift to sleep. Unaware of the obsessive eyes watching over your every move.

“Goodnight my sweet, I promise you’ll get adjusted soon~”

#rabbitbakery #oc stuff #oc #oc artist #oc art #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #female yandere #female yandere x reader #female yandere x female reader #female reader #Iris my beloved #Like godamn I out did myself #g/t fluff #g/t #g/t art #g/t community #gentle giant #giant/tiny #gianttiny #gt art #gt community #gt fluff #sfw g/t

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Am inexplicably and unreasonably upset about Jamie not liking scones. Like, obviously he can like whatever he likes and there's no accounting for taste and what does it even matter but also what the hell is wrong with you, my ridiculous muppet man? What else don't you like, huh - is it kittens and puppies? World peace? Fucking joy?

For my own peace of mind I'll be imagining him just saying that because he doesn't want anything from Roy at this particular point in time. Or maybe Simon's scones are JUST TOO GOOD, nothing else can compare, so Jamie just avoids all other scones as to avoid disappointment. Either work and make hell of a lot more sense that Jamie "not even liking" scones. I mean, come on.

#in today's segment of 'absolutely nonsensical things to have Weirdly Strong Feelings about' #but now i have some vague thoughts #about Strange Scones Shenanigans down the road #roy baking scones for himself and keeley #but being all like 'uh no i didn't make any for you because you don't like scones' #EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS FULLY WELL jamie loves scones #he's just being an ass for roy is an ass sometimes related reasons #it backfires though bc jamie gives him Ze Puppyeyes until roy has to surrender his own scones #OR the simon thing holds water and roy gets weirdly obsessed about also being able to make scones that jamie likes #jamie is having fun pretending he doesn't love roy's scones #it probably gets a little out of hand at some point #keeley seriously questions why she's dating these idiots #how many scones adjacent headcanons did you have today? #none? #too few gentle reader #far too few #just to be clear i have no opinion whatsoever about people liking scones in general! just jamie! #random ramblings #jamie & roy #jamie tartt #jamie tartt/scones

[stardustedsins]

Gentle love prompts #44: kisses on the tip of their nose

Tonio/reader (gender neutral reader)

You’re not much of a cook, but Tonio had always said it’s not hard to learn the basic techniques and follow a recipe. It’s learning to craft your own dishes and knowing when and how to change things that’s more challenging, he says.

That’s why you’re in his kitchen in an apron, learning to make his grandmother’s stuffed peppers. He’s starting you off with something easy, a family recipe that he’ll teach you by doing, the way he himself had learned it.

“My favorite kind of food.” He calls it. “The simple dishes that families treasure enough to pass down, along with stories.“

He turns the oven on to preheat and pulls out a large skillet to set on the stovetop for later.

“First, we‘ll chop the onion, garlic, and walnuts.” He says, putting a cutting board on the counter in front of you. “I’ve already peeled and shelled everything to make things easier for your first lesson.”

You watch as he demonstrates safe chopping, with fingers curled and the proper grip on the knife. Then it’s your turn, chopping much slower than him. Your eyes water a bit as you finish the onion, and the garlic makes your fingers incredibly sticky, but soon enough you’ve got everything chopped.

“My great aunt Donna, I’m told, tried to wipe her eyes when they started to water the first time she ever chopped onions.” He pauses for comedic effect, likely recreating the way the story was told to him. “With the same hand that held the onion. She was so miserable after flushing her eye in the sink that she didn’t finish cooking dinner that night, poor thing.”

“Ouch.” You wince just thinking of it. “I guess they tell you that story so you’ll be sure not to do that yourself.”

“Oh, there are plenty of stories like that. What not to do while cooking. It’s certainly a memorable way of learning those lessons.” He laughs. “Now we can cook the onion. Will you get the olive oil from the pantry?”

You grab it and bring it to him, and he adds some to the pan on the stove without measuring the amount, turning on the burner while you put the oil away again.

