#Handmade Personalized Pens

[giftingproducts]

Pen with Name Engraved : The Best Mixture of Personal Touch and Professionalism

Nothing can match the charm of a name printed on a customized pen, more so if it’s designed to make an impression. Quapri Customized Pens with Name, in whatever style from classy to refined, add a personal touch to your writing but for an unimpressive gift.

Benefits of Using Customized Pens

One of a Kind Personalization

Every pen is designed to fit your personal style or identity. If you want a promotional pen with a logo and a name, there is a more exquisite personalized name pen – every piece is designed according to your taste.

Memorable Gift

Personalized pen gift is more than a utility as it symbolizes consideration and concern. The best gift for friends, family, customers, or colleagues.

Professional Branding

A custom name pen for business with your company’s logo or name solidifies brand recognition each time it is in use.

Cost-Effective Advertisement

Our custom-engraved pens are inexpensive advertisements for your brand. Our high-tech laser engraving produces rugged and stylish results to make your branded pens both functional and catchy.

[lvmimis]

in positive news i got two gifts from my department today 😭

[194crafthouse]

Did you know that wooden pens and notebooks are the secrets to a better school life?

Tag your friends who need to see this and get 10% OFF when buying a wooden pen set and notebook from #194crafthouse.

#woodenpen #WoodenNotebook #backtoschool #backtoschoolsupplies #backtoschoolshopping #backtoschoolsale #schoolsupplies #creativewriting #musthave

[deadlypawz]

Now more than ever is a good time to learn to make zines.

What Are Zines?

Zines ("zeens") are small, self-published booklets filled with whatever the creator is passionate about. They can focus on personal stories, niche interests, or even artwork. Unlike traditional publications, zines are informal, handmade, and often deeply personal. They don’t have to be perfect—what matters is the message and creativity behind them.

How Zines Spread Information

Zines are powerful tools for sharing ideas, especially when mainstream outlets overlook certain voices or topics

- They’re Accessible: You don’t need fancy equipment or money to make one—just paper, pens, and your imagination

- They Cover What Matters to You: Zines are great for exploring personal experiences, activism, or any quirky interests you’re passionate about

- They Build Community: Zines often connect like-minded people, sparking conversations and creating new relationships

- They Educate and Inspire: Whether it’s about a social cause, a DIY skill, or your favorite band, zines can teach and inspire readers

How to Make a Zine

1. Pick Your Topic: What’s the thing you can’t stop thinking about? That’s your zine idea.

2. Plan Your Pages: Jot down what you want to include—stories, drawings, photos, poems, or collages. Anything goes!

3. Choose a Format: The easiest option is a mini-zine (made from one folded sheet of paper), but you can also staple multiple pages together for a booklet

4. Design Your Layout: Use scissors, glue, markers, and whatever you have on hand. If you prefer digital tools, programs like Canva or even Word work well! I use Procreate

5. Print & Assemble: Make photocopies or print them at home. You can alzojust remake them by hand. Fold, staple, or bind them together however you like

6. Share It: Hand them out to friends, leave them in local spots, or share them online as PDFs

Zines are all about self-expression, so don’t worry about making it perfect—it’s your creation, and that’s what matters. Invite friends to contribute, try different styles, and most importantly, have fun with it.

The diagram below information is from https://socialstudio.space/how-to-zine-library/

All of these tags are here for a reason.

[puptrefied]

cw : somno ⋆ no dialogue | 1k words .ᐟ

ellie has your face everywhere—most of her journal pages, random papers and literal paintings—so it's no surprise she uses any moment of quietness to draw you again.

you're on the couch reading? she's already sitting on the other end of the room, journal in hand, focused on getting the proportions right.

you took a cute polaroid? well, she has it handmade on paper, right on the cork board above her bed. she tried to be fancier and draw it with a pen instead of her usual pencil.

you're outside, paying attention to some plants ? ellie's on the window, sketchbook resting against her knee, trying to capture the way the sunlight hits your face.

and now, while you're asleep—soft breaths, limbs relaxed, the thin straps of your nightgown slipping just slightly off your shoulder. ellie’s at the edge of her bed, journal balanced in her lap, pencil gliding over paper in slow, careful strokes.

she wants to get it perfect. the shape of your lashes against your cheek, the slightly parted lips, the tousled hair, the way your fingers curl slightly around the blanket. her eyes drifted lower as she observed every feature she was about to practice with.

hm, the blanket’s in the way.

ellie bit her lip, shifting in place. you wouldn’t mind if she just…moved it a little, right? just to capture the shape of your hips, the smoothness of your thighs—purely for artistic purposes, obviously.

god. you’re barely wearing anything.

the nightgown’s ridden up, exposing soft skin and the faintest trace of lace beneath. ellie swallows hard, heat prickling at the back of her neck. this is fine—fine—she’s just drawing, after all. she can be normal about this.

but the moonlight catches on the curve of your chest, the delicate rise and fall with each breath, and suddenly her hands feel clumsy, shaky even, like she’s trying too hard to keep it together.

okay ellie, just focus on the drawing. yeah, you can do that. just…anatomy lesson!

working on sketching the full view of your ass shouldn't make her stomach feel this way. she's seen it a hundred times already. but the way you're there, completely unaware of the fact you're the muse of her rather intimate drawing gives her a tingly feeling.

man, drawing soft nipples is kinda complicated. it would be easier if they were hard.

thankfully ellie knows how to solve a problem, especially this one.

as carefully as she could she got up, trying to avoid moving the bed and waking you up. slowly going to stand next to your side of the mattress—hand sliding the straps of your nightwear down to get even easier access. now it's better, she can fully see your boobs and draw then correctly… but yeah, maybe hard nipples would be more convenient. just saying!

she kneeled beside the bed, heart thudding a little too fast, and reaches out—just barely grazing the curve of your breast with the back of her knuckle. the touch is feather-light, almost not there, but even that makes heat curl low in her stomach.

nothing.

no reaction.

you’re still lost in sleep, lashes fluttering faintly against your cheeks.

okay, just a little more.

her thumb brushed over your nipple—gentle, desperately hoping you're deeply asleep—until she felt it harden beneath her touch. a quiet exhale escaped her lips, half in triumph, half because the sight of you like this makes her head spin and her belly tingle even more.

that's better.

she told herself it’s all for the sake of the sketch as she retraces the lines in her mind, committing every detail to memory before she pulls her hand away. but she hesitates—because how could she not? the skin under her fingertips is so warm, so soft, and there’s a sweetness in the air that makes her crave more.

