#(as if my notes are particularly thorough in the first place)

[bykalopsia]

faiz eps 1-10 notes

let me just start by saying that orphnochs (is it orphnoch? orphenoch? orphonoch? i've seen it spelled so many ways.... but the subs i'm using say orphnoch so i'll use orphnoch) are intensely fucking ugly. whose decision was it to make them all monochrome grey. bluh. like at least most of them have really intricate details but it all being one color really makes it boring to look at even then

on the flip side i really like the suits. especially the kaixa suit..... ourple.....

also out of all the seasons i've watched so far i feel like i know the most about faiz (toku twitter loves talking about spoilery faiz stuff very often... but it's partially my fault bc i'm nosy as hell) so i know a bit more than i did going into this than the rest. hopefully it doesn't effect my enjoyment too much!

smart lady is intensely charming to me. we love annoying women!!!!!!!! also she's so attractive my fucking brain turns off my bad.

i should mention that the amount of time between me first watching the episode where the bike turns into a robot and the second time that happens was so long i legitimately went "what the fuck is that??????????" still not entirely sure i have a grasp on why that happens but hey cool robot.

so far the humor is landing better for me than it did in early agito? maybe because the other 80% of the time it's Real Dire so i need the laughs more. maybe i just like the cast more. who knows

takumi took a bit to grow on me but now i'm like that's oomf...... (i think you all are witnessing my ability to to eloquently express my thoughts quickly degrade....) abrasive adults without a particular passion learning to soften (at least somehwat...) and protecting for others what they can't attain for themselves.... woarghhhhh..... it hurts A Lot....

also..... i think kaido's guitar boyfriend did get dropped so i'm gonna kay em ess....

the idea that the orphnoch trio seemingly share this apartment is entirely funny to me. like i can't even fathom what's going on there.

so far i'm particularly fond of takumi, yuka, and mari. i feel like i need to chew on kaido but i feel like he vacillates practically episode so i can't settle on my feelings on him. i also like yuji but kinda in a "he's there" way. like i still need to figure him out.

the smart brain president is Strange but not in a way that annoys me yet.

also. HOJO. with a way less flattering haircut and glasses. i will cherish him for however long it takes for him to die probably

so far my largest curiosities are 1) what the fuck is going on with the underground school 2) learning more about smart brain besides it being a front for orphnoch stuff 3) more exploration of the divide b/w humanity and being an orphnoch... particularly if yuji's gonna cave and start killing again

[lueurjun]

poison candy challenge. b.chan.

est. relationship. reader x bang chan. in which chan indulges in a tiktok trend with you.

don’t ask where this idea came from, this trend has been all over my fyp and i just feel like chan would be so fun. this is also an in the spur of a moment post so… probably not the best lmao. everytime i do one of these i realize how chronically online i am- probably need to work on that 😬

bang certified simp chan.

the husband of all husbands.

the definition of i would quite literally walk on water if it meant getting to you faster.

he’s not the most tiktok savvy guy

so he’s not particularly up to date on the trends

he gives insta reels sending you a trend three years after it’s passed type of vibes.

which means it’s not a surprise that he has no idea what trend you’re talking about

“you wanna poison me?” followed by that endearing nervous laugh he does.

“no sit down ill explain in a second.”

you press down on his shoulder, guiding him to a seat and he’s more than willing to oblige.

this man would sit in fire if you asked him to.

so would i but you picked him 🙄 not salty. i get it 😒

he watches you wearily as you pour the skittles across the table, dotting the oak with colour.

“is that sanitary?”

you smile to yourself, offering no explanation as you prop up your phone, framing the two of you in its view.

you plop down beside him, barely settled before his arm slips around your waist, one hand finding its home on your thigh.

so happy for you! … ʜᴏᴇ

ignoring the tingling in your nerves that sparks whenever your boyfriend is within reach, you turn to face him.

“we each choose a sweet to be the ‘poison,’ then take turns eating the rest. whoever eats the poisoned one…dies.”

“okay… that sounds morbid hahaha. should i be monitoring what you’re watching?”

with a light tap to his chest, you turn away to start filming.

“i’ll pick first.”

you reach for a sweet, only to pause upon realizing he’s still watching.

“turn around, you cheater!”

you reach over, gently nudging his face to the side, laughing as he lets out an exaggerated sigh and turns away. still, with his back to the table, you cover his eyes as an extra precaution.

with your free hand, you lean toward the table, eyes scanning the scattered sweets before settling on a green one right in the centre. you point to it, making a mental note to circle it in editing.

“done!”

it’s Chan’s turn to pick, and your turn to face away. as you did, chan leans a hand back to cover your eyes, only he decides to be playful and clumsily rubs his palm all over your face.

“Chan!”

laughing, he brushes the hair out of your face, then delicately places a palm over your eyes, kissing your cheek as an apology.

con😭gratulat😭ions

chan picks a red one on the far left side of the scatter, giggling quietly to himself as if this is the most exciting game he has ever played.

you turn back around, his hand falling to your waist again and giving a light squeeze.

leaning down to the edge of the table, you narrow your eyes, scrutinising the spread before you.

a crease forms in chan’s forehead as he frowns, gaze bouncing between you, the sweets and the camera.

“what are you doing?”

the way i read that in his voice-

“trying to see if i can see any handprint residue on the skittles.”

chan’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape before he bursts into loud laughter, curling into himself.

“are you a forensic? just pick one,”

“i don’t want to die, christopher.”

god forbid someone is thorough 🙄

abruptly sitting up straight, you pluck a yellow one from the right hand side and confidently pop it into your mouth.

chan watches you with a smile, his eyes dilated into the shapes of hearts.

when you turn to him, eyes big in expectation, his heart crumbles to dust and he can’t stop himself from grabbing your cheeks, plastering the biggest kiss to your nose

“you’re safe, my lovely forensic.”

throwing your hands up in victory, you cheer loudly.

chan is less thorough than you, deciding to just grab one and hope for the best.

he picks an orange one, the closest to you on the table and pops it into his mouth

you gasp, making him pause mid chew with wide eyes looking as if he’d just been caught red handed doing something he shouldn’t.

“am i dead?”

you relax with a grin. “no you’re safe.”

chan nudges you playfully. “why would you do that? i thought i was going to die.”

you remedy his hurt feelings with a sweet massage to his earlobe before leaning toward the table, steepling your fingers

the purple one draws your gaze, but you’re unsure so you glance back to try and gauge his reaction as you hand shifts over in that direction

realizing what you’re trying to do, chan cringes causing your hand to hover in mid air

“am i going to die?”

he quirks a brow. “i can’t tell you that’s cheating.”

“okay? don’t you love me enough to stop me from making a life threatening mistake?”

i do. 🙋‍♀️ I DO! take me instead.

“they’re skittles!”

frowning, you turn away from him with a humph causing a grin to spread across his face.

you decide to bite the bullet, fingers plucking the purple one and shoving it into your mouth.

chan stretches out the silence, prolonging the moment as you swallow the skittle.

now you might be dramatic but you swear it tastes bitter as the flavour coats your tongue.

“i’m going to die arent i?”

“no, you’re safe.”

you almost knock the chair over as you bounce in excitement, genuinely surprised.

“i am? i’m safe? really? i really thought that one was poison.”

chan laughs at your enthusiasm, suddenly overcome with cuteness aggression because there’s only you who could get this into a game revolving imaginary poison.

needing a release, chan squeezes your cheeks for a second before peppering several kisses to your chin before finally your lips.

“your turn!”

your cheeks are flushed, eyeing the camera sheepishly while Chan searches for a safe sweet, completely unfazed.

you’re not sure whether he’s forgotten about the camera or whether he just doesn’t care, either way, you’re very much aware of it and can’t help but pat your burning cheeks.

chan’s hand grazes the green one you chose, and your heart lurches

but it comes to a sudden stop, filling you with disappointment as he picks the yellow one next to it

you really thought you had that win the bag.

“safe.”

“try not to sound too thrilled about me living.”

his sarcasm earns him a tug of the ear, making him yelp.

confident that you will win the next round, you don’t really think too much into the one you choose, grabbing the red one on the far left side.

popping it into your mouth, you hum at the flavour failing to notice that chan has frozen beside you

“your go!”

when he doesn’t move to pick one, you turn to face him and see that he’s watching you with his mouth slightly hanging open

you know when bentley rubbed his eyes after touching onion and chan was just 😧 yeah that’s what he looks like.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

chan rolls his lips together, ridding himself of the victorious smile.

“you just died,” he whispered.

your jaw drops. “I JUST WHAT?”

“you ate the poison one…”

the two of you just stare at each other, though with vastly different expressions.

chan looks triumphant.

and you…

you look like someone just stole your first born.

“you almost ate the poison one! why didn’t you grab the green! your hand GRAZED it!”

chan looks toward the camera.

“it’s like they’re still here. i can still hear them talking.”

glaring, you lean back into the chair with your arms folded over your chest.

chan finds himself — and your reaction — utterly hilarious as he scoops up a handful of the skittles and pops them all into his mouth at once.

mouth full, he throws his hands up and cheers in victory at his win.

“glad to see you’re celebrating the death of your beloved.”

chan’s grin never falters as he scoops you up into his arms, peppering your face and neck in kisses.

“my favourite little sore loser.”

“i almost won! you literally touched the green one!”

[tranquilreign]

superhuman | series | 18+ | I.

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: mafia au! dystopian au! tattoo artist au! warnings: alcohol consumption, drug consumption, sexual themes, swearing, death, blood, violence, eyeball stuff (please if you are squeamish take care) word count: 3.3k synopsis: the year 2107, seven years after the first superhuman was confirmed. Though few in numbers, they are dangerous. deadly. as their appearances have become more frequent, you have your identity hidden for your own safety. but the superhumans seem to be one step ahead. notes: please understand that the mafia/tattoo artist au is inspired by wattpad story blood ink by pocketbangtan. nothing else. taglist: @taekrve @taerjin @softhaes

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The rain poured down heavily, soaking the vibrant streets of Seoul as you weaved through the bustling crowd. After much contemplation and gathering the courage, you were finally on your way to a tattoo studio, hoping to arrive before it closed.

After conducting thorough research and exploring various websites and Instagram pages, you finally found the perfect tattoo studio. Initially, you felt uncertain because the studio only employed male tattoo artists and had a rather hardcore vibe.

That changed once you saw that they welcomed newcomers to tattoos. You followed your map under your umbrella, murmuring quiet 'excuse me's' as you pushed through the crowd.

"Two minutes away," you said to yourself.

As you rounded the last corner, you spotted the studio's sign in the distance. It gleamed in bright neon red, with the letters "BTS" prominently illuminated. Beneath that, the words "Body Tattoo Studio" were displayed. For some reason, you found the name of the place particularly appealing.

You sprinted down the street, closing your umbrella despite the relentless rain. The downpour soaked through to your skin, making you shiver from the sudden cold. When you arrived, you stopped, placing your hand on the wall and heaving to catch your breath.

The sound of a door opening caught your attention, and you looked up. A head was poking out from behind the glass doors of the studio, looking everywhere until it's eyes landed on you.

"Oh! Hello there," the man chirped cheerfully. "Are you alright? You look rather wet."

"I'm-" you gasped, "-I'm fine. Just wanted-" another pause. "Wanted to get here before you closed," you replied, struggling to get the last part of your sentence out.

"Well, come on in! I'll make you something to drink. Do you want coffee? Tea? Perhaps a hot chocolate?"

The door to the studio swung wide open, and you entered without hesitation. You grabbed your arms in a poor attempt to try and warm yourself up.

"Tea, please, if you wouldn't mind," you spoke, taking in your surroundings.

The waiting area was filled with tattoo designs showcasing various styles. You were in awe, wondering how to choose one among so many.

"See one you like?"

The sudden voice made you jump, making you look around for the owner. Your eyes fell upon another man. He was slightly taller than the one who let you in, leaning against the counter, arms folded. His hair was dark, contrasting elegantly with his beauty

"I don't know. There are so many to choose from," you responded honestly. "But they are beautiful," you quickly added.

The man hummed, moving behind the counter and sitting in a computer chair. He didn't have many tattoos, but you took note of the one that ran up his forearm. It looked as though it was a barcode, but with large numbers underneath. 21001031.

At that moment, the man from before returned, holding a cardboard cup of tea. He handed it to you with a smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it quicker. "I'm sorry. I was just speaking with your colleague, and I haven't actually picked one out," you admitted, suddenly growing embarrassed at your lack of preparation.

"That's fine," the man replied. He suddenly gasped. "Please forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Mirage."

The man held out his hand, which you gently took with your free one. You smiled, glancing over to the other man who was looking between the two of you.

"It's nice to meet you, Mirage," you smiled. "That's a really unique name." The man laughed.

"Oh no. They're just our artist names. My actual name is Tae-"

The man was cut off by a sudden cough. You both looked in the direction of the man in the chair, who was staring Mirage down. Nervously, he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Sorry about him. We keep our names classified. We've had a few customers in the past who have caused us a bit of trouble."

Your eyes widened at his words. What did he mean by trouble? As if Mirage sensed your worry, he suddenly stuttered and waved his hands in front of him frantically.

"I just mean with stalking! We've had a few customers here in the past who have taken a liking to some of our artists. So for our own safety, we started to use fake names."

"Ah," you responded. "Well, I'm Y/n."

There was a silence in the air, tense. You looked at the two men, wondering if you had said anything offensive. Mirage quickly smiled again, putting his hands on his hips.

"Well, I have to head through to the back! I have a client soon. If you need any help, speak to Doc. He'll help you with anything you need."

With that, Mirage scurried away into the back, leaving you alone with the man you now knew as 'Doc.'

"Is there a particular design you have in mind?" he suddenly asked. "Like, are you a fan of flowers, or animals-"

"Animals," you replied quickly. "I like animals."

"It shouldn't be too hard to find one you like, then. We have loads to choose from," Doc explained, getting up from his chair and standing next to you. "Any particular animal?"

You stood for a moment, never having thought about what animals you actually liked. You were never usually picky; you liked them all.

"I suppose, maybe a snake? I quite like the idea of having a cunning animal," you answered.

Doc thought for a moment, processing what you had just said. He then moved back behind the counter and hauled out a large black binder from underneath the tabletop, thumping it down onto the surface.

"When it comes to a cunning animal, foxes are typically what people tend to think of. Snakes are a good option too for that as well, though, so your idea wasn't entirely wrong."

'Wrong?' you thought, scowling slightly at the man's words.

"Sorry, I just meant that when it comes to cunning animals, a snake most likely wouldn't be a first pick," Doc corrected, noticing your frown.

You shrugged, both of you now looking through the binder together at the various animal tattoos. You slammed your hand down onto the page, startling Doc.

"This one," you breathed.

It was a snake, its body wrapping around itself continuously as if it were infinite. The intricate details of the scales mesmerised you, as if the snake were real.

"You sure? This is a pretty big piece, and with it being your first tattoo-"

"How do you know it's my first tattoo?" you asked suddenly, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I can just tell. You have that vibe about you. And no offence, you look clueless," Doc chuckled at your expression.

You huffed.

"Alright, so it's my first tattoo. But I have a high pain tolerance, I know I can handle it."

"Alright," Doc sighed, leaning over to the desk opposite you and grabbing a clipboard. "I'm going to need your details. You are over eighteen, right?"

"Yeah. I'm twenty-three."

"Good. If you just fill this out, I'll get Wraith to come and have a chat with you."

Doc walked away, leaving you to fill out the paperwork in silence. You moved, sitting down at one of the seats against the side wall, throwing your leg over the other.

You filled out the paperwork quickly, letting the clipboard sit in your lap as your leg bounced, your nerves returning now that you were alone. Deciding that sitting was making you more anxious than you needed to be, you stood up, wandering around the room looking at all the designs.

They truly were beautiful, making a mental note of the artist's names in the bottom right corner of each design. You seemed to like their styles most.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, startling you. You spun on the spot, bouncing back and holding up your fists, ready to defend yourself. The man in front of you eyed you, confused. Seeing that he posed no threat to you, you sighed, letting your hands drop to your sides.

"Sorry, you startled me," you breathed.

"That's quite alright," he replied.

His voice was smooth, alluring. He looked at you with such intensity that it sent shivers down your spine. The man tilted his head, a smile gracing his features as he looked at you.

"You fight?" he asks.

"What?"

"Do you fight? The defensive position you took when you moved away makes it seem like you fight," the man explained.

"Ah," you said. "Yeah, I took taekwondo when I was younger."

"Oh!~" the man mused. "Black belt?"

You nodded, making the man's smile widen. He stepped closer to you, taking your hand in his. You could barely think, your mind growing hazy at his touch. It was like you were being wrapped in a blanket of silk, and you didn't want to leave.

"A pretty woman like you shouldn't be fighting," he mused, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. "Do you not have someone to protect you?"

You were in a daze, chest heaving as desire filled you. The smile on the man's face had turned into a smirk, watching as you fell under what you could only describe as his spell.

In that moment, you bit your lip hard. The pain pulled you out of the drowsiness. You pulled your hand away, taking the man aback.

"I'm afraid I don't need anyone to protect me. I don't want to put that burden on anyone else," you explained, smiling at him.

You had no idea what had just happened, whether it was a moment of confusion or you spaced out, you didn't know. Only now realising just how hard you bit your lip, you winced. An unfamiliar metallic taste sat in your mouth, a clear sign you were bleeding. Gently, you pressed your fingers to your lips.

"Shit," you cursed. "Do you have a tissue?"

The man walked behind the counter in silence, pulling out a packet of wipes and handing one to you. Quickly thanking him, you pressed it against your lip, the chemicals stinging your small wound.

Doc had returned, the man you assumed to be Wraith following close behind him. The two men looked between you and the man in front of you, analysing the situation.

"Siren, what did you do to her?" Doc scolded, moving towards the shorter man and smacking him on the back of the head.

"Ow! I didn't do anything," Siren pouted, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, you did something. She wasn't bleeding when I left her."

You watched as the two men squabbled, stifling a giggle. Your gaze drifted to Wraith, and your breath hitched as you took in his appearance. He wore a tight, plain black t-shirt that hugged his body perfectly. Black ink adorned his neck and extended down to the sleeve of his right arm. His dark hair matched his eyes, creating an effect as if you were staring into a black hole—dangerous yet utterly mesmerising. Pulling yourself out of yet another trance, you turned your attention back to Siren and Doc.

"I bit my lip, is all," you explained. "I was feeling- well, I don't actually know what I was feeling. Drowsy maybe? I know that sudden pain helps keep you alert, so I bit my lip. Maybe a bit harder than I intended."

Doc looked at Siren for a moment, then back at you, unsure of what to make of what you said. Instead, he chose to ignore it, placing his arm around your shoulder and escorting you over to Wraith.

"What have I told you about smoking inside the studio?" Doc sighed, shaking his head.

Wraith held a cigarette between his lips, hunting for his lighter in his jeans pockets. You eyed him as he moved, unable to stop watching the way his muscles flexed ever so slightly. Doc muttered under his breath, walking away.

"Fuck, must have left it back in the room," Wraith cursed.

Finally, his attention turned to you. He looked you up and down, an eyebrow raised. He removed the cigarette from his mouth, letting his tongue dart across his upper lip.

"So you want a snake?"

"I uh, yes," you fumbled, feeling rather foolish.

You couldn't help but bite your lower lip, drawing more blood from your bite wound. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting and quickly wiped away the blood with the wipe Siren gave you.

"Good. Come with me."

You followed behind him to one of the back rooms in the studio. It was a small room, with only a chair and a table in the centre of the room. Wraith moved to sit down in the chair, making a grab for the lighter.

"Doc showed me the snake design you liked. You chose the best one."

"Oh? I did?" you spoke, smiling.

"Of course. I drew it," Wraith replied with a smug look.

Oh, he's one of those guys.

"I see. Well, I really like your drawing style," you complimented, still standing at the door.

Wraith lit his cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He turned his head to look at you, silently urging you to come closer. You obeyed and moved next to him.

"Sit on the table and I can get you set up."