“Now, we have to stir often with the onion, so you can’t take a phone call and forget about them like my cousin Angela. Her house smelled like burnt onion for days.”

There are plenty of silly anecdotes of beginner’s mistakes to go along with the lesson as you begin to add other ingredients to the pan and finish cooking them. Then it’s on to mixing ground meat together with your hands, the fresh-from-the-fridge chill of it making for a weird sensation. Tonio adds the rest of the ingredients into the bowl while you’re washing your hands, passing it to you to mix.

“Now, we’re almost done!” He opens the fridge and pulls out the bell peppers for stuffing, washing them quickly and putting them onto the cutting board where it still sits on the counter. “To start, just cut a bit of the bottom end off so that they can stand up. Not too much, or they won’t hold the stuffing.”

“I’m guessing someone in your family has had that mishap, right?” You ask, and he laughs.

“Yes, me.”

You laugh along with him, picturing a much younger Tonio with the stuffing spilling out of the stuffed peppers he’s trying to serve for dinner. He walks you through cutting the tops off and scooping out the insides, and then it’s a simple matter of spooning the filling into them and patting it down with the back of the spoon.

“Now they bake in the oven, and we have time to clean up and then relax.” He says when the peppers are arranged in their baking dish with tomato sauce and cheese, and covered in foil. He puts the dish into the oven and sets the timer.

“Most of the work is done, we just have to come and take the foil off in an hour so they can bake uncovered for a bit before they’re done.”

“Then I guess the next step is washing the dishes.” You start to gather them up and stack them by the sink. His sponge turns out to be one of those special ones that lather up the soap for you, and you realize very quickly that in light of that, you may have used a bit too much. A little cluster of soap bubbles breaks free and drifts into the air when you squeeze the sponge.

Tonio wipes down the counters while you wash, and then comes to stand next to you, taking up the drying towel. You hand each dish to him as you finish cleaning them, the two of you chatting aimlessly as you work.

“Oh, hold still a moment.” He gently swipes the towel across the end of your nose, following it with a quick kiss. “You had a little bit of soap suds there. Maybe a little too much lather, hm?”

“Just a bit.” You giggle, raising the sponge to blow a bit of suds in his direction too.

#I hope you like it anon! I hope I did him Justice #sfw #gender neutral reader #my writing #gentle love prompts #diamond is unbreakable #tonio trussardi

[mavspeed]

hi! a daily reminder that I write fic for free because I want to and I feel like doing it. not gonna change the updating schedule, what I have planned, or any other plot details for a reader’s opinion no matter how important you seem to think imparting that opinion to me is. takes relatively little effort to leave a comment and takes even lesser effort than that to make sure that comment doesn’t come off as condescending or presumptuous to the author.

because I’m sorry but comments like THESE

aren’t gonna fly with me! just- and I’m begging here- be nicer with your local fanfic writer lmao. go easy on them. we’re doing this shit for FREE. having a bad day and coming online to see comments like these (because I have received multiple all from the same person) feels exponentially worse than it probably should

#to clarify: one of their comments did correct me on a mistake I made #and I will work on fixing it #but the rest.... is just exceedingly condescending and I’m not gonna stand for it lmao #I’ll prob take this down later when I’m feeling less pissy about it I guess #su.txt #fic tag #also I feel like this is def gonna make people tell me I’m massively overreacting #but I don’t think it’s a reach to ask for readers to be gentle with their comments! #takes 0 cents to refrain from being a dick in my comments section

[latinokaeya-moving]

here’s the thing right. i obviously know kaeya has a mean/crueller streak and a lot of very sad/‘angsty’ story potential like that’s a very real part of his character that im actually interested in and think abt a Lot more then i let on and i hate to think that i am like. ‘woobifying’ him bc i mostly talk abt him in a very specific cutesy way but tbh if you check the actual fanfic and fanart content out there rn the Overwhelming majority of it is just so persistently grim n focused on tragedy n sadness n pain that i just feel like i Gotta talk abt the sweeter/softer/more introspective aspects of kaeya bc if not it’ll just get buried beneath all that misery 😭😭😭