god, she shouldn’t. she should sit back down, finish the drawing like a normal person would, and stop being a complete perv about it.

but instead, her thumb drags across the sensitive peak again—slower this time. watching the way your body shifts under her touch sends a sharp pulse of heat through her. she bit her lip hard enough to hurt, like it’ll ground her, stop her from taking things further.

that's obviously not working because her thumb keeps moving and her lips are slightly parted now, so focused on your body and the subtle reactions it has.

she's just making sure she’s getting every detail right in the sketch. that’s all. no big deal.

but her pulse is hammering so hard, heat coiling low in her belly as she watched the way your body reacts, the way your chest rises just a little sharper when her thumb flicks over your nipple again. she swallowed hard. It’s barely anything, just a subconscious response, but it makes something tighten inside her. maybe you like it, maybe you're dreaming about it, maybe—

her breathing got heavier but barely audible over the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep. Her eyes flick to your face, searching for any sign of wakefulness.

just one more touch wouldn’t hurt, right?

her fingers ghosted down your ribs, following the shape of you like she’s still sketching—just without the pencil this time. when she reached your hip, her grip firmed slightly, just to feel the give of soft skin beneath her palm.

her thighs automatically pressed together, making her feel the wetness in between them soaking the fabric of her underwear.

this is bad. so, so bad.

but you’re right there, pliant and warm under her hands, and the temptation is overwhelming.

ellie’s breath hitched as she lets her hand dip lower, tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. the fabric so thin, and she wonders—shit, ellie, stop.

but then you shift again, a sleepy, barely-there hum escaping your lips as your thighs part just slightly, and she’s gone.

she needs to go to the bathroom and take care of it… sigh.

masterlist

[flwrkid14]

The Batfamily’s Christmas List Tradition (and how Tim gets lost in it)

The Batfamily has a long-standing Christmas tradition: the List. With so many members in the family, it’s a necessity. Everyone writes down what they want (within reason, of course), and the list serves as the ultimate gift guide. It’s efficient, especially for such a big family, and it ensures no one ends up with seven pairs of socks or the same gadget twice.

Tim takes the list seriously. It’s his chance to ask for the small, thoughtful things he wouldn’t usually splurge on for himself. Things like:

New makeup brushes. His old ones are worn out and falling apart, and it’s not until he’s on a mission that requires cross-dressing that he realizes just how bad they’ve gotten. Having a new, high-quality set would make everything feel a little smoother—and maybe even a little fun.

Cozy hoodies. Between Wayne Enterprises business casual and his Robin gear, Tim rarely gets the chance to wear something soft and comforting. His favorite hoodies are all fraying at the edges, with loose threads on the pockets and fabric that’s stretched too thin. A fresh one would feel like a luxury.

A new game console. Tim is rarely ever not working, but on those rare days off, he realizes he doesn't have much to entertain him that's not work related, that doesn't require him to leave his nest. Plus, it’s a great way to connect with his siblings during low-stakes, playful nights.

Nice coffee cups or tumblers. His caffeine habits are legendary, but the chipped and mismatched mugs he uses don’t exactly scream "Tim Drake." A sleek, stylish tumbler or a high-quality ceramic mug would elevate the most important part of his day.

Random indulgences. Books, stationery, weighted blankets, maybe a nice figuring from his favorite movie, a cool gadget he wouldn’t think to buy himself—little things that spark joy and make him feel cared for, anything he knows his own parents would have never bought for him to help heal his inner child. He's never had the luxury of writing such lists before becoming a Wayne.

Tim doesn’t just take the list seriously for himself; he makes sure to go the extra mile for his family, too. He’s always had a knack for gift-giving, and he loves curating the perfect presents for his siblings. For Dick, it might be a rare vinyl of his favorite band. For Jason, an antique first-edition book he’d mentioned once in passing. For Damian, something handmade and unique, like a custom leather-bound sketchbook or a rare art supply. Tim remembers the little things—the throwaway comments, the subtle preferences—and builds his gifts around them, ensuring every box under the tree feels deeply personal.

But Christmas rolls around… and none of the thought Tim puts into his gifts is reflected in what he receives.

Instead, he gets tech. More tech. External hard drives, cables, chargers—things he already has backups for because, well, he’s Tim. He doesn’t need more, and he didn’t ask for more.

And the worst part? It’s not that they’re bad gifts. It’s that the family assumes they know him so well that they don’t even look at his list.

“Tim’s the tech guy,” they think. “Of course he’d want more tech.”

But he doesn’t.

He’s grateful, of course—Tim is always grateful—but there’s a hollowness that creeps in every year when he unwraps another stack of USB drives and ethernet cables. It’s not about the gifts themselves. It’s about the realization that the people he loves, the people who should know him best, don’t see him the way he wants to be seen.

In a way, it feels painfully familiar. Janet had always made sure his presents as a child reflected her vision for him, not what he actually wanted. New tailored suits instead of the hoodies or tees he longed for. Sleek, professional office stationery to replace his Robin-themed pens and notebooks. Vintage collectibles meant to sit on a shelf, collecting dust, instead of toys he could actually play with. The gifts always came with a message: who he should be, not who he was. And now, even with the bats, the gifts still feel like expectations—like they see him as "the tech guy" rather than Tim, with all his quiet wants and overlooked needs.

So, Tim starts dreading Christmas. Not because he doesn’t love his family or the season, but because it reminds him of how little they seem to notice the little things about him.

And maybe one year, he stops adding personal things to the list altogether. Maybe he starts asking for tech, just to avoid the disappointment.

But deep down, he wishes someone—anyone—would surprise him with a new hoodie, a weighted blanket, or a set of makeup brushes. Something that says, “I see you, Tim. I really see you.”

[petalsonmoon]

you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

"it's ridiculous." then he leaned his body foward, his fingers meeting his toes. an elongation you would take embarrasingly months to be able to do that flawlessly.

"and really fucking stupid" he proceeds his thoughts.

"oh please, do go on." you look down to your notes and continue to write your ridiculous ideas.

the sun was far too bright and where its glow met the leaves of the large number of trees around you they were gleaming, like they were immensely happy.

"i hope your little notebook accidently burns to ashes."

"kind of you to say accidently."

"yeah no problem at all"

you glance up to find that he has his knee bended to his chest and quickly look back to the pen in your hand. quite misteriously your hands are stained from it.

"you making the walking sleeping bag one too?" his voice is raspy and angry and very clear. how does he sound so good while doing post training stretching?

perhaps you're looking too much into it. your crush makes you a bit giddy, idiotic in a lot of senses. makes you feel a child just like the word itself is infant. crush.

you sigh heavyly.