"Alright," you answered, moving to sit down. "Would you happen to know any good places to get-"

You were silenced when Wraith stood in front of you suddenly, gripping you by the hair, pulling your head back. You had no time to let out a yell, and he pulled his tattoo gun so it was millimetres away from your eye. You stopped breathing, scared the slightest movement would result in having a needle in your eye.

"You are really brave coming here alone, you know," Wraith whispered, his breath fanning against your face.

Wraith pulled the needle away from your eye, pulling you up by your hair to make you stand. You let out a strangled yelp, but it was quickly silenced by a hand covering your mouth.

"I could hardly believe it when Doc came through and said you had walked in. And just after we started planning your capture. How convenient indeed."

You were confused, tears pricking your eyes, at the immense pain in your scalp was in. Wraith leaned down to your level, letting his lips brush over your ear.

"Don't worry, love, we won't kill you. You're simply too valuable to us dead."

Your eyes widened at his words. He grinned, letting go of your hair and stepping back. Wraith's head was tilted, arms open slightly as if inviting you to try to escape.

You quickly moved, suddenly grabbing the chair and holding it in front of you to create a barricade between you. he chuckled. You held the arms of the chair tightly, staring at him with fear and anger.

"And what's this going to do, hm? Even if you get past me, which I doubt you will, six more of us are waiting for you outside this room," Wraith grinned, watching you closely.

You tried not to look away from him to find something to defend yourself with. He would be able to read your every move otherwise. He moved slightly to lean against the wall, waiting for you to react.

"Give it your best shot, love. I do enjoy a challenge."

Everything happened so fast before either of you realised what was happening. You had pretended to push the chair to the left, instead bringing it back and putting your foot on it. You kicked it towards Wraith with such force that the back hit him in the stomach, winding him momentarily.

You jumped over the tattoo bench and flipped it onto its side, moving to hide behind it. This gave you time to look around the room for something to grab. You noticed a towel lying on the floor. You crawled over to it, grabbed it, and stood back up.

Enraged, Wraith grabbed the chair and threw it out of his way, crashing against the wall and breaking the mirror next to it. You flinched at his strength. He moved, quicker than you had ever seen anyone move, and attempted to jab your side.

Using the towel, you wrapped it underneath his wrist and pushed upwards, the blow barely missing you. With his stance now broken, it created an opening for you to land a powerful kick into his side. He stumbled back, watching as you moved into a defensive stance.

"Taekwondo," he breathed out a laugh. "I hate to break it to you, love, but you're not beating me. No one ever has, or ever will."

"Looks like you're doing a pretty shit job then," you taunted.

His eyes burned with rage and excitement at your words. His speed was unlike any other, moving in so close and quickly that you couldn't react this time. Wraith grabbed your wrists and pinned you down to the ground.

Struggling against his iron-like grip, you wriggled underneath him. He chuckled, leaning down so his lips barely grazed your ear. He wasn't out of breath, surprising you when he spoke smoothly.

"Goodnight, love."

He pinned your hands above your head, holding them down with one hand as he moved the other to the back of your neck. Running his hand up your back, you shivered, feeling his fingers gently grip your neck. He pressed hard against your skin, making your body go limp.

to be continued...

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tranquilreign~

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 10

<<<Previous Next>>>

A/N Early updates are NEVER happening again/j because I just lost a GAJILLION aura uploading the WRONG CHAPTER. anyways my meeting got cancelled so I worked on this instead <3

��You’re absolutely brilliant, you’re good at what you do.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but there was a certain satisfaction in his expression, subtle yet undeniable. “If I have managed to make you understand, then the credit lies with your own efforts,” he said smoothly. You shook your head, your grin unwavering. “No way. You’re amazing if you were able to get me to understand this.” You tapped your notebook for emphasis. “I mean, come on, you saw how bad I was at this before.” His golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his tone remained even. “A willingness to learn will always yield results.” You let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe, but let’s be real if I was learning this on my own, it would’ve taken me three times as long. If not longer.” You leaned forward slightly, propping your elbows on the desk. “So yeah, you’re amazing, Sage of Truth. There’s no arguing that.” He tilted his head, and for a moment, you thought he might try. But instead, he merely regarded you with quiet amusement before finally speaking. “I see you are not above using flattery to smooth your path.” You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Me? Flattering you? I would never.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slow blink. “Mm.” You laughed again, the sound spilling out before you could stop it. There was something so genuinely fulfilling about the moment. About the fact that, just this once, there were no corrections, no mistakes, only the confirmation that you had done something right. Still smiling, you glanced at his desk. “Do you have the notes for today’s lecture? I want to go over them while I have the chance.” His expression shifted, the faintest hint of approval lingering. “You wish to review so soon?” “Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve got you here, don’t I? No sense wasting the opportunity.” He regarded you for a moment longer before giving a small nod. “Very well.” With a practiced motion, he reached for a neatly stacked set of parchment and slid them toward you. As you took them, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth in your chest the quiet contentment of knowing that, at least for now, you had a place here.

Shadow Milk Cookie had barely set his quill down before you launched into your first question, your voice filled with determination. “Okay, so this part here” you tapped at a particularly dense paragraph in the notes, “I think I get what Professor Almond Custard was saying, but can you explain it in a different way? Because I feel like I’m missing something.” His golden eyes flickered toward the passage, and with a small hum, he leaned back slightly. “This concept hinges on the foundational principle we discussed last week. Recall the framework of magical equilibrium-” You furrowed your brows. “Right, but how does that connect to this specific theory?” And just like that, the questions kept coming. Each time he answered, you found yourself grasping onto something new, yet more uncertainties bubbled up in their place. You weren’t holding back today, determined to leave with no gaps in your understanding. Shadow Milk Cookie, ever patient, answered each one with unwavering precision. He never grew frustrated, never sighed in exasperation. If anything, there was a gleam in his eye that told you he welcomed this exchange his mind always at ease in the presence of questions, as if they were the lifejam of his existence. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back, exhaling deeply. “Okay. I think I got it now.” He regarded you with something almost amused. “A thorough interrogation.” You grinned. “You wouldn’t expect anything less, right?” “Certainly not.” With that settled, you reached into your bag and pulled out a neatly folded paper, sliding it across the desk toward him. “By the way… could you take a quick look at this?” Shadow Milk Cookie lifted the paper with a curious glance. “This is not yours.” You shook your head. “It’s Earl Grey Cookie’s. He, uh… kind of slipped it to me earlier and asked if you could look it over. I think he was too nervous to ask you himself.” His fingers brushed over the parchment as he skimmed the first few lines. “A written report.” “Yeah. He worked really hard on it, and I just… I want him to do well, you know?” You hesitated before adding, “You don’t have to, of course! I know you’re busy, and he didn’t want to impose or anything, but I figured…”

 “I will review it.” You blinked. “Wait, really?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply nodded, already flipping through the contents. “If he seeks knowledge, he will receive it.” Something warm settled in your chest. You hadn’t doubted that he’d help, but hearing him say it so simply so naturally made you smile. “You’re the best,” you said before you could stop yourself. He glanced at you briefly, expression unreadable, before returning his focus to the report. “…I am merely doing what is expected of me.” You couldn’t help but think that wasn’t entirely true.

A loud grumble broke the silence. You froze. Shadow Milk Cookie, who had been reviewing Earl Grey Cookie’s report, paused mid-turn of the page. His golden eyes flicked toward you, brow slightly raised. “…You have not eaten.” Your face burned. “I…what? No, I mean, maybe, but it’s fine! I just got busy, that’s all.” His gaze lingered, clearly unconvinced. “You should not make a habit of this.” “It’s not a habit!” you protested, though your stomach loudly disagreed. Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled through his nose something bordering on amusement before reaching into one of the many folds of his robes. With practiced ease, he withdrew a small, neatly wrapped package and set it down in front of you. You blinked at it. Then at him. “…You carry snacks?” He inclined his head slightly. “I account for long hours.” Carefully, you unwrapped the package, revealing a small honeyed pastry, still faintly warm. The scent alone made your stomach tighten with renewed hunger. You hesitated for a moment before glancing at him again. “Are you sure? You don’t have to” “I would not have offered if I were not sure.” Fair point. You took a small bite, the sweetness melting across your tongue. “…Thanks,” you murmured, chewing thoughtfully. Then, unable to suppress your curiosity, you asked, “Do you usually eat in your office, then? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the dining halls often.” “I dine when it suits my schedule,” he replied simply. You squinted at him. “That doesn’t really answer my question.” A faint, knowing glint flickered in his eyes. “I do not often require the communal setting.” “So you eat alone.” “On occasion.” You huffed, taking another bite of the pastry. “You’re really not one for straight answers, are you?” His lips quirked ever so slightly. “Would you prefer a false one?” You groaned. “That’s not ugh, never mind.” He returned to reviewing the report, but the subtle amusement in his expression remained. Despite yourself, you found that the warmth of the pastry and the unexpected thoughtfulness of the gesture settled something else inside you as well.

Between bites of the pastry, you glanced up at Shadow Milk Cookie, watching as his sharp gaze flicked over Earl Grey Cookie’s report. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of pages turning, and for a moment, you almost forgot the embarrassment of your stomach’s earlier betrayal. You swallowed the last bite and wiped your hands on a napkin. “So? How is it?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “I know Earl Grey is brilliant! I mean, one of the smartest cookies I know but did he do as well as I think he did?” Shadow Milk Cookie hummed thoughtfully, his golden eyes scanning the final lines before he set the report down with a quiet tap of his fingers. “His argument is well-reasoned, and his methodology is sound. There is confidence in his approach an admirable trait in any scholar.” You grinned. “I knew it. He always acts like he’s second-guessing himself, but I swear, half the time he’s the one helping me figure things out.” “There is a difference between questioning one’s understanding and lacking it,” Shadow Milk Cookie mused. “Doubt, when harnessed correctly, sharpens the mind.” You nodded, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Yeah… I guess that’s true. Earl Grey always says he’s ‘double-checking,’ but I think he just doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Shadow Milk Cookie gave a slight nod, sliding the report back toward you. “He has a strong grasp of the material. If he continues refining his work, he will go far.” You couldn’t wait to tell Earl Grey about the praise though knowing him, he’d probably wave it off with a dismissive comment. Still, it felt good to hear it from someone like Shadow Milk Cookie. With a satisfied sigh, you leaned back in your chair, stretching a little. “Well, at least one of us is naturally gifted,” you joked. “Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Effort is no lesser virtue than talent. You would do well to remember that.” You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t scolding, nor was it mere encouragement it was a truth he simply expected you to accept. “…Right,” you murmured, looking down at your notes. Perhaps you were starting to believe it too.

You slid the copy of Earl Grey Cookie’s report back toward him, tilting your head slightly. “Would you mind writing down a few notes for him? Just, you know, some pointers?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flicked from you to the document, then back again. “He is more than capable of refining his own work.” “I know that,” you said quickly, shifting in your seat. “But he’d appreciate the feedback. And don’t worry it’s a copy of the original, so you can write on it.” There was a brief pause before Shadow Milk Cookie took up his pen, tapping it lightly against the parchment. “Very well.” You watched as he began writing in the margins, his script elegant and precise. His notes were efficient, no stroke wasted, each remark direct yet constructive. Even in something as simple as this, his intellect was undeniable. You propped your chin on your hand. “I think he’ll actually frame this,” you joked. “A critique from the Sage of Truth? That’s got to be a collector’s item.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet hum amusement, perhaps? As he finished the last remark. “Then I trust he will make use of it rather than merely admire it.” You chuckled. “Oh, he will. He takes his work seriously, even when he thinks he’s messing up.” Shadow Milk Cookie set the pen down and slid the report back to you. “Then let us hope my insights prove useful.” You took the paper with a grateful smile. “They will. Thanks for this.” He simply nodded, as if such a favor required no thanks at all. You leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms slightly before letting them drop to your lap. “Well, I don’t have any more questions about today’s material,” you said, glancing at the clock. “But it’s not time for dinner yet, so now I’m at an impasse.” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with his usual composed expression, his hands folded neatly atop the desk. “An impasse?” You exhaled through your nose, drumming your fingers lightly against the edge of the desk. “Yeah. Too early for dinner, too late to start something new. So, what now?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You ask as if I am meant to provide an answer.” You gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I mean, you usually do.” For a brief moment, his golden eyes glimmered with something unreadable before he leaned back ever so slightly in his chair. “Then, logically, you must consider your available options. You could review past material, seek further clarification, or-” “Okay, okay,” you interrupted with a wave of your hand, grinning. “I meant more like… what do you do when you have time like this?” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a moment, as if measuring the weight of your question. “I read. I analyze previous findings. I prepare for upcoming discussions. Time is seldom unoccupied.” You gave him a half-lidded stare. “Of course you do.” A small chuckle left him, soft and brief. “Would you have expected anything else?” You sighed dramatically, slumping slightly in your seat. “No, I guess not.” You glanced at the clock again before propping your chin on your hand. “I don’t know… Maybe I’ll just sit here for a bit until it’s time for dinner.” Shadow Milk Cookie made no move to dismiss you. Instead, he regarded you with quiet amusement. “Then sit,” he said simply. And so you did, letting the comfortable silence settle between you.

You tapped your fingers idly against the desk, staring at the neat stacks of parchment and books arranged in perfect order. The quiet between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made your thoughts a little louder in your own head. After a moment, you glanced up at him. “You know,” you started, voice slower, more thoughtful, “I think you probably know a lot more about me than I know about you.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow, but he didn’t interrupt. You shifted slightly in your seat, tapping your fingertips together. “I mean, you know how I think how I approach problems, where I struggle, what I need to work on… but I don’t really know much about you, outside of, well, this.” You gestured vaguely to his desk, to the books, to the very walls of his office that practically radiated his dedication to knowledge. He regarded you with that ever-composed expression, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. “And what is it you wish to know?” You hesitated, then leaned forward slightly. “What’s your favorite thing to do other than all of this?” You gestured to the papers in front of him. “Like, if you’re not researching or studying or being the Sage of Truth, what do you actually enjoy?” Shadow Milk Cookie looked mildly taken aback. It was subtle just the briefest pause, a slight tilt of his head as if considering the question more deeply than you’d expected. “…I am always learning,” he finally said, but his tone wasn’t dismissive. If anything, it was contemplative. “But if you are asking what I pursue outside of my academic obligations…” He trailed off for a moment before continuing, “I find fulfillment in music. Composition, particularly.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait you compose music?” A small nod. “It is an exercise in structure and interpretation. Patterns and expression in tandem.” You blinked. “Huh. I didn’t expect that.” “And what did you expect?” he asked, amusement threading into his tone. You squinted. “I don’t know. I just figured you spent all your free time unraveling the mysteries of the universe or something.” Shadow Milk Cookie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Even the mind must find balance.” You grinned. “So, what kind of music do you compose?” He gave you a knowing look. “Perhaps another time.” You pouted slightly but relented. Still, the thought of him composing music lingered in your mind, shifting something in your perception of him something subtle, yet significant. You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the desk, eyes still alight with curiosity. “Okay, if you won’t tell me about the music itself… can you at least tell me what instrument you play?” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled softly through his nose something close to a quiet laugh, though far more composed. He studied you for a moment, as if weighing whether he should indulge your curiosity. Then, after a brief pause, he answered, “The harpsichord.” Your eyes widened slightly. “Wait really?” He nodded in confirmation. Somehow, you had expected something more… modern. Or perhaps something more obscure, something you’d never even heard of. But the harpsichord? That was something you could picture something regal and refined, yet intricate in its mechanics.

“That’s…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “That’s actually really fitting.” Shadow Milk Cookie raised a brow. “Is it?” You nodded. “Yeah. It’s… deliberate. Everything about the way a harpsichord sounds is precise you don’t get the same kind of resonance as a piano, so every note matters. It’s like… the musical equivalent of how you think. Every argument, every conclusion you always get to it with exactness, no wasted movement.” There was a flicker of something in his expression subtle, unreadable, but present. He didn’t respond immediately, instead tapping a thoughtful finger against the desk. “…An interesting perspective,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. You grinned, satisfied with your analysis. “So, do you perform for people?” His expression returned to something more neutral. “Rarely.” That wasn’t exactly a no, but you could tell you weren’t getting anything else out of him at least not today. Still, the image of him seated at a harpsichord, playing something intricate and masterful, settled in your mind. You found yourself wanting to hear it. The office settled into a comfortable silence, save for the faint scratch of your pen against paper as you reviewed your notes. Shadow Milk Cookie, meanwhile, remained focused on whatever he was examining perhaps his own research, or maybe reviewing another scholar’s work. You weren’t entirely sure, and you didn’t ask.

There was something oddly peaceful about this quiet. No pressure to speak, no lingering embarrassment from your earlier questions just the steady rhythm of work. You underlined a few key points from today’s lecture, then flipped to another page, going over older material to solidify what you’d learned. Every so often, you glanced up, watching the way Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes moved over the parchment in front of him, how his fingers occasionally tapped against the desk in thought. Before long, the hour passed, and you realized it was time to meet your friends for dinner. You closed your notebook with a soft thud, gathering your things as you stood. Shadow Milk Cookie barely looked up, but you still offered him a polite smile. “I’ll be heading out now. Have a good evening, Sage of Truth.” His quill paused mid-stroke, and for a brief moment, he regarded you before giving a small nod. “You as well.” With that, you slipped out of his office, making your way toward the dining hall. The quiet still lingered in your mind, though you weren’t sure why. You made your way to the dining hall, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking dishes filling the air as you grabbed a hearty meal larger than usual, to make up for skipping lunch. The scent of warm bread, roasted vegetables, and something sweet lingered in the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

With your tray balanced carefully in hand, you spotted your usual table and headed toward it, a content look settling on your face. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie were already there, deep in conversation about the latest academic workload. “Finally!” Chai Latte Cookie teased as you sat down. “You took forever! What, were you having another study date with the Sage of Truth?” You rolled your eyes, ignoring her as you set down your tray. Instead, you reached into your bag and pulled out Earl Grey Cookie’s report, sliding it across the table toward him. “Here. He looked over it.” Earl Grey Cookie’s eyes widened slightly, his usual composed demeanor slipping for just a second. “Wait, seriously?” He carefully took the parchment, scanning over the notes that had been added in the margins. “Of course,” you said, picking up your utensils. “I told you I’d ask.” The moment he spotted the first few notes, his brows furrowed, and he leaned in closer, as if absorbing every single mark on the page. Then, after a pause, he let out a small breath. “His handwriting is… incredible.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Right? It’s almost unfair. He could write anything, and it’d still look like it belongs in some ancient, prestigious manuscript.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed in agreement, still fixated on the notes. “His feedback is precise but thorough. He even pointed out areas where I could expand my argument instead of just correcting me outright.” “Well, that’s kind of how he teaches,” you said before taking a bite of your food. “He won’t just give you the answer, but he’ll make sure you realize what you’re missing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. “You sound like you’re actually enjoying tutoring now.” You paused mid-bite, glancing away with a slight huff. “I never said that.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked knowingly but didn’t push further. Instead, the conversation naturally shifted, and the evening continued with the usual back-and-forth between your friends. Still, even as you ate, your mind drifted back to the precise, elegant strokes of Shadow Milk Cookie’s writing. A reflection of him, in a way structured, refined, and ever so careful with every detail. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. “You won’t believe the kind of day I had,” he huffed, setting his utensils down with a little more force than necessary. “I almost had a full-blown argument with Professor Chamomile Truffle Cookie.” That caught everyone’s attention. Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow, Chai Latte Cookie leaned in with immediate interest, and you paused mid-bite. “Wait, what? What happened?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “So, we were going over spell refinement techniques in class today, and I made a counterpoint to something he said about the sustainability of layered enchantments. And instead of considering it, he just-he completely dismissed me!” Chai Latte Cookie whistled. “Oof. That bad?” “Oh, it gets worse,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said, clearly still irritated. “I asked him to clarify why my point was invalid, and he just gave me some vague answer about ‘conventional wisdom’ and ‘historical precedent’ instead of actually addressing what I said.” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Classic.” You frowned. “But your argument had merit, right?”