#x #gi posting #this is so unfunny but this thought came abt bc i actually decided to read a fic the other day that i found #rosakaebedo fic btw. very fun #and i was just so pleasantly surprised w the way kaeya was written in it bc it was sooooo overly sugary sweet to him #not even that he was acting in any specific way but the perspective through which the reader was being made to look at kaeya was so #obviously sweet n gentle n loving it got to me so bad. like the narration would refer to him as being gorgeous or a darling friend or a kind #man n i had to content w the shock i was feeling that i don’t think i have Ever read a fic sooooo intent on presenting kaeya this way #and again not in a weird infantilising or ‘woobifying’ way at all but just. you know. him being a character w issues n flaws n all but #who other characters still obviously cherish n hold dear bc of the bonds he’s created with them in mond …. #AGH i think that’s kind of the crux right like soooo many ppl write abt kaeya n the narrative perspective always tends to be himself or #diluc. n that just lends itself so much to thinking abt the tragedy n misery n pain of their internal worlds #but i think outside perspectives from characters kaeya is genuine friends n family with. like rosaria albedo klee jean etc etc etc i think #they have the potential to be soooo much more precious in their view of him…. n i really like that :’-) #i wish more ppl did that :’-)

[obey-me-headquarters]

That soft fear play thing but with an MC whos still afraid of Lucifer after all they went through in S1 and Lucifer who has fallen for them and just wants them to be comfortable with him now- shh, dont worry darling, he knows you like him but are terrified, dont worry, he won't do anything, just relax wont you?

Ohhhhh I like that!! I usually don't write sub Mc with the boys because I have a hard time making Mcs that aren't terrible, cocky and teasing. But Mc also deserves a chance to lay down and relax and be a sub for a change!

God this is so soft I'm swooning! I know people usually write Lucifer as a hard dom, and I can see it (kinda, man is still a bit of a sub to me lol) I absolutely love soft dom Luci! Like I feel like behind that mask of intimidation Lucifer is actually a really sweet lover who wants to be treated softly or is soft.

Lucifer wanting to show you a softer side of him too! Laying you down gently in his bed as he slowly removes your clothes, kissing your stomach, thighs, etc as he undresses you. You squirming on his bed, not really sure what to do. A part of you wants to touch him, but knowing how he doesn't like to be touched so you hesitate. Luci noticing that and taking your hand in his and moving it along his body. Telling you that you're allowed to touch him anywhere.

You can't help but flinch whenever he speaks in that low voice of his, memories of him using that same voice to threaten you spilling back. Lucifer apologizing and saying that he'll make it up by replacing all these mean words with praise.

I can't really imagine a cnc situation between sub Mc and the boys, unless the boys are Terrible and that's like, the point lol. Definitely not canon boys tho, they're too whipped to do anything like that. So I imagine that this is more of a "Lucifer gently introducing sex into your relationship" than a "Lucifer pins you down and tells you he's going to take care of you as he forces himself upon you". The first few times are probably spent with him finishing you off with his mouth of hands to affirm that this is a safe space and that he cares about you and your pleasure.

#man y'all really liked the gentle fear play huh?? #honestly i didnt even know if i shold post that bc it seemed to self indulgent #glad i did tho #also asker your DIALOG amazing chefs kiss i love it so sweet #obey me #obey me sub!reader #obey me lucifer #look luci youre finally a dom! #fear play #ask #my post #gentle sex

[queenlucythevaliant]

One of the most challenging experiences for me about having specifically a Narnia blog is (how to express this) the fact that I just don't want to share certain things about Narnia. They're just too intimate and I get really uncomfortable when I'm confronted with the fact that they're as important to other people as they are to me.

Case in point: something inside of me snarls a little whenever I see someone with "courage, dear heart" as a blog title or discussing the personal significance of those words. Like no. That's mine. You can't have it. Happens all the time around here.

