#I hope you all enjoy reading my rambling

[kazscrows]

Crooked Kingdom Reread

Chapter 2: Wylan

The first Wylan chapter!

Wylan’s very first thought:

What am I doing here?

That thought had run through Wylan’s head at least six times a day since he’d met Kaz Brekker. But on a night like this, a night when they were “working,” it rose and fell in his head like a nervous tenor practicing his scales: WhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoingherewhatamIdoinghere.

#relatable

Wylan watched Kaz deal another hand to Smeet, Jesper, and the other players at the round table. He wore the same sky-blue staff jacket as Wylan and his hands were bare. Wylan had to fight not to stare at them.

Imagining Kaz wearing that jacket is funny

I mean.. they have little clouds on them!

I should draw him in it

Kaz’s hands moved as if they’d been made for no other purpose than to manipulate cards…

Trickster hands…

…long white fingers flexing in easy rhythm, the shuffle precise, each turn economical. Kaz had claimed he could control any deck.

Wylan is fascinated by Kaz’s hands and you know what? That’s fair.

Me too

Wylan knew Nina could handle just about any man and any situation, but he didn’t think she should have to sit half-dressed in a drafty gambling parlor, perched on some leering lawyer’s lap. At the very least, she was probably going to catch cold.

Wylan is worried she’ll catch a cold that’s so cute 🥺

Matthias probably isn’t in the room because he’d just have steam shooting from his ears the whole four hours

And he might kill Smeet over how he’s eyeing Nina

Smeet grinned, clearly pleased. “This is nothing compared to managing a business.”

“I can’t imagine how you do that either.”

“Sometimes I don’t know myself,” Smeet said on a sigh. “It’s been a hard week. One of my clerks never came back from his holiday, and that meant I was stuck shorthanded.”

Hate to break it to you, but that clerk is definitely not coming back

Jesper rose and reached for his guns. Wylan clutched the bottle of champagne in his hands as the other players pushed back from the table, ready to grab their own weapons or dive for cover. But all Jesper did was unsling his gun belt. Gently, he laid the revolvers on the table, fingers brushing over their high-gloss ridges with care.

Poor Jesper

He’s offering up his children

…what was Jesper thinking? He loved those guns. He might as well cut off his own hand and throw it into the pot.

See? Wylan gets it

But it’s alright it’s all part of Kaz’s plan (sort of)

He tossed Wylan a cape and mask, the trappings of the Gray Imp, one of the characters of the Komedie Brute. “Let’s go.”

“Me?”

“No, the idiot behind you.”

HA

Poor Wylan constantly getting teased and mocked

Kaz rarely used his cane when they were roaming parts of the city where he might be recognized. But despite his lopsided gait, Wylan had to jog to keep up with him.

Kaz’s disability never made him weak

He’s probably also pushing through the pain because everything they’re doing is for Inej

“How is—”

“Nina is fine. Jesper is fine. Everyone is fine except for me because I’m stuck with a gang of hand-wringing nursemaids. Keep a watch.”

BAHAHAHA

Here’s Matthias

I love how Kaz knew he was going to ask after Nina

And I love how he is just so done with everyone being worrywarts

“hand-wringing nursemaids”

They’re like: Now Kaz, dear.. are you sure this will work? Is this even… safe?

He’s over it and very stressed

I love Kaz

They should have some faith in him though!

Kaz blew again, lips pursing in time with the pattern of a new command. The dogs quieted and flopped to the floor with a disgruntled whine. one even rolled over on its back.

“Now why can’t people be this easily trained?” Kaz murmured as he crouched to oblige the dog with a belly rub, black-gloved fingers smoothing the short fur.

I’m cackling

And of course the classic Kaz stops heist to pet dog scene™️

Wylan could still hear the clerk screaming as Kaz dangled him by the ankles from the top of the Hanraat Point Lighthouse. I’m a good man, he’d shouted. I’m a good man. They were the last words he’d spoken. If he’d talked less, he might have lived.

Oh I forgot Wylan witnessed this!

I started to think this was a memory Kaz had, but it was actually Wylan recounting it

And I told you that clerk was never coming back from holiday

He’s super dead

Jan Van Eck has a printing press under Wylan’s name…

This man feels me with rage

“I’m slowing you down,” he said.

Kaz flipped open another sheaf of documents. “I knew exactly how long this would take. What was your mother’s family name?

I love how Kaz just immediately proves his thought wrong

Kaz planned on needing more time to peruse the files by himself

He knew Wylan would be helpful in finding out the names things were under. He brought him along for that, not as an extra pair of eyes to read

Our thoughts can lie to us

Wait.. wait.. Wylan just said that his mom “died” when he was eight-

Wylan is.. he’s sixteen now!

You’re telling me Jan Van Eck just hid Wylan’s mom from him for eight years—

Oh my gosh—

He couldn’t go to her funeral because there was no body- She’s still alive-

“…Why do you guys say that, anyway? No mourners, no funerals? Why not just say good luck or be safe?”

“We like to keep our expectations low.”

I’ve always thought this was kind of funny

I got excited when Wylan asked this question in the show, but then Inej answered him instead of Kaz and I remember being like:

“Yay he said the thing!! And Inej.. said the other… thing ..?”

I was confused at first and then later a little disappointed because… I don’t really think it’s something Inej would say?

It just hit different than having Kaz say it

Like honestly it was kind of depressing instead of mildly humorous

It’s a little depressing when Kaz says it too but…

For a second I thought they had actually changed the answer, but really I had just forgotten Kaz was supposed to say it

Like “Huh.. that seemed wrong I guess they altered it a little”

But the quote wasn’t wrong the person was—

And this is now a very long rant for two short lines of dialogue—

Has more bullet points than my entire Joost chapter review. RIP Joost—

But it bugged me in the show okay??

Kaz never yelled the way Wylan’s father did, but Wylan had learned to listen for that low note, that bit of black harmony that crept into Kaz’s tone when things were about to get dangerous.

I’ve always loved imagining Kaz’s voice and I love how Wylan explains how it gets more dangerous sounding here

Kaz isn’t really a yeller. He doesn’t need to be loud to scare people

“…he’s been making donations to the Church of Saint Hilde for the last eight years. If you want to pay your respects to your mother, that’s probably the place to start.”

Wylan stared at Kaz dumbly in the shadowy room. He’d never heard of the Church of Saint Hilde. And he’d never known Dirtyhands to share any bit of information that wouldn’t serve him.

He’s in such disbelief that Kaz would just tell him something out of.. can this be called kindness?.. Yeah, I think so.. maybe

Does Kaz have ulterior motives for this? I honestly can’t remember…

Regardless, Kaz really does care for his own. His Crows

Oh Wylan was so sure Kaz would just kill Smeet’s daughter…

I mean he’s thinking about the lighthouse incident again

Kaz had held him by his ankles and the clerk had wet himself, screaming and begging for mercy before he’d finally given up Smeet’s whistle commands. Kaz had been about to reel him back up when the clerk had started offering things: money, bank account numbers for Smeet’s clients, and then—I’ve got information on one of the girls at the Menagerie, the Zemeni.

Kaz had paused. What do you have on her?

Wylan had heard it then, that low, dangerous note of warning. But the clerk didn’t know Kaz, didn’t recognize the change in the rough scrape of his voice. He thought he’d found a wedge, something Kaz wanted.

…

Slowly, Kaz began to let the man’s legs slide through his grasp. It’s terrible, isn’t it? Knowing someone holds your life in his hands. The clerk’s voice rose another octave as he realized his mistake. She’s just a working girl, he screamed. She knows the score! I’m a good man. I’m a good man!

There are no good men in Ketterdam, Kaz said. The climate doesn’t agree with them. And then he’d simply let go.

Kaz was actually so insane for this

Insanely hot—

But in all seriousness. Kaz doesn’t just kill people. Especially children

He was about to let this man go free right up until he realized just how rotten and disgusting of a person he was

We’ve all seen the memes that are like “Kaz is okay with murderers , but he draws the line at disrespecting women”

And we stan

Well.. I don’t actually condone murder that actually is super bad-

Don’t kill people— but…

This is just a book—

Don’t include almost the entire chapter challenge go—

Annnd I failed immediately

Kaz squat down so he could look the little girl in the eye. “What’s this big fellow’s name?” Kaz said, laying a hand on the dog’s wrinkled neck.

“This is Maestro Spots.”

“Is that so?”

“He has a very fine howl. Da lets me name all the puppies.”

“Is Maestro Spots your favorite?” asked Kaz.

She appeared to think, then shook her head.

“I like Duke Addam Von Silverhaunch best, then Fuzzmuzzle, then Maestro Spots.”

“That’s good to know, Hanna.”

Her mouth opened into a little O. “How do you know my name?”

“I know all children’s names.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. Albert who lives next door and Gertrude on Ammberstraat. I live under their beds and in the backs of the closets.”

“I knew it,” the girl breathed, fear and triumph in her voice. “Mama said there was nothing there, but I knew it.” She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t look like a monster.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”

Now the little girl’s lip trembled. “Did you come to eat me? Da says monsters eat children who don’t go to bed when they’re told.”

“They do. But I won’t. Not tonight. If you do two things for me.” His voice was calm, almost hypnotic. It had the coarse rasp of an over-rosined bow. “First, you must crawl into bed. And second, you must never tell anyone you’ve seen us, especially your da.” He leaned forward and gave Hanna’s braid a playful tug. “Because if you do, I’ll slit your mother’s throat and then your father’s, and then I’ll cut out the hearts of all these sweet slobbering hounds. I shall save Duke Silverhaunch for last so that you will know it’s all your fault.” The little girl’s face was as white as the lace on the neck of her nightgown, her eyes wide and bright as new moons. “Do you understand?” She nodded frantically, chin wobbling. “Now, now, no tears. Monsters see tears and it only whets their appetites. Off to bed with you, and take that useless Maestro Spots along too.”

Kaz is the boogeyman confirmed

“When she was gone, Wylan slipped out from behind the door and followed Kaz down the steps. “How could you say something like that to her? She’s just a child.”

“We were all just children once.”

“But—”

“It was that or snap her neck and make it look like she fell down the stairs, Wylan. I think I showed remarkable restraint. Move.”

I probably didn’t need to include this entire scene, but it’s always been a favorite of mine

Kaz is so scary here

And yet- he’s almost playful too

If he hadn’t threatened to kill her parents at the end it’s a mostly silly conversation

Matthias gave a high birdcall from the other end of the street. Kaz glanced at his watch and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it wildly. “Right on time.”

They rounded the corner and slammed directly into Cornelis Smeet.

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[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[little-pup-pip]

25 Days of Agere Moodboards! Day 8: Ideal Playroom!!

[zhongrin]

between genshin, hsr, and zzz, i have to say i have a lot of enjoyment and high hopes for zzz.

the team working for zzz are just amazing in my eyes (which sounds crazy especially since they're all hyv games). for one, i think so far they follow through with almost everything that they've promised. making the game having a 'low floor, high ceiling' and therefore isn't just a pure powercreep gacha game (looking at you hsr). all the gameplay promises with timelines they would say in dev notes (like getting players to be able to use different characters in the map by 1.4). literally giving us options to enjoy the contents through two different modes because half of the player base dislikes a certain mode of the game (therefore doubling the effort of the dev team to work on, which is still so crazy to me that they're actually taking this approach)...

of course all of them has their pros and cons in my eyes. for example, i am very much not a fan of zzz's blatant gooner bait, among other peeves. but something about having the developers listening closely to our feedback since the very start of the game and visibly making changes to the actual game itself accordingly is just so nice.

anyway. i'm going to go view more rooms. have a good weekend, all of you!

[bittybeanie]

oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite™ version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.

content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!

also on ao3!

It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. You’re too close, then too far, and Reigen can’t get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he can’t decide how he wants your leg angled, and there’s too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.

Finally, finally, everything is perfect.

Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and you’re not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but he’s here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, there’s no way you’re not going with.

Perfect.

His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.

"As long you don’t- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not… well." He moves a hand back and forth across where he’s hovering over your thigh.

“Keep off the goods. Gotcha."

"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."

You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.

"The goods don't seem to agree."

"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. “Fine, fine, just stop saying goods.”

“Alright.” He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. “I promise! I will never again use ‘the goods’ to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-”

“I get it! I get it.” He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. “Here, actually, can you-? Hm.” He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.

“Didn’t mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’ll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.” You hit the last “t” sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. “God, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? It’s sorta mesmerizing.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just- I wasn’t thinking about it. S’just what f- ha, feels good.” His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.

“Yeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?”

“Oi.” His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Too much?”

“That’s not how I think of you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. “I know, ‘Taka, I know.” You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. “But would it really be so bad to belong to you?”

“I- fuck.” There’s a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then he’s scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.

“Are you sure?” It’s a formality, uttered even as you’re already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but it’s one you can’t even imagine going without.

“Very.” He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.

He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.

“Do I need to get-?” You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. He’s technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasn’t made much effort to keep the secret either.

He shakes his head. “I’m close. Won’t matter.”

He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he can’t get any good contact.

“Oh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it won’t stay down on its own.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.

“That gorgeous curve probably isn’t helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.” You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. “Sorry, sorry, di-”

“No, it’s-” He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think he’s going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. “Here.”

He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isn’t already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.

“Just… gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.” He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.

You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You don’t bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Eh, let it dry.”

“I’m starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.”

“If you haven’t gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-”

He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so there’s no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed. 

“Oh, stop it.” He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like he’s trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Oh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.” You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere he’d rather you didn’t.

“Hey, Arataka?”

“I love you, too.”

“That, too.” You chuckle. “But I have a real question this time.”

“Oh.” He turns his head. “Sure.”

“After you… when you took my hands earlier, were you…?” The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You can’t help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. “Sorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.”

You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.

“Do you mean…” He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “Do you mean after the clothes came off?”

You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.

“I was… I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didn’t have to say it, if I could just… imply, then I could get around it, but,” he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, “I panicked.”

You’re both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“...Panicking?”

“No, angel. Implying.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “Maybe you just have to imply for a little longer.”

“I’m not following.”

“What if you left your hand on top of mine? That way it’s like- it’s the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.”

For a long moment, you’re not sure if he’s quiet because he’s thinking or because he’s falling asleep.

He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.

+

"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."

"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. You’re not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.

You shift back onto your knees.

"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."

When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.

"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."

You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.

"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."

"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. “Yours under mine.”

“Got it.” You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"

"You tell me that every time."

"It's important every time."

He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."

You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"

He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."

"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"

"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"

"Arataka."

"Yeah." He swallows.

"I'm not going to be offended if you’d like to take off your own pants."

He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."

"And your-?"

"Just do it at the same time."

"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"

His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.

You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.

"Ready?"

He nods slightly.

"I’d like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."

He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yeah, yes.” He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. “I trust you."

You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and you’re certain if you put your hand to his cheek you’d worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, he’s hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.

He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. “Are you gonna-?”

“In a minute.” You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m savoring.”

He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.

Once you’re sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigen’s skin as you uncover more of it.

He’s shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.

You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.

He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.

“Here, let’s try this.” You guide him to sit up. Once he’s situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. “Still good?”

He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.

“You’re allowed to change your mind, y’know. I can let you do it.”

“That’s not- mm.” He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. “I thought I would… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and slowly pull away. “Nothing to apologize for.” You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesn’t hold your gaze for long. 

“Do you want to keep going? Should I…?”

He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something you’re not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.

“Stay in bed?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. “Or move to the couch and watch something?”

“Couch.” He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.

You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out. 

+

Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. You’ve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasn’t tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.

You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can you’re sure he would be spilling it on you right now.

He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.

He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.

"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."

Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.

"I guess you better help me there."

"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.

The gears in your head start to turn.

He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.

It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.

"I don't think that was the right door."

"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."

"Then wh-"

He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.

"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.

Everything clicks together all at once.

Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.

"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"

"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he can’t support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."

"I’m drunk." 

"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"

Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.

“M’fine.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest.  He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.

"Hey, where's your hand?"

"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."

"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.

A sobering panic cuts through you.

He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.

"Stay... stay put."

He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.

You call a cab service.

+

It smells like coffee.

When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.

You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.

You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.

Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.

"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"

Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."

You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.

"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"

He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."

"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."

He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.

"What for?"

"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"

"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."

"But you trusted me, and I-"

"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."

"You-?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.

"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if he’s testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you… to not take it further than I was comfortable with… more than I trusted myself to… not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.

"Liquid courage."

He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.

"You... got drunk on purpose?"

"Not originally, but, uh."

You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.

"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."

"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."

"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."

"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know what’s getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.

“I mean, literally speaking, your hands.” You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. “Because, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?” He stares, unblinking. “Sorry, too soon to joke, probably,” you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.

When he moves again, it’s with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. “My hands.”

“Yeah, I-”

“No, my hands.” He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. “My hands.”

“If you want to stop-”

“Saying so has always been enough.”

You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.

You take his hand, and you start pulling.

+

“This is… mine?” An old black tie lays across Reigen’s palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.

“Yeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.” You shrug. “You never really liked it, though, plus you’re here all the time anyway, so I didn’t get around to giving it back, and it’s just been here ever since.”

As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks. 

There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.

He’s struck with the realization it’s not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasn’t there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.

He’s wearing off on you.

He’s known it for a while, but he’s never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.

“Still okay?”

He wonders how you’ve worn off on him, which parts of him weren’t there before that he doesn’t notice, can’t notice.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until he’s left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.

He feels light.

You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.

“Oh, wait!” You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. “Not- we should take my shirt off first.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You laugh and settle back onto your knees. “Yes, okay, let’s- yeah.”

Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.

He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. He’s insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.

You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.

“We could stay like this? My hands are… close-ish together.”

“I can’t see behind me to tie it, but,” you pull his hands around your head, “I’m sure we can figure it out after that.”

He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything you’re satisfied with.

“Sorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.”

“It’s alright. I like the attention.”

You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.

“‘Taka, I’m supposed to be the composed one!”

“I’m just trying to be honest!” He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.

“Don’t worry,” you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, “I like giving you attention.” You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. “And I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.”

“You seem plenty composed to me.” He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.

“Quick recovery. I learned from the best.” You wink and put your fingers through the loops. “Here, hands in here.”

He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.

“There, it’ll have to do.” You slip a finger in each loop, making sure there’s enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. “It’s a little loose, so don’t pull too hard, okay?”

“Sure.” He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’ll try.”

You roll your eyes, smile still wide.

“Hands above your head, please.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to get at your neck.” You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. “Those were in the way.”

“O-oh. Right.”

You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.

You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.

You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you won’t move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.

You’re both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.

He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.

“Ooh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?” You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.

“Trickery.” He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. “Not fair.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty more chances.” You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the “v” of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. It’s slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down. 

You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, you’re too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.

“Having fun down there?”

“Oh, lots, thanks.” You slip your thumb below the elastic. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Hm.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.

“Yes.”

“So, just to make sure, you are having fun?” It’s just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.

“Good boy.”

You’re not sure you would have felt it if you weren’t holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.

“Arataka.”

“Hmm?” He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.

“Should I keep calling you a good boy?”

“Um. If you want.” He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.

He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesn’t reach for your hands.

“You’re doing so well, ‘Taka.” He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. “Such a good boy for me.” Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.

“Mhm.” You lean back on your heels. “How about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,��� you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, “I’ll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?”

He nods, and you stop moving.

“Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his wrists together, “yes, sounds good.”

“Good job.” When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. “So perfect.”

You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. It’s not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.

“Fuck, that, more of that. P-please.”

“This hand?” You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.

“Yeah. I need… just, hold onto me.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. “Good boy.”

“Shit,” he laughs, squirming closer to you. “S’not close enough.”

“Let me try something, then.” You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. “There you go, perfect.”

You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.

“Sorry, too much?”

“Not enough.” His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. “Can you, don’t put it- but, closer?”

“You want me here instead?” You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.

“Y-yes. Yes, fuck.”

“Gladly.” Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.”

He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.

He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you can’t help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. “Alright, love, I’m gonna give you a choice, okay?”

He swallows thickly, then nods.

“Option one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I won’t do anything you don’t tell me, so you’ll have to say exactly what you want.”

His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. “And option two?”

You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. “I do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.” He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. “Just for a little while.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, it’s fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigen’s wrists.

“Both options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.” You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.

When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. He’s sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because he’s seeing you in his clothes - he’s had the privilege of that many times before - but because you’ve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing he’d done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and you’ve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.

For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.

“Second one.”

Your eyebrows raise a little, like you’re surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then you’re grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like he’s giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.

You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.

“Just like that, gorgeous.”

He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.

“That’s it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.”

For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesn’t hold back. You’re silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because you’re not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if he’s exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, you’re not going to complain.

After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. You’re still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isn’t already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize he’s saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.

“Can I have your hand?” You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. “I just- I need,” he opens and closes his hands, “something.” When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.

“Please, I need- I can’t take it anymore.” He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize you’ve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.

He’s begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; he’s still tugging at your hand like you can’t get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he can’t quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.

He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.

You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but you’re not exactly paying attention to where you’re still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.

“Nono, wait, don’t-” He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.

“It’s okay, ‘Taka, s’okay. I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t wanna crush you. Let’s sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.” You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. “That’s it. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

Once he’s upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesn’t slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.

“How you feelin’?”

He doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.

“I think I died.” His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. “I understand you now.”

“You didn’t die, I promise.” You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. “That’s high praise, though.”

“You’re high praise.”

“You’re the one that liked it so much.”

He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesn’t have the distraction of everything else, you can tell he’s starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and he’s fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to oblige.”

You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanket’s seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. “The hell was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.” He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. “You could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?”

“With clearly human teeth?”

“Maybe it… stole them?”

He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.

“Where you going with that hand, darling?”

He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. “Your turn?”

You consider it. You’re not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. There’s a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over what’s left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But there’s something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .

More than anything, you are content.

He sees your expression and laughs, must know what you’re going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.

“Maybe next time.”

[rebornrosess]

A WORLD OF NOISE: THE ZABAJABA JUNGLE

ZABA by Glass Animals is 10 YEARS OLD TODAY.

A poem/stream of consciousness I wrote about ZABA on a rainy September night in 2022, one month after seeing Glass Animals live. ZABA was the album by which I found Glass Animals in 2018, and its abstract yet visceral nature continues to fascinate me. The more I listened, the more I felt I could understand the imagery drawn across its 11 tracks.

Essentially, I believe ZABA can be understood as a Queer reading and apologue of Plato’s allegory of the cave. There are many lines that allude to a (Queer) awakening from perceived societal constraints such as in Walla Walla (“it’s a ruse, all these creatures are a lie” & “i clap my hand and they’re gone into the night”), likely referencing the shadows projected by the puppet showmen in Plato’s allegory. Thus, the anguish expressed in songs predating ZABA’s release such as in Golden Antlers and in Exxus are symptomatic of a speaker trapped in a cave, unable to escape a deeper feeling of unease because they are only seeing the reality projected to them by a cisheteronormative system. It is only when the speaker escapes this metaphorical cave in Flip, the opening track of ZABA, (“I’m gonna shake my fetters / I’m breaking loose”), that they finally enter the confusing, overwhelming, but beautiful and fluid “world of noise” mentioned in Pools (and sonically created in Intruxx). Over the course of ZABA, the speaker wrestles with their preconceived notions of reality (Walla Walla uses a ton of imagery from The Matrix), relationships, gender, and sexuality, while simultaneously feeling betrayed by their family and society (Hazey and Toes).

The B-Side of ZABA dips into existential dread, as the speaker mourns the time they lost to the incomplete reality they had accepted in the cave, and the effects it had on their mental health (Wyrd), climaxing in Cocoa Hooves, as the speaker (or someone else), confronts them(selves) and the changes they have undergone in the ZABAJABA jungle. The speaker must choose if they wish to stay in the confusing yet euphoric jungle, or self-destruct (“set [their] wings on fire”) and return to the cave after flying too close to the sun and after indulging too deeply in their primal instinct. However, just as the freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory, the speaker runs the risk of never being able to live in blissful ignorance again, as their eyes may never re-adjust to the incomplete, crafted reality of the cave.

The last track of the album, JDNT, presents a conclusion as ambiguous as the title Dave refuses to explain. It is possible the speaker is accepting their doomed fate as prophecized to them by the antagonist in Wyrd, or radically accepting their outcast status, enjoying the “life untamed.” And perhaps, in the end, they triumph over their internal turmoil by recognizing it only has power over them if they allow it to, as it cannot “breathe without [them].” And thus, they return to the Earth, unfettered and born anew.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[tommysm0ondust]

as a young trans guy who isn't on any kind of hormones or anything like that, I can't wait for the day I can finally start.

I can't wait for my body to change and slowly become what I want it to be.

I wanna be able to wear feminine clothing without crying.

I wanna have stubble.

I want people to look at me and see me as a boy.

I want to look at myself and truly believe I'm a boy.

I wanna be able to look in my reflection and know that the person I'm looking at is Tommy. This is who I am and who I've always wanted to be.

it's not that I'm upset with how I look now, though, don't take it that way.

I do look pretty masculine.

I still wear crop tops and things more traditionally feminine.

but when I think of myself, Tommy, this isn't who I think of.

I think of whatever I will see when I look in the mirror someday in the future.

sometimes dysphoria can make me so upset, I'll get close to crying, I'll hate the way my body is.

but to get to where you wanna be, you've gotta go through the roads, right?

there's shortcuts that make things seem quicker, but you'll end up getting stopped by a red light later on.

and if you hate the ride there, you won't enjoy getting there in the end. you'll be exhausted and you'll just want to leave again.

but if you enjoy the ride, no matter how long or difficult it is, you'll be happy and ready to enjoy your time there as well.

that's what really keeps me going most of the time.

I can't wait to meet the Tommy I want to be, one day when looking in the mirror.

sorry for the long post, this was written at 3 am.

it probably should have just gone in the notes app but isn't that the same as Tumblr? ......no? shut up.

[the-river-runs]

My best friend Fandom has once again returned and asked me to post to Tumblr for her! Once again, I have permission to post this video and all edits were done by Fandom (http.redshoes on Instagram)

These memes are all based on Cryptid Sightings by @naffeclipse

She has a lot to say this time around!

A message from Fandom:

"Hello Naff!! And hello everyone :D

It’s me, your girl, your local meme and edit maker, Fandom (aka http.redshoes on Insta 😎)

I’ve come back to make another meme comp for you guys! I wanted to make this earlier, but:

1. I was busy saving/collecting ATSV content on Instagram like Pokémon to getting noticed twice by Jack in the Box ☺️

2. I had to create an Ao3 account (understandably ofc AI theft sucks) and was um. You know… being silly in the comment section 👀 (please don’t mind me if you ever stumble upon them - I react and appreciate the stuff I enjoy in weird ways 💔)

3. Was waiting for my friend here to finish reading so I didn’t spoil anything in the memes! We both loved the series so much and man. The Naff do be eclipsing fr in releasing chapters left and right biggest round of applause for one of my favorite authors here 👏👏👏

Naff, you did such a great job writing this fanfic. I’m going to repeat myself from the comment section BUT you need to give yourself a pat on the back, relax, take a break - just reward yourself. You deserve it all and I hope that you take care of yourself for all the hard work you’ve done 💞💞💞

I’ve also included the lovely artist themselves, @themeeplord , again in one of my meme comps.

It’s only one meme but dang they always draw Eclipse to be getting that gain 💪💪💪 (bc of how muscular he is haha.) Mad respect to all of the drawings they create - they’re always a banger to see.

(Most of the memes surround the last episode + epilogue so if you haven’t read those chapters LOOK ‼️ AWAY ‼️ Don’t get spoiled 🤯)

(P.S. for the imagine scenario that’s not a meme, this is what they’re saying in the audio:

“[Amused] You can hear their heartbeats? Come on, that’s a little far fetched.”

“[Soft chuckling] I can hear yours too… Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

I’d like to think this would take place around the beginning of “The Episode Bedeviling Bodies,” where the Hunter is still trying to understand their dear friend and what they’re capable of. I thought it was fitting ngl and included it in the comp.

There were uh, more memes I wanted to include, but I’m running low on storage space atm. I’ll get back to making more after I’m done clearing that out ^^’)

(P.P.S. Okay I don’t have Tumblr obviously but 🕴️ apparently you guys really liked the SJ memes I made??? Because my friend’s been receiving notifs of it still??? Thank you so much you guys!! I didn’t really expect people to enjoy them that much 😭💘💘💘)

Now without further ado, enjoy the meme comp! >:D " -Fandom

[flutteringfable]

small-ish collection of specific things abt the lads men that are kinda autism coded to me if i'm being honest..... (silly-ish. like some might be a reach but i cant just ignore these lmao. not indicative of any sort of solid headcanon i have but they're all a little neurodivergent to me in some form or another and i think that's pretty awesome)

zayne: first of all obviously the carrot thing. it's unclear as to whether its a texture or a taste thing or both but regardless. his love of sweets could point towards most sweet stuff being a safe food for him but that feels like kind of a stretch idk. and then of course his whole resting scary face thing that he doesnt rly notice. i dont have an ingame screenshot for this one so take this post about him instead.

xavier: like zayne, also doesn't notice that he doesn't emote a lot. in fact there's a whole text convo with mc that talks abt this. this convo is what started this whole thought process for me in the first place lmao

rafayel: this specific line from the kitty event made me physically raise a brow. kind of sounds like overstimulation to me, buddy.... i haven't done his branching path or any of his card dates yet bc im a zayne enjoyer (and lowkey have beef with raf for getting in the way of my zayne pulls last banner) but if anyone would like to add on please feel free <3

sylus: again, i havent done a lot with him, but something about this exchange from one of his card dates just... hm. like he could just be being sarcastic but with the delivery i literally cannot tell. it did make me internally go "omg evil autism" which is probably the funniest thought ive ever had in my life about a character

[bl-inkstone]

changed my tune so fast just bc of youtube autoplay lmao ok here have some sagau diluc thoughts

the player, diluc thinks, is an incredibly endearing being.

he's come a long way from the curt and wary attitude he used to put on around the traveler (and by extension, you), and today is one of those days where he finds himself privately thanking whatever powers there may be that allowed your paths to cross, with him staring at the reflection of you hidden deep within the traveler's eyes in the wake of his fight with the abyss that fateful night in mondstadt.

as one of the first people to have their constellations manifest in the sky of teyvat, diluc is more than aware that the fact that you still choose to ask for his company in your (or, well, the traveler's) journey is a gift he must treasure deeply. he knows that it is your presence in this world that gives vision bearers a chance to become something greater than they presently are. he also knows that he is no longer as impressive of a companion in battle as he used to be from back when the sky wasn't as bright as it is now (when the world you knew was smaller and he was still a figure that you could look to and proudly call "your main").

but you always come back to him. when he least expects it, you invite him back to your party and diluc can't help but privately think, privately wish, that it's because you're as fond of him as he is of you.

standing in silent prayer while you bestow upon him artifacts that thrum with divine power is an experience he can never tire of. the claymores you give him, the food he eats, all the materials he needs to reach a breakthrough in his capabilities... he understands that you aren't teyvat's creator, but this world and everything in it seems to exist just for you. you, the provider, the sustainer, the beloved of all. sometimes, diluc feels that everything he has and ever worked for have all been for the sake of one day meeting you.

he's not a religious man by principle, and he loathes people of absolute power. the only exception to this, however, is you. he's not foolish enough to believe you're some omnipotent, omniscient being that lords above all. no, you're not like that. he knows this because the longer he journeys with the traveler and feels their bond strengthen, the faint whispers he used to strain himself to hear grow clearer and clearer until finally, one day, he hears you.

you're both nothing and everything he thought you'd be. you view the world of teyvat with so much awe and joy that it's infectious, and he finds himself smiling more often than not to the privilege of finally hearing you. the traveler always looks at him with an understanding smile when diluc slows down in their travels to listen to you. he lives for the moments when you talk to yourself or to someone else (a companion of your own, maybe? from your place beyond the stars?) because this is how he learns. your favorite food, your favorite nations, your favorite "characters" and more. he holds every morsel of information you unknowingly give close to his chest where all his affections and wishes hide. he likes to think that this way, he can be closer and better for you.

but he knows he's not the only one who hears you, and it is the traveler that is closest to you out of all them. even so, diluc harbors no ill will to the avatar you chose to see and travel the world through. you're so fond of the traveler, and how could he ever come to loathe anything graced by your love?

he knows how to play nice. it helps that most of your other chosen are people he can find himself enjoying the company of as well. diluc understands that as much as he wants to be the sole holder of your attention, the world does not function that way. he's willing to extend an olive branch so long as they can all work together to keep you present in teyvat. he can worry about his more aggressive competition later when they aren't at risk of being caught in such an unsightly state by you — all that matters to him, right now, is how to keep your gaze on him for just a little longer and keep you from leaving him again.

it's a daunting thing to be so close to your grace. you take diluc to lands he'd never thought he'd visit again, to ruins of civilizations long past, domains with unimaginable horrors and have him run, claymore and vision burning at his hip, into fight after fight at your command. it's tiring at best and painful at worst, but you always take care to heal him and his companions before leaving, and you always lead them somewhere safe to rest until teyvat brightens and you come again.

his current companions (his "supports", he inwardly preens) rest and talk amongst themselves once they feel your presence leave. it used to be something they, your chosen, would panic over, but now that they've gotten more used to you and all the signs that pointed that yes, this is your will, they've grown to be able to tolerate the harrowing chill that comes when your warmth leaves them. diluc leans back on his chair in front of good hunter to observe them. they're all people he's come to grow fond of in time: diona was prickly, yes, but ha become pleasant to be around once they grew past their misunderstandings. the young master of the feiyun commerce guild, xingqiu, was also a reliable companion both in and outside of battle, and for all his faults, venti has proven himself to be a devout believer, unwilling to be a burden to you or the party you've guided him towards.

under normal circumstances, he never would've met and forged such strong bonds with these people. if not for your own interference, he never would've bothered getting to know any of them at all. though he may have his own gripes and complaints at times of how their dynamic works when you're not around, diluc is still fond of them. he's grateful for the opportunity to grow close to people again, and traveling the world alongside them and the traveler has become one of the few things he's begun to look forward to outside of his duties as "diluc, master of dawn winery." when the day is done and he can sit and relax with them in the tables in front of good hunter, he can rest in the company of others who understand the near-maddening pull in his chest that draws him to try and get closer, closer, to you.

it's days like these where diluc quietly thanks whatever it is brought you to them, and prays that one day, he will no longer have to search through the traveler's eyes to see you.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Your art is so amazing and you're truly spoiling us by posting so often! I have no idea how you do it, but I'm very grateful ^w^~💚

Also, your tags are an art form themselves and I haven't seen them get the appreciation they deserve!

thank you so much !!! a part of why i post so much is Of Course because of all the lovely support and invitations for discussion from everyone: it's been so fun talking with everyone and getting to share all my lil doodles and read everyones tags so far :]] !! gettin to come online and share my thoughts and drawings really is a huge part of my day and helps me get through the muck of it all, so thank you all for bein a gracious community !

SPEAAAKAING of tags thank you very much for appreciating my tag rambles !! hard to find people who appreciate TRUE art anymore smh .....

[keylovesstuff]

It's Finally Finished hehe

Little Events-Chapter 5

AO3

FFN

Peach hummed softly tapping the end of the pen lightly against her cheek. The Princess could feel a headache coming along as she reviewed some of the papers scattered across her desk. There had to be some information that she was overlooking and not considering all the facts. Placing the pen down, she pushed herself away from the desk and slouched back into the chair, rubbing her temples, she let out another long sigh and for a few moments, she let her mind wonder. It's been four years since she's taken on the role as her people's leader. Only In the last couple of years did she begin to feel confident in making and handling decisions on her own with her team of advisors backing them up. Policies were either modified or removed as they all deemed fit.

Peach had to admit that she was proud to see just how far her home has come from her childhood to the current day. What was once a small and humble community consisting of thirty people now has hundreds. Tiny tents were now fully built and furnished mushroom houses and all the toads were finding their place in the Kingdom. Through alliances she's made over the past few years, some toads moved to different areas. Those were more bittersweet and the first few times it happened, she took it to heart that she was doing something wrong that made them want to leave. It took a long conversation with Toadsworth about where life takes others sometimes for her to understand and that she shouldn't take such actions personally. There were times she felt a little envy for them being able to leave and make their home elsewhere.

Sometimes she would get in her head about remaining in the Mushroom kingdom till old age. The idea wasn't necessarily a bad thing since that's what came with pledging her life to the people as they had done to her all those years ago and of course she'd do it all over again. It's just that at times she wished she'd got to experience more things before taking on all that responsibility. Maybe some time away would do her good, three days would be enough. It had been awhile since she'd been out or even just seen anyone. 

At that thought with another sigh she pulled herself up to the desk once again and rested her cheek in the palm of her left hand picking up one the pieces of paper with the other, glancing at it not being really bothered to read. Not that she particularly wanted to see anyone even with the fact that the only two people she could think of were probably busy with their own things. In the few letters she's read from Bowser, she remembered him telling her about finally succeeding in creating an egg. That part she was quite happy with, what annoyed her the most about him though was the persistent proposing in both the letters and anytime they met face to face and that started not even a week after she ended her engagement with Haru. It's been two years and she still wasn't sure if she'd ever have the confidence to show her face to him or step foot in his kingdom again after the way she broke things off. The King and Queen of Flower kingdom for its credit didn't seem to mind renegotiating their alliances via letters. Haru had sent letters of his own, seeing if they could arrange some sort of meet-ups, to which she'd always write back about being busy.

Shaking her head she refocused her attention to the matter at hand as it was approaching the early part of the evening. The summer was approaching and it was looking to be a little hotter than the last one. Seemed like a simple solution she told the council earlier in the day, she'd look over the paperwork and see what sort of power ups there were and if needed would see if there was any way to have them imported within the next few weeks. In the three hours of looking through what seemed like the same thing over again nothing seemed to be clicking. Sometimes she wished there was a better way to keep things organized for easy searching instead of having to dig through filed paperwork. It was a Longshot she thought as she pulled out a map of the entire land, her eyes tracing the areas in the blue regions. It took her about twenty minutes between her pinpointing the source she had to go through and referring to a book on everything they gathered over years.

"It would take a couple days there and back even with the shortest route it seems" Peach spoke aloud to herself as she continued studying the map while marking multiple routes to the destination with the pen. "I have no choice though, I took an oath to do everything in my power" she reaffirmed to herself. 

There was just one thing or rather person who she'd have to convince to allow her to go on this mission. Peach took a few minutes to prepare all her findings, herself , and Think about what she could possibly say. With one final exhale she gathered up everything and left her office and was faced with the closed door across the hall. Raising a gloved hand up she gave it a knock and opened it when the voice gave her permission to enter.

"A pleasant evening to you my dear Princess wouldn't you agree?" The mustached Toad behind the desk with his own paperwork asked. 

Peach nodded her head in response and took a seat on the other side when he motioned for her to sit down.

"I was just about to come check on you once I finished up here. It would seem that it's one of the rare times you've got done first" he said with a chuckle, writing some last minute notes before closing the book and giving her his full attention. "You are finished right dear? I noticed you bought some materials" he pointed a finger at the objects she held loosely in her arms.

"I have just about everything completed. Though I could use some of your help reviewing it once more before presenting it all to the council tomorrow morning. If you don't mind, that is." Peach told him while laying both the book and map down on the table.

The Princess figured this would be the best way to open the discussion with Toadsworth. This wasn't the first time she asked him to read over the details of plans she wanted to put in motion. There were times he'd pick out the tiniest bits she had overlooked or ignored completely. It also wasn't the first time she asked him to review speeches she had written out before presenting it to everyone. These weren't firsts and certainly wouldn't be the last. Toadsworth was her trustworthy advisor for a reason, he'd give the truth to her straight. Been doing that all her life actually, she couldn't ask for no one better.

If there was one thing she could get him to see more often, it would be for him to see past the tiny little girl he'd constantly worried about all those years ago and acknowledge her for the strong leader that sits before him now.

"Of course Princess. I'm ready whenever you're ready to start." He folded his hands in front of him and sat them on the desk.

Toadsworth let Peach explain the first draft of her plan and If it wasn't for the growing concern and hesitant nod of his head she saw from the corner of her eye the longer she went on, the Princess would've finally thought she came up with the perfect plan from the start.

"And so you see while we never had use for the ice flower before, It would be very useful now and I think it would be for the best if we add it in our monthly imports" The Princess concluded finally looking him in the eyes. "The trip will take a few days but, I trust you and the council will be able to take care of everything in my absence." She added. 

The silence between them lasted for about two minutes. The mustached toad let out a long sigh removing his glasses and placing it on the desk. With his hands crossed and placed under his chin he gathered his words.

"You are asking for quite a lot out of us my Princess as I'm sure you're aware of, yes?" Toadsworth asked and she nodded. "And while I'm confident in our abilities to handle everything, are you certain you have thought it all through?" He questioned, prompting her to look everything over.

"I believe so," Peach said, now more uncertain than when she initially came in at first. 

Toadsworth had certainly seen something she hadn't considered and instead of just saying it he wanted her to figure it out on her own. Peach found it a bit annoying when he insisted on doing that on one hand but understood it completely on the other hand. As a leader she had to think outside the box and about all the possibilities before advisors bought them up. Always had to have an answer to everything.

So what was he trying to get her to see? Was the question that ran through her mind as she reviewed the materials.

"Well we already have an alliance in place for a little over six months now. Sure we haven't traded resources but I'm certain I can set up something. While we have an abundance of all different types of mushrooms, the same could be said for their flowers." She talks it out while flipping through her notes. "Their King does seem like a reasonable person to agree with if that's what you're getting at" she told Toadsworth as she skimmed through the Penguins profile.

"You've only met him in person once, Princess. How can you be so certain? You are aware that just having a feeling that it'll just work out doesn't guarantee anything without having the actions to back it up" Toadsworth pointed out.

"While I can't be 100% certain it will all work out, it's all I can think of and I'm willing to give it all I got." She told him honestly cause as he's pointed out she really was just going off the feeling that everything will just fall into place. "I can write up something that no one could pass on," Peach added, hoping that would satisfy him.

"Princess you've never used an ice flower before-" Toadsworth started but the princess cut him off.

"The effects aren't as different compared to the fire flower I've noticed and I've been using that for years now. See?" She told him as she showed off the notes on another page. "Sure there might be a curve to it but, I'm confident in my abilities to master it" she assured him.

"Have you thought about any other options if this doesn't work out?" Toadsworth asked her again. 

Oh so he was really wondering if she had thought of a plan b and maybe even a c is what went through Peach's mind.

"Truthfully no and I know it's not the most ideal way to go about it but I haven't gotten a yes or no yet. Until I get something I can't properly come up with other solutions." Peach closed the book and rolled up the map. "Just trust me to do it this way first and if for some reason I come back empty handed, you and the council can do some research in my absence and once I return we can all look it over" she told him.

"You will take a couple of the royal guards with you, yes?" He asked and she looked like she was thinking against the idea. "Please Princess, if you're placing the responsibility of the Kingdom to me here then I want others there to ensure your safety." He got up from his seat and walked around the desk in front of her grabbing her hands.

"Yes Toadsworth I will. As they will be there to ensure my safety, I will do the same for them." Peach Promised him, squeezing his hands. "I will prepare that speech and turn in for the evening. I want to try to leave by the afternoon tomorrow and I will be back in three days." She let go and stood from the chair picking up the stuff she bought in.

"You had better or I'll journey to the Snow Kingdom myself to see what's taking you so long. I may not have a bike like you but I'm not beneath walking or finding any other means to get there you know" Toadsworth told her.

"I know you will," Peach laughed though she knew from experience that he was serious. Toadsworth was literally the embodiment of not allowing old age to hold him back from doing anything being in his fifties. "Please enjoy the rest of your evening. I'll see you in the meeting tomorrow morning." She bent down for him to hug her the best he could with stuff in her hands.

After she had left and he heard her office door close he went back to sit behind his desk for a while in silence. It would only be for four days he told himself but that still felt too long for him if he was honest. The Princess is their leader though and as her most trusted advisor, he had to have complete faith in everything she does.

________

The Princess had everything and more with the insistence of Toadsworth ready to go. With the climate being the way it was in ice kingdom she would not be underdressed or returning back home ill if he could help it. After one final check of her bike and the sidecar the toad guards would be occupying, They all bid their farewells and left. 

Operations for the next couple of days ran smooth but to the elder toad the hours felt like forever. On one hand taking care of all the citizens brought back memories of the older days. On the other hand it also felt unusual without their ruler around. The members of the council seemed to agree with Toadsworth sentiment when he bought it up. That final night before her scheduled return, he was preparing to sleep and was anxiously looking forward to her return. Toadsworth had great faith that she would succeed but wanted to hear about the journey from her own mouth. 

Toadsworth deliberately took long on the last of his own personal work when the Princess had not returned by the afternoon. He wanted to be the first to welcome her home and was willing to wait as long as it took to make it happen. Going as far to even leave both the light on and door to his office ajar to capture her attention as she returned to her private chambers. It was going on 11 at night before he finally heard the distant sound of the castle door open followed by heavy footsteps. That puzzled him for a moment but not enough for him to leave his office to investigate. The Princess had the guards she initially left with to help carry whatever they had bought from their trip. If they needed extra muscle power they surely would've sent for some of the staff members who resided in the castle. 

"Oh dear, it would seem that these numbers are slightly low compared to last month." Toadsworth talked aloud pulling out his mini notebook making a note to bring it up in tomorrow's meeting. At the sound of his door opening up the rest of the way he didn't look up from his writing. "Welcome home your Majesty, I trust your trip went well and you must be exhausted." He smiled fondly with a chuckle and only after looking up did that look get placed with one of disdain at the person who entered.

"By the sound of that statement, I take it Her Majesty's out?" The Koopa King asked closing the door shut behind him after walking all the way inside.

"To what does the Kingdom owe a visit from you at such a late hour of the night King Bowser? Something urgent I presume?" Toadsworth responded with a couple of questions of his own. Doing his best to remain respectful.

"If Marrying your Princess is something you'd consider urgent or important, you could say that's why I'm here."  He said a sinister smile slowly gracing his face "Thing is, I've grown more than tired of the rejections. If you know what I mean."

"If you're expecting me to talk her into accepting a proposal from you, then you're sorely mistaken Bowser." Toadsworth raised his voice a little higher slamming his tiny fist on the table. "In fact I would rather drop dead myself before giving you any sort of a blessing of mine" at that moment he got up from his desk and was just inches away from the giant dragon turtle.

Bowser was not at all intimidated by the older man getting all up in his personal space. The King crossed his arms over his chest as if to control himself, though his tail swayed side to side slowly. Toadsworth briefly took notice but that didn't stop him from backing down or finishing speaking.  

"That's my final answer to the matter." Toadsworth finished fixing his beady black eyes with Bowser's red ones. After a few tense seconds of silence, he went to open the door and motioned him out with his arm. "Now if you would like to be kind enough to exit, I have more important matters to attend to as it is getting late."

Toadsworth was initially shocked that Bowser was following orders from him of all people. He knew that was too good to be true. Just a couple feet out the door,  Bowser paused and slowly did a 180 facing the mustached toad with a threatening expression that sent a chill down his spine.

"If your dead body is all it takes for our marriage to be" He told him sadistically backing Toadsworth into the office once more. "Consider it done" he finished gravely.

With a spin of his body, Bowser's tail made contact with Toadsworth's right arm, sending him flying across the room. His body slammed hard against the wall first before plopping on the ground. Everything happened so fast, he could barely process the sensation of his bone breaking or the  piercing scream he let out waking up the entire castle.

"Don't worry it'll all be over soon" Bowser said, preparing what was looking to be a deadly fire breath.

Through blurry vision, Toadsworth closed his eyes and sent one last prayer and apology to the Princess he pledged his entire life too. All at once memories of her flashed through his eyes. While the majority were good ones, there were also some regrets of not handling things better. Still he prepared to meet his burning end and was surprised when it never came.

"Toadsworth!" A desperate scream of his name from an all too familiar voice was the last thing he heard before Bowser was forced away from his body with a swift kick to the face.

The last thing he saw was the back of her. Though he couldn't see her face, he imagined she wore an uncharacteristic expression of anger on her face. The Halberd she held was in an attack position as it seemed she was waiting for Bowser to make the next move.

"Princess" he all but whispered and reached out with his  good hand out to her back before dropping it to the ground as Toadsworth's body finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

“How lovely it is for you to show up just in time to accept my wedding proposal, Princess." Bowser started standing up and brushing off specks of dust. "As you may be able to tell, your dear Toadsworth isn't too keen on the idea of our union." He nodded in the direction of the fallen toad and relished at the sight of Peach gripping the weapon tighter.

"This is the only chance I'm giving you to leave peacefully" Peach told him, voice steady with a threatening undertone.

"Oh really? And what are you going to do about it if I don't?" Bowser chuckled, cracking both fists in the palm of each hand. "You know you never stood a chance against when it comes to hand to hand combat" with that he cracked his neck on both sides 

"I don't care about that right now. If you're planning on returning home in one piece, Leave now" she said again louder with emphasis on the last two words taking a few steps in his direction.

"All you gotta do is say yes." At his words, Peach stopped and her face scrunched up in confusion at the change in demeanor. "Become my Queen, My Kingdom has it all...except you" he explained coming closer to her.

Bowser was caught slightly off guard when Peach shoved the weapon just under his chin. He lifted his face up as she moved the halberd and put both hands up.

"Even if you had this world's most invincible artifact, I would never marry you" she told him with so much conviction in her voice.

"So you choose to go down fighting? I must admit that I like that in a partner. " Bowser said, raising a finger onto the blade prompting her to lower it a bit. "You'll be saying yes in a little while" with his other hand he grabbed the shaft and yanked it along with her forward.

With a yelp, Peach's grip loosened and the next moment she was across the room by the door. Bowser dropped the weapon to the ground in front of him. At that moment about five more toad guards showed up to her aid. One of the two that journeyed with her to the ice kingdom had returned with the native flower in hand. 

"Master Toadsworth" a guard had called out and started in the elders direction.

Time seemed to be moving fast and slow all at once for Peach to take in. One moment she saw Bowser preparing to send a breath of fire in the other direction. The next moment she didn't even register, demanding the toad to pass her the flower. A few seconds after activating its power with her current attire changing white and pale blue in color she sped their way just as Bowser released his fire. Forming an ice in front of her people with one hand, the fire made impact shattering it into smaller pieces leaving the toads unharmed. With her other hand she sent ice blasts the Koopa King's way encasing  his entire body in ice. Entirely immobilized, Peach worked on catching her breath walking towards him, only stopping to bend down to pick up the halberd.

"So this is how I meet my end" He laughed darkly as she once again held the weapon to his neck. Sensing her hesitation, he continued "Go ahead and do it Princess. My entire army will be here not even a day later after word of my death spreads. No amount of power ups in the world will be able to protect you or this Kingdom" Bowser moved his head up the best he could given his position to give her a cleaner cut.

Peach was silent. Thinking about what the next best course of action should be. Part of her mind was telling her to follow the movements through to be rid of him for good. At that she pulled the weapon away slightly to gather some force. The other part of her mind insisted that this wasn't her and begged her to consider the consequences of the future. The results weren't looking too desirable if she was honest and at that, she lowered the weapon again.

"You know Peaches, with how long it's taking you to make a choice, Any chance in saving that old man's life is slipping away" Bowser delightfully reminded her of what he had done to him just moments before she showed up.

"Huh? Toadsworth?" Peach spoke, losing her train of thought and glancing back behind. 

Another guard had joined the previous one and was knelt on the ground head against Toadsworth chest. 

"He's breathing but barely, go get help" the guard alerted, another disappeared down the hall.

"Make your decision Peaches. Kill me now or live to face me another day." Peach looked right back at him as he spoke. "Know if you choose the second option, I'll have you living in constant fear. You'll never know when I will strike. I'm going to make you wish you said 'yes' sooner" Bowser promised.

An ice blasts to his face followed that statement. Finally he was quiet, she thought with some satisfaction. Her attention returned to Toadsworth who was being carefully attended to a few medical toads. The other guards were now at their Princesses side with their weapons pointing at the Koopa King, awaiting her command.

"I can guarantee you I won't be thinking that. You guys can stand down." Peach told the guards and they did."If this is your way of proclaiming war against me then so be it."

All that was left to do was to remove Bowser from the castle. Unfreezing him wasn't exactly an option and she couldn't exactly trust him to just leave quietly. Just as she thought to get one of their many red mushrooms to make carrying the icy King to the pipe easier, floating shapes sparkled in the air followed by Kamek appearing.

"I sensed you needed a hand my lord" He directed towards his King and with a wave of his wand, Bowser started to disappear. "The Koopa Nation looks forward to taking down your pathetic Kingdom" was the wizards last remark before he disappeared as well.

There were some matters that needed her urgent attention. After a long trip, the last thing she wanted to think about was pulling an all-nighter on royal duties. However, making sure Toadsworth was taken care of was top priority.

"Take Toadsworth to the medical wing and you guys are to do everything you can  to make sure he's brought back to stable condition, Am I clear?" Though she kept her voice calm and collected, Her mind was racing with negative thoughts that it might be too late.

Minutes after everyone had left, she stood alone in his office failing to find comfort in the silence. It took her a little while longer to compose herself. A few steady breaths later, she headed out to go and be by Toadsworth side.

________

It was approaching dawn and instead of getting better, Toadsworth's condition was on a steady decline if the heartbeat on the monitor and labored breathing was any indication. The elder toad was a fighter through and through but, with old age, bouncing back from anything was a great challenge.

"Princess Peach" , one of the Doctors, called her attention after closing the door. "We've tried just about everything we can. We're not sure if there's anything else we can do" he broke the tough news to her.

"No, are you sure? Are you absolutely positive you've guys tried everything you could think of?" Peach asked as she stood up from Toadsworth bedside and sped over to the Doctor.

"All the herbal medicines known to toadkind and every power-up we've access to known to heal instantly" The doctor explained showing the clipboard of everything they did and the results.

"There has to be something we haven't tried yet. please" Peach begged frantically flipping through all the papers. 

The Doctor Toad hummed deep in thought. Making a mental checklist of anything else he's missed and other stuff they haven't tried. That's when an idea hit him, it was a longshot and there wasn't a 100% guarantee that it would work but it's their only option.

"The green mushroom" The doctor started and after her question, hummed he continued "We've still been studying it and haven't discovered a concrete use for it. If you give us permission to try it on master Toadsworth...may we"

"Yes, do it please" Peach spoke, not letting him finish. "We have to try all the options no matter how slim the chance. Go get it now" she told him.

The Doctor left immediately to gather the mushroom leaving the Princess alone with Toadsworth once again. Peach returned to sir in the chair by his bedside and grabbed one of his limp hands in both of hers.

"This has to work. You have to pull through for me, Toadsworth. I still need you for so much" Peach laid her head down on their joint hands.

Everyone in the room was amazed at what the green mushroom did for a person. Toadsworth's heartbeat on the monitor returned back to normal. There were toads scribbling notes in their notepads and observing Toadsworth condition the best they could while he was under the covers. They dubbed the power up, the 1-up mushroom. Even after testing It on one person, they came to the conclusion that it had the capabilities to bring the consumer back from any near-death experiences. While it did need more tests, No one, Peach especially didn't want her people putting themselves in that predicament just to be 100% positive of what it could do. The 1-up mushroom would purely be a last resort option and she had a lot of thinking to do if she was going to share this discovery with her current or future allies.

Thinking about her current allies, there was also an uncertainty of bringing them up to speed about Bowser's declaration of war on her Kingdom. Rulers had already been skeptical about forming alliances with her nation based on the ties she had with the Darklands before, what would happen now? Not just that Peach thought, it wasn't just about the safety of her Kingdom but others as well, Bowser wouldn't spare anyone. This is something she'd have to handle alone. 

It took a few weeks for Toadsworth to recover fully save for taking some time to properly adjust to using a cane.

"I would've had to use one of these eventually, my dear. That reptilian scoundrel just sped up the process" Toadsworth told her with a chuckle when Peach sadly looked at him as he walked across the room to his desk. "Alright let's review"

All access to the darklands via pipes were destroyed just a couple days after Bowser's surprise visit. It may have been extreme on her part, but she thought it had to be done. In that one day time window, anyone that's made their home in her kingdom but native to the darklands was to return. In her mind she just couldn't risk surprise attacks or those who's shaky loyalty was still to the King spreading valuable information. Surprisingly the termination of their treaty went through without problems, no talking just signing letters and returning it via mail. Toadsworth agreed with the majority of all the new policies but, when it came to the potential evacuation plan, that's where he had some problems no matter how many times they reviewed it.

"The people are to do no such thing, we will stand by your side or die trying before we let you surrender yourself to be his Bride. You are our Princess" He would always slam his tiny fist upon the table and raise his voice.

"And I'd rather avoid any casualties if possible, Toadsworth. I'm the one Bowser wants at the end of the day." Peach would always say to reason with him. "I rather you all live a peaceful life elsewhere than stay here and be enslaved under his rule."

"What you fail to understand is that people like Bowser won't just stop after getting what he wants. That madman wants it all. The entire world would be enslaved in months, no weeks probably." Toadsworth countered.

"Then you guys can live peacefully for weeks or months wherever you guys go and hopefully their leaders are able to put up better resistance than I ever could as a leader" she always said hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"What's the plan if you end up taking him down though. You must have one for that possibility" Toadsworth challenged as she looked unsure.

"Then...Then I'll visit all the places where everyone would have settled and if they choose to return home, I'll continue being the best leader I can be as I promised." Peach would tell him after thinking for a bit.

It was still something that never sat right with Toadsworth even a few years later, though the Princess was very adamant about keeping that plan in place, not allowing any changes to it in the slightest. Toadsworth along with the guards and council members constructed a meticulous method of their own when it came to gathering Intel on what the King Koopa's plans were in the Darklands. With the elders Toads guidance and decision making, they met with a select few councils of other Kingdoms to put extra plans in motion, there would be signs and signals they were to look out for. Sure it was a bad look by not including their Princess in these plans, but in Toadsworth eyes it was necessary to do so, Peach would insist for them not to get involved at all. They did fill their leader in on an important piece of information they found out about four months later.

"The Power star" Toadsworth shared all his notes from research on the item. "Legends say it hasn't existed for centuries now but it holds great power. We're almost certain that's what Bowser's looking for if his airships traveling different places is any indication." He finished.

"It doesn't make any sense, why go through the trouble of searching for something that hasn't been seen I'm centuries unless he found a positive trail" Peach asked aloud.

"That we're not quite sure. Rest assured we're keeping a close eye on the situation and share any new findings as soon as possible Princess." He assured her with a hand on hers. "With any luck, let's hope that he continues his futile efforts in search for this star." He finished.

"If I'm honest it gets to me sometimes Toadsworth" Peach started after an awkward silence holding her head down avoiding his eyes. "There hasn't been so much as any direct attacks on his end since that day. I've upped my training regimen but I don't know if it will be enough when he does do something." She finished with a sigh.

Toadsworth wasn't sure what to say that would just be giving her false hope or putting intense pressure on her to deliver but it was the truth if anything.

"You will know what to do when the time comes Princess. We all have faith in you. So have it in yourself. " Toadsworth said, squeezing her hand.

A few more months went by and with nothing new to report on, Toadsworth or rather the others along with the Princess, thought it would be ok for him to take a well earned two week vacation to isle del fino. The council promised him that everything would remain in order while he was away and to send for him if anything came up as soon as possible. It took a lot of convincing on their part for him to finally accept it but by the next day he had everything packed up and was heading down the hall of the castle to get to the pipe that would take him to the airport.

The Princess met him in the hall after the usual morning meeting. She was surprised to see that he was still here.

"I hope you have a nice trip Toadsworth.  Please try not to think about work while you're on vacation, we have everything handled here." Peach told him feeling more confident than she'd had in a long while.

"I know you will. You're an amazing leader my dear. I will do my best to put work in the back of my mind but it can be challenging. I'll write to you as soon as I get there" He said, motioning her to give him a hug.

Peach kneeled down to his level and wrapped her arms around him. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. She walked with him to the pipe and helped him up, waiting for him to completely disappear before returning to the castle. She quietly worked in her office for about two hours before one of the council members burst into the room with dire news.

"Princess Peach, The Ice Kingdom has fallen. It's Bowser, he's found the Power star." The blue toad desperately told her.

[miralines]

One thing I think is interesting/useful to note about the Rose Red book is that it is a book that was published in the OUATIS galaxy a little under ten years after the war, and that it has an in-story author— and, crucially, that author is not necessarily an entirely reliable narrator.

More rambling about this under the cut

The author, Althea, is a normcivilian with an unusual amount of sympathy for the now-decommissioned Rose Reds. This is not a popular position, and between:

A) her rhetorical goal of changing the minds of people actively against the Rose Reds being allowed to survive

B) the constraints of mainstream publishers, who are under social/political pressure to not threaten the new government, requiring her to be both neutral and not too challenging,

C) her own corresponding bias in believing that neutrality is both possible and desirable,

and D) her limited viewpoint as a normcivilian (not a Rose Red) from a privileged background,

There are quite a lot of places where events, people, and viewpoints are presented in ways that are somewhat misleading. Althea has a degree in journalism, but she does not live in an entirely free society, and both external forces and her own biases do color the narrative she presents throughout the book.

In short, she’s the equivalent of a left-leaning ally to a marginalized group who’s a bit more centrist than one might hope and is presenting herself as even more centrist in order to be published at all through mainstream channels and taken seriously by people who are biased against her cause.

[eijiroukiriot]

why do you see bkg as trans?

i've had this ask sitting in my drafts since like august BECAUSE i knew if i did the question justice it was gonna get VERY long and pretty personal - if i'm gonna talk about it then i gotta talk about it in all earnest. and you've given me the floor to talk about it. so!!

at first i had these typed out as two separate points but i think they go a lot more hand-in-hand than that, so to start - when i think about my own gender and why i can't bring myself to identify fully with womanhood a lot of it is because there's something that feels so free about masculinity. mostly just like because of womanhood on a societal level a lot of my experience as a girl forever has been "you need to think about how your existence makes other people feel. you really need to present yourself in a way that's pleasant for other people. the way you look, the way you talk, the way you conduct yourself - people are entitled to having a say in all that. and if any of that isn't living up to the way it's supposed to be, then that's a fault of yours." here's a vent post i made when i was 17:

which is mostly really superficial examples of the suffocating expectation of girlhood but it's also so blatantly about bkg. in the moment my thought process was more like "i'm so deeply unsatisfied with so many parts of being a girl, it sounds like there'd be so many less people to answer to if i were a boy" but it's funny reading back on it bc it's like "dude are you just talking about bkg". but then who's a better example of choosing to stomp through life exactly as loud and rude as he wants to be without answering to anyone than bakugou katsuki!! honest about his thoughts in any case!! free to speak as bluntly and rudely as he wants!! never putting up with shit that makes him feel unlike himself!! walks with big wide steps and wears stupid baggy clothes and doesn't care what people have to say about it and doesn't feel worse if they do disagree. grins crazy blasting himself through the air. fights with big windup swings and shouts all the while. huge huge presence and so unafraid to assert it. named himself great・explosion・murder・god dynamight. i think i project a big sense of defiance onto bkg's character because everything he is just feels so defiant to me. there's just a lot that i admire about boyhood and bkg feels like the embodiment of it to me

and then you've got bkg himself, who like- isn't even fulfilling the "doesn't feel worse about himself if he is genuinely not the greatest or kindest" part of it!! bkg's character is so centered around figuring out who he is and like navigating through the mortifying ordeal of existing and not actually liking the person you are and trying to figure out where to go from there- he really thinks he has so much to prove...both in the sense that he DOES want to project this big image and also that he really can't cut himself a break. and then he freaks out when he's not becoming the person he wants to be and picks a fight with deku over it and totally breaks down and picks himself back up and forces himself to seriously rewire the entire view of himself and others that he's had his entire life - he's 16 - and goes to all this teeth-clenching effort to be a better person and has highs and lows and wears himself raw and then comes back to life. well the quality of the later part of his arc is very debatable. but his character is so about just figuring out who he is and kind of failing at it a lot of the time. and then eventually figuring it out and getting confident and stable in it. he makes friends who rib on him because they know he's got a good heart under it all, and moreover he lets them. he gets good at shouting something back and carrying on. you see the amount of conscious thinking it takes him to take some of those steps - rethinking his relationship with deku, the god am i really fucking doing this scoff before he gives kirishima back the money - but a lot of it is just steady growth. growing up. genuinely getting more comfortable and more okay with himself over time. but there's also all these little failures along the way because he's just a kid figuring it out, and also genuinely this anger towards the world for not understanding it when he does assert himself (sports festival....where deku also specifically notes that he knows he's not as confident as he wants to be!)

i haven't really closely reread bnha in a sec so a lot of this is probably a lot of projecting (i know it's undeniably influenced by the picture of bkg i have in my head) and i probably also didn't really clarify anything, because in the end everything bakugou is feels very trans to me. "the image you have of bkg katsuki in your head can actually be so personal" etc. digging into my archives i found this post from years back where i described basically the same stuff about bkg being a teen figuring himself out and saying "so yeah he's trans" without being able to hit it more on the head. kirishima is my favorite most special boy of all time, and i love him in so many ways, but bkg is my cringefail stinky teen boy in w the unshatterable determination to actually go MAKE himself the person he wants to be, no matter how many missteps he makes on the way there. it brings me a lot of comfort to imagine him being a self-made man as a part of the because gender is so confusing and questioning can be so intense. i'm 23 and i'm typing all this about an anime boy so i hope it's evident what a soul-bearingly honest answer this is bc otherwise oh haha embarrassing. but yeah i love that kid. i hope every little victory and day where his voice sounds good to him and glance of his top scars in the mirror feels like one of the high points on the journey