“Exactly! I even cited a recent paper on the matter, but he just waved it off like it wasn’t worth discussing.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I respect the guy, but I hate when professors refuse to acknowledge that newer research exists.” You nodded in understanding. “So… did you drop it, or did it actually turn into an argument?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hesitated, then sighed, slumping slightly. “I almost pushed it further, but I stopped myself. Barely. He’s still my professor, and I don’t want to dig myself into a hole just for the sake of proving a point.” “Smart move,” Earl Grey Cookie remarked. “Though I’d argue it’s still worth bringing up again. Maybe outside of class, in a setting where he’s more likely to actually listen.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s the thing, I don’t know if he ever would. He’s set in his ways, and I doubt he sees me as anything more than just another student with too many opinions.” Chai Latte Cookie patted his arm reassuringly. “Well, we think you’re brilliant. And you’re right just because something has been accepted for a long time doesn’t mean it can’t be challenged.” You nodded. “Yeah. Besides, if you’re really onto something, the research itself will prove it over time. Even if he doesn’t listen now, someone else will.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sighed again, but this time, it was less frustrated. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Of course we are. Now, eat your food before you turn this into a whole lecture of your own.” That finally got a chuckle out of him, and just like that, the tension eased, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. You smiled to yourself, relieved to see your friend in better spirits. Even so, a thought lingered in your mind. You had been lucky, your tutor, despite his intimidating presence and overwhelming knowledge, had never dismissed you. He never waved off your questions or belittled your struggles. Even when your progress was slow, he always made space for your thoughts, your learning.

You wondered if Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie had ever wished for that kind of guidance, too. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, practically bouncing in her seat. “You will not believe what I saw today.” You blinked, mid-bite. “Is this about them?” “Oh, it absolutely is.” She waggled her brows, eyes gleaming with excitement. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “Stars above, not this again.” Earl Grey Cookie, however, merely sipped his tea. “Go on.” Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “So, I was passing by the faculty greenhouse, right? Minding my own business, being a completely innocent scholar with no intention of overhearing anything-” Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow. “That sounds unlikely.” “Hush. Anyway, I hear voices, so obviously, I investigate.” She paused for effect, then dramatically placed a hand over her heart. “And there they were Professor Star Anise Cookie and Professor Frosted Clementine Cookie, together.” You straightened. “Oh? What happened?” Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “They were arguing but not in an angry way, more like a ‘we have unresolved feelings but neither of us wants to admit it’ way.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie let out a long sigh. “Why do you know what that sounds like?” She ignored him. “I couldn’t catch everything, but I swear I heard something about ‘this isn’t the right time’ and ‘what do you expect me to say?’” She gasped, clutching your arm. “It was so tense! And then! Oh, you’re going to love this he reached for her hand again!” “No way,” you whispered, eyes widening. “Oh, yes way.” Chai Latte Cookie smirked. “But she pulled back. Not in a bad way, though more like she was flustered, but trying to act like she wasn’t.” She placed a hand on her chest, sighing dramatically. “It was so tragic.”

Earl Grey Cookie tilted his head, looking thoughtful. “Professor Clementine is rather reserved. If something is truly going on between them, she may not want it to be public.” “Exactly!” Chai Latte Cookie pointed at him. “Which makes this even more intriguing.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head. “I don’t understand how you all have the energy for this.” “Because we thrive on it,” you said with a grin. Chai Latte Cookie snapped her fingers. “Exactly! Life is exhausting, studies are grueling, but a little mystery and romance? It fuels us.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “So, the real question is what happens next?” “Oh, I will find out,” Chai Latte Cookie declared with determination. You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course you will.” As much as you worried about your studies, about everything that lay ahead, moments like this sharing stories, teasing each other, losing yourselves in silly intrigue made it all a little easier. You narrowed your eyes at Chai Latte Cookie, your spoon hovering over your plate. “Wait a minute… You didn’t just happen to pass by the faculty greenhouse, did you?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped, a hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you imply such a thing?” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, setting his teacup down. “So, you did go looking for them.” Chai Latte Cookie huffed, crossing her arms. “Look, after what someone said yesterday” she gestured dramatically at you “I had to confirm. You can’t just drop a revelation like that and expect me to not investigate.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Chai, I told you that in confidence! You were supposed to just enjoy the information, not go snooping for more!” Chai Latte Cookie grinned unapologetically. “Oh, please. You knew exactly what would happen the moment you told me. Besides, aren’t you glad I did? Now we know there’s something going on!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? I don’t even have the energy to argue with you anymore.” Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows at you. “Admit it you love that I found out more.” You tried to look exasperated, but a small part of you was curious. “…Okay, maybe a little.” “I knew it!” She beamed, victorious. Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “You are relentless.” Chai Latte Cookie flipped her hair. “Thank you. I try.” You sighed, shaking your head but smiling all the same. “You’re impossible.” Chai Latte Cookie nudged you. “And yet, you’d be lost without me.” Despite yourself, you laughed. She wasn’t wrong. You leaned forward eagerly, unable to hold back your excitement any longer. "Okay, but listen I got all my homework right today. All of it." Chai Latte Cookie gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "No way! Not a single mistake?"

You shook your head, beaming. "Not one! He even praised me for it. Said my reasoning was solid and everything!" Earl Grey Cookie raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That’s quite the accomplishment, considering your usual complaints about the assignments." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked, stirring his tea. "So, what you're saying is… our dear scholar is finally learning?" You huffed, but it was hard to act offended when you were still so overjoyed. "Yes, finally! You guys, I can't even explain it, it just felt so good hearing that I did well. No corrections, no misunderstandings just right." Chai Latte Cookie practically melted, clutching her heart. "Ugh, I love this for you! All that work is finally paying off!" Earl Grey Cookie gave you a small nod of approval. "You should be proud. It’s not easy getting through material at that level without a single error." "I am proud," you admitted, grinning. "I mean, I know I still have a long way to go, but for once, I didn’t feel completely lost." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie chuckled. "That’s how you know it’s real progress." Chai Latte Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. "So, did he look proud of you?" You blinked, caught off guard. "I mean, he said I did well. And he did smile a little…" She gasped dramatically. "Ohhh, a smile? From him?" Earl Grey Cookie sighed, shaking his head. "Here we go." You groaned, covering your face. "Chai, please" But she was already giggling. "What? I’m just saying, it’s cute!" You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. "I swear, you will find romance in anything." "Of course! It makes life more interesting." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie rolled his eyes but smiled. "Alright, alright. Let’s not let their achievement get buried under your dramatics." "Thank you," you said pointedly. Chai Latte Cookie stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to you, squeezing your hand. "Seriously, though. I’m really proud of you. We all are." The warmth in your chest grew, and you gave them all a grateful smile. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."

It really did. Dinner ended on a high note, laughter lingering in the air even as you parted ways with your friends. The warmth of their encouragement, their easy camaraderie, and the sheer joy of the evening stayed with you as you made your way back to your dorm. The cool night air did little to temper the giddy excitement bubbling in your chest. You did it. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a moment where everything clicked where you weren’t just barely scraping by but actually succeeding. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was Friday. The last day of classes for the week. Maybe you’d sleep in after that. Maybe you’d allow yourself to just exist for a little while without worrying about coursework or expectations. The thought made you sigh contentedly as you unlocked your door, stepping inside and shutting out the world for the night. For once, things felt good. And you’d let yourself enjoy it. The morning light streamed through your window as you groggily blinked awake, stretching with a lazy yawn. You glanced at the clock far earlier than you usually managed to wake up. Maybe it was the excitement from last night still lingering in your bones. With a sigh, you swung your legs out of bed and prepared for the day, grabbing your things before heading out. That was when you checked your schedule… and stopped dead in your tracks. Professor Almond Cookie had canceled class.

For a moment, you just stood there, blinking at the notification as if rereading it would somehow make it untrue. A free morning? No impending doom of assignments or lectures? Your first instinct was to mope after all, what were you supposed to do now? But then another thought hit you, one much more pressing. Breakfast. Your stomach grumbled as if in agreement, and without a second thought, you took off toward the dining hall. You weren’t about to waste a rare opportunity for a peaceful morning meal. In your pursuit of food, you turned a corner a little too sharply, nearly colliding with someone. You skidded to a stop just in time, breath catching in surprise as you found yourself face-to-face with none other than “Shadow Milk Cookie?” The Sage of Truth blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. But as quickly as the surprise came, it melted into his usual composed demeanor, golden eyes steady as they regarded you. "Such haste this early in the morning?" he mused, crossing his arms with a slight shake of his head. "I would hope you are not fleeing from trouble." You huffed, straightening up. "I am not fleeing from anything," you said, before flashing him a grin. "I’m just excited for breakfast! No class today, so I figured I’d get an early start." Shadow Milk Cookie gave a hum of understanding, though there was still a hint of amusement in his gaze. "A fortunate turn of events, then." "Right?" You rocked on your heels before glancing at him curiously. "Wait, are you headed to breakfast too?" "It would seem so," he admitted, falling into step beside you as you both continued toward the dining hall. You hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with a small smile. "Would you want to sit with me and my friends? If you're not too busy, I mean."

There was a brief pause as he considered the offer. Then, in a tone just as measured as ever, he replied, "If you would have me, then I suppose I shall accept." You grinned, barely able to contain your excitement. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Chai Latte Cookie’s face when she realized who was joining you all for breakfast. You grabbed a tray and followed Shadow Milk Cookie into the dining hall, scanning the variety of food laid out before you. As you both moved down the line, you found yourself glancing at his choices his plate was neatly arranged with an assortment of nutritious foods grains, fruits, and a balanced portion of protein. It wasn’t anything particularly extravagant, but there was something refined about the way he selected his meal, as if even his breakfast was chosen with careful consideration. You weren’t sure why, but it made you hesitate for a moment when it was your turn. Normally, you might have gone for something simple, maybe something indulgent since you had the time to enjoy it today. But instead, you found yourself reaching for waffles then topping them with an artful arrangement of fruit and a generous dollop of yogurt. Unconsciously, you even made sure to pick a balanced variety, adding a side of nuts for protein, almost as if…You blinked, realizing what you were doing only after your tray was already full. Shadow Milk Cookie, of course, remained oblivious to your internal realization, calmly waiting for you before heading toward the seating area.

You followed, trying to push away the sudden awareness creeping in. It wasn’t like you had done it because of him… right? It was just… breakfast. A normal, completely regular breakfast. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you took your seat beside him. Chai Latte Cookie, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, and Earl Grey Cookie hesitantly approached the table, their gazes flickering toward Shadow Milk Cookie before settling on you. You wasted no time addressing them the moment they sat down. "Okay, why did nobody tell me class was canceled?" you demanded, placing your fork down with a huff. "I walked all the way to the lecture hall only to find an empty room! I could’ve just come straight here for breakfast!" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t check your messages?" You blinked. "There was a message?" Earl Grey Cookie let out a quiet sigh and took a sip of his tea. "Professor Almond sent out an announcement last night. I assume you were too busy with your notes to notice?" Your face heated slightly. Okay, maybe you had been too caught up reviewing your material, but still! "Would’ve been nice if one of you sent me a reminder," you muttered, spearing a piece of fruit with unnecessary force. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, leaning on the table with her chin in her hands. "Oh, but then you wouldn’t have had this lovely little breakfast moment, would you?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief as they flickered between you and Shadow Milk Cookie. You gave her a look. Not now. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, remained composed as ever, merely observing the exchange with mild amusement as he continued eating. Hazelnut Biscotti sighed, shaking his head. "You make it sound like we plotted against them."Chai Latte giggled. "I'm just saying, things worked out pretty well, didn't they?" You rolled your eyes, but despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Even with the morning mishap, the warmth of familiar company and an unexpectedly pleasant breakfast companion made up for it. Earl Grey Cookie set his teacup down with measured precision, regarding Shadow Milk Cookie with a curious yet respectful gaze. “To what do we owe the pleasure of the Sage of Truth joining us this morning?”

Shadow Milk Cookie, composed as ever, stirred his tea before replying, “A simple convergence of circumstances. Your friend and I happened upon each other on our way to breakfast.” His gaze flickered to you, just barely amused. “With great enthusiasm, I might add.” You bristled slightly. “I was just… walking.” “Hmm.” Shadow Milk Cookie made a soft, knowing sound, but said nothing further. Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “I didn’t even know you ate breakfast in the dining hall. You must be so busy that we never see you.” Shadow Milk Cookie gave a small, thoughtful nod. “My schedule is… fluid. But when the opportunity arises, I see no reason to forgo a well-balanced meal.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie hummed, inspecting the spread on his tray before glancing at yours. “So, is that why they suddenly decided to eat like an actual scholar today?” You blinked, looking down at your plate fresh fruit, yogurt, whole grains all things you had absentmindedly grabbed while walking alongside Shadow Milk. Only now did you realize how closely it resembled his own meal. Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “Ohhh. Interesting.” You hurriedly shoveled a bite of food into your mouth. “I just wanted something healthy!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked. “No need to justify it. Imitation is a form of admiration, after all.” You groaned. “Can we not start this early?” Shadow Milk Cookie, seemingly unbothered by the teasing, merely sipped his tea. “Curiosity is natural. And if it results in a more mindful approach to one’s well-being, I see no reason to object.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “Translation You got caught copying him, and he’s letting you off the hook.” Chai Latte Cookie laughed. “Hey, at least now we know the Sage of Truth is a good influence.” She then turned her attention back to him. “Speaking of which you’re always buried in books, but what do you actually do for fun?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded her for a moment before answering in his usual, measured tone. “Truth-seeking is inherently enjoyable.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie groaned. “That’s not an answer.” Earl Grey Cookie chuckled. “It’s the answer we should have expected.” You tried to hide your smile behind your teacup, feeling lighter than you had in a while. Breakfast with your friends was always a good way to start the day but having Shadow Milk Cookie here, for once, made it feel… different. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. There was an odd sort of warmth in knowing something about him that no one else at the table did. As the conversation carried on Chai Latte Cookie enthusiastically leading the charge into another round of campus gossip you let yourself sink into your thoughts. The harpsichord. The image of Shadow Milk Cookie, so composed and measured, playing something intricate and beautiful, lingered in your mind. It was almost impossible to picture, yet at the same time, it made perfect sense.

A secret, just for you.Chai Latte Cookie called your name, but the sound barely registered, lost in the hum of conversation around you. Your thoughts had wandered, lingering on the quiet revelation from earlier that Shadow Milk Cookie played the harpsichord. You were still caught up in the quiet satisfaction of knowing something about Shadow Milk Cookie that no one else did…that he played the harpsichord, that there was a piece of him separate from the scholar, the beacon of truth, something personal. It felt almost delicate, like if you dwelled on it too long, it would slip through your fingers. It felt nice, knowing something so small yet personal about him, like a secret meant just for you. He was always a figure of knowledge and composure, admired from afar, but this? This made him feel… real.

A light tap against your wrist jolted you back to the present. "You seem rather lost in thought," Shadow Milk Cookie remarked, his tone even as ever. He had barely moved, his golden eyes steady on you, but there was a quiet insistence to his words. You blinked, realizing the table had gone quiet, all eyes now on you. "Finally," Chai Latte huffed. "I called you like three times!" Earl Grey Cookie raised a curious brow, sipping his tea. "You looked practically entranced." You opened your mouth, scrambling for an excuse, but before you could speak, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned forward slightly, eyeing you with mock concern. "Did you eat anything questionable in the past twenty-four hours?" he asked, half-joking but still watching you like you might suddenly pass out. "Something expired? A cursed snack, maybe?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "No, I’m fine. Just thinking." "About?" Chai Latte pressed, eyes gleaming. "Nothing important," you muttered, reaching for your drink. Hazelnut Biscotti still looked suspicious. "If you suddenly start floating or speaking in tongues, I’m calling an exorcist." You snorted, shaking your head as the conversation moved on. Still, you could feel Shadow Milk Cookie's gaze lingering just a little longer before he, too, returned his focus elsewhere. You suddenly perked up, energy returning to your voice as a thought struck you. "Oh! Speaking of weird things, I actually heard-" You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth hanging slightly open as you quickly reevaluated your words.

Right. Shadow Milk Cookie was here. Your excitement deflated in an instant, and you cleared your throat, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, never mind. It’s not important." Chai Latte Cookie immediately narrowed her eyes. "Oh, absolutely not. You don’t just get all excited and then drop it like that. Spill." "It’s nothing," you insisted, shoving a spoonful of yogurt-covered waffle into your mouth for good measure. Earl Grey Cookie smirked. "Is it nothing? Or is it something you don’t want to say in present company?" Your eyes darted toward Shadow Milk Cookie, who, to his credit, looked completely unbothered, idly stirring his tea as he listened. "You are under no obligation to filter your words on my account," he said, voice as composed as ever. "However, if it is something you hesitate to share, I will not pry." Which, somehow, only made it worse. "No, no, it’s not that!" you quickly denied, feeling your face heat up. "It’s just… a dumb rumor about a professor I had last semester. Probably baseless, so no point in spreading it." Chai Latte Cookie groaned dramatically. "Ugh, fine. But if I hear it from someone else first, I’m going to be personally offended." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie gave you a side-eye. "So it is gossip." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I am not engaging in slander first thing in the morning, thank you very much." "That’s personal growth," Earl Grey Cookie quipped. Chai Latte rolled her eyes. "It’s boring, that’s what it is." Despite yourself, you laughed, the conversation moving forward with ease. Still, as you stole a quick glance at Shadow Milk Cookie, you couldn’t help but wonder did he really not care for gossip? Or was he just exceptionally good at keeping his thoughts to himself?

You huffed, leaning forward on the table. “Alright, since you’re here, you have to contribute something.” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked, clearly amused by your demand. “Oh?” “You’ve been sitting there, listening to our gossip, but you haven’t shared a single thing,” you pointed out, tapping your spoon against the table for emphasis. “That’s unfair.” Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “They’re right! The Sage of Truth is holding back the truth? How scandalous!” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, swirling his tea lazily. “A betrayal of principle, truly.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shook his head with a sigh. “You all sound ridiculous.” Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he rested his chin on his hand. “And what, exactly, do you expect me to share?” You grinned. “I dunno. Something. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve overheard lately?” He hummed, appearing thoughtful. Then, in a calm, deliberate tone, he said, “I did hear an amusing rumor recently… Apparently, a certain group of scholars has been sneaking into the Academy gardens at odd hours to perform what they claim are ‘rituals’ to enhance their studies.” Chai Latte Cookie immediately perked up. “What?!” Earl Grey Cookie quirked a brow. “Rituals?” Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “Yes. They believe that by studying under the moonlight, they can absorb celestial wisdom and heighten their comprehension.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie snorted. “That’s ridiculous.” You, however, were intrigued. “Wait… who even started that rumor?” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head slightly, his smile unreadable. “One could say it started with them. Whether or not it holds any truth… well, that is another matter.” Chai Latte Cookie practically vibrated in her seat. “Okay, but who are they?” Shadow Milk Cookie simply sipped his tea. “Now, now. Wouldn’t it be more fun to find out for yourselves?” Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “Of course. We should’ve known he wouldn’t just hand us the answer.” You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But next time, you owe us actual gossip.” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled knowingly. “We shall see.”

Chai Latte Cookie huffed, leaning back in her seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Of course he wouldn’t just spill everything.” Earl Grey Cookie took a measured sip of his tea. “Still, that’s an interesting rumor. I wonder if it’s just a group of eccentric students or if there’s more to it.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, however, looked unimpressed. “There’s nothing to it. Some students just get desperate before exams and do whatever they can to convince themselves they’ll do better.” You snickered. “So, you don’t think the moon is whispering secrets to them?” He shot you a dry look. “Absolutely not.” Chai Latte Cookie leaned forward, eyes glimmering mischievously. “Now, imagine if the Sage of Truth himself did something like that. The entire Academy would go into shock.” You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, grinning. “Do you have any secret study rituals?” His expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of amusement in his golden eyes. “If I did, I would hardly reveal them now, would I?” Chai Latte Cookie gasped. “So you admit it?” “I admitted nothing.” You shook your head, laughing. “Alright, alright. I won’t press further.” You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a content sigh. “Well, since I have nothing to do now, I might as well tag along with you.” The words left your mouth before you fully processed them, and the moment they did, the atmosphere around the table subtly shifted. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of their stares. Had… had you just spoken to Shadow Milk Cookie like that? So casually? You set your fork down, glancing at Shadow Milk Cookie with barely restrained curiosity. Maybe it was the energy from breakfast, or maybe it was just the fact that you were feeling bold after already speaking so casually to him once. Either way, the question left your mouth before you could think twice. “So, what are you doing after this, Shadow Milk Cookie?” A follow up question to test the waters but, the moment his name left your lips, you realized how easily it had slipped out. There was no heavy title, no layers of formality just his name, spoken like you might address any other scholar. And your friends noticed. Earl Grey Cookie’s spoon clinked against his cup, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s gaze flickered toward you, and Chai Latte Cookie, ever so perceptive, shot you a look that practically screamed, Oh? You ignored all of them. “Do you have to teach a class or anything?” you added, trying to make the question sound completely normal, as if you hadn’t just stunned the entire table. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, did not look fazed. If anything, his golden eyes flickered with amusement, as though he were fully aware of the effect your words had on the group but chose not to comment on it.