This isn't limited to Narnia btw. Persuasion has always been my favorite Austen for some very deep, intimate reasons and since the new trashfire movie came out and everyone's been firing off Persuasion thoughts, a part of me has been very grumpy about it.

#I'm possessive help #incidentally i think that's why I kind of fell off of posting my reactions to the queen's thief series #a bunch of my mutuals started reading the series and posting their thoughts and I was like 'nope. my reading journey. not gonna share' #no shade on any of you who did that btw by and large i loved reading your thoughts #but I'm also a very posessive reader #I don't know how else to express it #also: it's definitely a different feeling than one on one conversations about these books where you're connecting over them #and treating the beauty with respect and gentleness #the thing that rankles is just. the peripheral awareness of others. not connected just there #anyone relate? i feel a little crazy writing it out like this #obviously not a /good/ thing about me but something that i wanted to try articulating #and again no shade on anyone else obviously this is very much a me -problen #pontifications and creations

[the-trans-dragon]

Me using humor to disguise the fact that I am telling them how to do it correctly because customers can get so defensive if I point out they don’t know how to use their card’s new tap feature, and I kinda have to say something because they will get frustrated and start jousting at the reader with their card, and we just got new card-readers that actually work and I am not about to let someone break my brand-new easy-to-use card-reader just because they don’t want to admit that they have no idea how it works and need to be helped at least once to figure it out: “It’s more of a sit that a tap, haha.”

#my autism gets overly attached to tools. especially ones that are overlooked or damaged or need maitenece. #I maybe accidentally named one of our broken shopping carts Hamburger (cos hes smashed but he’s still okay-ish) and it’s #still referred to as Hamburger and when it goes missing people say ‘who fucking took hamburger again.’ #one time I found hamburger way in the very back of the warehouse (not with the Too Broken To Use carts; it was just left in the back with #some stuff in it someone forgot to put up) so on my lunch break I went and put up the stuff and then wheeled ol Hamburger all the #way to the back room where I kept it. I did use it! there’s always one or two shopping carts back there for moving product around. I just #had a peculiar one that I befriended and perhaps there was a time when my mental capacity to not quit was indeed held together only by Hamb #Hamburger’s rusty and squashed frame. #ANYWAYS. I love my card readers 🥺 I love the broken ones and the new ones. #the new ones have a very fatal flaw: older cards are a little thicker so they need a tiiiiny extra nudge to fully insert. and oh my god. #I have to walk on eggshells to explain that. because if i don’t explain they will decide to shove the card like they think it’s a carnival #game of ‘how hard can you push this? are you strong enough to win the stuffed cat for your girlfriend?’ #so far it works if I just…very…slowly…hover my hand over to their card…and very lightly nudge it. and then I make SURE to say. #‘I appreciate you being gentle with it #it’s new and actually works really well compared to our old ones and I don’t want someone to break it pushing too hard; so thank you.’ #and I’m so sympathetic to the card reader 😭 like DAMN. I couldn’t read your card either if you slapped it against my eyeball for half a sec #like it needs a moment to scan. like an eyeball. just set it in range and it will beep when it’s finished. it’ll take a full second or maybe #even two or three. but it’s going to take even longer if you start whacking your card on it and then give up and put the chip in and then it #has to show the errror message and then reset and then try to scan the chip and hopefully you found some patience for that otherwise you #took your card out already and are now staring at me like I’m an irresponsible Card Reader Handlef #for not properly training my equipment to work. #sorrrrrry for rambling!!! #sorenhoots #wait this is my post. not sorries.