"still deciding" you draw a little explosion on the corner of the page.

"might as well do it for class b too."

"if i got a penny for every dramatic sentence that came out of your mouth-"

he had his back to you but he insisted on turning his head to you to send you the most chilling glare for exactly 3 seconds. that's his stupidity. his eyes were already too pretty in your eyes for you to feel an ounce of that anger.

"-only today i'd have like," you scrunch your nose "the amount of money equivalent to the ferocity of all might's powers."

he doesn't bother to look at you again and you smile.

"would you look at that. i should look for the person with this quirk."

he growls. loud. and you're smile is genuine.

he sits up straight, his back to you and starts leisurely move his neck. that's the sign he's almost done.

"putting too much money for those idiots.”

"it's not that much" you reason. "don't feel that way for too long, you're getting one too."

with that, it's over.

he turns to you and when those red eyes meet yours the trees are for sure shinning somewhat brighter.

the response for your affirmation it's a furrow between his eyebrows. his skin glowing a bit but that's not your absurd heart speaking, it's just his sweat.

"uhum" now you're messing with the grass. it estabilizes you. "yours is actually the only one that i drew and painted myself. the other ones i made with suna from the support course"

an ant crawled into your point finger.

"but don't tell them that." you whisper.

the ant made it to your pulse when you feel a literal body falling on top of you.

"you motherfucker! you are drenched-"

"that shitty little brain of yours-" his face on your neck. his words and breathing warming your whole body. you are exploding on the inside. how ironic.

"-and your stupid handmade keychains for the whole class" and then he lighly bites where your neck meets your shoulder.

his hands trails your arms, his fingers are burning pathways in your skin until they meet your hands and they interlock with your fingers. then he finally lifts his head and looks at you and what you're feeling is something words can't understand.

"i was gonna wait until graduation."

"tomorrow, you mean."

he bites your chin and you're so fucking certain you'll melt any second now. "because of that fucking tone i'm going to burn all of your little gifts."

you smile at him trying to match his damn audacity. his charm? his mind blowing handsomeness? "i'll murder you."

you blink and feel his breath on your neck again. "do it now, cupcake." then. his maddening warm and soft lips leaves a kiss under your earlobe. you close your eyes. "you have the power to."

"don't wait until tomorrow."

he lifts his head again and there's a smirk with a softness in the corner of it on his face. "or?"

"i might die." you whisper. it is serious to you. you need his lips on yours this very second. with his eyes on yours, telling you every adoration you thought about him for the last couple of months before going to bed, you think might. actually. die.

"who's the dramatic one now, brat?"

[finelinevogue]

my universe

summary - university can be tough and lonely sometimes, but luckily for you your boyfriend lives nearby

pairing - spencer reid x shy-university!reader

word count - 900

[this is just a little taster... should i continue this? if so feel free to send any ideas/prompts for this pairing you would like to see]

University wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

It was different to what you had been expecting.

You had expected constant house parties. You had expected 9-5 studying and 5-9 partying. You had expected to finally come out of your shell and live life like every extroverted person did. 

But that wasn’t the case.

Instead, university was lonely, isolating and really tough. 

The work was okay but the social life was really hard. 

You remember the first conversation you heard between your roommates like it was yesterday.

“Should we invite them?” 

“We don’t even know their name, so what’s the point?” 

“Yeah you’re right. Going out doesn’t seem like their vibe anyways.”

“So are we going or what?”

You hadn’t even put faces to names before your flatmates had ruled you out as one of them. You had managed to become friendless without even trying. Sometimes a flatmate would come to you if they had a problem with the wifi or they wanted to know whether they could use your milk in the fridge, but other than that you were left alone.

Like tonight.

You were trying your best to study for an upcoming test in a few weeks, seeing as you had nothing else to do, but your flatmates were pre-drinking and it was so loud.

The music was thumping away in the kitchen and they must have invited more people over as there were lots of voices. Too many voices for comfort. 

Your room was small but it was yours.

It was cosy with fairy lights strung up on your walls and crossing the ceilings. There was a huge pinboard of memorabilia that you had brought from home. Some were photos of you and your mum. Some were photos you had taken of your few friends back home. Most were of your boyfriend, Spencer.

In fact a lot of the other tat on your board was shared property between you and Spencer. There were cinema tickets from dates and tiny handmade cards from him to you. 

It was your safety wall, because every time you looked at it you reminded yourself that you weren’t completely alone. 

<.><.><.>

Your phone rang 15 minutes later.

“Hey, you.” You smiled, putting your pen down in a hurry to speak to your boyfriend.

“Hey you, back.”

It was always so good to hear his voice. No matter how far or near he was, his voice was the one comfort in the world that you would crawl home to. 

“You okay? I thought your text said you were going out for drinks with the team?” 

“Plans fell through.” He didn’t sound too bothered.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” 

“Don’t know, really.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “So where are you now?”

“Funny story…” 

“Okay?”

“I’m like five minutes away from you.” 

You sat up straight in your chair. 

Your attention turned from Spencer to the raving music from the kitchen. It was loud and thumping and it was a wonder that Spencer hadn’t commented on it yet. 

It had taken a while for you to come clean to Spencer about how rubbish your flatmates were, but luckily for you Spencer was the best boyfriend in the world and he only lived half an hour away. Whenever he could he would always come and spend time with you.

There was even that one occasion that he stayed in the library all night with you to practice for a test. No one was better than him.

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked, having noted your silence.

“You’ve saved my night.”

“Well they don’t call me a ‘hero’ for nothing.”

You laughed, “Nice try. I’m not feeding your ego any more than that.” You heard him laugh too.

“Shall I come up or do you want to go somewhere?” Spencer asked.

“Depends.”

“On…?”

“Whether Alicia is going to flirt with you again. I do not need my evil flatmate accidentally tricking you into falling in love with her. It’s probably her master plan.”

Alicia had taken it upon herself to try and smooth talk Spencer when he had first visited. Apparently she couldn’t believe that ‘someone like him’ was dating ‘someone like you.’ That had been a real kick in the teeth. Spencer had pretended to be oblivious and shut your bedroom door in her face though, so that had been a small victory.

Since then you had teased Spencer about the interaction. He had obviously talked about how teasing was your way of deflecting talking about your jealousy, but whatever.

“Alicia is going to be your villain origin story. I can feel it.”

“You’re damn right.”

“I know.”

“Right. You need to tone that ego down before I see you.” You joked, causing him to laugh back.

“Okay but seriously, do you want me to come up? I look like a serial killer waiting to pounce down here.”

You stood up from your chair and moved over to the window. It only opened a smidge, but it was enough to see Spencer standing four floors below. You gave him a big smile and a small wave, which he returned.

“You kind of do look like a serial killer. Why are you dressed all in black?” You asked whilst still looking at him from the window.

“Y/N!” He whisper-shouted your name. 

“Okay I’m coming.” You shut your window and picked up your flat keys, “Just don’t murder anyone whilst I come and get you.” 

“I swear to…”

Before he could finish you hung up on him.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Neglected!Reader love making their own clothes have a personal touch, as if saying it's mine. Due to the Family never paying attention to them they became possessive with their stuff.

Siblings fight over things that's normal but what isn't normal when you stalked Tim when he was on Duty as Red Robin over him using your pen , a snake would have been jealous of your stealth and venom on how you clocked Tim over a pen. Eversince , he always took note if the object belonged to you or not. He also noted he needed to be more aware of his surroundings after that.

Jason thinks you're copying him , it's adorable in his mind. His baby sibling imitating him but daam do you take to the next level. He wishes he can talk to you-

He's scared

He knows what he did

Jason knows you shouldn't look up to him in a moral stand point so he distances himself with you and plus he never actually see you around the manor. As if you were never there to begin with. He desperately wanted to make matching jackets with you , when he saw you make one for yourself.

Alfred tries to appreciate your handmade style but he just can't. It's not that he thinks it's ugly (He won't deny it) , more like a reminder on how unseen you are in the family. Relaying on objects to be your emotional support. He remember dear well the actual reason why you started making clothes was because they didn't care what you were up too.

It was a ploy for attention be it good or bad , you just wanted a conversational starter.

Your chunky jacket , chains , necklaces , and ear piercing used to make Dick jealous. He never got to that at HIS AGE- , Bruce was strict about that having to look appropriate god Bruce became soft. How old are you even?? It's so unfair that Bruce let's you go out like that. He had a screaming match over him piercing his ear and you over here have a septom! Is that a tattoo-

Bruce takes note of your style and just side eyes it. Most likely always thinking it's not the end of the world if you experiment with , the world will end if he doesn't Prioritize his mission.

You didn't Care, why would you? You can party all day and night! FUCK YEAH! You can go out at late night skateparks! Go through Gothams abandoned areas with ease! They won't even notice if you were out of the state for 2 weeks in vegas doing God knows what, Did they know you accidently got Married? Did they know you were in jail for being in a protest? Did they know you drank all the Daam expensive Liquor on the Guest bar? FUCK NO!

Did they know you got addicted to the laughing gas they bring back to inspect? That it was the only thing keeping you from crumbling in a pile of rubbish? Like they Daam care...

Hehehe , me and my achie made this jacket for my end of the year party cause the theme was dress as your type. It was so much fun making it<33

[o-sn4pple]

“Neuvi, I need you to approve this for me.”

Neuvillette barely looks up from his papers, nearly signing off on the form until he reads the neat script printed at the top. “A…marriage license? Why would you need this?”

“I need this to scare someone off,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll shred it later, but for now-”

“Why shred it?” Neuvillette casually signs the fine line and returns to his own work. “We’ve been married for quite some time now. Having it in print would be useful for tax returns-”

“What?” 

Neuvillette dabs his pen into the bottle of ink beside him. “It would make filing for taxes easier-”

“No, I mean-” You step around his desk, bending over to stare the Iudex in the eye. “What do you mean we’re married? ” 

Neuvillette hesitates, glancing at the handmade necklace dangling from your throat. The shell is clasped shut, but he knows quite well that the romaritime petals and lone pearl are still nestled within. “You are still wearing the necklace.”

“Yeah, I always do.”

“I gave that to you.”

“Yes, you did.”

Neuvillette stalls again, this time looking at the marriage form he’d so casually approved. After a moment, he says, “You are wearing the necklace that I put on you. That is how a dragon courts its mates.”

Finally, your own expression falls, brows pinched and eyes darting to and fro. The longer you think, the worse your expression seems to grow. 

Neuvillette is no better. He sits up straighter and sinks his ink pen into its stand. “Is that not how marriage works?”

Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out. It closes, then opens, then closes again, each time accompanied by a vastly different expression. He’s seen this before. You had done the same thing when he asked about human breeding seasons. 

(That had been a fascinating lesson in its own right. To think humans were so embarrassed by their natural instincts…)

Eventually, you sigh and massage your face, setting the paper aside. “ No, Monsieur Neuvillette. That isn’t how marriage works.” You give your temples one final knead before opening your eyes. The genuine curiosity is expected at this point, but it still eases the storm clouds building outside of the window. “Have you never seen a marriage proposal before?”

“None that I recall,” he says. “Though I’ve presided over many trials regarding divorce.”

“Ah, yeah. Makes sense.” You clear your throat and lean against his desk, the same posture you’ve always done whenever his ignorance rears its head. “So, marriage doesn’t exactly count if the person you’re marrying is unaware that you’re marrying them. You can’t just lay claim to them and expect other people to know…not other humans , at least.” 

Neuvillette nods, a trickle of amusement in his thoughts. So, you must have been aware enough to notice the Melusines’ sudden change in addressing after you’d donned the necklace. Good. “But if the other party is aware?”

Your throat bobs, shifting the necklace resting so openly against your skin. “Then sure, that’s marriage. In the court of law, though, it wouldn’t be recognized without the proper paperwork. Also, that would be very…uh…dehumanizing.”

“How so?” 

“People have the right to choose who they’re marrying. It isn’t exactly a union of two people if one of them didn’t even know they’re being married. That’s like marrying a fish.”

“...I see.” Neuvillette rises from his seat, stepping forward to remove the necklace. Outside, the storm clouds seem to thicken at an alarming pace. “Forgive me, then-”

You casually slap his hand away and cover the necklace with your own. “What? No, I’m still keeping this.”

Neuvillette hesitates once more, hands awkwardly returning to his side. He���didn’t exactly ask you if you wished to be his mate. You had readily accepted his offered gift, even allowed him to drape the chain around your neck when you claimed you wouldn’t be able to clasp it. If all of what you said is true (which it is, he’s figured long ago you aren’t one for lying), then you still aren’t ‘married’ by your standards. What is he to do, then?

You clear your throat, and the storm clouds nearly rupture as he watches you remove the necklace. Then you grip his wrist, dump the necklace in his waiting palm, and say, “Just ask me if I would like to be your mate” 

“Would you like to be my mate?” Neuvillette repeats automatically. It feels silly, having to verbalize such primal instincts, but your amused smile makes it worth it.

“Why, yes, silly dragon, I would love to be your mate!” you tease before turning your back to him. “Would you do me the honor  of putting it on yourself?”

Sunlight bursts through the dark clouds beyond the window as Neuvillette loops the necklace around your throat. A flick of his thumb locks the chain in place, and you give it an experimental tug before turning back to him with an equally warm smile.

“There,” you say. “Any other questions?”

Neuvillette glances at your necklace and shakes his head, the last of the gathering storm vanishing entirely. “None, my love.”

[brainddeadd]

Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest, ect

Scenario 1: The Doorway

As you walked with Quinn towards the exit, he was animatedly discussing the drill he’d just finished. When you reached the door, he instinctively opened it, stepping back to let you go first.

“Always the gentleman, huh?” you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

“Gotta keep my favorite person safe,” he replied, grinning as he followed you outside.

Once you were outside, the wind picked up, and you shivered slightly. Without a word, Quinn took off his hoodie and handed it to you. “Here, it’s chilly. You can keep it.”

You smiled, slipping it on. “Thanks, Quinn. You really didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he said, a soft smile on his face.

Scenario 2: The Corner

You and Quinn wandered through the aisles of a quaint bookstore, browsing the new releases. You spotted a book that piqued your interest on the top shelf. As you reached for it, you leaned a little too far, causing your shoulder to bump against a sharp corner of a nearby shelf.

“Whoa, careful!” Quinn said, stepping closer. He gently placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the edge while reaching up to grab the book for you.

“Thanks, I didn’t see that corner,” you said, chuckling a bit sheepishly.

Quinn smiled, handing you the book. “Just looking out for you.”

Scenario 3: The Gift

As you strolled through the vibrant stalls, your eyes landed on a vendor selling handmade jewelry. One particular bracelet caught your attention, and you sighed wistfully, admiring its intricate design.

“Do you like it?” Quinn asked, noticing your gaze.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t justify spending money on myself,” you replied with a shrug.

Quinn tilted his head, studying you for a moment before saying, “How about I get it for you?”

You looked at him, surprised. “Really? You don’t have to do that!”

“I want to,” he insisted. “You deserve nice things.”

With a grateful smile, you watched as he purchased the bracelet, your heart swelling at his thoughtfulness.

Scenario 4: The Ride

After a thrilling game, you and Quinn decided to grab a late-night snack. As you reached the car, Quinn opened the door for you, a small smile on his face. “Ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You really love this gentleman act, don’t you?”

He shrugged, chuckling. “I’m just trying to impress you.”

As he drove, you pointed out a little diner that was still open. “I could go for some fries.”

“Say no more.” He pulled into the parking lot without hesitation. After ordering, Quinn handed you a hot cup of cocoa he’d gotten for you. “Figured you might want something warm to go with the fries.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter. “You really thought of everything tonight.”

Scenario 5: The Study Session

You and Quinn were sprawled on your living room floor, textbooks and notes scattered around. You were deep in concentration when you realized you needed a pen from your desk. As you started to get up, Quinn noticed.

“Wait, I’ll get it,” he said, quickly getting up and grabbing the pen for you before you could even rise.

“Thanks, Quinn!” you said, smiling at him as he handed it over.

He settled back down, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Just trying to make this easier for you.”

Later, as you both worked, you were focused on writing when you accidentally spilled some water. Quinn immediately grabbed some napkins and rushed to your side. “Here, I got this,” he said, helping you clean up the mess.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said with a grin.

Quinn shrugged again, looking a bit shy. “Just looking out for you. It’s what I do.”

[mikashisus]

no words needed.

synopsis. no words were needed between you, just as you didn’t need to give him a gift to show how much you loved him.

�� alhaitham x gn!reader. 1k. ( contents : fluff! ) ╱ taglist. @kazuinvocation @pinkxpantha @tragedy-of-commons @aritsukemo @pixelcafe-network

• for the stellaronhvnters valentine's event! req from @strryskys : alhaitham + honeysuckle + laconic + redamancy.

You were one who liked to celebrate holidays— well, certain minor holidays that were marked on calendars that your boyfriend preferred not to celebrate. 

Holidays that he viewed as useless were meaningful to you; Like today— Valentine’s Day. It was a day to celebrate love, no matter if someone was romantically inclined or not. As a child, you spent this special day with your family. As you grew into your teen years, you spent this day pouring your heart out to people you were crushing on.

As you grew into an adult, you started viewing the holiday as a day for self love and growth, and so you would take off from work and sleep in. Either you’d sleep in, wake up early and clean your apartment, read a book, tend to your plants, or cuddle with your cats. It grew to be a day to improve yourself, even though you already celebrated a major holiday like that called Windblume. 

As soon as you moved away from Mondstadt and began studying at the Akademiya, you celebrated it less and less. Getting letters in the mail from your family during the Windblume Festival was the highlight of your year. In return, you’d always send letters back to them to show how much you valued and cared for them, as well. 

Now, as you woke up to the sound of birds chirping, you realized today was the special day of love that your boyfriend never cared for. You looked to your side, finding his side of the bed empty. You threw off the covers and hopped up, a big smile on your face as you planned out your day. Alhaitham was likely already at work, and you had the whole house to yourself for the day. 

After getting dressed, you began cleaning, humming softly under your breath as you did. Stray books were placed back onto the bookshelves, empty cups were placed in the sink to be washed later, and all of your cats’ toys were gathered into their toy box. You organized the cabinets and cleaned up all of Kaveh’s supplies. Like clockwork, you cleaned until your feet could no longer hold you up and you collapsed onto the sofa. 

One of your cats jumped up next to you, curling into your side as you gently stroked his chin. You had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom… now what? Alhaitham didn’t celebrate holidays. There was no use in buying him a gift— but you still wanted to show how much you appreciated him. So, you slipped on your shoes and bolted out to the markets to start looking for a gift he’d like. 

When it came to Alhaitham, gifts were easy. You could find a book and call it a day. That, or something he could use in his office— such as pens or paper. Or, you always had the option to get him a bookmark, too. There were fancy, handmade bookmarks sold by a vendor in the market. Lost in thought, you almost ran into your boyfriend on the way out the door. You stumbled back in surprise, looking up to meet his eyes as he swallowed nervously. 

Alhaitham never got nervous, but when he did, he made it so it was never visible to others. However, you were a different story. You could easily read him. Whether that was because you two were so similar in personality, or it was simply a perk from being so close to him, you weren’t sure. 

He stepped into the house, and you sent him a smile. “I was just about to go out. What are you doing home so early?” 

You just now realized he was hiding something behind his back. Your eyes flickered to his arm, and he shuffled whatever it was out of your field of vision. He shrugged. “Slow work day. Not many people in the Akademiya.” 

Before you had time to process his words, he spoke again. “I was thinking… of going out tonight.” 

You almost laughed in response. Alhaitham and ‘going out’ in the same sentence? Was today opposite day instead of the day of love? 

He noticed your look and swallowed again. He shuffled, before handing you a card and a carefully wrapped bouquet of Sumeru Roses. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you took it from him hesitantly, sniffing the gorgeous roses. They were freshly picked and sweet, a lovely fragrance to accompany the smell of coffee beans in the house. 

Without another word, you opened the card, eagerly digging through the envelope. It was a handmade card, made out of plain paper and decorated with the same stickers you tended to leave in his office, because, in your words, he “needed more flair.” The inside was filled with stick figure drawings of the both of you and your cats, accompanied by a short letter in elegant calligraphy. His note was short and sweet, and very Alhaitham. 

You giggled softly, running your fingers gently over his handwriting. You met his eyes, and he faintly smiled at you, his cheeks dusting with pink. He then handed you a small green box, and you took it from him. Another gift? What more was there to give? 

Of course, it was a classic Valentine’s gift— chocolates. Not only did he pay attention to what other couples were giving each other, but he also paid attention to what you gave to him every year. Your heart surged with love, and you beamed at him. 

“I thought you didn’t care for Valentine’s Day?” He shrugged again, and you let out an amused sigh. “Now I feel bad… I didn’t get you anything this year— well, I was planning to, but I—” 

“No need.” He told you softly, and you brought him in for a tight hug that lasted longer than usual. He wrapped his arms snugly around you, digging his head into the crook of your neck. You felt him smile against your skin, and you squeezed him tighter.

No words were needed between you, just as you didn’t need to give him a gift to show how much you loved him. Just like he didn’t celebrate stupid holidays like this, but if it made you smile, he put effort into celebrating it too.

footnotes. unfortunately this is the only request i was able to get to for this event 💔💔 life has been so hectic for me for the past few weeks TT i apologize for submitting this so late aaaa but i rlly liked writing this! this is one of the only fluff fics u’ll get out of me LOL

© 2025 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[fox-bright]

Distracting myself from the world outside my yard, as much as I can, by planning out the seed-starting which will begin this weekend.

Usually my garden planning doesn't feel as grim as this. But there's still some joy in it, even if I'm plotting out just how much of our food is going to have to come from the garden this year, and maybe for the next half-decade or so.

I keep trying to write cheerful beginning-of-the-season garden posts, and they come out of my fingers like this:

Forty percent of our nation's homegrown produce is harvested by undocumented immigrants. Another fifteen or so percent is harvested by documented immigrants with work visas, not that ICE is treating them any differently in their raids (nor citizens, for that matter, scooped up indiscriminately as long as they're brown). During the last Trump administration, crops rotted in the fields because there was no one to harvest them; this time around, it's going to be worse. That is true regardless of whether or not RFK gets to institute the "wellness drug rehabilitation farms" that he's talked about in interviews (which, to be clear, would be concentration camps full of Undesirables such as people who use drugs, protestors, and queers). I do not attempt to put my need to eat over the humanity of the people who provide my food. This is a double-fisted problem, here--the Republicans took something that wasn't a problem and made it into their voters' boogeyman, and now it's going to become an actual nightmare for anyone involved, and *everyone* is involved. Hunger is the most singleminded need there is. A starving person can only think about food.

Sixty percent of the fresh fruit eaten in the States, and forty or so percent of the vegetables, are imported, largely from Mexico and Canada, though we get plenty from SE Asia and other places. Tariffs and our generally being increasingly xenophobic, racist assholes is going to take a measurable toll on agricultural imports.

And we've already spent the last couple of years in a Trump-mediated Age of Listeria; that's sure to get considerably worse as even more regulations (and regulators, and inspectors) are eliminated. A person who can't even trust their food won't trust anything else.

I get this far and then I put the pen down, and I return my gaze to the sheets and sheets of handwritten seed inventory lists with their columns of variety types and days-to-maturity, 55 days, 65 days, 80 days from planting out to fruit, and I take a couple of breaths, and I start writing again.

I'm increasing the size of the garden. I had a whole series of posts planned about it, about building the new beds and setting up trellises and beanpoles, fixing the fence as best I can, building new steps off of the low back porch so that I don't have to carry every baby plant out the kitchen door. I need to find about seven or eight hundred dollars for trucked-in soil for raised beds; I'd really thought in the Autumn that I would have a full year to sort this out, and I don't, so I'm trying to figure out a way to fund-raise. Sell some handmade semiprecious gem jewelry? Open a garden blog Patreon? I dunno. Everything is tight for everyone, and that is not shortly to improve. Leave it to the side. Not important tonight.

Eyes back on the blue-lined page. Amish Paste, Black Krim, Black Plum, Brandywine. So many varieties. Enough to share, if I plan my plantings carefully. Beans, grown for green eating and pickling, even now it doesn't make sense to grow dry beans, not with how many pounds a year this household consumes. Sweet potatoes, this year, slips ordered online for the first time, and I find I'm a little nervous about them. I've never grown a sweet potato before, but people say they're easy, and they're high in a lot of nutrients, and they keep.

Next page. Flowers. Marigolds, nasturtiums, violas.

I try to put a flower in the ground every time I transplant a vegetable. Doing so increases the vegetable yield, since it improves pollinator coverage, but also it's just nice for my soul to be able to clip flowers and bring them in to present to my husband, to have on the counter when I'm frying eggs for breakfast, to stick haphazardly behind my ear and wear on my daily walk. So tonight I'm sitting here with a pen and paper, deciding what I want to grow for food this year, deciding how much energy I can devote to flowers. Nasturtiums, marigolds, bachelor's buttons and borage and cosmos are all edible, and common in my vegetable garden; I'm doing a bunch of zinnias this year as usual, but I'll probably be direct-sowing those this year. Won't have room in the seedling closet when I've got to start so much more food than before. But I can devote *some* energy to the flowers, and I know they'll give me back what I give to them.

There's a clatter off the roof, ice sliding down to collide with whatever it can hit. We've got a wintry mix happening outside right now, little pats of slush falling from the sky to freeze hard on my trellises, and summer now seems far away, but it isn't. It's a very brief time before Last Frost and things will need to get into the ground, and I know that no matter how bleak I feel right now, and how much harder things are likely to be by then, bright-faced zinnias will be a joy when they bloom. Every source of energy is a source of energy. No one can function entirely on rage.

One foot ahead of the other. Seedling mix into my seed trays, tomorrow, and water; the day after I'll sow seeds, and put the trays under the lights. Step by step and in the summer there will be tomatoes and chard, asparagus beans and watermelons and nasturtiums. One foot ahead of the other.

[toxinoire]

Out of boredom I'm just gonna make more Mean Girls headcanons because you people seem to really love those.

• Cady is a picky eater. She can eat dishes that are so extreme, but show her mashed potatoes and god forbid scrambled eggs mixed with bell peppers and she will go "No."

• Gretchen owns a lot of glitter pens. She fucking loves glitter pens.

• Janis is into coding. She had to learn it once because a digital website for art she uses crashed so out of spite, she learned coding.

• Regina does know how to sew and make clothes even. She just doesn't do it a lot, so by far the only person who knew was Janis. It wasn't until Christmas where Regina gave handmade everyone jackets and beanies with designs specific to them that they learned.

• Karen knows to play the fucking accordion. The way everyone learned was that they snuck into the school's music room, there was this one dusty accordion and out of boredom, Karen just picked it up and started playing Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo on the damn thing.

• Janis and Gretchen are a fucking detective pair. Someone in their group got made of or is sick but hiding it? They're the first ones to figure it out.

• Damian is the parent of the friend group.

• Regina and Cady have a shared thing for Greek Mythology.

• Karen can and will read their emotions and their entire being if they don't wanna admit something with the most angelic smile you've ever seen.

• Cady sleeps early, but you cannot drag her out of bed at any time before seven.

• Janis and Regina used to have a height chart but not for the "I wonder which one will be taller" reasons that most do, they had it because they were so adamant to know which one of them would be cuddle sized. They never talked about it until one day, in Janis's house, Gretchen fucking found it.

• Don't be fooled by Cady's height, she's feral as shit and will kick your ass.

• Karen is scared of frogs.

• Regina is secretly into flower language.

• Damian has RTC cosplays hidden in his closet. Yes, even Karnak.

• Everyone still wonders how Cady did not cry during while watching Titanic.

• Gretchen is into anime, but not the cutesy ones. The gorey ones. It's a coping mechanism don't judge her.

• Speaking of coping mechanisms, so far, Janis's healthiest one is dying her hair tips/streaks a different color when things go to shit.

• Regina will just hide and come back when she's good. Her friends hate that she does that.

• Karen has once the sent the group chat a gif of a walking sign and it left everyone wondering where the fuck did she find that.

• Gretchen is into romances and she always sees multiple tropes in her friends.

• Surprisingly, now that Regina has her head out of her ass, she actually is a fucking treasure trove of ideal character tropes.

• Damian and Cady carry Hello Kitty band aids around all the time.

[auraisereigh]

"The general's son"

Chapter Four

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Brennan and Star have spend some time together. All the while Star tries to cope with her losses. wc: 4.6k ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Grief and loss, All the emotional hearbreaking stuff. Let me know if i missed something. Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader

Star's masterlist main masterlist

The Healers that stayed here during the burning of Aretia found Brennan to be completely fine despite the arrow that was shot in his chest and the coming back from the dead.

He looked fine, alive. Physically he was fine too. Walking the same pace as me as I lead him to the room he's staying at. Floor three, left side, first door. It's spacious, hell every room in this Castle is spacious. It holds a two person bed with soft sheets and pillows, a desk with various supplies like pens and paper. A wardrobe and the beautiful sight from the window. Which looks out over the mountain part, not the city part that's been burned.

"I'll see if I can find you some clothes later." I say, my voice is still rough from all the crying.

My father is dead. Executed.

My eyes are most likely blood shot red. And by the way he looks at me he knows something is wrong.

"Kitchen is on the first floor, so is the library. The door there," I explain pointing at a door in the corner next to the bed. "Is a small bathroom. I'll bring soap and all of that later. You can come if you wanna choose the scents."

He looks overwhelmed. Extremely overwhelmed. "We can pick soaps tomorrow too if that's better." I propose, my voice is much quieter now. His hand traces over a notebook on the desk. "I'll leave you alone for a moment. If you need me I'm on the second floor, right side door two." I finished before walking out and heading towards my room.

☆

After about two hours of going through my dad's stuff in his office I hear a sharp knock not far from here. My dad's office is a large room but it's right next to mine and as I left the door of the office open the knock on my door is clear.

I walk out the door and almost immediately spot Brennan at my door. "Hey... sorry I was in my dad's office.... Cleaning up.' I say hoping it comes out more confident. It dawns on me that I really don't know him at all. He turns to me, a small smile on his face. "It's fine." He assures me. He looks like someone who has a caring nature. "I was just wondering if you could show me the soaps?" His question mirrors how awkward I feel.

"Sure... Follow me." I end up saying at last.

My aunt loved all different kinds of soaps, scents, colors, all of it she loved it. There was a market in Aretia where she bought all of the soaps, all handmade.

I make my way down to one of the many basements in this Castle, this basement specifically was only for family, all the extra stock was put here.

"Bottom shelf is hand soaps, second is body wash and the top are all kinds of extra you can find." My voice doesn't even sound like it belongs to me, that's how scratchy it sounds. "Pick whatever scents you like." I say walking to the basement stairs and sitting on them watching as he carefully picks the scents and looks through it all.

The headache that started hours ago is still there, still a reminder that my dad is truly gone.

After a while he walks back to me, soaps and all in his hands. They're all autumn scents. "You like autumn scents?" I ask, my voice still slightly scratchy. He shrugs. "They're comforting scents." He responds with his soft voice. We're In the middle of summer and he chooses autumn scents? "I've got candles in those scents too if you wanna." I say sarcastic but it doesn't come over like that. It's true though, autumn scents can be very comforting but not in summer, not with what just happened. I'm not even sure I can find comfort anymore. Even my dad's office felt cold.

He gives me a small smile, a dimple showing, only one, not one on each side. "Naolin like autumn scents too." My voice comes out more cold than I intended to. His smile falls and guilt seeps into me. It's not his fault naolin sacrificed himself for Brennan. "I'm sorry." It's almost a whisper. "Don't be." He starts putting the soaps on a nearby, empty shelf. He sits next to me on the stairs. "I know he meant a lot to you. Gods, sometimes he wouldn't stop talking about you. How funny you were, how smart, how thoughtful and reasonable." He chuckles a little at the list he's going off. "And something tells me that something else happened while I was in the infirmary. You don't have to tell me but the red, puffy eyes, the scratchy throat, the adorable little sniffs, They pretty much sell you." I knew it was obvious on my face but I didn't need the actual descriptions.

He looks at me with soft, amber eyes and I can barely hold my tears in as I sniff a little harder. He doesn't hesitate, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him, holding me close as his chin rests on my head, whispering soothing words about how it's all gonna be okay.

"My father has been executed." I say, almost not being able to say it through the lump in my throat. His arms tighten. "You're his daughter aren't you? Fen Riorson's daughter?" It's not an accusation, it's curiosity. I nod against him as tears stream down my face.

"and I don't know anything about my brother. Whether he's okay and taken care of or if he's..." I trail off as my breathing becomes more panicked.

"It's okay." He soothes comforting. "It's okay to cry." He holds me against him, my body collapsing in his embrace. It's the second time I've cried today. I've never felt so devastated.

After a while he lets go but his hand stays in my hair. I sniffle softly. He looks at me with a soft expression, a small comforting smile on his face. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" He asks softly, like I might break.

He takes a hold of my hand and with the other he collects his stuff. Slowly but steady we walk up the staircase and then up the marble staircase that leads up the floors. On the walk there I'm reminded of how empty this fortress is, how quiet. We stop by my room. I slowly open the door, everything is happening slowly.

The room is still untouched from the last time I came here. He leads me inside, his hand on my back. "Why don't you get some sleep? See if that helps." He proposes. I can't deny that sleeping does sound good. Like a deep winter sleep, that would be nice. I sit on my bed, the soft sheets feel nice. Especially compared to the ground I've slept on for two weeks.

"I'll be fine now. Thank you." I say. He stands before me, looking at me then giving me a small smile. "Let me know if you need anything okay?" He responds, sounding almost reluctant to leave.

"I will. Thank you." I give him a small smile. He turns and leaves, softly closing the door behind him.

I lost track of time, it's practically night now. It's dark outside with a few stars shining through.

One of them is my dad. One my aunt. One is Garrick's father. One is Naolin.

I count them until I fall asleep. It's dreamless. Pitful. But it's sleep. I just keep thinking about my father. The ones I've lost and how quickly.

☆

Over the following few days I spend most of my time with Brennan. Giving him a tour of Riorson house. What's left standing of Aretia.

He helps me a great deal with the hollow ache in my heart. Comforts me when I cry, cheers me up when I calm down. Distracts me with his charm. And I can't help but gravitate towards him, he's so caring.

Felix proposed an idea of making an assembly, to decide what we do next. And as we've been able to calm down from everything it seems now would be an okay time to see what were gonna do in regards of Aretia. Most people in the caves either stay here, in Riorson house or in the houses that didn't burn.

One morning while I'm still waking up with some tea in the mess hall Felix walks up to me, a scroll in his hand. I groan, not wanting to hear it so early. I didn't sleep well and the last thing I want is to go over more people who could fit in the assembly. "Go away." I mutter once he's seated beside me. "Good morning grumpy." He teases. "But no, you're gonna want to see this." He hands me the scroll. I recognize it as a dead roll.

The wax seal has already been broken. "I don't wish to see my family on a piece of paper that confirms their deaths." I say, my hand trembling around the rolled up paper. "No, those are the Calldyr executions. This is Basgiath. Open it." He urges me.

I unroll it and hold it open. My eyes going over the names, going over Naolin. And ending on Brennan.

Brennan Sorrengail.

He's the general's son.

The one who interrogated and tortured my father.

The one who executed my loved ones.

As if on cue, Brennan takes his place opposite me with his breakfast and my heart sinks to my stomach.

"You're a Sorrengail." I state, my voice completely void of all emotion as I stare at the paper.

"You're general Sorrengail's son." I look up to see his face frown. To see his face fall. "How do you-" he starts but I cut him of. My eyes as cold as my voice.

"Your mother is responsible for everything."

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd

[shall-we-die]

╔‌‌‌‌•°🍰༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚

{HBD Dear MC!~}

A list of gifts they gonna give you 🎁

╞•⊰❖⊱•═══•༻🎂༺•═══•⊰❖⊱•╡

☰[Main list]•⊰ X Obey me!

#Part 1 📍 || #Part 2 || #Part 3 || #Part 4

╚•°🍰༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

[Lucifer]:

A piece of music he composed, a bouquet of rare black roses, a vintage vinyl record of his favorite music genre, a handwritten letter and a necklace with a pendant.

[Mammon]:

A brand new car, an expensive watch, a gold necklace and the most expensive set of jewelry he could find. (With the help of Lucifer’s money of course)

[Leviathan]:

A signed rare copy of his favorite anime and manga series, rare figurines of his favorite characters, and a handmade bracelet made out of real gemstones.

[Satan]:

A box of homemade pastries that would always refill and never run out, a leather-bound notebook filled with his best poetry and a ring with a ruby attached to it.

[Asmodeus]:

A luxury spa package, his favorite book series and a perfume set that contained all his favorite scents.

[Beelzebub]:

A home cooked dinner, a bottle of champagne and a jar of his special honey.

[Belphegor]:

A big cuddly teddy bear, a warm blanket and pillows and, a big pillow-shaped chocolate cake.

[Diavolo]:

An exclusive tour of the Demon King’s castle, a luxurious robe and a box of sweets.

[Barbatos]:

A personal day out with him at his favorite places, a bottle of expensive tea and a vintage-style fountain pen.

[Simeon]:

A bouquet of rare pink roses and peonies, a box of chocolates as well as his homemade cookies, and a framed letter.

[Solomon]:

A handwritten book filled with magical spells and runes, a new spellbook which he designed himself, and a bottle of the rarest and most unique wine there is.

[Luke]:

A box set of his favorite stories, a new plushie and a box of his delicious pancakes.

[Raphael]:

A handmade sweater, a basket with all his favorite herbal teas and spices, and a box of his most precious herbs and plants.

[Mephistopheles]:

A box filled with all his favorite rare books, a handmade ceramic mug and a handcrafted blanket.

[Thirteen]:

A framed photo of the two of you together, a handmade plushie with all her favorite features and a big box of chocolates.