“I do not have a lecture to give today,” he answered smoothly, setting his teacup down. “My time, for the most part, is dedicated to my research.” That piqued your interest. “What kind of research?” “Various inquiries, as always. But I am currently focused on an ongoing analysis of arcane inscriptions found in the older halls of the Academy.” Your brows raised. That did sound interesting. “Oh, so you’re just going to be reading all day?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curled slightly. “Would that be disappointing?” “No, I just…” You hesitated before leaning forward slightly. “Can I come see?” For the second time that morning, your words seemed to surprise your friends. This time, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie actually stopped eating to look at you properly, and Chai Latte Cookie made a quiet noise of intrigue. Earl Grey Cookie simply observed, as though waiting to see how Shadow Milk Cookie would respond. And respond he did. “If you are truly that interested,” he said, eyes gleaming, “then you are welcome to accompany me.” You blinked. “Wait… really?” “Did you expect me to refuse?” “Well… maybe.” He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Curiosity should not be stifled. If you wish to see what I am working on, I see no reason to deny you.” Chai Latte Cookie made a small movement, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. “Huh.” You did not like that ‘huh.’ But instead of engaging, you focused on Shadow Milk Cookie, feeling a spark of excitement. “Alright then. I’ll come with you.” And just like that, you had agreed to spend the rest of the morning with the Sage of Truth himself.

Your friends bid you farewell, each with their own expressions of intrigue. Chai Latte Cookie gave you a knowing smile, Earl Grey Cookie simply nodded in acknowledgment, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie well, he had other plans. Just as you turned to leave, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “If you see anything interesting, bring me back a souvenir.” You blinked. “A… souvenir?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shrugged. “I mean, he’s letting you tag along to his research. That counts for something, right? Who knows what you’ll find? Maybe an old scroll, a mysterious trinket” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think it works like that.” “Still,” he said, crossing his arms, “if there is something, I’d appreciate it.” You gave him a skeptical look, but there was no real harm in humoring him. “Fine, if there’s something. No promises.” He smirked, satisfied, before nudging you toward the waiting Shadow Milk Cookie. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.” With one last glance at your friends, you turned back to the Sage of Truth, who had been waiting patiently, his expression unreadable but amused nonetheless. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning for you to follow. And with that, you walked beside him, ready to see just what kind of research he had in store. As you walked alongside Shadow Milk Cookie, the air felt different lighter, almost surreal. Maybe it was the quiet between you both, or maybe it was just the lingering excitement from being invited into a space most scholars could only dream of.

A/N Nothing happened earlier I never ever reuploaded ch 9 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 But anyways tomorrow is FRIDAYYY!!!! and everything I was supposed to go this weekend got cancelled bc "Lack of funding" LIKE WHAT I REGISTERED FOR THIS CONFERENCE 2 WEEKS IN ADVANCE WDYMMMM

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[scarletwants]

it had to be you.

notes: aaron is one of my favs & this frank sinatra song reminds me of him!! enjoy <3 summary: hotch unexpectedly falls for his intelligent and kind coworker, discovering love in an unlikely place. warnings: aaron being a softie, tooth-rotting fluff.

Aaron Hotchner was not a man who believed in serendipity. As Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, his life was governed by logic, structure, and an unwavering commitment to justice. Emotions, especially romantic ones, were neatly compartmentalized, kept under strict control. That is, until you walked into his life.

It was a Wednesday morning, the BAU office bustling with activity. Agents were preparing for the latest case, the sound of clicking keyboards and hushed conversations filling the air. Hotch was in his office, reviewing a case file when you knocked on the door, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

"Got a minute?" you asked, your eyes reflecting both determination and warmth.

"Of course, come in," he replied, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.

You closed the door behind you and took a seat, placing a folder in front of him. "I think I found something in the victimology that might tie the cases together."

Hotch took the folder and began to review the contents. As he read through your meticulous notes, he couldn't help but be impressed by your keen insights and thoroughness. It wasn't the first time he admired your work, but today, something felt different. There was an unfamiliar flutter in his chest, one that he quickly brushed aside.

"This is excellent," he said, looking up to meet your gaze. "I think you're right. This could be the link we've been missing."

You smiled, a genuine expression that reached your eyes. "Glad I could help. Should we present this to the team?"

"Yes, let's do that," Hotch replied, rising from his seat. He followed you out of the office, his mind lingering on the way your presence seemed to light up the room.

As the days turned into weeks, Hotch found himself drawn to you in ways he hadn't anticipated. It wasn't just your intelligence and dedication that captivated him; it was the way you treated everyone with kindness, the way your laughter filled the room, the way you made even the darkest days seem a little brighter.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case, the team decided to unwind at a nearby bar. Hotch usually kept his distance during such gatherings, preferring to maintain his professional boundaries. But tonight, something pulled him to join in. As he entered the bar, he spotted you sitting at a table with the rest of the team, your laughter ringing out above the din.

"Hotch, over here!" you called, waving him over.

He smiled and made his way to the table, taking a seat beside you. The conversation flowed easily, and for once, Hotch allowed himself to relax. As the night wore on, he found himself stealing glances at you, each one reinforcing the growing realization that you were different. Special.

When the team began to disperse, you and Hotch were left alone at the table. You looked at him, a question in your eyes. "Walk me to my car?"

"Of course," he replied, standing up and offering his hand. You took it, and the simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

The walk to the parking lot was filled with easy conversation, but there was an undercurrent of something more. As you reached your car, you turned to face him, your expression serious yet tender.

"Aaron," you began, your voice soft, "I've been meaning to tell you something."

He held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "What is it?"

You smiled, a touch of nervousness in your eyes. "I... I think I'm falling for you."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Hotch felt a rush of emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear that," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I'm falling for you too."

You took a step closer, your hand finding his. "So, what do we do now?"

Hotch smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "We take it one day at a time.”

As you stood there under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, Hotch realized that sometimes, the most unexpected moments led to the most beautiful outcomes. And in that moment, he knew that meeting you was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

[yourfriendowlbear]

Protection (Astarion headcanons)

Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Astarion notices how you've protected him over the years.

Warnings: brief mention of manipulation; murder; small act 3 spoilers; brief mention of nightmares

Note: this is my first astarion piece I'm posting! let me know if you'd like to see more headcanons, or if you have something you'd like to request

He’s watching you adjust a curtain to block out the afternoon sun from the drawing room when he realizes it. 

You spend so much energy protecting him. In big and small ways.

Just now, you’re balanced on top of a stool, fighting with the thick cloth to get it to lay just right over the window just so that he can feel comfortable in the home you share together.

But really, you’ve been doing it since the beginning. Looking out for him whether you realized it or not.

You’d been so willing to protect him from the intellect devourer that he'd made up to manipulate you. Hadn’t even thought about it, just sprung into action because he’d asked for help.

And then, only a short time later, you’d protected him from the Gur Hunter. You’d followed his lead, allowed him to pace the conversation. And then, when it was clear what needed to be done, you’d killed the Gur, an arrow loosened from your bow piercing the hunter’s throat.

Countless battles, you’d fought by his side, felling enemies before they got too close, tossing him healing potions when his injuries were too egregious.

You’d even plotted out a damn near-perfect strategy for taking down Cazador, spent countless nights reading ancient scrolls in the Devil’s Fee and padded the pockets of more dark wizards than Astarion could count to arm yourself with as much information as you could gather.

And when you were in Cazador’s chambers, your plan was put into motion. He hadn’t been particularly happy about hanging back, but when the fight started and Cazador still hadn't seen him, Astarion was glad for your thorough mind.

He did notice, just as Lae’zel went in for the first blow, that you’d placed yourself directly in Cazador’s path, blocking him bodily from accessing Astarion. Of course, there was no way you could stand up to the vampire master’s magic, but the barrier stood as a warning–Cazador would not get to Astarion easily.

You make sure his tea is the perfect temperature, make sure he’s well-fed, keep him company, bring him more books when he desires.

And when the nightmares plague his rest, your touch is gentle as an angel’s as you stroke his hair and try to lull him back to calm.

There are tomes on the table in your bedroom, ancient, dusty things that tell of events long forgotten. You’d heard a drunk orc make mention of a ring that allows vampires and drow to walk in the sun, and that was all it took to set you off on another quest to defend him–this time, from nature itself.

The stool wobbles under you, and lightning quick, Astarion is there to steady you. His hands find your hips just as the stool tips over and he’s able to brace you and let you down gently.

Maybe he protects you, too.

[strawberryscribblesandwrites]

Vampires vs Bath time

Marko x reader x Paul

Summary: your two blond vampire boyfriends visit you and things get a little steamy ;)

Author's note: I might do full smut part two we shall see

A cool breeze ruffled my hair, the smell of the sea being carried by it. That was one of the few perks of living right near the boardwalk, the fresh smell of the salty ocean.

Another perk was that I was close to my boys.

Ah, my boys. How could I begin to describe my undead delinquents? Well you have David, the ring leader, charming sinister energy to him at first but once you get to know him he had a soft spot for his lost boys. Dwayne is the silent brooding type, he loves reading and riding his bike with the others. Marko and Paul, the messy mischief makers filled with a childish hyperactiveness to them.

When I first met my boys they were well they were kind of a mess, only washing in the ocean, living then with frizzy matted hair- they would occasionally use the public showers near the boardwalks, but after meeting them I was adamant that they should keep good hygiene, especially if we were to all be in a relationship. David and Dwayne followed my rule and would pop in to have a proper hot shower or bath.

Now, Paul and Marko.... would try their best to remember but they would often get caught up in their shenanigans.

My radio was playing a loud rock song that reminded me of a thrilling night in the cave. I danced around my room without a care until the sound of a shrill wolf whistle and catcalling made me jump out of my skin. Spinning around to face my open window, I saw none other than the pair of blonde vamps. Their faces and clothes smeared with thick blood.

"What the hell" I whisper shouted at them.

"Aww baby don't be like that, it was a good show" Paul said with a smirk while Marko was giggling like a mad man. "Hurry in before anyone sees you" I said, shaking my head trying to suppress a smile at their antics.

"Do not touch anything" I said sternly as they came through my window. I walked to my set of draws and got the pair some comfy clothes to chuck on while I put their blood-drenched clothes in the wash. "Let me guess you were playing with your food and got too messy?" I asked them over my shoulder. "You could say that” David said “We were starting to stink up the place" Marko mumbled, like a child being told off. "I think we could have gone a few more days before we needed a good wash" Paul said in a joking manner.

"Gross" I stated.

Putting the boy's respective comfy clothes on my bed, I turned to the pair to inspect which of them needed a more thorough approach. Looking at Paul, he didn't seem too bad. His hair was stiff, as were his clothes- covered in deep, sticky blood. But other than that he didn't seem too bad. Marko, on the other hand, had his shirt half ripped and his soaked jacket looked particularly crusty. His chaps had seen better days, not to even mention how his hair was stuck together, all matted with blood clots.

"Paul you're up first, Marko baby you need extra care. I swear if you boys continue this I'll start treating you like actual dogs and just put you in the paddling pool and hose you down" I threatened

"Woof" Marko said smirking causing Paul to explode with laughter

"Sugar, we aren't that bad" he said breathlessly between laughs. I just hummed in response, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bathroom. "Baby, you just stay there. You can read some comics on my desk, I don't mind you getting a mess on my desk chair" I told him over my shoulder.

Turning on the taps of my bath, I added some soap and set some shampoo, conditioner and body wash on the side of the tub.

"Strip" I said pointing to the bath.

"Oooh, no need to be so snappy. If you wanted me naked you should just ask nicely" he said in a seductive tone.

"Not tonight casanova" I told him, causing him to pout.

I walked out of the bathroom giving him his privacy to get in the tub. Waiting, till I heard him shout through the door he was ready. I opened the door to collect his clothes.

"Hey baby, do you think you can wash my hair?" he asked softly. "Of course I can sweetie" I smiled.

Popping my head back into my room after I had put Paul's clothes into the washing machine, I was met with the sight of Marko, with his feet kicked up on my desk engrossed in one of my many comics. I made my way back to the bathroom, knocking on the door and waiting for a response before making my way in.

Paul lay in the bath, his wet hair pooling around his broad shoulders, his face and chest absent of the blood that was there earlier that night. "Hey Paulie" I said softly as I kneeled by the bath. He gave me a sweet smile as he sat up giving me better access to his head.

I truly loved nights like these with my boys. Sure they were killers, but they were also the boys that always treated me with love and care.

Kissing Paul's shoulder, I leaned for the shampoo, squirting some on my hand and massaging it into his scalp, causing Paul to let out a soft groan, my nails raking across his head."Have I told you how much I love you?" Paul breathlessly groaned as I started pouring water gently over his hair. “I'm always happy to hear it baby” I said, kissing his shoulder again.

I continued rinsing his hair until it was free of soap, repeating the process with the conditioner. “I could get used to this” Paul sighed, as the water sloshed round the tub as he started to stand up. “Well, I'm glad to hear that because I would prefer it if my boyfriend didn't smell like a corpse when I see him” I chuckled, wrapping a towel around his waist before he stepped out of the bath. “Aww, don't you find the smell of rotting sexy babe” he teased, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his bare chest. “Hmmm. Nope. I don’t think it is” I joked into his chest.

“Come on pretty boy, Marko needs a bath and a good scrub” I said, kissing his chest, causing a deep rumble to spread through him.

“Your clothes are on the bed and the hair dryer is in my desk drawer” I said, opening the door of the bathroom for him.

I leaned down putting my hand in the now lukewarm water to pull out the plug and let it drain .

Leaning my shoulder against the doorframe of my room, I watched as Paul moved over to my desk where Marko was sat. Paul leaned over him to get to the draw, allowing Marko to quickly lean up and kiss his jaw. “You smell nice” he told him. “Thanks bud” he said with a soft smile, retrieving the hair dryer.

Moving back to the bathroom as the last of the bath water emptied out, I replugged it, filling it with hot water and more soap, waiting until the bath was full until I called on Marko.

After a few minutes, he hadn't come. I decided to see why he was taking so long, walking over to my desk and leaning down over his shoulder. “Marko baby, why aren't you coming to the bathroom?” I asked softly.

“Babe, this comic is bitchin’. Look!” he said, excitedly showing me the panels of two characters fighting. Chuckling, I kissed his temple. “That's pretty cool, but ya gotta get a wash baby”. He groaned as he put the comic down.

We both moved to the bathroom where the bath was almost full of hot water and soap. “Pass me your jacket” I told the blond vampire. He shrugged off his jacket with a sigh. Giving a quick thank you, I moved his jacket to the kitchen where I could hand wash it.

I knocked on the door of the bathroom and waited for the okay from Marko to come in.

“Hey” he said, as I entered the steamy bathroom. “Hi” I smiled.

Marko was sat up straight in the water. Unlike Paul, he hadn’t bothered to rid his face and chest of congealed and dried blood .

Kneeling by the bathtub, I soaked the washcloth in the water, bringing it up to Marko’s face and gently scrubbed his chin. “You're both such messy eaters, you know that?” I asked with a chuckle. “We can’t help it babe, we just get a lil excited is all” he stated with a smile. I chuckled slightly at his response.

Gently, I grabbed his chin and tilted his head back so that I could wipe the blood from his neck. Occasionally, I would re-wet the cloth until his neck was clear of blood. I placed a set of soft kisses on his neck, up to his jawline. Pulling away from Marko, I dipped the cloth back in the water.

“Why are you so gentle with us?” he questioned.

“What do you mean?” I asked, while tilting my head and smiling softly.

“Well, I mean, you’re so soft with us. You make sure we are clean, and I mean- well look at you. You’re cleaning a bloodthirsty creature of the night” he stated. “I mean, you wash Pauls hair, you give David massages when he gets worked up, you sit and read with Dwayne, and don’t even get me started on how soft you are with Laddie. You buy him allsorts. You treat us so well and I don’t understand why” he said bewildered

“Hmm. Well, the answer is simple” I said as I brought my soapy hand up to his cheek. “It’s because I love you all, so very dearly” I smiled sweetly.

Marko broke out into a wide smile. “Awww, babe. You love us? Ewww” He joked as he pulled me into a kiss.

Pulling away, I gave him a soft look.“Alright lover boy, I should really wash your hair now. It’s all matted” I said. Sternly grabbing the bottle of shampoo, I started to lather his hair. “It smells like you” he mumbled to himself as I continued the process of lathering and rinsing until there were no more suds in his hair.

Grabbing the conditioner, I gently raked it through his hair before grabbing a comb to get the knots out of his curly hair, being careful not to pull and hurt him. Once I was done running the conditioner through his hair, I rinsed it all out.

“Alright, I'm gonna give your jacket a wash. I’m sure you can handle the rest from here” I said. Standing from the bathroom floor, I moved to the door.

Before I stepped down the stairs I went to check on Paul, he was on my bed, towel still low on his hips as he read one of the comics Marko had earlier. He’d turned the rock music on my radio higher, seeming comfortable

I carefully made my way down the stairs with the rest of Markos clothes in my arms. I walked into the kitchen, putting his jeans and shirt in the washing machine and setting it away along with Paul's clothes. The sloshing sound of the washer filling with water engulfed the silent kitchen. Grabbing Marko’s jacket, I filled the sink with cold water and detergent then began gently scrubbing at the blood stains, carefully, so as to not ruin it. I hummed a random song I had heard from the radio earlier as I worked away to rid the jacket of all the blood soaking it.

I stiffened as a pair of cold hands made their way round my waist.

“What you doing down here all by yourself?” Paul hummed huskily in my ear as his hand made its way under my shirt.

“Ah! Paul baby, your hands are freezing” I squealed, trying to squirm away from him.

“Well, you can help me warm them up” He mumbled against my skin. Paul started to drag his lips slowly down my neck until he reached the junction where my neck met my shoulders. I hummed at the feeling of his soft lips on the crook of my neck, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body.

“I heard you and Marko in the bathroom” He whispered as he began kissing and nibbling back up my neck to my ear, causing me to let out a low huffy breath. “We love you too” he said as he pulled away, causing my hairs to stand on end.

Groaning at the loss of one of my vampire boyfriends body on mine, I turned to see his face lit up with a devilish smirk.

“Come on, Marks waiting” He informed, deciding I could finish washing markos jacket later. I dried my hands on a dish towel before following Paul up the stairs to my room.

As I entered the room I was met with the sight of Marko drying his hair with the spare towel I had given him earlier.

“Hey baby” He said joyfully with a smile. I chuckled at his joy. Paul had once again wrapped himself around me as he swayed to the rock music on the radio. He would occasionally place kisses along my neck.

Marko soon made his way over to us both. He placed one of his hands on my hips as he brought the other to my cheek to pull me into a passionate kiss.

The feeling of Marko’s lips on mine mixed with the feeling of Paul’s nibbling kisses and occasionally licking my neck made my head spin.

“Boys” I groaned at there attack as I pulled away from Marko for air, leaning my head back.

This only allowed the pair to continue their attack. Marko dove in, attaching his lips to the underside of my jaw.

Paul pulled away giggling. “Aww, look Marko, we have them melting” Paul teased, causing the other boy to pull away with a smile.

“You boys are the worst”. I groaned at the loss of their touch.