[mxbitters]

im too high to be thinking this hard about simon alkenmayer

#one would really REALLY think this would be one of those like.. tumblr deepdives or something #id say somebody should make one of those but like i feel kinda sick thinking about it too hard in general #it's just. such a strange experiment #and like in my little search thing i was doing #there was all this stuff. all this variety of horrific shit they wrote or whatever #but like . i cant even get through a paragraph or whatever #like if i read too much of that faq or whatever #i just feel genuinely sick. like. this 'experiment' #like.. i cant even talk about individual issues here because like. theres just the constant implication and context within every post #like 'yeah i eat people and you 'gentle readers' who are aware of me are the only ones who are off the menu' #like . girl you do this and insist you Care Not For Petty Human Squabbles or whatever #and then say something antisemetic . like dont you fry human fingers and restore antiques. why are you taking time OUT OF YOUR DAY-- #and that's exactly it!!!!!!! what i just did!!!!! you can't even point out like actual fucking issues #because you gotta give the fucking cryptid legitimacy . like what the fuck am i supposed to do here #and like i'm paranoid . genuinely paranoid now for like . safety now #and dont get me started on the cop shit. fuckin grey light yagami or whatever the fuck #im thinking about this too hard but i need a deep dive and some genuine conversation and not on their terms lmao

[crossbackpoke-check]

Hi! Its the Anon re Mo and Zegras hanging out. So I got this from the interview of Mo on the spitting chiclets podcast (which...I really dont like spitting chiclets but I had to listen bc Mo). But if you want to listen to it, the interview (either podcast or youtube version) as a whole is like an hour and is incredibly interesting and the part re zegras is brief at 2 hours 1 min if you would like - Mo apparently chilled with the U18 USNDTP guys so it fits your story! Thanks again for your lovely thought spirals!

😪 literally just listened to the broadscast round table discussion on hockey media today lmao so my ire for sp*tting ch*clets is even more than normal! which is quite a lot! thank you for your service (✊😔 listening to That Podcast and sharing the important information so the rest of us may have content without suffering)

on a better note OH MY GOD i’m???? no words. how would they interact the dynamic this now gives the calder contention why did no one talk about this before 🤌🤏🫴🫰mo & z FRIENDS? frenemies?? is zegras mentioned by name?? which usntdp u18s were named or was it just mentioned as the entire (gestures towards amoeba in a FUCK OR DIE t-shirt) vague conglomerate Entity™️ that is the usntdp??

#me seeing you in my inbox again: HI BESTIE HOW ARE YOUUUUU #i’m not debating listening to it just for mo i’m not (mo reilly voice: willpower) #but i might google a transcript. or someone’s highlights post of the interview but i want the character information but i hate b*rstool 🤬 #liv in the replies #i’m so. i’m so. ????????????????????????????? babe ur kids leave for one summer & you’re having empty nest syndrome #where did i put. hang on did i post it yet somewhere i had a moment about the couch poem i’ve got to find it i’m out here like i refuse #but also it just lives in my brain now the mold is in the tupperware folks & it’s not coming out hEY DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT HOW JOE VELENO #IS CANADIAN AND SO IS JAMIE DRYSDALE HOLD ON LET ME GOOGLE SOMETHING #HAND OVER MY MOUTH SCREAMING FLAILING ALICE YOU’RE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE YOUR HOCKEY TEAMMATES WEBSITE IS THE 👌🧑‍🍳💋✨ BELOVED BEAUTIFUL PERFECT #S H R I E K I N G i. i typed in joseph veleno because i was like ‘official prospect right like they’d full name him’ & it went ‘ha that #doesn’t exist’ & i’m like oh no have i found the man that this system doesn’t even know?? but we’re not that niche ! joe isn’t !! & tHEN I #TYPE IN JOE & IT POPS UP & JOE&JAMIE PLAYED CANADA U20 ‘22 TOGETHER I CAN SPIN A NARRATIVE HERE SOMEHOW but i just about fell out my chair #i’m not retyping that tag but i mean 2020 which is the year z won gold & jamie was PISSED at him about it & at this point mo & joe had #already been playing together on the griffins & somehow?? z & mo saying hi after the draft running into each other at worlds OH MY GOD THE #FULFILLMENT OF THE NARRATIVE THAT’S THE EPILOGUE THEY HAVE THAT COUCH MOMENT & THEN A YEAR LATER EPILOGUE THEY’RE BOTH IN LOVE WITH BOYS ON #TEAM CANADA STANDING DOWN BY THE GLASS AT THEIR PRACTICE IN THEIR DIFFERENT COLORS JUST LIKE THE DRAFT mo in wings red z in anaheim black #but now mo in germany black z in usa rw&b somehow there’s something there about them reversed colors but idk yet & maybe it’s nothing more #than a nod a hello the gentle knowing of each other in companionable silence z looking up after joe shoots a puck at mo on the glass & z #says ‘that’s yours? your island?’ & mo says yeah & of course trevor hasn’t quite found his yet but there’s a comfort in knowing that someone #else has gone before you someone else made it through & maybe it’s just that jamie catches his eye here & dramatic irony we the reader know #the future here but of course trevor doesn’t mo’s smiling stupid big & z’s watching them skate around gets caught on number 6 (trevor’s no.9 #& somewhere in my brain there’s a thing about reversed tarot cards/flip sides of a mirror/mo & z parallels more like tangent lines but #jamie/z sine waves collapsing idk it’s just brring up there we’ve got mo/z NARRATIVE FOILS OKAY) & of course what z actually says to mo #what he calls joe is a poignant callback to the couch island discussion which i have not written & thus cannot properly state bc. no context #love to fully go off the rails about something unrelated to literally anything & also does not make sense unless you’ve read the post #i’m talking about which i will reblog in one moment see above and/or below i don’t know chronology it’s a poem bUT OH IF I KEEP BABY MO & Z #AS HOCKEY PLAYERS I CAN HAVE DYLAN HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH THEM as the au pair when they’re twelve & do you think everything would be #different if they could’ve known when they were twelve that it was okay for hockey not to be everything to have someone sit them down & tell #them they are loved & good enough & i’m not saying this like it’s bad right now but also i’m thinking about that one post that talked about #how we do not love men & now i am projecting onto au pair dylan who maybe burned out of hockey but takes care of these kids now can take

[muirneach]

hey @ ford im pretty sure u can’t just be like ‘yeah this law doesn’t actually apply and we can do whatever we want’ i dont think you’re allowed. heres section 104 of that act btw:

as you can see. considerably less! still not good to pay 2k a day each day you strike but um better than 4k!

#labour relations act 1995 i love youuuu #not perfect. but always is there when i need it #cdnpoli #sorry for being insane about law im just really passionate about workers rights #and i LOVE to be a hater when it concerns the ford government #anyways. its gonna be this for the next like 20 mins sorry #also really like when it says ‘and section 109 doesnt apply either!’ #gentle reader. section 109 states youre not allowed to be prosecuted for going on strike even if its against the law #so you knowwww #and also later they say theyre not allowed to ANY compensation #not for pay lost not for these crazy fines nothing #now. cupe DID say they would cover all fines so thats not what in worried about #im more worried that this bill was allowed #also like 15k workers are striking. 4k each every day? cupe is gonna have no money left by the end of this #so! definitely a problem

[flovverworks]

hold on im rereading (skimming thro) owens affection story and the way cain first went 'whats up do u wanna grab a meal?' and then akira (who has been watching) approaches owen like 'hello how have u been do u want to eat together..' LOOOOOLLL

also i know this gets brought up early pt2 alrdy when akira speaks to vincent, but akira calling all of the wizards by name (and heathcliff heath etc) but using miss for canary. lord. also the way akira starts thinking everyones handsome nonstop and brings in a billion 'this person is so pretty' adjectives in every other sentence LIKE U RLY DONT HAVE TOOOOOO <-person who thinks its hilarious. i sometimes go 'please understand' when i have akira think someones handsome Once. i need to upgrade it to ten times