“You sure about that sugar?” Paul said as he tilted my chin to pull me into a passionate kiss. Marko trailed his cold hands from my hips up my stomach, the feeling of his cold fingertips trailing up my chest sent shivers down my spine, causing me to let out a moan into the kiss with paul.

Marko continued his path, his cold hand grabbed my chest with a dark chuckle. “Your heart is beating so fast baby. Do we really get you going that bad?” He said as he lifted my shirt and kissed my hip before he made his way up my stomach. The feeling of his soft breathing on my skin made my stomach muscles tense. It felt like the most heavenly torture.

He pulled away, making me internally groan. “You made them all whiney” Paul cooed in mock sympathy, causing Marko to giggle as he pulled my shirt off.

His nails gently dragged my hips closer to his face the cold tip of his nose hitting just above my hip made my body shiver in anticipation, Markos eye flitted up to mine then to pauls.

Paul's hand trailed up my chest his hand trailed up my chest to my his hands were soft as he moved my head slightly to the side and slowly licked up my neck before I felt the nipping feeling of his teeth dragging along the tender skin below my ear. Marko had pulled away from my hip his fingers digging under the hem of my jeans with a smirk “mmm hey paul do you think they are desperate enough” he rasped to the other vampire “nope” paul replied Marko breathily My room once filled with loud rock music was replaced by my own breathy wines and moans mixed with the raspy teasing giggles of Marko and paul they really did love teasing.

[twstbookclub]

Inked Blossoms

Summary: Jamil didn't think much of you when he received a flower basket. You were his new neighbor running a flower shop—nothing more, nothing less. So, why can't he stop coming by after visiting you once? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Tattoo Artist!Jamil, Florist!Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Mentions of Blood and Self-harm, Use of Flower Language, Jamil's POV Word Count: 4, 025 Main Reference for Flower Meanings: Boeckmann, C. (2023, November 17). What does each flower symbolize? The Old Farmer's Almanac.

And I thought the Riddle fic I wrote is my longest one 💀 I actually had this plot in mind in the same month as I thought of the Riddle fic, which was back in April of last year. I only put in one link here, but I fact-checked every flower I used in this fic with other sources. Admittedly, when I wrote this, I received some heartbreaking news that morning and I cried my eyes out. I may or may not have projected those feelings into this and incorporated my previous experiences here. To all the Jamil stans, I'm so sorry that my first fic of this guy is long and angsty. I hope you all enjoy, though 💕

Jamil stared at the flowers on his parlor’s doorstep. Pink peonies and coral roses filled the twine basket, along with a purple flower that he didn’t know the name of. The arrangement emphasized the purple flowers, while there were a few peonies mixed in with the roses. What piqued Jamil’s curiosity were the leaves that lined the edges of the basket. He squinted, subconsciously leaning down to peer at the blooms at his feet.

“... Is that basil?” He mumbled, confused about the inclusion of a familiar herb. It was something he often used in his cooking, particularly when he was roommates with Kalim back in high school. That boy’s palate was too refined for anything bland and ready-made, so Jamil always had to cook with spices and herbs. It came to the point that the smell stuck to his clothes, even after a thorough wash in the laundry. Not just his clothes—even his hair. He already had a meticulous process with his hair care and bejeweled braids, so it was a nuisance.

He shook his head, before he took the flower basket in his hands. The blooms jostled a little, and a gentle hand pushed a peony back in place. Something nagged at Jamil to look to the left, for some reason. When he turned his head, the sign of the shop next door caught his attention.

“A flower shop, huh.” That was new. Jamil vaguely remembered this lot being sold recently, but he never thought it’d be turned into a store like that. It used to be an antique store owned by an elderly woman. She minded her own business, despite the weird and judgmental looks he received for the henna tattoos that decorated Jamil’s tan hands and arms.

Jamil’s eyes darted from the cursive letters of the sign to the flowers and plants displayed behind the glass walls. The name of the shop was painted on one of the walls in gold—above some of the artful arrangements of red roses, white carnations, and calla lilies. There was a shift of color behind them, and he narrowed his eyes again for a better look.

Someone was tending to the flowers. He could vaguely make out the color of their hair and the verdant apron over a white polo shirt. With the large bouquets in the way, Jamil couldn’t see a face. Sighing and shaking his head, he walked into his tattoo parlor with the flower basket in his arms.

If all his time in the city taught him anything, it was that nothing in this world was free.

Still, Jamil couldn’t help but wonder what the purple flowers were. They reminded him of tulips, but the petals were thinner and pointed at the tips. The stamen was visible, too. It was a stark contrast to the blooming tulips he knew: blunt-tipped and oval petals without the stamen being visible. He made a mental note to search about them once he went home.

Jamil found out that the purple blooms were called crocuses, and he wound up finding a website detailing the meanings of every flower imaginable. The flowers replaced the lamp that used to be on the table next to his bed. Every morning, he’d wake up to the colorful arrangement in a vase with his mind stuck on the meaning of each flower.

Maybe he should see what the florist was like. If they were like the antique shop owner from before, then Jamil would just remain polite and ignore them whenever he could.

On a slow and quiet day in the parlor, Jamil flipped the sign and locked the door. He shoved the key in his pocket, while his eyes drifted to the flower displays and bouquets through the glass walls. A blur of white and green moved behind them, but he still couldn’t put a face to the florist.

Jamil would have to see if he was curious enough to put a name to that face, too.

A chime echoed in the store once he stepped inside, and an onslaught of fragrance hit him. He noted that it wasn’t as powerful as the smell of spices, ones that he can taste from the scent alone. Still, it was strong enough to leave him a little lightheaded.

“Ah, welcome!” A voice rang through the back, behind an open door that led to what Jamil assumed was a small greenhouse. Sacks of fertilizer and clay pots filled with flowers peeked out of the metal shelves. The sight was obscured by a green apron, stitched with the same cursive letters of the store sign.

Charcoal gray eyes met lively, cheerful ones. The gloved hands that gripped the door frame were smeared with soil, maybe even fertilizer. Dirt smudged your cheek, but his gaze drifted to your lips. Your smile—too bright to be natural—was difficult to look away from. Something churned in his chest the longer he looked at it.

“Oh,” you mumbled, which made Jamil look back into your eyes again, “you’re my next-door neighbor. Hi! I hope you like the flowers. I’m, uh…”

A sheepish chuckle left your lips, making Jamil’s heart lurch. He resisted the urge to scowl at the feeling. He just met you, and he’d rather not make a bad impression. The tattoo artist came to your store to meet you like a proper neighbor, not to antagonize you.

“I came by to say hi, and you weren’t there. I had to get the shop ready and all, so I decided to leave the basket and hope that it stays there—” You sighed, took off one of your gloves, and ran a hand through your hair— “and I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”

Jamil watched you, anxious and fidgety, and he suppressed a smile. There was something amusing about how you acted like a mouse: squeaking and retreating at any sign of danger. Although, he highly doubted that you saw him as a threat.

You were just… shy. You talked a lot, but you were shy.

“It’s fine,” Jamil raised a hand and smiled, practiced and polite, “and I appreciate the flowers. Thank you. It’s a beautiful arrangement—you have a way with bringing out their natural beauty.”

He probably laid it on too thick. It was a habit at this point: butter up people to ease them, to let their guard down. Jamil merely planned to meet this florist to satisfy his curiosity. He never considered the option of befriending this person, much less engaging in a long conversation with you.

Your face lit up, as if something dawned on you in that moment. Chuckling, you stretched out the hand without the glove and gave him your name. It was followed with a cheerful, “It’s nice to meet you! I hope we can get along, um…”

“Jamil,” he shook your hand with that same, practiced smile, “Jamil Viper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He noticed your eyes dart towards his hand and arm, inked with the traditional motifs and patterns of his homeland. Under the sunlight that streamed through the glass, your eyes seemed to sparkle. Your mouth parted in a silent, “Oh.”

“That’s so pretty,” you blurted out and continued to stare at the henna tattoos. Jamil simply watched you with wide eyes, but the surprise disappeared in that same instant. Your voice, loud and happy, filled the silence of the room.

“The amount of detail here is amazing, and—Oh, there’s even more tiny patterns inside another pattern. That’s so cool!”

Even though this much praise usually annoyed Jamil (it reminded him too much of Kalim), he found himself flustered. A faint warmth spread across his cheeks as he watched you marvel at the tattoos. You raised a hand, probably to trace the design with a finger, when you paused.

Your smile was frozen on your face, as if you caught yourself doing something embarrassing. Your own cheeks flushed in shame, before you pulled away with a nervous giggle. Jamil almost laughed at how ridiculous you looked at the moment.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that called you cute.

It was supposed to be a one-time encounter. Jamil only visited your flower shop to see the person who opened a new business next to his tattoo parlor. He wanted to see whether this new neighbor of his was going to be tolerable or otherwise. One meeting was enough to deem you tolerable; someone that Jamil could politely wave to if you two happened to pass by each other.

So, why was he looking at a bouquet of irises and white jasmines right now? Why was he standing in your store on a Sunday morning?

“You’ve been coming a lot here lately.” Your voice rang from the back, much like how Jamil first met you. He looked over his shoulder to see you admiring the other flowers with a small smile.

“I don’t mind, really, and it’s nice to have you here. I just didn’t expect you to come here almost every day,” you clarified with a chuckle as you approached him. The telltale flush of your cheeks already told Jamil about how embarrassed you were to confess that. He watched you caress one of the petals of a hydrangea with a gentle look.

For a weekend, it was surprisingly quiet here. People flocked to your store during its first week, and Jamil observed all this in the comfort of his parlor. The window provided a clear view of what was going on, so he didn’t need to go outside. You became frazzled in a matter of moments—running around and arranging the flowers yourself—and that amused Jamil. Just a bit.

Still, you smiled throughout that hectic week.

Me neither, Jamil wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “It’s another slow day in my shop, so I decided to visit. I suppose it’s become a habit whenever I have nothing else to do.”

You chuckled, and Jamil pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat. He ignored the twitch of his lips, curling into a small smile. Oblivious to the look the tattoo artist gave you, you continued to admire the flowers.

“That’s fine with me. Besides, I like your company.”

Your shameless honesty was going to be the death of Jamil. The tips of his ears grew warm, and he tugged his hood over them. He already concluded that you were a thoughtful and considerate person after spending some time with you. You prepared tea and cookies, ones you yourself baked, every time he visited. Careful hands arranged the flowers by meaning and color, which already said enough about you. Being a florist sounded just right for someone like you.

Jamil briefly wondered what flowers you’d give him if you wanted to give him a bouquet.

He cleared his throat, mimicking a cough, before he shifted his attention to the irises and jasmines again. Ever since he searched the meanings of the flowers in that basket, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can you tell me what these mean in flower language?” He asked, glancing at you from behind his hood. Whether you found this action odd or not, you didn’t comment on it.

With a curious hum, you leaned over to look at what Jamil referred to and smiled wider. You replied, “Ah, irises can mean wisdom, faith, trust, valor, and hope. As for white jasmines…”

You raised an eyebrow at Jamil with a mischievous grin. He didn’t dare entertain the thought that you were being adorable from the action alone. He didn’t dare hope that the gesture actually meant something.

“They can mean sweet love, and the person who receives them is seen as friendly and pleasant.” You paused, before you suddenly left Jamil’s side and reached for the adjacent wall of flowers. Before Jamil could say anything, you already extended a white bloom under his nose.

Wide-eyed and bewildered, he stared at the flower in your hand. It somewhat resembled a rose in full bloom, but the petals were shaped differently. Another amused laugh echoed in the room. You took his hand, inked with intricate patterns that crawled his skin like vines, and placed the flower in it.

Jamil realized that it was a gardenia. This species of flora grew in some part of the botanical garden of his high school. He was only familiar with it because he used to pass by the area to relax, preferably alone.

“I think this suits you, though.” You hummed and returned to the counter with a spin of your heel. Jamil watched you wordlessly as you disappeared into the greenhouse. From where he stood, the tattoo artist saw pink and white camellias peeking through one of the shelves. He nearly jumped when your head popped out of the door frame.

“Oh, and can you help me carry some of these pots around? They’re pretty heavy, thanks!”

It was only until Jamil got home that he searched for the meaning of the gardenia. The bright laptop screen glared at him as he entered the keywords in the search bar. He clicked on the first result and—

Jamil stared at the words with darkening cheeks. His mouth became dry, and his tongue was tied into knots. His hand slammed the monitor shut, before he abruptly stood up and left for the kitchen. He needed some water. He needed to not think too much into things. You were going to be the death of him, Jamil swore to that.

Still, the words were already seared into his memory: you’re lovely.

Jamil found himself visiting you whenever he could. You always asked for his help whenever heavy labor was involved. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt annoyed. With you, it was just an excuse for Jamil to stay longer.

Fleeting touches, subtle glances, and shy smiles—it was like your own language. Not a single word was exchanged, yet it felt like you said more than Jamil could comprehend. He didn’t miss the moments when your hands lingered too long over his. He would be a fool not to notice that a cookie jar and a box of teabags sat on the counter each time he visited.

For the past year, you’d give him a single flower every day without fail. One time, after the usual tea, it was a morning glory. Another time, when you were particularly homesick and Jamil stayed to chat, you gave him a hydrangea. When he visited your house and took care of you when you became sick, you gave him a yellow lily the next day. He always brought them home, but it came to the point that a mishmash of flowers in a vase brought color and life to his workspace. It sat under the window, where it bathed under a patch of sunlight. He even considered buying another vase due to the sheer amount.

You gave him all kinds of flowers, but he’d never forget the first gardenia he received from you.

“That looks out of place,” one customer pointed out while Jamil prepared the needle. He already knew what he was talking about, but the tattoo artist still followed his line of sight. A soft smile stretched from one ear to the other, and he didn’t bother hiding it.

Without looking away from the flowers, he answered, “They’re gifts from a friend. It’s the only place I can think of where they can be cared for.”

He ignored the sly, knowing grin on the customer’s face. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Jamil gestured towards the chair and continued to prepare everything he needed for this job.

One sunny day, your storefront was crowded more than usual. Jamil paid no mind to the crowd as he pulled his hood over his head. Inked hands grabbed a bundle of flowers, tied with twine, from the table. They were placed far from the vases that decorated the parlor; just to avoid confusion. His eyes fell on the gardenia he drew on the back of his hand. Jamil added that some time ago, maybe around the past month. Still, it made him smile.

Jamil locked the door, then he instinctively looked at the flower shop. His heart stuttered at the sight of the flowers amongst the crowd. The vibrant and lively blossoms were like a splash of color against the dull tones of the city. What used to be gray pavement and monochrome buildings seemed to come to life with just a few flowers.

He blinked his surprise away, before he gripped the bouquet in his hands. The thrum of his heart and the sweat on his palms weren’t something foreign to Jamil. He always felt like this at the thought of you, even Kalim noticed the change in his friend when he visited once. Your smile flashed in his mind, and his own lips curled into a small one. His feet led him to where he knew you were.

Past the flower shop; past the crowd that lingered at the storefront; past the fresh flowers that gathered against the glass walls. Jamil’s feet grew heavier with each step, as if lead hit the concrete and left faint cracks behind. He stepped through the iron-wrought gates with a soft exhale. His grip on the flowers tightened. He considered going back to the tattoo parlor.

In the end, he thought he’d regret it if he backed out now. Blades of grass grazed his sneakers as he walked through rows of stones. Names were etched into each one, a reminder of who they were to the loved ones left behind. Charcoal gray eyes looked straight ahead. He didn’t bother looking at any of them.

It had been a year since that day, but he still remembered where you were.

Grass crunched under his feet as he stopped in front of an unassuming headstone. Engraved in the stone was your name—funny how he never knew your surname until the funeral. You never told him when you introduced yourself, and he didn’t pry. He even imagined you with his surname at some point, but…

Jamil swallowed the lump in his throat. He crouched on one knee and laid the bundle of flowers on your grave. The tattoo artist made the effort of arranging the colorful blooms in a way that you would. At least, how he remembered that you would.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at your gravestone with that same lump in his throat. A sigh rang in the empty cemetery. A cool breeze carried the hustle and bustle of the city. The laugh that used to plague Jamil’s everyday life here was missing. It was gone for months now, but he could still hear it clearly in his head.

“Hey,” Jamil mumbled, clenching his hands into fists, “it’s been a while. I’m sorry I only visited today. It… took me some time to come to terms with what happened. Regardless, you deserved an earlier visit.”

No answer, Of course, there was no answer. You’ve been dead for quite some time now. That was an understatement, considering that a year has already passed.

Jamil’s stomach churned, and an insufferable heat filled his chest. His eyes stung. His nails pierced into the skin of his palms. The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger, and he found it hard to breathe. Memories of your smile, your laugh, and the time he spent with you and your flowers overlapped in his mind.

He dug his heels into the dirt as he gritted his teeth. The sting behind his eyes grew worse. It was hard to breathe, and he found it harder to speak. He somehow forced the words out with a broken heart, pieces scattered along the ashes of what was left of you.

“You idiot,” Jamil choked out as his vision blurred with tears, “you could’ve called me to help you. How was I supposed to know you were still sick? How was I supposed to know you needed to carry that ridiculously huge flower display across the street? How was I supposed to know that car would lose control and—”

Jamil looked up to the sky with a clenched jaw, teeth clacking and shaking his skull from the force. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse whatever deity existed in this world. He wanted to forget how you looked, pale and bleeding on the street, that day. He wanted to erase that memory of you until his heart bled out and his voice croaked its last scream.

“—they haven’t found the driver. Everyone who knew you petitioned to keep the shop in your memory. Someone else took over, too. You don’t have to worry about your flowers anymore.”

Since that day, whenever Jamil looked at the ink that adorned his hands and arms, all he remembered was your loud voice and bright smile. Your praise and astonishment echoed in his head like a broken record player. He couldn’t count the amount of times he tried to scrub them clean from his skin. If that didn’t work, he scratched at them until he bled and the patterns were hidden under that shade of red.

In hindsight, Jamil thought that was idiotic of him. Love turned anyone into idiots, anyway.

Sighing, Jamil forced the tears back and looked down at your gravestone. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine you smiling and laughing again. The image of you, lifeless and still on the road, would become a scar that faded with time. He hoped it would be.

“I thought of giving you baby’s breath,” Jamil began as the lump in his throat returned, “along with forget-me-nots, and blue salvia. It would be a horrible contrast, but I also thought of adding pink carnations.”

He paused, before bitterly chuckling to himself. “I don’t have your skills, though. You were always amazing with flower arrangements. I couldn’t hold a candle to you, and I rarely tell anyone that. I didn’t want to give you something that was less than perfect—you deserve more than that, so I settled with sweet peas.”

Jamil knew he was talking to himself. He always found it ridiculous how anyone talked to the dead, even if he understood the necessity to respect the ones who passed. This one time, he understood why people did this. Jamil just couldn’t bring himself to accept the circumstances that led to that revelation.

“They mean goodbye in flower language, but I prefer the other meaning. Maybe, in another life, I would’ve bought you flowers for a date. I was thinking of asking you on a date before. Did you know that?”

Another bitter chuckle. Another shaky breath.

“I was supposed to ask you that day. I finally found the courage to try, and what did I see? You…” The words were stuck in Jamil’s throat. He couldn’t force the words out this time. The clamor outside and the harsh slam of his parlor door echoed in his memories. He didn’t want his last memory of you to be your dying breath. He’d rather not remember that at all.

Jamil shook his head and continued, “I apologize for that. What you need to know is that I like you. I may even go so far as to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

The tattoo artist sat down in front of your headstone. He didn’t care if dirt and grass stained his jeans this time. He reached out to trace the name etched into the stone, with the same hand where the inked gardenia peeked out of his sleeve.

“I like your flowers. I like all of them. I still keep them with me. I wish I told you that sooner,” Jamil mumbled, voice cracking at the end. A tear rolled down his left cheek and dripped into the soil. His shoulders shook in a silent sob as he breathed his last words to you.

“Thank you for a lovely time. I’ll never forget you.”

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Presenting the Switch!Usopp agenda🤲 except mostly he's subbing here but if you guys want part two then ask

First post with uhm uh DON'T LOOK AT ME OKAY you know what, thats what you're here for pookie

MDNI or i swear to god i will turn your bones into jelly.

Seriously tho it's got some erm explicit acts under the cut do not open if you don't wanna read that.

Usopp is trembling underneath you.

You'd been at this for about half an hour now, bringing him close to the edge and then pulling your touch away. His biceps are straining where he tries to pull against the restraints you'd slipped on him when you first started making out, the cool toned rope contrasting beautifully with his warm, tanned skin. His hair is half falling out of it's usual ponytail, curls springing out to frame his face.

"Come on- just let me finish-"

His voice is wrecked and cuts off into a higher pitched whine as you give a particularly mean twist of your hand. He's attempting to glare at you but his watery eyes completely undermine the intent, making him look more like he's begging than anything else. You just giggle, shifting back to sit more firmly on his thighs so he'll stop bucking up so much.

"You were saying?"

"Oh fu-u-ck you- hngg" Your thumb slides over the head of his cock.

"That's not a very nice thing to say"

His head snaps up from the pillow, voice coming out sharp,

"Y- you want to talk about nice??"

He looks so pissed off, it's actually really hot, you don't really get to see him being serious like this. He starts to tug harder, now trying to gain some sort of anchor with his legs, thrashing slightly underneath you.

His suddenly renewed straining actually causes the headboard to creak and you decide that now is probably the best time to disarm him.

And on that note you lean down and take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth, keeping your hand at the base. Usopp shouts, bucking his hips hard, pushing himself deeper and he very nearly smashes your nose into his pelvis. You simply readjust, moving to lie between his legs and bringing your arms up to wrap around his hips and lock them in place. You start to suck harder, moving your head slightly but he doesn't really need much considering how long he's been on the edge.

"Oh my god- Oh my god-"

His chest is heaving now, breath coming fast and his voice is wrecked. You hum around his cock, to acknowledge him but also just to wind him up more before pulling off for a second, one of your hands leaving his hip to wrap around his cock.

"I thought you were my god hm?"

As you say it, you give him one long stroke and he throws his head back, groaning as he cums. He's straining against your grip as his back arches and you can feel him throbbing under your fingers as his release soaks your hand. His voice is garbled and he's blabbering nonsense but you can vaguely make out some phrases like- "Thank you" "lve you" "so good".

He relaxes, practically melting into the sheets. His eyes are closed but you know he's not sleeping because he's still murmuring something. You wiggle your way up his body, coming up to his face to kiss him and to hear what he's trying to say. It's as you lean in, chest touching his that he finally raises his voice a little

"need t' return the favour"

Your face twists in confusion and you go to speak but there's a loud snapping sound and then your vision does spins as he flips you onto your back. The sudden shift has left you disorientated and he uses the opportunity to snatch your wrists and bring them together.

He holds them with one hand while he uses his teeth to loosen the remnants of the ties on his other hand, he's efficient, barely loosening them before slipping his hand out. He lets the rope drop to the bed, switching hands so he can take care of the other one while you just blink up at him in shock.

When he finally finishes his task he leans down for a kiss, using his tongue to coax you into opening your mouth. You're so distracted by the deep, thorough kiss that you don't notice him pulling the exact same trick that you did. Well almost the same, difference being that your hands are only tied to other each other.

"Sorry lovely, I broke the headboard before, but I'll fix it later okay?"

Each word is punctuated with a kiss and he's rambling a lot but his tone is smooth and confident, nothing like his usual way of speaking.

Maybe you should've thought about the consequences beforehand...

Oh well.

[bellofthemeadow]

Summer of '03 | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Series Masterlist // Prologue

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 6.3K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlists, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: An unexpected meeting leads to a wonderful gals' only day. If only your new friend's dad was more amenable and less of a grouchy asshole.

Notes: Hey everyone! Look who's back, its me!!! Sorry abut the delay, everything has been crazy busy these past few weeks, but I am finally through!!! I hope you all really enjoy this new chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it :D I also tried to tag those who wanted to be tagged, if I missed you I really apologize!!! Also, if you want to be tagged for future chapters, just let me know.

Like always, thank you to everyone who shows interest in my writing, you guys mean the world to me!!! I love you all very very much <3

Taglist: @brittmb115 , @bitchwitch1981, @kittenlittle24

A Day by the Pool

After a week of living in Aunt Ruth’s house, the verdict was out: Texas was scorching hot! No, it was more than that. The humidity that permeated the air felt like it was adhering to the pores of your skin, leaving you feeling tired and grouchy on most days. The sun seared your skin, making "hot" seem like a complete understatement. Sweat poured from your every pore, even places you didn't know could sweat. You even had to resort to your grandma’s old trick to keep “fresh” and had started to carry a pack of wet wipes in your purse for those, now way too common, sweating emergencies. The mere thought of June and heaven forbid, July, was sending shivers down your spine. Maybe you'll have to hibernate inside the house for the rest of the summer, like a bear. Except, instead of sleeping the winter away, you would spend your Hot girl summer marinating on a flower-patterned couch while eating your weight in ice cream.

For now, however, you found respite from the blistering heat by plunging in the refreshing waters of Aunt Ruth's spacious backyard pool. It was a large rectangular pool, complete with a diving board and even a small waterslide! A child’s paradise and for you, literal heaven! You were pleasantly surprised when you first laid eyes on the pool, particularly its impeccable state. Considering Mrs. Ruth had passed away about two months ago, you expected signs of neglect like leaves lining the inside of the pool or dark murky waters. Yet, to your delight, it was in excellent condition. But the true highlight of the backyard was the four lounge chairs thoughtfully placed alongside the pool. Each equipped with its own individual parasols, they provided a perfect hiding place where you could bask in the cool shade, escaping the relentless sun's rays. You could spend hours lounging there after a delightful morning of swimming. It felt almost magical to realize that your only obligation now was to slather on enough sunscreen to protect your skin. No deadline to meet, no labs to complete, no research papers to write, no parents to please. Just living.

You had called Robbie that first night after giving yourself a thorough tour of the house. Robbie, as if he had been waiting right next to the phone, picked up after just two rings. "Gurl, tell me all! Do you like the house? Did you see the pool yet? Have you tried the bed? I don't know if I could sleep in it, you know I heard from my dad that Aunt Ruth died in her sleep!!! Maybe you should use one of the guest rooms, you know, in a ghost-free zone..." You chuckled at your friend's motormouth. Robbie could keep going for hours if you didn't stop him, and you loved him for it, as he had used that mouth of his to get you two out of trouble more than once. So you let yourself be swept away by his excitement, and the two of you chatted for hours. You told him about how hot Texas was and how thrilled you were that Aunt Ruth had a ready-to-use pool. Robbie shared in your excitement before adding, "Yeah, I know isn’t awesome!! Joel Miller took care of that when summer started." Well, that was enough to put a damper on your mood. You awkwardly chuckled before mentioning that you would thank the man when you saw him (If you never see Joel Miller again, it would be too soon).

You started lathering some more sunscreen on your upper arms and readjusted the top of your cute little two-piece swimsuit. You had gotten the bikini specifically for Texas, and you loved the adorable white two-piece set with tiny strawberries all over it. With your oversized cherry-red sunglasses, you felt like you were living your best 1960s rich housewife life! You let out a satisfied hum before allowing yourself to bask in the sunny weather. Your eyes started to droop, and you were ready to enjoy a post-swim nap when a tiny voice abruptly interrupted your moment.

"Sorry to bother you…" the unexpected voice chimed in. Abruptly startled, you let out a high-pitched scream, causing you to twist your body in a panic. In your haste, you ended up sprawled on the deck floor, with your red sunglasses barely hanging on the tip of your nose.

From your sprawled position, you peek at a small girl with a head of dark curly hair, wearing a bright purple t-shirt that seemed to match her vibrant energy. Her clever eyes widen with horror at the sight in front of her, and she rushes to your side.

"Oh my God, oh my God! I am so, so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you like that. Are you alright?" The unknown girl exclaims.

You manage to muster a half-hearted wave, or at least what you hope looks like one, as you try to regain your composure. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. I just wasn't expecting anyone." You offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her worries.

The girl's face lights up with a mixture of relief and amusement. She bites her lower lip, a habit that seems to indicate both nervousness and a mischievous spirit. You take a moment to study her before asking, "And how can I help you..." You let the sentence trail off. "Sarah! My name is Sarah," she blurts out, her words tumbling out in a rush. Realizing her impulsive interruption, she quickly closes her mouth, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you, Sarah," you reply warmly, extending a hand towards her. Before you can introduce yourself, she interjects confidently, "I know who you are." You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her assertiveness which is rather rare for girls her age.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off. My dad always says I gotta be more polite with people, but I can't help it sometimes. Words just fly out before my brain can tell them not to," Sarah sheepishly explains.

A kind smile spreads across your face as you appreciate her candidness. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, you should never have to censor yourself for people's sake. You seem like a bright girl, so keep being yourself, and screw anyone who say otherwise!" Your words of encouragement seem to ignite a spark in her eyes, as her smile becomes positively radiant. She was lovely you thought with a smile that mirrored hers.

"But still, how can I help you, Sarah?" you inquire, genuinely curious about the reason behind her unexpected visit. You observe how Sarah's excitement transforms into nervous energy as she bounces on the balls of her feet. She lets out a sigh, twisting her fingers together. "I forgot my house keys... again."

Sympathy washes over you as you consider her situation. "Ohhh. Do you want to use my phone to call your parents? There is a house phone in the living ro..." you offer, hoping to be of assistance. However, Sarah's eyes widen with a mix of desperation and determination as she quickly interrupts your suggestion.

"No, please, no calling. It's the third time this week I forgot my key, and my dad will be pissed if I bother him again for his keys. He's working away from Austin today anyway, so I know he would just ask me to go to the Adlers' next door. But Mrs. Adler makes the worst cookies, and I don’t want to sound mean but they are so old and boring, and I really don't want to hang out there today. Especially since it’s Friday…" Sarah explains, her voice filled with a genuine sense of reluctance and distaste for the situation.

You nod in understanding, a smile tugs at your lips as you watch her giving herself what seems like a little mental pep-talk. "I saw you move in last week, and you seemed pretty cool, so I guess I was wondering if I could... if maybe you wouldn't mind..." Sarah's words trail off, uncertainty evident in her expression.

You meet her gaze with a reassuring smile. "If I wouldn't mind you staying with me this afternoon?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Sarah replies, her voice laced with nerves as she anxiously awaits your response.

Your smile widens, and you extend a hand toward her as you make an exaggerated flourish, "My dear Sarah, it would be my pleasure to have you as my guest. Consider my place your refuge from the dreadful cookie land of the Adlers. Come on in!"

Sarah lets out a loud laugh, warm and happy, the kind of laughter that tells you she is well-loved and has had a childhood surrounded by caring people. You don't remember ever laughing like that, so freely and happily. If you did, it had to be with Robbie. He was the closest thing you considered to a brother, and he was the only one who could make you genuinely laugh.

Guiding her inside, you grab a large glass adorned with printed daffodils, filling it with water and offering it to Sarah. "It's been so hot, you need to stay hydrated, especially if you were outside." Gratefully, Sarah accepts the glass and takes three big gulps before setting it back down on the counter. "Thanks, I just got home from school, and I know my dad won't be there until late tonight, so I really appreciate it.”

"It's no worries at all! I love having another girl around; it has been pretty lonely these past few days," you say warmly, feeling a genuine connection with this spirited young girl. Sarah looks at you with expectant eyes, and then she musters the courage to ask, "Maybe we could be friends?" Her words are tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You can't help but smile back, genuinely touched by her request. "I think that's an amazing idea, and I think we should have a girls' day until your dad comes home," you suggest with a playful wink, eliciting another delighted giggle from Sarah.

As Sarah sits at the kitchen island, you make a quick trip upstairs to the guest room you now call your own. Robbie's ghost warnings had made you wary of Aunt Ruth's bedroom, so you decided to settle in the more comfortable guest room instead. In the wardrobe, you find the old sage green bikini you used to wear back in high school. It was the first item of clothing you had bought with your own money when you were a kid, it was everything your parents hated from its colour to the size of the triangles covering the breast area. You had loved that bikini and had kept it all these years for sentimental value. After leaving New York, you hadn't had the heart to leave it behind.

As you hold the bikini in your hands, you let out a satisfactory hum—it would be a perfect fit for Sarah, and the colour would beautifully complement her complexion. With a smile, you head back downstairs, eager to share your find with her.

"We can't let this weather go to waste. This is my old bikini, and you can wear it so we can keep on enjoying the pool!" you exclaim, presenting the sage green bikini to Sarah. Her eyes light up with excitement. "Really!!! I love that pool. Mrs. Ruth always let me use it during the summer, but since she passed, Dad said I wouldn't be able to use it anymore..."

You can't bear to see Sarah disappointed, so you quickly reassure her. "Well, since I live here now, I give you permission to always use the pool as long as your dad lets you. Now come on, put the bikini on! We should have time to get a good swim in."

Sarah's face breaks into a huge smile as she eagerly takes the bikini to change. Moments later, the two of you head out to the pool, and the rest of the afternoon is filled with laughter, splashing, and bonding. You make virgin mojitos for you and Sarah, using the good glasses and take out of the fridge a large watermelon that you cut and lay on the side of the pool. Between splashes and many attempts at dunking, you enjoy the company of the young girl that you find equal part lovely and spirited. A terrific combination in a young girl in your opinion.

"Really?! You're a doctor, but you look so young!!" Sarah exclaims with a bewildered look, you were both in the water enjoying the sun warming your shoulders as you were sharing tidbits of your lives to each other. You can't help but let out a laugh at her adorable reaction. "Well, I finished med school, but I would still have about 4 more years of residency before I can be a proper doctor. 26 is about the right age to start residency," you explain, finding amusement in her innocent curiosity.

As the sun begins to set, casting a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues across the sky, you both decide it's time to call it a day for swimming. As you are gathering all of the stuff from the patio to bring inside, Sarah continues asking more questions, and you happily oblige, engaging in conversations that flows way better than any fake ones you had back in New York. Sarah was especially entranced by your stories about New York, she wanted to know everything about the big Apple, from the museums, the park, the fashion, the people. Everything was of interest to the girl. You were more than happy to oblige her, although you did skip over some details that were definitely not appropriate for a 14-year-old girl. "So are you doing your residency in Austin? Is that why you came here?" she innocently inquires.

The question tugs at your emotions, but you don't want to dampen the mood. "Not really... I had a really good residency lined up back in New York, at the same hospital that everyone in my family did theirs. Most of them actually still work there.  But I guess I needed a break," you respond, quickly shifting gears to keep the atmosphere light and carefree. "Maybe we should order pizza and put on a movie?!”

Sarah agrees enthusiastically, her smile lighting up the room. You both head inside, deciding on a delicious pepperoni pizza with spicy pepper and a drizzle of honey—a perfect combination that you can’t wait to show Sarah. As for the movie, you settle on a cheesy rom-com, perfect to end a wonderful girls’ day at the pool.

Taking turns in the upstairs bathroom to wash off the dirt and sun from the afternoon's adventures, you pass Sarah one of your old, oversized science camp t-shirts and a pair of large basketball shorts that must belong to Robbie. You slip into an old NYU t-shirt from your undergrad days and a pair of tiny bikers shorts, feeling comfortable and at ease for the first time in a while.

Just as you both exit the bathroom, the doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of the pizza. You pay for it, bringing the steaming delight back inside, and your mouth waters at the aroma of the gooey mozzarella. As you both settle down in the living room, the pizza box opens, and you pass a slice to Sarah. She eyes it with uncertainty, voicing her skepticism about the honey on pizza. "Still not 100% convinced that honey belongs on a pizza. Is it something New Yorkers do a lot?"

You chuckle at her question, finding her curiosity endearing. "I can't speak for every New Yorker, but my friend Robbie and I love the combo of sweet from the honey, spicy from the peppers, and savoury from the pepperoni and cheese. It completely changed our lives when we first tried it, like, 4 years ago. To be honest, we were totally drunk at the time, so it was just a happy accident that it turned out that good. Uh, sorry, maybe I shouldn't talk about my drinking life with a minor. Is that weird?"

Sarah joins in the laughter, lightening the mood with her witty response, "Oh yeah, totally, that's a serious offence, probably like 10 years in jail or something."

You playfully swat at the air in front of her, pretending to fend off her teasing. "Smartass, all right, young lady, no more stalling. Are you trying that pizza or not?"

With determined eyes, Sarah takes a large bite, and you watch her intently, curious about her reaction. As she chews, her eyes open wide, and a moan of delight escapes her mouth. “AH!” you can't help but let out a triumphant shriek, "Told you it was amazing!"

"How the hell does that work? I've never had a better pizza in like ever!" she says, going back for a second bite, while you can't help but laugh with pride.

As you and Sarah nestle into the plush cushions to watch "10 Things I Hate About You,” you both spent the majority of the movie commenting and laughing together. Halfway through, you get up and head to the kitchen where you quickly whip up your famous ice cream extravaganza. A massive bowl filled to the brim with scoops of creamy ice cream is filled to the brim with rainbow-coloured sprinkles, while you carefully place maraschino cherries like bright jewels atop the ice cream peaks. And the pièce de résistance: a heaping drizzle of decadent chocolate sauce cascades down the ice cream mountain.

As you put the finishing touches on the ice cream, you think how time passed quickly today and you noticed it was already 9:15 pm. The realization dawns on you that Sarah has been with you for quite a while now, and a gentle concern niggles at your mind.

You head back to the living room with the bowl of ice cream that Sarah is eyeing like a hawk and ask, "Hey, not that you're intruding or anything like that, but it's getting quite late. Is it normal for your dad to leave you like that on your own?"

Sarah pauses the movie and takes the bowl of ice cream with greedy hands, "Thanks for that, it looks amazing! I guess it happens sometimes. My dad is a contractor, so sometimes his jobs run kinda late. That's why if I forget my keys, I'm kind of screwed, especially when the job is outside of Austin."

Your brain short-circuits as you realize you hadn't even asked Sarah who her dad was. You berate yourself for not thinking of such an important detail. "Wait, what's your dad's name?" you hurriedly ask, hoping to rectify your oversight.

As a series of loud knocks resonates from the front door, Sarah doesn't have time to answer, and you feel yourself grow pale. You manage a tight smile, making a wave toward Sarah's melting ice cream, and hesitantly head toward the door. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't shake the sinking feeling in your gut.

Feeling light-headed, almost drunk with anxiety, you can't help but pray that whoever is at the door is not the man you met when you first got to Austin. There has got to be more than one contractor in the area, right? This is suburbia, not some B-movie! You are totally making a mountain out of a molehill, the logical part of your mind trying its hardest to convince you that Sarah’s Dad and douche Miller are unlikely to be the same person.

Still, as you reach the door, the knocks are growing louder and more insistent, setting your nerves on edge. Taking a fortifying breath, you try to steady your trembling hands as you finally open the door, preparing yourself for whoever stands on the other side. To your horror, you are met with the now familiar furious gaze of none other than Joel Miller himself. His presence alone feels suffocating, and it sends shivers down your spine.

"Is m’daughter ‘re?" Joel demands, his voice carrying a gruff edge, making his thick southern accent even thicker and sending a shiver down your spine. Under the weight of his intense gaze, you find yourself growing warm, almost uncomfortably so. His eyes lock onto you, assessing you from head to toe, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of your choice of attire - tiny shorts and an oversized shirt that now seem woefully inadequate in front of this imposing man.

The disapproval in his eyes is palpable as they linger on your exposed collarbones, making you feel strangely vulnerable. It's as if every inch of your skin is under scrutiny, and you can't help but wonder why your shoulder seems to provoke such vexation in him. His stare is cutting and contemptuous, unlike anything you've experienced before.

Yet, despite the disdainful aura surrounding him, you can't help but find yourself drawn to the sheer presence he commands in your doorway. He looms tall and broad, casting a shadow over the moon's light, and you can't deny the strange allure that emanates from this powerful figure. It's a confusing mix of fear and fascination, and you chide yourself internally for feeling this way.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you silently berate yourself, recognizing the absurdity of finding any attraction in someone who clearly views you with such disdain. You can't afford to be captivated by him, not when his gaze feels like that of someone inspecting a revolting object beneath their shoe.

Summoning your strength, you gather your resolve to meet his gaze head-on. This time, you won't cower or falter; you won't let him see a trace of vulnerability. Squaring your shoulders, you lock eyes with him, a silent message passing between you – you won't be intimidated.

"Yes, she is," you answer, observing the man's face contort even further, as though he had bitten into a bitter lemon.

"Well, she shouldn't be here! SARAH, COME HERE RIGHT NOW!" His bellow reverberates through the room, but you stand your ground, unfazed by his attempt to intimidate you. What did he say last time? Rich princess from New York? You'll fucking show him!

Confidently placing your left hand on your hips, you subtly jut to the side, purposefully drawing his attention with the alluring curve of your body. Like a puppet on strings, his eyes obediently follow your every move, and a subtle sense of triumph courses through you. It's evident that this little battle isn't one-sided; he's undeniably affected by your presence too.

With an exaggerated eyeroll that could qualify for an Olympic medal, you let out an exasperated huff. You start to speak in slow motion as if dealing with a child, "Sarah told me she forgot her key, and she knew you'd be working outside of Austin. Can you really blame her for not wanting to disturb her oh-so-busy dad? But relax, we didn't go all wild and crazy—just a harmless girls' day by the pool, stuffing ourselves with pizza, and catching a movie. Seriously, take a chill pill; you can loosen that suffocating overprotective tie of yours. And for the record, I may not be Einstein, but handling a 14-year-old without triggering Armageddon is totally my expertise, no biggie.”

Joel’s eye twitch at the words “chill pill” and he further grits his teeth at your tone. "She. Shouldn't. Be. Here," he enunciates back, his disapproval evident.

"Oh, really?!" you scoff, your irritation bubbling over like a boiling cauldron. "Yeah, I must be the epitome of evil, right? I mean, looking after a kid, making sure she has a nice day, and God forbid, ensuring she's fed! I should be locked up for sure! You should totally dial 911 and report me to the authorities!" Your sarcasm drips like honey, leaving no room for doubt that you're not about to back down from this verbal showdown.

Your words hang tantalizingly in the air, a challenge thrown down before him, daring him to question your sincerity and genuine concern for Sarah. The tension between you two crackles like an electrifying storm, neither of you willing to yield an inch. But you stand tall and unyielding, resolute in defending your actions and your new blossoming affection for his daughter.

As the two of you lock eyes, a charged atmosphere envelopes the porch, but suddenly, a soft pitter-patter of feet breaks the tension. Sarah appears, still in the pajamas you lent her earlier, her face flushed with shame and on the brink of tears. For the first time since meeting Joel, his angry, prideful expression softens, replaced by genuine concern.

"Babygirl, you should've called to tell me you forgot your key. I would have arranged something for you," Joel's voice now carries a fatherly concern that tugs at your heartstrings. Despite the extreme reaction he displayed earlier, you can't help but understand his worry. If it were your daughter with a stranger, you'd probably be upset too.

Trying to ease the situation, you place a reassuring hand on Sarah's shoulder and conjure the warmest smile you can manage. "Your dad is right, Sarah. We should've called him as soon as you got here to let him know you'd be hanging out with me." Your gaze shifts to Joel, an apologetic expression etched on your face. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn't mean to cause any offence. I should have contacted you earlier to let you know Sarah was with me."

Joel's eyes remain fixated on your hand resting on Sarah's shoulder, the intensity palpable. But before you can react, he interrupts, his voice stern and unwavering, "You are goddamn right. You should've called me, and you did cause offence, girl." Your smile fades, and even Sarah seems taken aback, blurting out an indignant, squeaky "DAD!?"

But Joel Miller remains unfazed in his anger as he levels you with a look that makes you feel as small as when you were Sarah's age. "Come, Sarah, we are leaving. I don't want ya hanging 'round here again." Sarah tries to protest, but her dad remains unmoved by her pleas. "I don't care; I'll rent the movie for ya tomorrow. Now, come on." Sarah deflates and takes a step forward, but before she leaves, she turns her head toward you, offering a small, shy smile. "Thank you for today. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. I haven't had the chance to hang out with just a girl in a while," she adds softly.

You smile back warmly, touched by her words. "It was my pleasure, Sarah. I had a great time too. It was amazing to meet you." Sarah beams at you before following her dad, her posture sullen and unhappy. As you watch the two Millers retreating, you notice Mr. Miller trying to put his arm around Sarah in what you assume is a sweet, paternal gesture, but you cringe a bit when she furiously pushes him away and walks faster in front of him.

She reaches the door first, and when she finds it unlocked, she rips it open before slamming it in her father's face. Ouch, you think, laying your body across the door's side as you witness Mr. Miller rubbing his nose. You can't help but snort. Teenage girls are savage, you think.

As if your thoughts have magical powers, Joel turns around, and your gazes collide like a fierce clash of swords. The intensity in his eyes matches the fire in your own, and for a couple of seconds that feel like an eternity, you both lock onto each other, a charged silence enveloping the space between you.

You shake your head slowly, breaking eye contact first, but the tension lingers in the air like an invisible web, pulling you both towards each other even as you walk away. It's infuriating how he can get under your skin so effortlessly, how he manages to ignite a mix of intrigue and irritation deep within you.

You can't help but wonder what lies behind that impenetrable wall he's built around himself, what secrets and vulnerabilities he hides behind that tough exterior. But it doesn't matter; you know that, in his eyes, you are the enemy, the one he refuses to see beyond his preconceived judgments.

Yet, despite the anger that simmers beneath the surface, there's an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that draws you to this gruff man, like opposing poles of a magnet.

You can't deny the allure of this complex man, even as he remains an enigma wrapped in an armour of obstinacy. And he, too, seems unable to escape the intriguing power you hold over him, as much as he may resist it.

As you retreat indoors, the lingering tension leaves your heart pounding, the conflicting emotions swirling inside you like a tempest. There's a strange exhilaration in this cat-and-mouse game, a forbidden thrill that leaves you simultaneously infuriated and enticed.

With a heavy sigh, you take in the disarray of the living room—the movie still paused on the screen, a half-eaten bowl of ice cream slowly melting on the coffee table. The scene serves as a reminder of the day you spent with Sarah, and now that she's gone, the loneliness settles in like a heavy fog.

As you sit back in front of the TV and press play on the VCR, the room feels emptier than ever before. The laughter and chatter that once filled the space are now replaced with a haunting silence that amplifies the ache in your heart. Loneliness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, and you can't help but feel adrift in the complexities of human relationships. The bittersweet memories of the day play in your mind like a broken record, and you can't escape the feeling of being lost in a sea of emotions.

___________

The room crackles with tension as Sarah and Joel face off, their emotions raw and unyielding. Sarah's defiance clashes with Joel's anger, and their words slice through the air like knives.

"I don't care what you think, Sarah! I am still your dad, and you can't just disappear without telling me where you are like that! I come home, and you are not here, and the Adlers don't know where you are!! What was I supposed to do?" Joel's frustration spills over, his voice raised.

Sarah's voice trembles with remorse, but her resolve remains firm. "I know I should've told you, and I am sorry for that! But you didn't need to be such an asshole to her either! She was nice to me, and she took care of me even if she didn't have to!"

"Watch your mouth, Sarah!"

"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" Sarah's scream startles Joel, and he flinches. She continues, her emotions pouring out. "That was so uncalled for! I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you just cost me the chance to have a real girlfriend! Someone who is smart and listened to me." Tears well up in Sarah's eyes, and Joel's heart breaks at the sight.

"Babygirl, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, but you meant to upset her," Sarah retorts, her anger unyielding. Joel's silence speaks volumes, and she pushes on, her voice filled with frustration. "That was so not cool, Dad, and if you took five minutes to talk with her without looking at her like she killed someone, you'd realize how nice she was."

Joel, however, remains unyielding. "What she is, is irresponsible. She should've called me; that's what any adult would have done in this scenario."

Rolling her eyes, Sarah dismisses his argument, clearly hurt by his stubbornness. "Whatever, Dad, I'm going to sleep."

"This conversation isn't over, Sarah! SARAH!" But all he gets in response is the sound of Sarah's door being slammed hard, shaking the whole house.

Joel let out a heavy sigh as he made his way to the fridge, his hand hesitating for a moment before grabbing the last beer. Tomorrow, he'd have to make a trip to the supermarket, but right now, his mind was preoccupied with something else entirely. As he settled down on the sofa, he closed his eyes, and there you were, the first thing that invaded his thoughts. The truth was, he couldn't help but wonder why you had such an intense and inexplicable hold on him.

From the moment he saw you in those tiny shorts and ridiculous Disney shirt, something within him shifted. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs, and his heart was racing like a stampede of wild horses. Your sweaty face and matted hair, so natural and real, along with your shy and sweet composure, had captivated him entirely. It was as if every fiber of his being was magnetically drawn to you, yet he couldn't fathom why.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so nervously captivated by a girl. Because you were a girl. You must be at least 15 years younger than him. He felt dirty and old looking at how long your legs looked in those shorts you seem to always have on, like the dirty neighbourhood pervert who had nothing better to do than lust after the babysitter.

It was unnerving, and he struggled to understand the depths of these emotions he kept tucked away, hidden from the world. The memories of your first encounter replayed in his mind like a broken record. He knew he had been harsh with you that day, but what was he supposed to do? Each word he used against you felt like a weapon, and the image of your doe eyes brimming with unshed tears haunted him.

When you offered your thanks, showing kindness even after his callousness, it pierced his heart like a dagger of regret. He wanted nothing more than to slam his head against the wall, punishing himself for his thoughtless behavior. The truth was, he was utterly conflicted – torn between wanting to run after you and apologize, saying, "Please don't go. I'm the one who's sorry. I apologize. You look like sunshine, and I don't know what to do with myself. Please forgive me.”

You seemed to have done your best to avoid him in the following week, but he would spot you sometimes early in the morning or late at night hanging around the pool. The backyard wasn’t fenced so he always had a front-row seat of you going for a swim when he was leaving for work in the morning or coming back from work late at night. The sight of you walking around the pool, skin glistening with water wearing nothing but that cute strawberry bikini was tattooed forever behind his eyelid. The shape of your breast and the curve of your ass tantalizing him, he knows he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help himself. If he had known that opening the pool 1 month ago would lead to the biggest sexual torture of his life, he wouldn’t have touched Ruth’s pool after her death.

And after today, everything felt like a fucking mess. Joel had been overwhelmed with worry for Sarah, and when he found her with you, it was like a tidal wave of emotions crashing over him. The sight of you both together after he had torn down the neighbourhood left him unable to contain his anger. He couldn't help but lash out, and now, looking back, he felt like the world's biggest asshole.

Joel had stood there, a silent observer, as he watched his little girl's face light up with joy in your presence. The genuine and tender care you showed her warmed his heart, and he couldn't help but marvel at how quickly you had formed a bond with her, just within a day! The way you supported and cared for her filled him with a longing so intense that it bordered on painful.

As he observed from the sidelines when Sarah said goodbye to you, he couldn't help but drift into daydreams where he played an integral part in your life. In these fantasies, he imagined coming home after a grueling day, feeling exhausted and worn down, only to be greeted by your calm and soothing presence. You'd be standing there, wearing those alluring, tiny shorts that seemed to have been made to captivate his attention, and his heart would skip a beat.

In his daydream, he'd step into your embrace, and you'd hold him close, comforting him with your tender touch and understanding words. Sarah, ever the playful one, would pretend to gag theatrically on the sofa, teasingly pretending to be grossed out by your affectionate display.

A wave of desire surged through him, mingled with guilt and self-reproach. How could he dare to entertain such fantasies when he knew he had been a complete jerk to you in the past? He berated himself for his weakness, feeling utterly pathetic for allowing his heart to yearn for something he believed he didn't deserve.

Joel sat back in the worn sofa, his fingers wrapped around the cool, frosted beer. With one last sip, he let the refreshing liquid slide down his parched throat, providing a momentary relief to the weariness that enveloped him after the long and demanding day.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on his eyelids as he yearned for a chance to escape into the elusive realm of dreams. Slowly, he closed his eyes, seeking solace from the relentless demands of the world. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he surrendered to the allure of slumber.

In the stillness of the moment, thoughts of dreams danced through his mind. Would he find you there, your comforting presence holding him close with a gentle smile? The image brought a faint spark of hope and longing. Joel felt himself grow numb, hoping for a peaceful night, where you might appear, making his slumber all the more enchanting.

Next chapter

[therhythmafterthesummer]

I've come to ask something from you bc I kinda see you as a mom on Tumblr (and I mean that in the most respectful, honorable way) just bc your fics are top tier quality and I just think you're so fucking cool.

I'm a writer myself, I have over 1k followers (I know it's not much) my top post has almost 2k notes, I have more than I think 3 posts over 1k notes (not boasting this is genuinely with a purpose) but all my latest fics don't go over say like 200 notes. I've tried softer fics, more smutty fics, more thorough, less thorough, I've changed the way I write and still nothing gets me as many likes as I used to get before. So now I'm thinking I was just a one hit wonder?

I even stopped posting and only dropped fics every now and then bc I thought I was annoying people and that's why my likes dropped? But I gain like over 10 followers a day so I really don't understand.

Basically what I'm saying is, I've been considering leaving Tumblr bc of this, because I just feel like I've gotten too greedy and 200 notes isn't enough, I want more like I used to get. I've even become fearful of requests bc I constantly think is this one even gonna make it. I'm talking about spending 7 hours on a fic just for it to get like 50 likes, that's devastating and fucking heart wrecking. I have writers block because I just repeat to myself that it won't even make it so what's the point.

So I've come to ask for your advice, to ask if you think I should push through, or leave, or what should I do bc I just don't know anymore. I'm sorry for the lengthy message I've just been needing advice and I couldn't think of a better person to ask than you.

Thank you for taking the time 💕

not you calling me a mum and cool, pls skdjfskdfjhsfd i'm warm.

okay, first of, i'd like to say 1k followers is a lot ! at least in my perspective. when you imagine how 1k people look like in a room it's certainly a lot hahah. if it eases your mind, i'll tell you that our numbers are pretty similar, at least the ones you described.

with that being said... here's what i think, and it might not really be what you want to hear. mind you, this is 100% just my opinion, and how i personally view this hobby of writing fanfiction. other people might have different opinions to mine, yourself included, and that's fine...

if you're writing with numbers in mind, you'll never be satisfied with anything you do. whenever you set a target audience for your writing that isn't yourself, you start losing the joy. it all becomes a spiral of 'is this good enough?' 'what if this doesn't gather an XYZ amount of notes?' rather than what the story really is about.

notes never ever determine how good a story is. i've seen stories with notes around the five digits that i personally didn't find particularly enjoyable, whereas stories i absolutely adored and made me feel a plethora of emotions still sit within the three digits. it's all subjective, and also a bit of luck. sometimes all it takes is a blog with a moderately sized following to reblog your story on main for that story to blow up, really.

if you're writing solely for the validation that notes can bring you, that's valid, it's fine, but it's, in my opinion, something that is bound to make you question your own passion (like it seems to be happening to you right now). it's a completely volatile and unreliable source of energy, and the moment it starts wavering, it all feels worthless (even when it isn't).

which is why i, personally, write because i just... feel like it. i want to read the stories that pop up in my head, it's why i always mention the 'little lizard' in my brain, because i genuinely just work on what i want to work on and that's it. it's also why my creative process doesn't work for "requests". if someone requests something that doesn't immediately spark my interest, i won't be able to fulfil it, so i'll be both bummed out by that fact, and the fact that i can't give the person what they requested in the first place.

ultimately, i'll write stories even if i don't post them, because i enjoy them. i enjoy doing this. i choose to share them with the world, and if there's people out there that enjoy them, too, that's great, it's amazing! and if a story isn't particularly popular, that's okay, too. it was written for me, and i loved it, so i already feel accomplished.

all this to say, my advice to you is that you sit back and start thinking about why you're doing this.

writing takes time, takes energy, and if you're doing it for anything other than the pleasure of writing and reading the story yourself, it's gonna weigh heavily on you. creativity isn't something that can be forced. so, if you force yourself to write something just because of the numbers it might bring, you're already setting yourself for heartbreak when the engagement you receive isn't the one you expected (because it's never enough. when you spend hours working on something you feel like you deserve a million notes, and you do, but it's not how this platform works, unfortunately). you'll end up just resenting the hobby in general, and burning yourself out because you're forcing yourself to write even if you don't feel like it, just because you want to see the numbers grow.

whenever i feel too tired, too overwhelmed, and too insecure about my work, i try to take a step back and give myself grace. i went on hiatus a while ago because i was starting to obsess over the numbers too much, and that time away made me realise all the things i said above. numbers aren't a direct reflection of your work, nor your worthiness as a writer, you know?

i'm not sure if this will be helpful to you or not, i genuinely hope it is. just know that if you feel like it, my DMs are open if you want to talk about this further (:

[lryghe]

SVSSS thoughts; luo binghe’s mbti

by general consensus he’s an ESFJ but after thorough analysis he’s totally an ISFP. i’ve decided to post my essay (rant? argument? spam?) here because i wanted to archive the thoughts i have.

please be nice :)

Luo Binghe, being the manipulative bastard he is, has fooled you all (not unlike how he fools his husband daily), into thinking he is an ESFJ, when it is as clear as day that he is an ISFP.

Fe > Fi

In terms of Luo Binghe, the largest (and subsequently most obvious) difference between his perceived Fe, and his actual Fi, relates back to the basic premise of functions;

Although referred to as ‘feeling’, Fi, contrarily, is not based on those deep emotions, but rather on the values that come from within. It’s a decision-making process that is based on one’s own moral code, the strict observance of one’s ethics and relates to how the treat others. Fe, on the other hand, is a communication that is focused outwardly and is primarily based on conforming to society’s mould by mirroring the behaviours of those around them. I’ve seen a million (admittedly stupid) arguments on how Binghe uses his “Fe” like this, and that he’s a people pleaser that is constantly striving for the praise of everyone around him. To which I can say with certainty that, while he definitely has people-pleasing tendencies, they all focus themselves around one person, Shen Qingqiu. This itself is a key distinction in the Fe vs Fi argument. While FeSi users appeal to almost everyone to maintain a positive reputation, Fi users will focus their attentions onto people they like or are hoping to get to know better, say perhaps, a love interest. And while both people-please, Fi users will be more intense and will often reserve their people-pleasing habits for that “special” person. Binghe is noted, by even the ever-unobservant Shen Qingqiu, to change his behaviours around Qingqiu. He displays a lack of care towards anyone that isn’t Qingqiu, even when he was a well-liked disciple of Cang Qiong Peak, not caring about displaying a ‘nicer’ side of himself to anyone, save for if he thinks Shen Qingqiu would be upset should he treat people the way he wants to treat them. That is to say, with total indifference (which is shown by shown by his attitudes towards Liu Mingyan and Liu Qingge when he deems them threats to his relationship with Shen Qingqiu, and the Qin sisters’ treatment when Shen Qingqiu isn't around to praise him, these people being in relative positions of power over him, yet he continues to treat them indifferently). Shen Qingqiu picks up on a particularly over example of this, where he notices that Binghe’s “expression changed faster than a flipped page” and that he had been “all tender affection the moment before, but in the next, contempt filled his features”, which falls directly into the Fi people-pleasing basket, not caring about making himself look good to anyone that isn’t Qingqiu.

Fi user’s faces also tend to betray them when they’re trying to hide their emotions, and despite Binghe seeming to try very hard to leave a good impression on others for the sake of his beloved Shizun, he is generally horrid at hiding things from him, even stating it himself (“I didn’t want to ... but I can never control myself in front of Shizun”). The Shizun in question is (by general consensus) an INTP, which means his inferior function is Fe. The fact that he can read Binghe so easily despite his dreadful Fe, says a lot about the transparency of Binghe’s emotions. Fe users will not struggle with this so much as an Fi user would, simply because instead of needing to hide their emotions, Fe users will not feel them as deeply as an Fi user would. Fe users hide themselves for the sake of others, but also because they struggle to comprehend those emotions in the first place. Luo Binghe, like any Fi dom, attempts to put on that polite mask, and for the most part is successful, but in relation to Qingqiu, always fails due to the depth of his emotions regarding him. Binghe doesn’t struggle with this at all, and nor does he use this feature in an attempt to appeal to others (or namely, his Shizun). When Binghe wants something, he doesn’t try to appeal to others or emphasise his care towards their feelings. So how does he get the emotional reaction that he so clearly desires you ask? By drawing appeal with his own emotions. To put it simply, Binghe manipulates others through the presentation of his own emotions to get what he wants (crying all over Qingqiu when he wants something, projecting his anger to dominate others etc), in comparison to the more common Fe desire to appeal to other’s emotions through empathy (or in an unhealthy way, coercion and deterrence. An Fe will pretend they’re giving you well-meaning advice, which is entirely superficial, whereas Fi cries until you give them what they want). Binghe is well aware of the lack of control he faces in regards to his emotions, and weaponizes this to his advantage.

But that’s not the end of the evidence of Binghe’s Fi behaviours. Yet another large indicator of Binghe’s Fi, is his belief systems. Of course, having Shen Qingqiu as the largely unreliable narrator he is, discerning Binghe’s personal morals and behaviours is rather difficult, but we have some clear-cut things that can’t really be changed through perspective. For example, take Binghe’s ‘minor’ tantrum that involved destroying the realms at the end of the novel. An Fi dom’s belief systems often stem from personal feelings and experiences, a certain “black and white” view on behaviours and morals will often be applied when thinking about ethics of oneself and others, meaning that when Binghe decides to destroy the world since they had hurt him for being poor, for being a demon, for just being so unlovable that everyone around him abandoned him, the shades of grey within the spectrum aren’t considered and the realms are wholly pushed into the ‘evil’ category. Binghe is also very decisive when it comes to his morals and the subsequent actions he takes because of his aforementioned views. An Fi user like Binghe will judge others based off what they’ve seen of them, rather than the common Fe desire to align their morals with the group to connect with them and maintain harmony in that social sphere, explaining rather plainly his thought process that mostly went along the lines of “the world deserves to be destroyed, it was so cruel to me for something entirely out of my control” (Fi users are more likely to disrupt this social harmony when faced with injustice, which is exactly what Binghe does time and time again)). Binghe takes this judgement and decisively begins his plan to end the world, taking control of Huan Hua Palace, misleading the cultivation assembly into believing Tianlang-jun is to blame for the eventual world destroying rift caused by Xin Mo, and all around, getting straight to business. No time for dilly-dallying when your Luo Binghe and you’re trying to eliminate the world for being wholly evil!

Si > Se

I’ve seen far too many blatantly stereotypical arguments for Si on this profile and felt the need to remind everyone that despite having a large focus on the past (which is where most of the Si arguments come from), Binghe ultimately uses those memories to work towards a future where “evil” (read; the realms he’s classified as such) is eradicated, a massive indication of his Fi working together with Ni, his tertiary function.

To dive back into the basics of Se, some common behaviours of an Se user are as follows; taking action before thinking about future consequences, manipulation or use of the ‘system’ to one’s advantage and jumping at the chance to be active/ do something exciting.

Despite Binghe actively working towards creating a future where evil is eliminated, many of Binghe’s actions are rather impulsive. A good example of this impulsivity is his reaction to the accusations thrown at Shen Qingqiu in Jinlan city. Rather quickly does he take control of the situation and presents the assembled people with a solution (one that only worked in his favour). Another is the use of the Black Moon Rhinoceros Phythons from the Holy Mausoleum arc. Luo Binghe’s general thought behind that stroke of genius was something like, can’t get into the Holy Mausoleum? Find something big, find it fast, and just to knock down the walls (because there is absolutely nothing that can go wrong with that!).

In reference to the manipulation/use of the system for his benefit, I find that to be the best example of his Se, and since he’s someone who has been exploited by the way the cultivation world works before, he clearly understands the perfect way to make it align with his goals. He uses the prejudice and leftover fear everyone holds for Tianlang-jun to mask his own puppet work in destroying the realms at the end of the novel. He takes control of Huan Hua Palace and uses their name and respect to draw sympathy and support to him through the Jinlan city and Water Prison arc, even using his own status as a poor disciple who was harmed by his Shizun to his advantage. He realises he’s essentially invincible by the end of the novel, his only weakness himself, and takes the narrative into his own hands and forces it to bend to his desire for destruction, eliminating anyone who stands in his way (including his beloved Shizun).

In reference to Binghe’s clear desire to be doing something, anything, that’s probably where many get his perceived Si from, since everyone is saying his desire to keep things clean is an Si thing (a blatant stereotype, and a harmful one too). Binghe is usually doing something, whether it be cooking for Shen Qingqiu, training at Qing Jing Peak even when his instruction manual was useless when he was a disciple, cleaning the Bamboo house at Qing Jing Peak, simply adjusting his sleeves every 5 seconds, or even going off to fight the Bai Zhan disciples. This clear willingness to be doing something, anything, is so incredibly Se, especially when combined with his near constant assessment of everything around him (even in his own dreamscape!), and his protagonist golden finger fighting skills. Quite the force to be reckoned with he is.

Ne > Ni

I’ll keep this one small since it’s a Tertiary function and this post is getting too long anyway. Probably the biggest indication of Binghe’s Ni Tert is his ‘grand’ visions of the future, like a world that doesn’t exist anymore since it’s evil (again, back to the Fi). Even as a young disciple at Qing Jing Peak, Binghe always aspired to be by his Shizun’s side, something even he recognised as delusional and rather difficult to achieve, but a vision of the future, nonetheless. Then Shen Qingqiu’s death/reincarnation/death/reincarnation cycle abruptly put a spanner in the works, and Luo Binghe’s grandiose ideas started bubbling down to ‘destroy the realms’, which, had it been anyone else, would have been impossible. But he’s Luo Binghe, the protagonist who has these aspirations towards worldly eradication, and the only thing stopping him was quite literally himself, a terrifying realisation for the reader. You spend the whole novel dreading Luo Binghe becoming the antagonist, and just when you think he’s been pulled out of it due to the pressure put on him by the cultivation world? He smiles and adjusts his sleeves and begins to end the world. His Ni presents itself in subtler ways, usually through the use of his Fi. That running commentary in the back of his mind that supplies him with subjective observations, often works together with his Fi to hand judgement to the world and the people within it, most plainly shown when he <3

Of course, Binghe’s use of his functions is the indication of a very (!) unhealthy ISFP, which is why he’s so often mischaracterised by the fandom. You could make an argument for INFP, which would be more believable than ESFJ. I might comeback to make another post on his instinctual variant since I have some thoughts on that too.

Words: 2071 

Reading time: 7 mins 

[music-is-fun-and-i-like-it]

Laurel Hell by Mitski

Release Date: February 4th, 2022

Rating: 6/10

Laurel Hell has previously been my favorite Mitski. I hadn’t given it a full listen in a while, but have consistently returned to its highlights. Taking the opportunity to hopefully just gush about an album I was pretty sure I knew my feelings on I was excited to give it a more thorough listen. Unfortunately, as the album went on I realized why I had only made note of the highlights during my first listens. The album feels incredibly has a tendency to drag on while feeling sparse. Which, for a 33 minute album, is a problem. While short albums are not uncommon for Mitski, her albums tend to be incredibly tight with an unrivaled density of ideas. Each song does exactly what it wants to do and then leaves, wasting none of your time. But “Laurel Hell” feels comparatively sparse. Like it was stretched out to reach the 30 minute mark, while not having the content to justify it. 

Lyrically the songs cover the same kinds of topics that she has done previously. This girl knows how to yearn and I never get sick of it because she can do it so beautifully. These themes coexist with commentary on the music industry, and her experience with it and place within it. This makes sense, especially given that this is her first album after the massive success of “Be the Cowboy”. She does this well for the most part but I am biased in that I generally don’t care for songs about the music industry. However I try my best not to let that influence how I feel about those songs.

The big challenge production wise for this album was to blend the more pop production with the artsy style of Mitski’s sound, which is done to varying levels of success.There are some songs like “Should’ve Been Me” and “Heat Lightning” that showcase how well these two styles can blend to enhance one another. However, there are also moments like at the beginning of “Stay Soft” which sounds like an advertisement and especially “Everyone” which plods on for almost 4 minutes while not doing anything particularly interesting that can really make this a hard album to listen to all the way through. 

I fear this has seemed negative, which is fair, but it’s because I adore Mitski's work. This album feels more disappointing than bad because sometimes, it just works. “Should’ve Been Me” does such a beautiful job of blending the pop production on the album with her lyrical and melodic style. It is so dense and lush and is one of the best songs Mitski has ever made. “Love Me More” does a great job of a more upbeat synth beat and the chorus is truly ascendant. Making me feel the feels whenever it comes on. “Heat Lightning” pulls off the lower intensity, more raw energy that is done on some of the other songs on this album to much less effect. 

All in all an album with a concept that I really like, that delivers to varying degrees of success. Succeeding in making some of the best stuff she has ever made, and some of the most forgettable. I do wonder how this may have been different if covid had not begun happening when it did. Regardless, the highs and lows even out to a decent experience that is unfortunately disappointing in the context of Mitski’s discography. 

6/10: One of the finest albums I have ever listened to

Standouts: 

Heat Lightning

Love Me More

Should've Been Me

That's Our Lamp

[caspercadence]

A concerning trophy

With the guild master out on the exploration, their responsibilities were divided among the senior staff. My part came as no shock, negotiating deals with other local organizations came easily to me, who was just as recognized as our leader just by sheer longevity.

Taking temporary charge of the office, the first person that came through the door was the captain of the city guards, who only came to have the paperwork signed to officially put me in charge for the moment. I asked if there were anything out of the ordinary that they've heard of that could be shared, but thankfully there was nothing dangerous afoot.

I was in the middle of a stack of paperwork when my next visitor arrived, a representative of the merchants guild. They spoke about running low on potions antidotes to common poisons, as well as their ingredients, offering a hefty sum of money to assist in alleviating their burdens. After negotiating the price and time, we came to an agreement and I saw them off at the front door.

While I was outside of the office, I took a look around the hall and noticed what the merchant said. An influx of adventurers needing and subsequently purchasing antivenoms and potions, as seen by the color of their bandages. I called over some of our newer members, giving them a job to inform the apothecaries, farmers, and herbalists in the city of the increased demand and to brace themselves for the increased workload.

Kleine stopped me while I was adjusting the job board, wondering where I was all day. I knelt down and explained everything as best I could, and he seemed to understand. He then asked if I would be free to eat lunch with them like usual and I couldn't help but place my hand on his head and say yes. When I asked where his sister was, he said that she paid a visit to their parents' old party.

But before that, there was work to be done. The mayor came next, reminding me of the date by saying that the festival of sun is fast approaching. They planned to host a tournament and reward the victor with a scepter that they've commissioned from the city's greatest craftsmen, however they had run out of materials and were looking to set up a private job to avoid leaking the information as much as possible. We worked out the details and I was to send adventurers to his manor only if they promised to forgo the scepter and instead accept a cash reward for their work and silence.

With that finished, lunch came around and I waited in the back, soon joined by the two kids who arrived with fruit. I set my cane to the side and sat on the ground, feeling the wind against my hair for the first time today as I asked Vill what she and the old party talked about.

The young girl pulled out a note from their father, still sealed, with the only instructions being to read it before their first adventure. By the handwriting, it was the kind of message that needed to be heard behind closed doors. All three of us continued to eat, using the food as a distraction before I asked them on their training.

The day continued on, becoming more hectic somehow as a party returned from their delve and everyone crowded around to inspect the loot. And there was quite a lot of it, to the point that it needed three of the staff to handle it all. There was the usual fare of coins and swords and tomes, as well as a collection of monster parts and assorted potions in unlabeled bottles.

Myself and the three other receptionists went through their spoils, setting aside the items that needed further and more thorough identification in a box to return to them later. As we neared the end of the haul and had the sunset's orange hues coloring the room through the windows, there was a peculiar monster drop that left everyone puzzled.

Certain monsters, particularly those with some kind of affinity like elements or magic, have a chance to condense their energy into hard stones. These stones shine brilliantly with a color associated with their energy, like lime green for nature or healing, or orange for fire. In all records of these stones, there was never any mention of one that was olive green.

With a touch, my finger flinched away, cold and moist and sluggish sensations coursed up my arm for a moment before it returned to normal. When questioned as to what monster created the stone, they described one that shot acid that instantly melted wood, crumbled rock, and ate through steel. This was not like any acid stone that came before it. I asked if they were willing to part with it and allow the guild to research it, and they were quite pleased to be rid of its sinister aura.

What do I do with it now?

[aiovisse]

Étude No.1, Tea Preparation

Greetings. I have returned for my much maligned musical debut (alliterative additives are amusing). Before any further second-person soliloquizing, I will present the contents subject to discussion.

The sheet music can be found here, whilst the performance may be found there (video is temporarily unavailable).

As this is the first time I am providing any separate interactable content, I find it a particularly good time to discuss the format by which in the present and near future I will be providing the items and their acquisitional means. However, I do not wish to push the prattling detritus of my thoughts too far down in addressment, so I will be attaching that particular article to the bottom of this post. Pursue at whim.

The Essay:

So. Allow me to begin the aforementioned addressment. I shall begin with the premise of the exercise, which was an attempt to improve my left hand stamina with repetitive arpeggio. I had several other ideas in mind when I started, but that was what I ended my dwellings upon.

The bedrock of the piece is a very, extraordinarily simple set of seventh chords. Nearly exclusively so, from the beginning to near the end. I believe the only chord that strays from this pattern is the D major sixth just before the close. This felt perfect for my intention, as i was not particularly intending to widen my expertise with different shapes, and instead focus on control over this basic pattern, especially in expression. Everything that was added for the right hand was an afterthought in this sense, and it somewhat shows in that the main purpose of the melody is to ornament the drone of the main body. Not to say that I lacked in being judicious to my choice of melody. It was very practical in the end, just as all else.

I wanted that melody to ultimately fall in line with the patterned sevenths. To that end, I simply added whatever sounded quite right, until it sounded quite even-tempered and mild, so I do not have much to say about the individual note choices themselves. Only that it could absolutely not break away and cause chaotic voicings. It was quite entertaining, actually, to write something that only loyally complimented and never had a mind of it's own. The closest it gets to it's own identity is measure 14, which has a somewhat odd triplet that is quickly corrected in the rhythmic sense. I added this to allow a small level of variance in the actual performance, because I could not decide if it sounded better played at the end of measure 14 or the start of measure 15. Therefore I made it both. Speaking of that triplet, I added a second phrase that sounded quite similar in measure 29. Does it also, to you, sound as if it is singing praise?

Despite it's bullish nature, to play this piece to my own satisfaction demands delicacy. Though I hinted towards my preferences with particular articulation and dynamic markings in the sheet music, in the end I lacked the gumption to fully cover the pages in my neuroses. If I were to point at one measure in particular to illustrate this, it would be measure 9. Cast your gaze at those peculiar augmented quarter notes marked with staccatissimo. It seems pointless, no? Especially those brief eighth rests. Maybe so. If you play yourself, give it a try. I'd like to hear what you think about my attempt at communicating the way I sculpt that brief and simplistic passage, and as well how you perceive the way it informs the one after. There is a reason I chose to mark it in only one place. Perhaps one day I will return to this project too, and make a more thorough task of cultivating a careful communication on tone and articulation. Maybe. Though I will likely end up doing that to every project of mine forever if I ever do it once.

Also, I had wanted to point out a few extraneous bits and explain them, specifically the expression markings and seemingly random "variate until finale" marking. Let us begin with the expressions. It starts with a simple statement of "brisk" and this is likely the most easily understandable of the bunch. Airy and quick, full of momentum but not in a hurry. Measured speed. After that comes the variate until finale which is simple to me, but requires some context. In actuality, I simply could not decide how to end measures 22 - 30. I attempted to standardize it for the sheet music, but ended up liking my way of taking a different path to the closing measures every time. My stronghold excuse is that no two teas are prepared the same way, or something symbolical such as that. I simply like the change. The last item on the list is the warm expression, which is not quite as simple as brisk, despite effecting a grand total of two measures. My reason for using it was as a tone marker to facilitate an amount of push or grasping force behind the very soft pianissimo. I wanted the final chord to reach out and envelop the listener, while remaining quiet and subdued. Perhaps something like a gentle hug, loving though yet binding.

The reason why I used the name Tea Preparation in particular was to address the performer reading the piece with a subtle warning. The motion of stirring should be quick without noise, the garnishing subtle with grace, and the ultimate serving be that of wonder and care. Perhaps a bit much to lump onto my first score. I don't know, but I'm not particularly afraid of wasting my thoughts and feelings on my works.

Sadly, I do not believe I have much more to say regarding the discipline. I lack the necessary musical education to try and explain my decisions in a technical sense past the basics, and I somehow doubt it would be fruitful for myself to say things such as "I moved up an octave because I didn't want to stay in the same octave", or something such as that. Hah. Not that there are any grand explanations needed for... well, most of the thing. It was a good time had all around, and a wonderous outcome for a mere two days of solid work, with a third for refinement and processing into score. Let it be known to all who witness here: I am happy.

Joyous in turn, Aiovisse

P.S. I forgot to write about the jargonic nerdstuffs I had promised at the beginning. In light of this, I will be going to sleep regardless, and writing upon another post in the morning that belongs to the tomorrow I am regretfully within tonight. I am very tired. Sweet dreams and good night.

[ethancfmp2025]

Idea 3: Time Travel

TV Series

I think it's worth discussing the range of anime I highlighted in my mind map before the live action stuff. I actually forgot to include an anime that I'm currently watching called "The Tatami Galaxy" that also involves time-travel and the concept of differing timelines. The series mainly deals with how different choices in life can take you to various different places and change who you are as a person, this is a staple in a lot of time travel series but I feel the tatami galaxy takes a more nuanced approach than most conventional time travel stories.

Another anime I picked was Sonny Boy (I needed to talk about it at some point, I'm sorry I'm biased!) and while the time-travel aspects aren't particularly obvious at first, it becomes increasingly obvious thorough the series that time is somewhat dilated in the main setting compared to the normal world that the characters started in. The series focuses on how these characters develop in this time dilated universe and how they grow up into adulthood and independence. I also love the visual style of Sonny Boy and the liberties it takes with visual representation of emotions and character arcs over the course of the series (The escape scene in the last episode is one of the greatest anime scenes ever.)

I also want to talk about Doctor Who, a series with a premise entirely based around time-travel and a series that constantly innovates not only the time-travel story genre but other aspects of TV Shows like practical effects and budgeted storytelling (an aspect I must embrace with the time limitations of this project). I specifically love the idea of regeneration and it's ability to ensure the series' longevity as theoretically it can go on forever and keep recasting the role of The Doctor.

Time Machines

Time machines are surprisingly omitted from most modern time travel stories however I believe looking into time machines an tangentially related media will hopefully provide some value and inspiration.

I think the TARDIS from Dr Who is probably one of the more creative implementations of alien machinery in the last 50 or so years. The inside of the TARDIS is like an anchor point for the audience as it's one of the only consistently shown spaces throughout the shows 50+ years runtime. Maybe having a "base of operations" similar to this may be a good idea for my game? Maybe it could act as a hub world or a break area for the players.

I also went on a massive tangent, from time machines I got Geometry Dash (because there's a song in GD called Time Machine), I then derived Newgrounds from that and then finally reached a piece of music that I thought was relevant "Going Back" by garlagan (not sure why I just didn't add music initially). As the title of the song suggests, it's about going back, or going back in time so to say. I love the songs mixture of traditional rock elements mixed with indie EDM synths and chords, it really feels like the songs travelling to some future realm despite it's namesake.

Games

I think with games like Life is Strange the connection to time travel may be obvious, with it being an integral game mechanic. However I think it's worth noting the purpose of the time rewind mechanic, being used to undo events that may otherwise happen, once again coming back to the themes that the Tatami Galaxy touch on of how different choices can send you on different trajectories.

I recently replayed through Sonic CD and was kind of inspired by it to explore this idea in the first place. I like the idea of being able to see between both good futures and bad futures and I think that's a really inventive way of adding stakes to a game, by showing what'll happen if you don't intervene. Perhaps this is the way that I introduce motivation to the player.