Akira: I’m taking notes on everyone here in case I suddenly have to return to my world. That includes you too, Owen.... Could you tell me more about yourself? Owen: I was killed by you. Akira: Eh...!? Owen’s delicate lips twist at my exclamation. Owen: What would you do if that was the case? What if your memories from your other world were all false? What if you were a criminal in this world? Alternatively, what if your lover was someone you happened to hate? What if I was your lover?

completely normal conversation. but also owen who only seems pleased if akiras annoyed when owen says he hates them,,

Owen: What are you trying to accomplish? Owen’s irritation catches on to me, and I begin to feel irritated and sad. Akira: Then fine. I don’t care anymore. If you’re not going to talk about yourself, I’ll never understand you. And next time Mithra is about to find out about your injury, I won’t know what to do, so. I’ll leave you alone. Bye.

THIS IS THE PART IM OBSESSED WITHHHHHHHH GUY WHOS BEEN TRYING NONSTOP TO BEFRIEND SOMEONE LETS THE BAD MOOD AFFECT THEM the second part wording is ssooooo bad too LOLLLL theyre so annoyed i love it sm. but also this being the time when owen accepts talking to them,,,despite also being rly annoyed,,

but also akira like Just having owen agree to their request, immediately saying 'ya i thought ur room would be strange' and trying his bed is so funny. 'i finally realize why i cant bring myself to hate owen' oughhh but also both akira & owen sitting there confused while owens trying to talk abuot himself LOL i like them so much. i think theyre rly neat

reading mithras too, and the way oz is like 'why would i do that' but then akira asks and hes like '...i guess since the sage is asking..' LOOOL

Akira: Ah... Mithra, it looks like you have a visitor. Mithra: You get the door. You’re capable of that much, right? Akira: (He’s just non-stop snark right now....) Ye~s, who is it?

this fkng interaction skull emoji (laughed) 'mithra u should say thank u too' like a mother....

anyway the way mithra talks about tiretta,,,,,,'only just said goodbye to her 10 or so years ago' T_^ (also thinks its funny/endearing how he says the twins said she was like his mother while mithra says she was more of a master/comrade/little sister<-especially the last one makes me laugh. i lov tiretta

My lips curve upwards, and I can’t help but stroke Mithra’s hair. Mithra doesn’t resist. Akira: I can sort of understand why people want to pat you on the head, Mithra. Mithra: Okay..... Is that so. Akira: It’s like when you’re next to a wild beast that you usually don’t see around. It makes you want to touch him while you can..... Mithra: You’re treating me like a rare animal...... Mithra rolls onto his other side. In the next moment, Mithra leaps up, pins me down, and bites my shoulder. Akira: Gya....ah! Mithra: Ahaha. I scream, and Mithra laughs. Apparently he only pretended to bite me. But I had prepared myself for death, so my heart won’t stop pounding. Akira: (What the heck goes on in his mind..... Was he playing around with me because I called him a beast? I thought I was going to die.....)

THIS PAAAARRTTTTTTT IM ALSO OBSEESED WITH 'i had prepared myself for death' JKADBKAD I THINK ABOUT THIS ALL THE TIME. guy who doesnt act like both owen & mithra could easily kill them

also what da hell was the next part about. when akira can wish that mithra wouldnt do things thatd make ppl misunderstand & dislike him. also oz giving tips to akira on how to make mithra sleep but its just ways to make kids sleep,,,,,the dad,,,

#stardust speaking ! #i need to reread more of these. cuz i rmbrd arthurs and his 'yes sometimes i edit books because theyre wrong about oz:]' #and akira sitting there like. person who has heard multiple ppl say oz went for world domination w/ figaro trying to find a way to tell his #son that his gentle sweet dad kind of Did do that actually #LIKE I RMBR READING IT AND BOTH ME AND AKIRA GOING O_O LIKE WHAT A THING TO THROW ON THE READER #also i forgot owen even brings up that 'what if' scenario. theres surely more ive forgotten in these #god akira getting annoyed with owen is truly everything to me 'ok whatever i wont help u next time since i wont know what to do bye' #MY GUUUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOO