#I love alexandrite too

[yogurtlid10000]

another assortment of old HNK art (gamer edition)

IGNORE that phos’s computer screen has the touchscreen buttons OK I TOOK A SCREENSHOT FROM MY IPAD Ik it looks wrong.

😰ok have a nice day

[constellationcrowned]

((While it's still stressful sometimes (and it probably always will be just in general,) I feel as though my moving/splitting my blogs was the right decision on the whole and I'm far more comfortable here than anywhere else even with the inherent struggle and this blog is both my pride and priority for very very very good reasons. Those close to me understand what I mean in full, I'm sure.

This being said I'm having one of those strange, kinda funny little moments where I wish my muses were still all in one place if only because certain muses went incredibly well together and thinking of stuff between them was so fun for me. I can still do that, of course, but it's not the same.))

[emperorundying]

💀The Locked Tomb Dashboard Simulator Part 4💀

🤐 necromancer-confessions

Anonymous asked:

i'm a third house non magic user and i've started hanging out with more necros lately and... i think i didnt realize how much of hanging out consisted of talking about the eroticism of the flesh !! and i dont want to judge them but u hear the words 'viscera' 'adipose' and 'sounding' in the same sentence one too many times and u kinda wonder why yr there as someone who cannot manipulate nerves :( ig im just feeling kind of left out

#anon this is totally regular for necros esp 3rd housers #if they dont understand that you feel left out, maybe have one use their necromancy on you? #there are many ways to assemble a skeleton

(112 notes)

💉 se7en Follow

bc these have been going around :3

( 1,829 notes )

💀 6ske-le-un9 Follow

#SOOOO SICK OF SPIRIT MAGICIANS IN MY INBOX ACTING LIKE THEY KNOW BONES BETTER THAN ME #get boned bitch grrrrrr

(1,002 notes)

♱ midnighthagette Follow

this edible aint shit

♱ midnighthagette Follow

why is the seventh saint to serve the emperor undying under my bed.

💎 saintofawe ☑️

Again with the insaneposting? How unfortunate, Harry, I thought we were past this.

(21,871 notes)

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

V important thread!!!

Idc how much anon hate i get 4 this, we need 2 be able to appreciate the loving hand that guidez us💗

#sick 2 my stomach seeing all of these posts against the necrolord prime without knowing the context of the beautiful things he's done for us :((((((( #mr undying i am yr biggest fan u deserve better than this....

(2,023 notes)

👤 foundations-of-decay-deactivated-8172202

if one more person unprompted asks me for blood pics again i swear to the bones above i will stab myself or smth

🩸 ab-justmytype-o Follow

stabbing pics queen?

(9,308 notes)

[pinterestmom5]

more HNK modern au, just some crumbs as I do my homework lol

Shake shack phos! I decided Alexandrite is the one helping the new hire because he learned how to cook in the manga LOL

Also euclase and jade are here now too YAY 🥳 I love them

[thedamselzelda]

Two Hearts Torn

Featuring: Fyodor Dostoevsky & Dazai Osamu

Summary: Broken, beaten, battered, and bruised. What keeps a heart from beating as one? For two, it's torn between losses and consequences of years past. However, in this twisted game, only calculated moves will stitch these hearts back together.

word count: 7.7k+, fem!reader, HOTD!reader, nsfw (oral sex m! receiving, unprotected sex, quick moment of domestic abuse [possessive Fyodor, very unhealthy relationship]), reader referred to with other names (no use of y/n), Russian words used (general meanings at the end), reader dissociates.

Author Chat: After an overwhelming poll, I have written another part of this story (tbh, I was a little too happy for it to win)! This part isn't as dark as I originally wrote it, as I couldn't bring myself to slander Fyodor too much. What can I say, the man is my #3 (behind my b-day buddy Chuya and my #1 Dazai ofc).

I also feel the need to mention before this part that this is an installment apart of the Beast AU. Yes, reader is married to Fyodor, however, the story is primarily a Dazai x reader story.

Hope you guys enjoy!

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You stared at your reflection in the ornate vanity mirror, the face looking back at you feeling strangely unfamiliar. With delicate movements, you began to remove the bobby pins from your hair, allowing each strand to cascade onto your shoulders. Your eyes, a striking violet, searched your own gaze in the mirror, desperately grasping for clarity amidst the whirlwind of memories from the night. A weary sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and rested your head in your hands, succumbing to the flood of memories about him. The lingering effect he had on you was both frustrating and thrilling, a contradiction that left you feeling dizzy.

There was no doubt in your mind about the reason for his visit - he came solely to see you. The realization sent a shiver down your spine. Yet, his unexpected question about what it would take for you to leave the House of the Dead, to abandon your husband, had caught you completely off guard, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You extended your arm forward, observing the glistening ring on your finger. The alexandrite stone caught the dim light of your boudoir, its colors shifting mesmerizingly from a deep emerald to a rich purple as you turned your hand. Regret washed over you like a cold wave, seeping into your bones as you contemplated your choice of gem. The stone, his birthstone, now felt like a silent betrayal, a constant reminder of the man you couldn't forget, couldn't refrain from loving despite everything. Disgust rose in your throat, bitter and biting, as you berated yourself for not choosing a simple, neutral diamond instead. The realization that your heart had once again acted without your conscious consent left you feeling raw and exposed.

Your mind drifted to the circumstances of your marriage to Fyodor. The decision felt rushed, almost impulsive in hindsight. It served no real purpose for either of you beyond Fyodor's antiquated notion of propriety. His timid words echoed in your memory, tinged with an air of pious restraint:

"I could not lay with you unless we were wed..."

You rolled your eyes at the thought, irritation prickling beneath your skin like tiny needles. Initially, aligning yourself with Fyodor had been a calculated move, a way to strike back at Dazai and the unfair hand of cards you had been dealt in life. But over time, it had evolved into something more complex, a relationship built on stolen moments - chaste kisses on hands and lips, always restrained by his devout adherence to religious principles. His unwavering commitment to God frustrated you; for what cruel deity would curse you with such an ability?

The irony of your situation wasn't lost on you. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined yourself married, not even to Dazai. Life within the Mafia, and now in the House of the Dead, seemed incompatible with such conventional milestones. You had been content in your life with Dazai, before his gradual descent into whatever labyrinthine plans now consumed him.

Now, you found yourself in a precarious position. Isolated, you focused your efforts on seizing The Book from Dazai, the key to Fyodor's grand plan of overwriting this hellish reality. The weight of this mission hung heavy on your shoulders, a constant reminder of the complex web of loyalties, desires, and regrets that now defined your existence.

A soft click of your bedroom door stole you from your thoughts, your eyes shifting in the mirror to the figure entering your room. Fyodor's reflection appeared behind you, his rich purple eyes tired, as if he had paused his work to come and deal with you.

"Oh, moya lyubov', I wasn't expecting you." The lie slipped easily from your lips, even as you knew he would see through it. You had expected him, especially after how easily Nikolai had caught on to the change in your demeanor. Damn Nikolai...

"Moya zhena, I hear you've had quite the exciting day." His voice was smooth, yet laced with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place.

You made no indication of moving from your position as you looked up at Fyodor in the mirror. His weary smile was laced with fondness, yet you could detect icy undertones beneath the surface. He drifted over to you, his movements graceful despite his apparent exhaustion. His hands, cool and slender, came to rest upon your shoulders as he leaned down to place a kiss upon your undone hair.

His warm breath caressed your scalp, his lips parting as if on the verge of speech. Before he could utter a word, you smoothly began recounting your evening, carefully omitting any mention of Dazai's appearance.

"It was so tedious," you sighed, reaching for your makeup remover. "And now I'll have to get the carpet replaced." You dabbed at your face, the cool liquid erasing the traces of the night. Fyodor merely hummed in response, his intense gaze following your every movement.

"I suppose I'll have to search for a new group to take on the Port Mafia," you continued, your tone deliberately casual. "Maybe I should seek help from that Detective Agency. Perhaps they would work for the right price."

"No," Fyodor interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. You turned; shock evident on your features. He had never disagreed with your suggestions before, always supporting your efforts to obtain The Book.

His knuckles grazed your cheek, sending an involuntary chill down your spine. His lips curled into a malicious smile, violet eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.

"Moy dorogoy, you've never been a terrible liar," he purred, his voice silky smooth yet laced with venom. "However, the secrets you keep have always been so apparent."

Your eyes narrowed as you searched the storm brewing before you. Suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat, swift and firm, forcing you to your feet. The pressure increased, making each breath a struggle.

His face hovered mere millimeters from yours, his breath fanning over your lips. "You forget yourself, moya zhena. You belong to me. I know every move you make here, malen'kaya mysh'."

A desperate squeak escaped you as you gasped for air, your fingers clawing at his hand. "I know, please," you managed to choke out.

"He was here tonight," Fyodor hissed, his eyes blazing. "And I hear you two did more than just talk."

He released you abruptly, causing you to stumble back. You massaged your throat, gulping in fresh air. After regaining your composure, a smirk played on your lips. "All this because I danced with him?"

In a fluid motion, the back of his hand struck across your face, swinging back up to grasp the back of your head firmly. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "He is still in love with you. From how you feign the mere mention of him, I would suspect that you, moya lyubyashchaya zhena, also still love him."

A pain sparked upon your lips as you smirked, a breathy laugh escaping as you slipped into Russian, "Budto. It's as you suggested; I have initiated another plan by indulging him in a dance is all."

His eyes softened slightly, his grip on your scalp loosening. "Speak."

"He wants me to come back, to rejoin the Mafia," you explained, the words flowing effortlessly. "We can use that. Let me slip back into his good graces. He's bound to eventually have me up in his office. There, I can do what none of those assassins could, and take The Book for ourselves."

His anger was quickly replaced at your obedience, a soft smile reappearing. "Chudesnyy, moya lyubov'. I believe that is a great plan."

His eyes darted to your lips, urging you to quickly grasp the collar of his white buttoned shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you lightly. You could feel him reveling in your compliance. His hand drifted from the nape of your neck, down to your waist, pulling you flush to him. His lips danced among yours, fervently melting.

Your fingers deftly toyed with the hem of his pants, coaxing a chuckle from your lover’s lips. He hummed as your body pressed against his, your hands slipping past the cloth to grasp his hardened cock. You smile at his breathy moan by your mere touch, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"What you do to me, ty lisitsa." His eyes trailed you as you dipped down to your knees. His fingers combed into your hair, pulling every last strand from your face. Your eyes panned to his as you pulled his pants down slightly to free his hardened, leaky member. One hand rested upon his hip, the other supporting him as your tongue slips out, barely brushing against his tip, tasting the salty cream from his slit. He hissed, rocking himself forward slightly to you. You hum, releasing his gaze, closing your eyes as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.

"Ugn, so beautiful, moya lyubov'." His praises reach your ears; his lips uttering your name, like a thankful prayer to his God above.

His tip reaches the back of your throat, and your eyes squeeze together to feign from gagging. You draw back slightly, barely parting your lips to allow your tongue to trail behind. Your hand pumping in your lips wake, applying gentle pressure. 

He gathered your hair into one hand, using the freedom to brush a dripping tear from your cheek. "Takaya khoroshaya devochka."

Your lips close around his cock once more, dipping yourself to push your nose flush with his hips. You suppress a gag once more as your throat spasms against his length. 

"I must have you, moya lyubov'," his voice shaky, nearly causing you to laugh at his submissive behavior. You don’t release him just yet, however, gently sucking as you bob upon him. His knees slightly buckle at your defiance, earning a tug of your hair, pulling you from him.

He pulls you to stand by your hair, a slight burn forming from the aggressive pull. He releases you, grasping at the vanity seat to shove it out of the way. You were next on his brief redecorating of your room. Grasping you firmly by your hips, eagerly pulling at the skirt of your formfitting dress and forcing it up to your waist. His hands roughly grip onto you before pushing you into the vanity. 

You’re lifted by Fyodor to sit upon the cold surface, legs slotting open as he aggressively grasps your face to kiss you once more, as if it was his last dying breath. His member plays at your clothed cunt, slightly dripping from your arousal. His hand leaves your face, his fingers tugging at the cloth to pull it aside, aligning himself. He pulls at your waist once more, fixing the angle to allow himself to slide between your plush walls.

“Fuck!” You sharply exhale, your eyes slotting closed. Instinctively, you lurched forward to grasp onto him, and to rest your chin upon his shoulder. Your hands rested upon his nape and back, holding onto him as his hands gripped yours in a way that would leave bruises behind. His lips grazed your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and soft bites. 

Your eyes slowly opened as his thrusts grew sloppier, evident of his impending release within you. Across from you, you saw your reflection in the closet mirror, allowing you to observe the explicit moment before you. However, your mind saw and heard different; the black hair entangled within your hands was brown and curly, the muffled, breathy moans against your neck were replaced with lowly grunts and words of praise, and the suit of the man before you became stained black. 

You wanted to utter his name as you felt your release, like a call out to him to stay far away from the danger you would inflict upon him. Yet, you stifled the moan by biting your lip as you felt a warmth fill you to your core.

Fyodor sighed contently, releasing you from his harsh grip. He pulled his softening cock from your cunt, his seed dripping from you. He stepped to the side, observing his appearance within the mirror as he begins to fix himself before leaving you.    

“I will get started on that plan tomorrow, moy dorogoy.” You utter as you slide from the vanity.

“Ochen' khorosho,” were his parting words to you as he began to leave for the door. You slip your dress back down, not worrying about the state of it. You notice as you look up that he is awaiting your attention before amending his last words. “See you in my next life, moy angel smerti.”

You give out a plain breathy laugh, “Till true death do us part, moya lyubov'.”

The pulsing energy of weekend nights had faded, replaced by the more subdued atmosphere of a weekday evening at The Midnight's Caress. Yet, even on these quieter nights, the club maintained a steady flow of patrons - a mix of devoted regulars and wide-eyed tourists drawn to its allure. Tonight, however, held special significance. A special visitor had arrived, someone who held a place in your heart from the days before Dazai's induction into the Port Mafia.

You made your entrance with practiced grace, descending from the second-floor terrace. Your presence commanded attention, drawing admiring glances from across the dimly lit space. Ignoring the adoration, your gaze remained fixed on your destination - the sleek bar opposite the sunken dance floor and stage.

A solitary figure occupied one of the barstools. Even from a distance, you recognized the familiar shock of unkempt auburn hair and the well-worn light brown overcoat. As you approached, you watched him raise an ornate crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid to his lips.

"And here I thought," you began, your voice carrying a hint of amusement as rich chocolate eyes met yours, “that you avoided lurking around Mafia territory at all costs, mister detective”

A warm smile spread across the man's face as he spoke your name, his tone tinged with fondness. “Well, if it's to see an old friend, I'm willing to take my chances.”

You feigned offense, placing your hands on your hips in mock indignation. “Sakunosuke Oda, did you just call me old?”

His head fell into a gentle shake, accompanied by a soft laugh that seemed to momentarily erase the tension from his features. You joined in his laughter, sliding onto the barstool next to him. While maintaining a careful distance, you positioned yourself to face outward, keeping a vigilant eye on the space between you and the stage.

Glancing sideways, you studied Oda's familiar profile, your gaze lingering on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. A mischievous glint sparked in your eye as you asked, your voice a playful whisper, "Did you pay for that?"

Oda's eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of amusement passing through them before he looked back down at the tumbler. His voice was steady, tinged with a hint of pride. "Of course."

You sighed, rolling your eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Leaning across the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you beckoned the blonde bartender with a subtle, elegant gesture. "Reimburse him," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument, the words crisp and authoritative in the dimly lit space.

"No, you don't have to do that," Oda protested, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Your response was swift and sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the club. "He does if he would like to keep his job." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play in this world you both inhabited, albeit from different sides. You softened your tone slightly, adding, "My friends do not need to worry about such things here."

A teasing glint returned to Oda's eyes as he accepted his reimbursement. "Oh, you have friends now?" he quipped, his voice warm with familiarity."Oda!" You laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. "I almost do want to make you pay now."

"That was the goal," he replied, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. He stuffed the money into his pants pocket before grasping his glass once more.

The bartender materialized behind you, placing an identical tumbler filled with amber liquid onto the bar. You gave the glass a cursory glance before turning your attention back to the club.

Oda's voice drew you back from your reverie, curiosity evident in his warm tone. "So, how is it, being a club owner?"

"Boring," you replied dryly, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "How is it, being a detective?"

"Anything but boring. I'm always doing something, it feels like," Oda responded, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. Memories of your shared past flickered through your mind, a reminder of the complex relationship that bound you both.

Oda's voice softened as he continued, "We just recently recruited this boy."A breathy chuckle escaped your lips. "So, you've taken in another orphan. I swear, are you raising an army over there?"

Oda's rich laughter echoed within the glass at his lips, the sound warm and comforting. "It does seem like that, doesn't it?" He paused, his expression growing more serious. "I worry about this boy. I picked him up on the riverbank, and he attempted to attack me."

You listened intently, grateful for the chance to lend an ear to your friend's concerns. The ambient noise of the club faded into the background as you focused on Oda's words.

"I don't know what it is about this boy," Oda continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's in search of his sister... harbors the unruliest plans for this man that he describes as 'the man in black.'"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you turned to meet Oda's intrigued gaze. "This boy," you began cautiously, "does he have black hair? Two little tufts of white on the ends?"

Oda gave a hesitant nod, his hand now outstretched to offer you your glass. You accepted it carefully, the cool crystal a stark contrast to the warmth of realization spreading through you.

"Be careful of that boy. I remember his name clearly. Akutagawa Ryūnosuke." Your voice lowered, heavy with the weight of memory. You looked down at your glass, tapping your fingers along its surface rhythmically. "I was there when the Port Mafia found him, shortly before I left for Italy. There were plans to recruit him. However, it was determined... that he was unfit to join us."

Your eyes rose to meet Oda's, his face a careful mask hiding his thoughts. "There is a beast inside of that boy, Oda. I pray that you teach and guide him, to learn to tame it."

You paused, bringing the crystal glass to your lips for a sip. As the whiskey touched your tongue, your eyes widened in surprise. You pulled the glass back, glancing towards the shelves behind the bar. Your gaze settled on a familiar bottle, its amber contents glowing softly in the low light. You eyed it with a mixture of suspicion and resigned amusement. That snake, you thought, recognizing Dazai's handiwork in the choice of spirits.

Shaking your head slightly, you made a mental note to address that matter later. Your voice grew heavy with warning as you continued, "Or that beast will one day consume him. I've seen it near happen to the boy they did take in."

Oda's brow furrowed in concern. "I can agree; I share those thoughts exactly. Do you, by chance, know what happened to his sister?"

You gave a curt shake of your head, the movement causing the dim lights to dance across your features. "I know that the Port Mafia took her, however, I don't know what became of her."

Oda finished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass, the ice clinking softly as he set it before the bartender for a refill. "I see," he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

A moment of contemplative silence fell between you, the ambient noise of the club fading into the background. You could feel Oda's gaze studying your face as you surveyed the array of guests for the evening, your eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease.

"So, what happened with that?" Oda's question broke the silence, his hand gesturing towards his own lip and the side of his face.

"Oh," you replied, feigning ignorance about your appearance. You had attempted to cover the cut on your lip and the small bruise that had formed across your cheekbone from the night before. "Just an unruly guest. Unfortunate, and obviously for him, he didn't make it."

Oda hummed, a note of skepticism in his tone. It was clear he didn't fully believe the story you had fabricated. You huffed as you finished the rest of your glass, the warm liquid burning a path down your throat. Turning to him, you shifted the conversation once more. "What about your book? When will I be able to read the first draft?"

A soft smile graced Oda's features as he looked back down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid absently. "I've been having horrible writer's block. I know what I want to say, it's just getting it to paper that's the problem."

"Well," you gave a breathy chuckle, rising from your seat with fluid grace. His eyes met yours, a shared understanding passing between you. You both knew these encounters were rare and precious, a stark contrast to your shared youth. "You know where I'll be, ready to receive and critique. But to love it all the same."

"For the long wait, how about I dedicate it to you?" Oda offered, a hint of warmth in his voice.

You gave a warm smile, placing your hands upon your chest in dramatic adoration. The gesture was playful, but the emotion behind it was genuine. "Awe, Oda. You do care!"

Oda's head dipped down once more, his shoulders shaking with muffled laughter. You took a deep breath, the familiar ache of longing settling in your chest. More than anything, you wished you could embrace him, to feel the comfort of his brotherly affection that had been so freely given in your childhood. You knew deep down that he wished the same; on several occasions, he had forgotten the limitations of your ability, only to be reminded by Flawless.

"I have business I have to attend to, but you may stay as long as you like," you said, your voice softening with regret at having to cut the reunion short. You tapped the polished bar top twice, a silent signal to your bartender. He understood immediately, preparing your glass as well as a secondary pour of the whiskey you had been drinking.

Grasping the two crystal tumblers, the amber liquid catching the low light, you gave a final look to your dear friend. Your eyes lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory. "See you around, Odasaku," you said, the nickname slipping out unexpectedly.

Oda's eyebrows raised slightly, a quizzical look crossing his features at the unfamiliar moniker. You found yourself equally surprised, giving him a small shrug in response. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a warm smile, and he raised his glass in a silent toast as you began to walk away.

Your heels clicked softly on the polished floor as you made your way back toward the staircase leading to your office. The weight of the glasses in your hands was a tangible reminder of the responsibilities waiting for you, pulling you away from this brief moment of connection. As you ascended the stairs, you could feel Oda's gaze following you, a bittersweet mixture of fondness and longing that mirrored your own emotions.

Dazai's keen eyes followed your figure as you made your way back up to your office. His gaze then darted to Oda, who was nodding to the bartender, offering thanks and sliding money across the polished bar top. A wry smile found its way onto Dazai's face as he admired Oda's persistence in compensating the man. He felt a familiar twinge of jealousy watching you two interact from afar, reminded of the bond you and Oda shared which transcended any version of yourselves.

Turning away from the window, Dazai met your gaze as you entered the office. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to punctuate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Thank you, Dimitri," you called out, your eyes never leaving Dazai's. He could tell by the set of your jaw that he was in trouble, especially noting the two crystal tumblers in your hands. You raised an eyebrow questioningly, holding up the glasses. "We've only reconnected for one night, and you decided to take it upon yourself to amend my liquor choices?"

Dazai suppressed a small laugh, gratefully accepting the offered glass. The crystal was cool against his fingers. "I only had Chūya go up to the bar and request a drink. When the bartender replied that you don't supply this brand, I had it ordered and shipped to you immediately."

He watched you roll your eyes, unamused but continuing to listen before objecting. The light from the desk lamp cast dramatic shadows across your face, emphasizing the slight furrow of your brow.

"What can I say? Something just told me I'd be back here sooner than expected, so I made a few liberties—"

"Liberties?" You scoffed, though there was a hint of amusement in your tone. You glided past him, the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the air. Settling back into your chair, you continued, "You quite literally had my bartender stock something without my knowledge, most likely due to knowing it was the Port Mafia Boss's favorite."

Dazai savored the rich, smoky flavor of the whiskey as he took a long sip, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He gracefully lowered himself into one of the chairs facing your desk, his keen eyes noting how they seemed slightly out of place in the otherwise meticulously arranged office. During your absence, he had seized the opportunity to explore the room, his observant gaze catching details that others might overlook.

A rug, he deduced, had once adorned the space before your desk. Now, a faint square of fresh wood flooring, spanning no more than six feet, stood in stark contrast to the worn, darker planks surrounding it. At the center of this cleaned area, Dazai's sharp eyes detected a slightly darker outline. His mind, ever quick to analyze, immediately recognized the telltale signs of a bloodstain that had been hastily, if not entirely successfully, concealed. The discovery sent a small thrill through him.

"You enjoy the drink, too, don't lie. I saw you down there drinking it with Odasaku," Dazai said, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity he hadn't intended.

You gave Dazai a puzzled look, your brow furrowing slightly as you processed his words. He realized his slip immediately, watching as a flicker of confusion passed across your features. The usually composed demeanor he wore like armor had cracked, revealing an experience he hadn't been granted in this life.

"My apologies," he quickly corrected himself, his voice regaining its usual smooth rhythm. The words flowed like silk, masking his momentary lapse. "I had only heard you call him that a few times before you left. You always spoke fondly of the man who defected."

He observed intently as you silently began to question yourself, your hand reaching back to scratch your head in recollection of more than four years ago. The gesture was subtle, but to Dazai's keen eye, it spoke volumes about your inner turmoil. However, much to his relief, you quickly moved past the topic without dwelling on it further.

You set your drink down upon the polished surface of your desk, the crystal making a soft 'clink' against the wood. Clearing your throat, a confident smirk coated your peach-stained lips, the color a striking contrast against your skin in the warm light of the office.

"Besides the topic of my apparently new inventory," you said, emphasizing the word with a hint of playful accusation, "did you want to continue your losing game?"

Dazai chuckled, the sound low and rich. He leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking slightly under his shifting weight. "I think you've forgotten, but I was winning."

A light laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with a momentary lightness. "I had your queen for the taking. Without it, what even is the game?"

Dazai hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing through possibilities far beyond the chessboard. In his mind's eye, he saw not just chess pieces, but the intricate dance of allegiances and betrayals that defined their world. Indeed, his queen was cornered - both in the game and in life - but Dazai was nothing if not a master strategist. Just as you had been hasty to claim victory, he knew exactly how to turn the tides. His plan wasn't just to save a piece on a board, but to reclaim the Queen before him that he had lost to Fyodor's trickery.

His lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. This game was far from over, and Dazai intended to win back what was rightfully his, piece by carefully manipulated piece. The anticipation built within him, not just for his next move in chess, but for the grand strategy that would bring you back to his side, away from Fyodor's influence.

Dazai's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Ah, but you've overlooked something crucial," he said, his voice smooth and confident. “It's my turn, remember? And with just one move, I'll not only save my queen but put you in a rather precarious position."

He set his glass down and leaned forward, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the desk as if recreating the chessboard. "My knight to F6. It simultaneously blocks your attack on my queen and threatens your bishop. Now, you're faced with a dilemma – do you capture my knight and leave your bishop vulnerable, or do you retreat and lose your advantage?"

A sly smile played on his lips as he continued, "In chess, as in life, it's not just about the pieces you have, but how you use them. Sometimes, a seeming disadvantage can be turned into a powerful opportunity with the right strategy."

His eyes met yours, the intensity in them suggesting he might be talking about more than just the game. "So, shall we continue? I'm quite curious to see how you'll respond to this... unexpected development."

You leaned back in your chair, a mixture of amusement and respect flickering across your features. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head slightly, your eyes meeting Dazai's intense gaze.

"Well played, Dazai," you conceded, your voice carrying a note of admiration. "I should have known better than to underestimate you. Your knight to F6 is indeed a clever move."

You paused, your fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest as you visualized the board in your mind. After a moment, a sly smile crept onto your face. "However, you're not the only one with tricks up their sleeve. I'll move my rook to E4. It puts pressure on your knight and maintains the threat to your queen. Plus, it opens up a potential attack on your king's flank."

Leaning forward, you picked up your glass, and place it against your plump bottom lip. "In chess, as in our line of work, it's all about adapting to the unexpected, isn't it? One must always be prepared to shift strategies at a moment's notice."

You took a sip of the whiskey, savoring its rich flavor before continuing, "So, Dazai, what’s your move?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he considered your move. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a thoughtful sip. “In that case, I'll move my bishop to D3, threatening your rook while maintaining defense of my queen.”

The game continued, each of you calling out moves, the imaginary board shifting in your minds with every declaration. The office fell into a rhythm of quiet contemplation broken by decisive statements, the clink of ice in glasses punctuating each turn.

"Knight to C6," you said, your voice steady.

"Pawn to A4," Dazai responded smoothly.

As the imaginary pieces dwindled, the tension in the room grew. Finally, after what felt like hours compressed into minutes, you both fell silent, a mutual realization dawning.

"Well," you said, a mix of frustration and admiration in your voice, "it seems we've reached an impasse."

Dazai nodded, his expression mirroring yours. "Indeed. By my count, we each have a king, a rook, and two pawns left. Neither of us can make a legal move without putting our king in check."

"Stalemate," you both said in unison, then shared a quiet laugh at the synchronicity. As your laughter died down, Dazai couldn’t help but admire you. While it seemed much had changed about you within the last four or so years, you were still sharp, quick on your feet, and though your encounter before last with one another within the confines of his penthouse was heated, it was as though it never happened.

Dazai raised his glass in a toast. "To a game well played. It's not often I encounter an opponent who can match me move for move. I’ve missed doing this with you."

You clinked your glass against his. "Likewise, Dazai. This was fun."

Dazai's intense gaze bore into your violet eyes, searching once again for a shred of the girl that once loved him. He knew you had to still harbor something, given your willingness to allow him into your office just one night after reconnecting, although you had resisted at first. A heavy sigh escaped your lips amid the charged silence, your eyes darting down to his lips. He mirrored the action, his tongue unconsciously brushing across his top lip.

In the days of your shared youth, the victor of these mental chess matches would be granted one request, no limits ever set. Trust and honesty were once pivotal, sacred even. But after touching The Book, everything changed.

Dazai watched intently as you shifted in your plush leather chair, leaning forward to examine the documents he had laid before you earlier. Your slender fingers opened the tan folder, eyes scanning its contents. Nervous anticipation built within him as he awaited your reaction.

A scoff broke the silence. It was somewhat expected.

"You want to buy The Midnight's Caress?" You looked up, an exaggerated eye roll accompanying your words.

"You're already paying us to leave you and your business be. I thought it would make more sense to annex your club since you already serve many mafiosos," Dazai explained, his voice smooth and persuasive.

Your eyes returned to the proposition. Dazai had been uncharacteristically considerate; you would remain owner, permitted to run the club as you saw fit, retaining eighty percent ownership.

"Ninety," you countered, your gaze drifting up from the paper. With practiced ease, you opened a drawer within your ornate desk, fingers grasping for a sleek box of cigarettes. The soft scrape of the box opening filled the quiet room as you extracted a single cigarette. The flick of your lighter cast a brief, warm glow across your features as you lit it. You inhaled deeply, the ember glowing bright orange in the dim office. Exhaling a plume of smoke, you placed the cigarette delicately between your index and middle fingers before uttering your next argument. "Giving you twenty percent would be grossly over what I already give you, which I've already been quite generous with."

Dazai raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Given the club's popularity and the financial records he'd meticulously reviewed, he'd calculated that twenty percent ownership would be a small sacrifice. Yet, he'd anticipated some resistance from you.

You held the box out to him, one cigarette poking out invitingly. He leaned forward, long fingers grasping the rolled tobacco. Rising smoothly, he placed the cigarette between his lips. Leaning over your desk, he pressed his unlit cigarette to yours. His eyes, intense and searching, locked with yours as he contemplated his counter.

"Giving twenty percent would include more than just protection, Bella," Dazai remarked, his voice low and smooth as he relaxed back into the chair.

You laced your fingers together, resting your elbows on the polished desk. Your eyes fluttered, the lit cigarette dangling slightly between your lips. "How much are you assuming I'm already giving for this protection?"

“I calculated that it was around twenty percent now.”

A laugh escaped your occupied lips, followed by a click of your tongue. "Twenty? Oh, moye temnoye zhelaniye, I give you way less than that."

Dazai jerked his head back in surprise, questions flooding his mind. How much did you actually give of your earnings? The only logical explanation was the records he had did not contain unreported earnings. Additionally, when did you learn to speak Russian? He had no idea what the phrase meant, but curiosity burned within him.

He watched, transfixed, as you rose from your seat with fluid grace. The soft rustle of your clothing seemed amplified in the hushed office; his senses hyper-aware of your every movement. He tracked your progress as you rounded the desk, his heart rate quickening with each step you took towards him.

When you perched upon the edge of the desk directly in front of him, Dazai felt a rush of heat betray him, crawling up his cheeks in a flush he couldn't quite control. He found himself looking up at you through his eyelashes, acutely aware of the power dynamic shift. The dim light of the office played across your features, casting shadows that accentuated the curves and angles of your face. Dazai's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of you, commanding and alluring in equal measure.

He watched, mesmerized, as you took another leisurely puff from your cigarette. The ember glowed bright for a moment, illuminating your face in a warm, fleeting light that seared itself into his memory. With practiced ease, you blew the smoke out above you, creating a swirling haze that danced in the air between you. The sharp scent of tobacco mingled with your personal fragrance, an intoxicating mixture that seemed to cloud his senses.

As Dazai gazed up at you, he found himself making a silent vow. He would let you have anything you wanted - any percentage, any terms. All that mattered was that you allowed him to remain in your presence, to bask in the captivating aura you exuded.

"I give ten percent of my yearly earnings to you now, Dazai. You're basically asking I near triple that in my eyes, as it's not only money; it's ownership." Your voice carried a hint of steel beneath its smoothness, a reminder of the strength that had always drawn Dazai to you.

Dazai stood to meet your gaze, his movement fluid and deliberate. Your eyes darted from his visible eye down to his lips again as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Seventeen then.” The words hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension.

"You're good at a lot of things, Osamu, negotiating is apparently not one of them." You leaned further in, your breath warm against his skin.

He took a moment, relishing the closeness that you'd allowed once again. However, his keen eye caught sight of a cut upon your bottom lip and faint evidence of a bruise upon your cheekbone, which you had evidently tried to cover, which wasn't there the night before. He saw your eyes widen slightly, likely realizing he'd noticed the wounds marring your features. Before he could question you, you spoke again.

"I own the entire property as of right now. I even live upstairs." You took the cigarette from your mouth, gesturing with your fingers toward the area outside the office. Osamu recalled the elevator he'd noticed across from your office doors. That explained its presence. "You might as well buy the whole building, since it seems you're trying to buy me back into the mafia."

Osamu passively heard you, however, he couldn’t bring himself to reply to you just yet. His mind wouldn’t move past the subtle signs of abuse on your face. The cut on your lip, the faint bruise on your cheekbone - they weren't there last night. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, a mixture of worry and rage threatening to overwhelm him.

He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your face but not quite touching. He remembered how you used to flinch in worry of touching others, but you remained still, even slightly leaning toward his touch.

Finally, his voice whispered your name out, softer than he intended, "This isn't about buying you back into anything. Do you really think I'd try to manipulate you into a life you chose to leave?"

He watched your eyes, those stormy violet orbs that had once looked at him with such trust and affection. Now they seemed guarded, wary. It pained him more than he cared to admit.

"I respect your decisions," he continued, "even if I don't always agree with them. But those marks on your face, cara mia… they weren't there last night."

Osamu felt his hand clench at his side, anger surging through him at the thought of Fyodor laying a hand on you. He fought to keep his voice steady. "This isn't about ownership or percentages. It's about keeping you safe from a man who clearly doesn't value you the way he should. The way you deserve."

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within him. He needed you to understand, to see beyond the business proposition to the genuine concern that drove his actions. Fyodor, in this life and every other, was not a man to be trusted, let alone be married to.

"I won’t ask you again to come back to the mafia. All I'm asking, is for you to let me protect you. Because right now, your independence is coming at a cost that's far too high."

Osamu’s unbandaged eye searched yours, silently pleading. He saw a flicker of something - vulnerability, perhaps - behind your carefully constructed walls. It gave him hope.

"Let me help you," he said softly. "Please."

In that moment, looking into your eyes, Osamu realized just how much he still cared for you; it was overwhelming. The thought of you in pain, of Fyodor hurting you, was unbearable. He knew he'd do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger. Because despite everything that had happened, you were still one of the most important people in his world.

Osamu watched as your eyes widened slightly at his words, a mix of emotions flickering across your face. For a moment, your carefully constructed facade seemed to waver, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability he once knew so well.

His breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his hand that hovered near your face. The touch was electric, sending a shiver through him. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Osamu... it's not that simple."

He held his breath, hoping for more, but you seemed to steel yourself before continuing. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But my life, my choices... they're complicated. More than you know."

Osamu felt a pang in his chest as you slid off the desk, putting a small distance between you. The internal struggle playing out in your eyes was painfully clear to him.

"Ten percent, if you buy the entire building," you said suddenly, your voice regaining its businesslike tone. "That's my final offer. And I maintain full operational control."

The abrupt shift back to business threw him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He recognized your deflection for what it was - a shield, a way to avoid the deeper conversation you both knew you needed to have.

"Agreed," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "But this conversation isn't over. I won't stand by and watch you get hurt, no matter how complicated things are."

You nodded, a small, sad smile playing on your lips. "I know you won't. That's what makes you... you."

As you moved to return to your seat, Osamu caught the briefest flash of something in your eyes. Was it longing? Regret? Or perhaps something more calculating? He couldn't be sure, and it frustrated him. There was a time when he could read you like an open book, but now... now parts of you were a mystery to him.

Watching you settle back into your chair, Osamu began to feel a sharp pang of guilt. He knew he was being selfish, pursuing you when his time in this world was limited. The weight of his secrets - the truth about the Book and his inevitable fate - pressed heavily upon him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell you, it would cost too much. Instead, he made a silent vow to protect you from Fyodor and his plans, and, if possible, win back your trust and affection, even if it was only for a brief moment in time. 

As he gazed at you across the desk, Osamu felt a familiar warmth in his chest, accompanied by a sharp ache. Despite everything, despite the years and the pain and the complications, you were still one of the most important people in his world. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, even if it meant putting himself, his plans, in danger.

"With that matter settled," you said, a smile reappearing on your face as you extinguished your cigarette. "Would you like to try another game of chess? I'd understand if you say no, as assuredly going to win this time."

A rich laugh escaped through Osamu’s lips. "I'd like to see you try," he responded, his eyes gleaming with challenge and amusement.

The game was on, and Osamu intended to win.

previous part ~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: This part took a lot out of me. Again, I had intended it to be much darker, as I see so many write Fyodor as this sweet, quiet man who's tenderly loving his s/o, but I was like "but what if...?" So, that's partly where the inspiration came from, because let's be honest, that man is dark and twisted (you know the looks like a cinnamon roll, will actually kill you).

If you liked, feel free to like and reblog <3 ~DamzelZelda

Song Inspos: Rule #34- Fish in a Birdcage Watch- billie eilish

Russian Word "Dictionary" (Curtesy of [unreliable] Google translate):

moya lyubov': "my love"

moya zhena: "my wife"

moy dorogoy: "my dear"

malen'kaya mysh': "little mouse"

lyubyashchaya: "loving"

budto: "as if"

chudesnyy: "marvelous"

ty lisitsa: "you vixen"

Takaya khoroshaya devochka: "such a good girl"

Ochen' khorosho: "very well"

moy angel smerti: "my angel of death"

moye temnoye zhelaniye: "my dark desire"

[walpu]

Aventurine seeing you try and desperately rebuild your partner with the fake gem remains and part of him feels sad for you because you've been trying for months on end with little to no results. But he's also a little jealous? He can see how hurt you are but somewhere in his selfish heart he hopes they don't come back.

Aventurine getting broken so many times and losing so many inclusions that he starts forgetting the little things you do for him like he's going insane cuz he can't remember what you did together 2 days ago but he can still remember the warm and fuzzy feeling and it scares him. What if he forgets you name next? He couldn't live with that.

What if you make a promise together on a specific day and he forgets? You're so heartbroken and basically avoid him the whole day since you think he doesn't want to hang out with you and Aventurine is just left confused and hurt too because why are you suddenly avoiding him?? What did he do????

when you shatter together and are rebuilt, some of his inclusions get in you and some of yours in him (idk if that's possible but shhh we dream big). He starts to see himself through your eyes, how much you love him and all the things you never told him. You see yourself through his eyes, all his insecurities and emotions that he's bottled up.

ALSO what if reader was like a corundum or moissanite which both have a moh hardness of around 9 ish? So significantly stronger than Aventurine. Reader always throwing themselves in danger to keep him safe....

OK one last thing I PROMiSE

Aventurine still has a pretty high hardness, so the fact that he keeps getting shattered just means he's way too reckless when it comes to his own life. Just the mental imagery of you carefully putting him back together piece by piece, telling him to be more careful...man.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS HNK AU MY BELOVED

reader 🤝 Cinna

broken promises

I imagine reader being very strong but the power comes with a great cost. They have two modes just like Alexandrite but unlike Alex they can control their state.

Their inclusions collect energy from the sunlight and they can use this energy to buff themselves up significantly but at the cost of their hardness and emotional stability (the more energy they use, the more transparent fragile their body becomes). If they use all saved up energy, they'll end up in the comatose state for like 150 years in order to recover completely.

So I like to think they're older than Aventurine physically but not much older mentally since they were in coma when he appeared.

Also. Them using like 90% of the energy in their body during the night raid :) Aven being scared for them but also shocked and heartbroken because they use this power against him :) like oh wow they actually do hate me that much haha :) reader did this to keep up with padpa and be able to fight Aven one on one since even if they're heartbroken they want this moment with him if not as partners then at least as enemies

[notedchampagne]

Bro the 6th familial relationships fuck me up so much like the weird Juno and Pal more of a mentor than a mother vibes? And it seems like from Dr Sex that her and Pal's dad are either divorced or just straight up had nothing to do with each other until the genomics department decided they should have a child together?? Like imagine you're a ruthless academic career-woman and one day you get an email from the government like 'congrats! You're a mother!' And they hand you a fresh vat baby that is half you and half your co-worker that you talked to one time at the Christmas party like??? I don't think I would have the most healthy relationship with that child either tbh

And Cam! Earlier in Nona when Pal and Pyrrha are talking about going to the park it is only Kiki that he mentions she might want to save, no mention that apparently both her parents are there too? Her entire family is on the line here. Then she doesn't want her dads to see the Paul transformation because they "wouldn't understand"? You just know there's some long running disagreement there with how far she's yoking herself in with Pal. Do you think they secretly resent him? Did this cause a rift in their family? And what did the conversation look like before or after the transformation? Did Cam tell them she was about to die? Or did they turn away for five seconds and she finally killed herself for her obsessions behind their back? Who broke the news to them? (Who is going to break the news to Pal's dad?) The whole thing just makes me insane!!!!

Also apparently there is some incredible nepotism going on in the 6th oversight body here (or maybe everything is nepotism on the 6th lol)

YOU GET ME i love the 6th house so so much the way the house functions both as a united family w their genetics & a university with the academic quibbling is so fun to me- the sixths weakness was described as "A sprawling organization of erratic loners, the Sixth are chaotic by nature and terrible at collective action." which is 1) hilarious. palamedes is the peoples marxist princess 2) just generally fascinating as a whole. if we take that at face value and consider the 6th house as populated by genius loner nerds, it actually makes sense that they prioritize sending out attractive people to diversify the gene pool - with reference to your statement: dr sex provided a nice handful of evidence that while palamedes and juno have a formal dynamic, theyre affectionate enough that they seem close (at most, to the extent of some gay kid and their favorite english teacher) but seeing juno like a distant mentor is most likely right

taking on more quotes from dr sex, i think its most likely that the Sixth house encourages child bearing / raising through subsidies and an extended work leave of sorts:

Palamedes said, “Enjoying parenting. Enjoying the parenting buyout, I should say. He’s only doing dissertation supervision—and half a year of Immediate History, of course—but he’s got his own projects on the go.”

alexandrites and nireids might be required to go offworld to flirt and have children (i think i came across another post floating somewhere noticing kiki and cam were half-sisters, implying their parent was one of the mentioned) but for residents staying in the sixth house, they probably have about 3-7 other people they could possibly produce children with outside of consanguinity. although forcing them to have children by way of vat birth etc etc is entirely possible in Hell Empire a lot of them probably gave in just for a few years of parental & academic benefits.

one last point - sixth house children canonically live in a dormitory! so if you consider a professor going on paid leave to raise children while doing their own projects for about 7-9 years, then going back to work while their children are sent to a dorm to do nothing but study and train with other peers their age, it falls together so perfectly bro. it makes so much sense. of course pal and cam are nice to their parents but rarely ever close - they were most likely raised and taught communally! god i love worldbuilding

[lees-chaotic-brain]

First and Last Love (Gojo x Reader)

Second part of the you die in Shibuya mini-series

CW: Mentions of blood, gore, death, disassociation due to trauma, angst, season two spoilers, pretty much stated past satosugu

YDIS Mini-Series Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

It was only logical to send you in first. Shibuya was obviously a trap, and one of your cursed techniques allowed you to alter your appearance to look like others. So naturally as the second strongest sorcerer who could impersonate the strongest, you were sent in to evaluate the situation.

That didn’t mean that Gojo liked it. He knew you were strong, but something about this situation made him uneasy. You had laughed, reassuring him that he was always uneasy when the two of you were separated. And while he supposed that was true, that didn’t make his separation anxiety unfounded.

Especially because much more than the agreed upon thirty minutes had already passed. And still, there was no sign of you. Turning to Yaga he opened his mouth.

“Go.”

Yaga sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know there’s no stopping you. Just…be careful. Please. Just use your brain for once in your life.”

But Gojo was already gone, teleported off to Shibuya. It was child’s play for him to deal with the transfigured humans that Mahito had left scattered in his path so it was mere minutes before he entered the underground station.

He frantically searched for you, yet he couldn’t sense your cursed energy. Desperation took over, and logic and caution fell to the wayside. He was careless, destroying every curse in his path until he came across a strange cube. 

A prison realm. Realizing what it was, he turned and was about to leave the area when something was tossed from behind him, landing with a grotesque splat before him. 

It was a finger, but why…

His world stopped. He couldn’t breathe. Because that finger, that ring finger, had two very familiar rings on it.

The one with the gorgeous alexandrite stone set in rose gold was the engagement ring that he so painstakingly selected for you.

The other was a simple gold band. Its twin currently rested on his own ring finger.

It couldn’t be. His chest felt tight and his vision blurred. What was that finger doing detached from your body? You were fine though. It was just a finger. Shoko could reattach it.

Gently removing the rings from the finger, he pocketed them and turned to confront whoever it was that had tossed it.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

This couldn’t be happening. This was all a dream. He was going to wake up in your shared bed with you in his arms. Safe. Alive. Well.

Uncontrollable hysteria bubbled in him, denial already setting in.

Because really, there was no possible way that his first love was proudly holding up the mangled corpse of the last person he would ever love.

Your limp hand dangled towards the ground, your elbow twisted at an unnatural angle, but all he could focus on was the bloody stub where your left ring finger used to be.

Slowly his eyes trailed upwards, running over your broken and bruised form.

When he finally met your eyes, your dull and lifeless eyes, he began to disassociate from reality.

He had held it together for so long, but seeing the spark absent from your beautiful eyes, replaced instead by a cloudy film was too much for him.

He stood there dumbly, unable to think, feel, or do anything.

He just felt…empty.

The prison realm swallowed him whole, but he found himself unable to care.

The only thing occupying his head was the cruel irony of it all.

His first love had killed his last.

[dompap]

could you draw alexandrite? Idk if you’ve drawn him yet but he’d be cute in your style ^_^

I love Alexandrite! Couldn’t decide on which outfit so here’s sensei Alexandrite too!

Thanks for the ask

[sideblogdotjpeg]

feeling like. ep 60 was such a fantastic arc finale battle ep. and auugh. like so many things. LIKE .

the slow build up of tension over the ep felt really good and perfect, as it escalates from alexandrite being silly and goofy to. gargantuan cyberflesh horror. and how the dice were UNCANNILY perfect for it all. like. the nat 1 vs nat 20 roll for the town and suddenly the entire mood shifts and the stakes are so much realer, and personal. followed up by the nat 20 for the town! followed up by TWO callie crits and her dealing 130 DAMAGE like each turn!!!! like!!!!! AUGH... the. just the beats of it all was soo good and.

tying to that .. the character moments for this ep were so good !!! every character got their moment to shine in the battle. already discussed callie absolutely whomping fucking ass, but of course the smaller moments as well. offering to go and defend calders town. seeing the faewild sky and "i think i needed to leave to become worthy of it" - like and as the culmination of callies arc. from someone who was so scared and running away to. staying, standing, fighting, protecting. AND ITS GOOD.

then of course theres calder. i mean also the . ARC. of the only thing he wanted was not to be overprotected. wanting to be useful - like his brothers, people who had strength and value in the eyes of their people, big enough to defend their town. and he has come all the way here. he changes the tides of the battlefield in the town - and he does it with the attachments of his friends and the love of his family. and like... god. really crystalising his ethos in a way that is foiled so well against gowan. gowan who was too proud to ask for help. vs "i cant do it without you" "but damn does it feel good when your friends have your back" ... !!!! AYYEARGH. like. hes becoming the protector of his home! but maybe now, his home is so much bigger than the ice knife, and hes not fighting alone .... YOU KNOW.

AND SOL!!!!! sol to my knowledge only deals 30 damage this battle but. as a resident sol enjoyer i !!! am VERY MUCH CLAPPING AND CHEERING!! at the deeply supportive role he took on for this fight. like hes the first to get the ice knife away from alexandrite, he gives callie an extra smite, silvery barbs.... ! like the short rest realisation of how different the battle wouldve gone without that silvery barbs is .... ! SO ITS GOOD. and at the end that he was the one to get the final blow on alexandrite and it was for swag is ...

and! that part was obviously a joke! as is the entire "keep em guessing haha alexandrite cant predict what were doing!!!" thing. HOWEVER. relistening to the ezry arc, and their first interaction w alexandrite as we now know her ... i just. REALLY feel like this is the spiritual successor to "were duck team and were messy and were friends and we do everything together and we absolutely suck shit all day long and all night baby". theyre so fucking stupid is the thing. and theyre messy and stupid and constantly saying things that are weird and make no sense and completely and utterly baffling .... and thats DUCK TEAM!!! (theres also a point here where im overreading somewhat. but the part about Keepin em Guessin... one could POSSIBLY argue it interacts in a MAYBE DEEPLY INTERESTIGN WAY with . the idea of the calculated certainty of the AI, the calm and cold prediction of the diviners, and the wild freedom of the peregrines. idk!!! maybe!!! maybe you cld even say that what lies at the heart of duck team is their messiness and outofplaceness and love and care and refusal of the tragedy!!! even!! maybe!! but YEAH. lol random XD ! keep em guessin!)

also the thing that made me write all this which is like. ! the final victory lap scene is just. so wonderfully cathartic, esp with how tense this entire arc has been. its just. fuck yeah we won and all our friends and family are here and safe and riding on mammoths!!! i mean. FUCKING ALBINS BACK!!!! GREGORS HERE AND KICKIN ASS!!! THE MA GOBLIN BRIGADE!!! A WIN. and ... that bit of callie just sitting on the roof playing a guitar as she stares into the fae wild sky is ... its good.. its good..

and all that is maybe. half the reasons why ep 60 is so good. i didnt even get around to talking about the fucking EMILY AXFORD SONG WHICH IVE BEEN PLAYING NONSTOP ALL DAY SO. yeah. so i like this ep i guess

[starrystevie]

hi can I request the valentine prompt for steddie with: I could marry you right now

thank you :)

"i could marry you right now."

steve freezes, his fork halfway to his mouth, and looks at eddie over the candlelight. he has his eyes closed while he comically over-chews to show how much he loves the pasta with his curls bouncing around every time he turns his head for dramatic flair. eddie grins and opens his eyes, flashing a wink over to his boyfriend before taking another bite.

he knows his own eyes must be as big as the dinner plates on the table with eddie's words bouncing around in his now empty head. the ring box that's felt heavy in his pocket through the whole evening feels even heavier now.

"i take it it's good?" is all steve can come up with, muttering out the question before shoving his own forkful of fettucine into his mouth. it is good, he knows it is, he's been working on perfecting the recipe for weeks now. this whole valentine's day has been in the works for the last 4 months, starting with the dinner plans and ending with finally paying off the silver band that's currently burning a hole through his slacks.

"good? steve, i would have your babies if i could and tell them as soon as they're old enough that they are only here because of this pasta."

eddie slurps up a noodle and steve chokes on his own. something burns bright and fierce in his chest, like his last bite held a star that found a home in his heart.

he can see it, is what it is. he can see them with a couple of kids running around their too-small house, eddie chasing after them, curls of all different colors flying in the wind. he can see eddie shushing a tiny little thing in his arms while steve helps another with math homework at their kitchen table, something bubbling over on the stove. he can see all of them piling into their bed one stormy night, someone tucked under his arm and another curled up on his chest with eddie telling tall tales to scared faces in an attempt to distract them from the thunder booming outside. he can see it, and it's all he could ever possibly want.

"i love you," steve blurts out, suddenly a bit more teary than he expects. eddie looks up, his teasing face smoothing into something softer, something lovely.

"i love you too, baby."

steve's fork drops onto the plate with a loud crash as he fumbles to stand up on his hopefully still functioning legs. eddie startles and flinches but steve's there just like he always will be, a hand on his shoulder to sooth him back down. he bends down and places the smallest of kisses to eddie's lips, thumb stroking over the bit of skin at his collarbone that he can reach.

"i hope it's not just the pasta or the wine talking," he starts as he lowers himself to one knee, his free hand tugging out the velvety box from his pocket. it's now eddie who's eyes grow big and beautiful and god, steve could stay on his knees like this and look at him everyday for the rest of his life if eddie would just keep looking at him like that-

"steve," eddie breathes out, watery smile and all.

"you said you could marry me, so i hope the offer still stands."

the band is small, shiny silver with a few miniscule diamonds for eddie and alexandrites for steve inlayed in the vine going though the center of it. the candle light gleams off the gems sending broken specks of shimmering light to dance over eddie's flushed cheeks. the ring shakes in his hand as he pulls it out, holding it up for the love of this and every life to see.

the small but there nod eddie gives steve is the only answer he needs as he grabs eddie's hand, slipping the band onto the only finger it could ever fit, sealing it with a kiss that starts the rest of their lives.

[theriverbeyond]

this is such a random question, but on the subject of theories i was wondering what would have happened if john and the erebos had arrived at the aftermath of canaan house before boe and found the non-lyctor survivors. like would he have just let corona, judith, and camilla go home or get rid of them because they knew too much? is “knowing too much” even a concern for john? for some reason neither option feels totally right to me, but i would love to hear your thoughts!

I honestly think he would let them go home! I think one of John's major flaws is he fundementally both misunderstands and underestimates the people he sees as "his", and I think this does extend into the houses.

I don't think he would see non-Lyctors as any kind of threat, even if he knew that said non-Lyctors had figured out the secret to Lyctorhood. At most I think he would sew their tongues but honestly I think he would take one look at Judith "on life support from catastrophic gut wound" Deuteros, Camilla "catatonic with grief" Hect, Coronabeth "inconsolable because Ianthe age Babs and not her" Tridentarius and be like wow! these kids are having a bad time I should send them home to their parents.

Remember -- if John had arrived at Canaan House before BOE, this is *before* BOE took out 18,000 soldiers with orbital radiation missiles. this is *before* Augustine's betrayal, and Mercymorn's, and *before* the Sixth House defected. The only betrayal John would have felt was Cytherea's, and she failed, and as we see in HtN he mostly pities her.

I do think this could lead to a very interesting AU wherein Camilla is sent home (with the bones in her pocket), Judith is fixed up with proper medical care from the start (and then packed back off to the cohort), and Coronabeth is probably (on request) taken to the Erebos with Ianthe.

I can see this leading to Camilla spending a lot of time trying to free Palamedes' soul while on the Sixth, potentially needing to join the cohort (Alexandrite Cam, anyone?) so she can reconnect with Judith, who despite having several sticks up her ass is the only person Cam feels she can really go to about this (due to them both being the only people left in the Dominicus system who actually know what happened at Canaan House). Maybe Camilla convinces Judith to poke around in the skull bones -- Judith isn't as good as Harrow, but maybe they do bring back some shadow of Palamedes into the bones.

THEN maybe eventually they run into Coronabeth, who perhaps was not allowed all the way to the Mithraeum, but WAS given some sort of very strategic and fancy seat in the cohort so Ianthe can keep tabs on her. A very nepotism hire situation, and despite Ianthe's desire to keep her safe Coronabeth HATES it all because she was once again left behind. When the opportunity to track down Ianthe arises, she takes it.

I see this unfolding over several years post GtN timeline. Perhaps the three of them end up collaborating with other characters along the way that they feel they can trust, some more likely than others -- Mia (Pro's wife) and her children, now grown enough to want more information about their father's death. Ram and Capris Asht, who don't believe that their brother would kill the eighth house heir he had sworn to protect. Kiana can get in here too. maybe the Third house Boy Who Loved Shuttles helps them with a getaway once. Abigail's younger brother, who she named as her heir -- maybe he helps with Palamedes' soul. Jeannemary and Issac's younger siblings. A neo-niner or two -- John renewed the house, and involving a character or three that was ressurected from our modern times would be super interesting and also fill out our merry band. Maybe the neo-niners Remember Things that make Cam connect some dots.

Harrow is still out there, obviously, and in this AU I am imagining Number 7 as NOT speeding up and really taking 5 years to get there, just to even out the time line and allow all that to happen before Number 7 comes and Augustine drowns the Mithraeum.

anyway. events occur, things happen, and intrigue abounds. Alecto awakens, Harrow Remembers, Ianthe doesn't get the girl. Cam is on a warpath. Judith is dragged alongside. Coronabeth isn't going to be left behind again.

what was your question again? this answer has gotten deeply out of hand

[satureja13]

It was dark when they left the temple. First we need to cure Jeb (who has been marked for death!) and Ji Ho. Luckily they passed an abandoned computer and were able to buy the cure. (I was in panik and couldn't think of anything else than saving them o.o')

And after drinking the cure, Jeb turned into a skeleton as a side effect... Poor Saiwa. He can't get used to it.

On their way to find a save place to sleep, they still looked for that Amazonite... They have to be very careful not to be seen, now that Vlad and Jack have these annoying suns over their heads for 2 days! omg

Still no luck! How are they supposed to proceed with this riddle when they don't find an Amazonite?

They didn't dare return to their accomodation or the Sapphire Retreat. Let alone light a fire. So they looked for a hidden place and slept under the stars.

Vlad and Jack are still awake. They talked for a while and made up again. Vlad promised to be honest from now on and Jack forgave him for what he did to them (Vlad tried to bond with Morgan to spare Ji Ho from the Bond Magic...) they are best friends after all and Vlad already paid for his mistake with his eyesight. Jack: "Is the Bond still trying to convince you to kill us?" Vlad: "It's surprisingly quiet..." Jack: "Maybe it's just happy because you're near Ji Ho. Tell us if anything changes." Vlad: "Promised."

And then they went to sleep too.

The next morning. Early... Since Jeb has a brand new appearance for a few hours, he thought it might be a good idea to visit the market again to look for the missing ingredients for the potion...

Saiwa isn't very happy about it. What if Mami and 'The Boys™' recognize and kidnap him to join them? But they have no choice... Saiwa: "Be careful." Jeb: "I will. Go back to the camp so nobody sees you."

So they went back to pack their stuff together. And Ji Ho didn't give up on that Amazonite. But he only found his second Alexandrite! Unbelievable...

Meanwhile at the market. Jeb bought the ingredients for the potion. No one recognized him. *phew*

Before he left he asked if they maybe have some Nitelite Crystals. The Boy™: "Ah no, I'm sorry. But you could go to the Meteorite Crash Scene. Some Aliens do their research there. There was a giant Nitelite Meteorite Crash a while ago. Hey, and if you like, take one of those Amazonites. They're for free. Lyin' around here on every corner..." What? ö.Ö

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🌴 'The Expedition' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: 🎤 'Putting the Boys Back together' from the beginning ▶️ here 🥀 'Disbandment of the Group' from the beginning ▶️ here

[rebelliousstories]

Seaside Wedding

Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader

Fandom: Grimm

Request: Yes by @dd122004dd

Warnings: Brief Violence, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending

Word Count: 2,665

Main Masterlist: Here

Grimm Masterlist: Here

Sequel to: Tidal Wave

Summary: A joyous day full of love and celebration. However, not everything can sail smoothly for the group at the wedding of the century. At least for wesen.

Then the wedding was held with great pomp, but as the train came from the church, and passed with the torches before the hall, a very small ray of light fell upon the prince.

There was an air about today. An air of love and happiness that no one could dampen. Her hair had been carefully crafted to sit long on her shoulders, yet it was pulled away to highlight her face and the expertly done makeup. A long flowing gown decorated her body, pure white, and covered in lace. It was the wedding she had dreamed about for so long.

Six Months Ago…

“I’ve spent too long without you to waste anymore time.” Sean whispered as he held his lover’s hand on her hospital bed. She tried to complain and tell him that she did not need to be checked out by a doctor, but he insisted. Procuring a ring from his pants pocket, the only sign of his nerves getting the better of him was the trembling of his fingers as he held the box.

“I kept this, all these years, hoping that you would be able to wear it someday. But I can’t do this anymore. Will you marry me?” He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous ring. A beautiful Alexandrite ring, with swirls and smaller diamonds intertwined was presented to her. Letting out a small gasp, she barely registered Sean calling her name.

“Yes,” came her whisper. “Yes!” She screamed. Tackling her lover, he barely managed to keep them upright as she kept saying ‘yes’ underneath her breath. They stayed locked in that embrace for who knows how long, before finally deciding to separate to finally place the ring where it belonged. A kiss was shared between the couple as they realized what that meant, and where they were going.

Pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a door opening, the siren turned to face her bridesmaid that had helped so much for everything for the wedding. Rosalee. Dressed in a muted sea blue gown, the Fuchsbau came in with a gentle smile on her face.

“Hey there, Ms. Bride. Are you ready?” She asked,rubbing a calming hand over the woman’s shoulder.

“More than,” she replied, ”I’m so ready to just be married and be done with this. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that we get to have our fairytale wedding, but it’s so exhausting. I would’ve been just fine with a small backyard wedding. But leave it to Sean to pull out all the stops.” She tried to sound like she was complaining, but the smile on her face was a dead giveaway to her friend.

“Well, if you feel like running away dramatically from the alter, just let me know. I’ll pretend that we’re the ones getting married instead, as I proclaim my undying love for you.” Rosalee teased, earring a much needed laugh from the woman. The air already felt lighter and less nervous. Another knock pulled the woman from their giggle, and the perfectly styled hair of Portland’s Grimm peaked through.

“I thought you guys were having fun without me.” He said, walking into the room fully. Over the past six months, the Grimm and siren had gotten much closer as she became less afraid of the man.

“Oh no, we were just talking trash about you.” Rosalee jested, giving Nick a big hug as she turned to face the bride one last time.

“I’ll see you there.” The Fuchsbau reassured the Tödlicheslied, who was wringing her hands together. With one last smile, she left to join her own partner at the beginning of the aisle.

“You okay? Not having any second thoughts are you?” Nick teased, but lost his smile as the woman was still stuck fixated on something in her head.

“Hey,” he grasped her shoulders gently, “you’re going to be alright. You and Sean both deserve this.” Nick tried to reassure her, and finally got to see her eyes from where they were downcast.

“What if he doesn’t want to marry me? Or he realizes that he made a mistake down the road? I wouldn’t be able to live through that.” Her words struck Nick’s heart deep.

“Listen to me, that is not going to happen.” Nick started,and forced her to stare at him.

“Sean would move heaven and earth if it meant making you happy. He’d burn the world down so that you would be warm. I know him. He wouldn’t have any second thoughts about doing anything and everything to make sure that you were safe and sound. He’s not going to wake up one day and realize he doesn’t want to be married to you. Now, I just had to calm him down, I’d like to not have to calm both the groom and bride in the same evening.” The last admission caught her attention.

“Sean’s nervous? What does he have to be nervous about? He knows I love him.” It confused her.

“Because, even when you know that you love the other person with all your heart, and want to marry someone, there is always a little nagging voice worried about if they say no.” Nick trailed off his little speech, and looked like he was lost to a memory.

“Speaking from experience?” The Tödlicheslied asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but, we’re not here for me. Now, are you ready? Cause Rosalee might be getting a wife today.” She laughed wholeheartedly, as Nick smiled and chuckled along.

“Oh you heard that, did you?” She asked, coming down off of her giggles.

“Oh yeah. I did. It’s fine. You will make a beautiful couple.” Another fit of giggles, before Nick turned and offered her his arm. They walked out, arm in arm, and saw Monroe right at the entrance to the aisle. He smiled at the wesen and Grimm, and sent a wink their way before he walked to his seat. Rosalee turned right as the music started, and looped her arm into her other one as they walked down the aisle. A memory struck the Tödlicheslied right at that moment, before she could see her fiancé waiting at the end.

Three Months Earlier…

“What kind of cake do you want?” She asked, turning towards her lover who sat at the kitchen counter.

“As long as we have German chocolate cake, I will be alright with anything you choose.” Sean contributed, shaking off her stare.

“You and your fancy cake. Fine. I’ll be good with chocolate. I would like to have some salted caramel cupcakes. Want to do the cake chocolate and cupcakes caramel?” Bringing over the books full of cake flavors, she set it down so that he could participate.

“That’s fine with me, ma sirène.” Sean turned and rested his hands on her waist to draw her in close. He pulled her in for a kiss, and was about to deepen it when she pulled away.

“I’ve still got to get to my dress fitting with the group.” But her fiancé was not hearing it.

“I’m sure you can reschedule.” He tried to convince her.

“Not if I want to get a dress from the designer you sent me to.” She teased, and began to pull away to go get ready for her day with friends.

“Get a mermaid cut.” Sean called, and was rewarded with a slipper being thrown in his direction without malice.

In the end, she did go with a mermaid style dress for her reception. But not for the ceremony. For the ceremony, the floor length lacy gown made her feel like a princess. A tiara secured the veil down the back of her head, as she finally got into view of her lover. He stood with such confidence, and such strength, it almost made her question whether Nick had been telling the truth. But as she got closer, she saw the little tell tale signs. His shifting hands and feet, the faintest hint of sweat at his brow. He was nervous.

It made her feel a little bit better to know that he was just as nervous as her. But as she walked down the aisle with her friends, her nerves slowed down. All she could think about was the fact that she was here, about to marry the love of her life, surrounded by their friends. Each shaking step made her come closer and closer to her fiancé, lit fire underneath her feet. She felt like she was walking on pins and needles just to get closer to him. When their hands finally joined, and Sean led her closer, she felt… weightless. Like nothing could hold her to the earth except her lover.

“You look gorgeous.” He whispered, letting his eyes rake over her figure once more.

“I could say the same. You look very handsome.” She replied, feeling her hands begin to shake in his grasp. The world faded away as she stood up there with her soon to be husband. Finally allowing herself to take him in, she noticed the navy blue suit stretching across his frame, and a sea blue tie pulling her eyes back towards his chest. She could just make out the golden chain and locket that was hidden underneath the white button down, and knew that it matched the silver chain against her chest. Sean squeezed her hands enough to get her attention again, and that is when she noticed that the officiant beside them was speaking.

“If anyone has any reason why these two may not be joined together in holy matrimony, please speak now or forever hold your peace.” A beat of silence. Her breath held itself in her chest. Renard’s eyes scanned the room.

“I object!” Gasps were heard across the room as people tried to locate where it came from. An older man and woman, along with a younger set of boys who were definitely adults. As she saw who it was, her breathing stopped.

“Dad?” She could place that booming voice, even after all these years. No longer the young girl she was twenty odd years ago, her parents were not at young either, nor her brothers. Her grip tightened on her fiancé’s hands with each step her family took closer.

“We thought we lost you.” Her mother breathed, with tears in her eyes and a shaky hand on her heart, and her eyes on her daughter.

“We thought you would have learned your lesson.” Her father leveled a glare at Sean, who had stepped halfway in front of his bride to shield her from the threat.

“What can I say, I’m stubborn.” Renard shot back at the man, who just kept getting closer and closer to her. She had yet to say anything in several minutes, and was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Sweetie, it’s time to come home.” He tried, extending a hand out to his daughter. But she remained frozen and silent, stuck at the side of her lover.

“Please, come home sweetheart. We missed you so much. We thought you were dead.” Her mother gave it a shot, but received the same reaction from her daughter. Her brothers were calling her name, but it was too much for her to focus on.

“You’re very good at acting. But I am staying here. I’m not going back.” Gone was the sympathetic, loving, and heartbroken parents and brothers. In their place, there was a chill that ran through the room; as if the whole room had been thrown into the deepest part of the ocean with no life raft.

“You’re coming home. Enough with this charade,” her eldest brother began, “you don’t belong here and you never will. Now let’s go.” He surged forward and nearly made it to the couple to grab her, had it not been for Sean stepping in and preventing him from touching his bride.

“You’re going to leave. Now.” Renard growled dangerously at the Tödlicheslied. He backed away with a smirk and his hands raised. Making his way back to his parents, there was another beat of silence, just before all hell broke loose.

“Gun!” Someone screamed. In an instant, her brother had pulled out a gun and aimed at the couple. However, every member of law enforcement had drawn their own weapons and now had them trained on the young man. He was sent flying to the ground while his gun was checked by a man on his back.

“You picked the wrong wedding to pull this at.” Hank handcuffed the man while Wu made sure the gun was cleared and safe. Together, the detective and sergeant escorted the family out of the ceremony, as they raised a fuss over their son being handcuffed. While Griffin and Wu waited for the car to roll up to take the man to the precinct, everyone holstered their weapons inside the building. Sean felt a little out of place as he elected to not have his weapon on him for his wedding, but was eternally grateful that Nick had his as he stood at his captain’s back.

“Well, that went well.” Burkhardt commented, as he turned back to the couple. The bride was still frozen in place, trying hard to process what had happened in such a short amount of time.

“Darling, are you alright? You’re not hurt, right?” Sean inquired as he scanned over his fiancé. Her eyes were still trained on the spot where her family was just at, but pulled them away when she felt her lover’s hand cup her cheek.

“You’re still here.” She said it with such an air of disbelief. It was then that Sean realized, she was living through the last time that this had happened. Where Sean was beaten to a bloody pulp, and she was taken away.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured her, and brought her in for a tight hug. They both breathed a sigh of relief as they found themselves tangled with the other. A cleared throat brought them back to their wedding; the officiant standing and waiting patiently.

“Let’s get married.” She breathed finally. Feeling her lungs begin to work, they went through the rest of the ceremony without a hitch. The scare was over, and nothing was going to keep them from being married anymore.

Sean’s hands were slightly shaking when he slid the ring onto her finger, which made her feel better as her were as well. Words seemed to blur together as they said their vows, but two words stuck out.

“I do.” Sean said.

“I do.” She repeated.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Renard did not need another moment to think, before he grabbed his wife and brought her in for a loving kiss. Cheers and clapping became background noise as the couple shared their first married kiss. An hour later it felt like, they finally came back up for air. Sean leaned them both back up from their dipped position and walked down the aisle with his bride, hand in hand.

A little while later, the reception was in full swing. Music was raving, drinks were flowing, and everyone was in a blissful state of mind. Sitting at a table alone, the couple were enjoying watching their friends dance and make a fool of themselves together. Sean wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer than she already was.

“I love you, Mrs. Renard.” He spoke with such adoration in his gaze and tone.

“I love you as well, Mr. Renard.” She replied, and pulled her husband in for a kiss.

After all this time, being able to call the man ‘husband’, and the woman ‘wife’, was all they cared about. Her family being there may have thrown off the day a little bit, but nothing was going to get in the way of her being with her captain any longer.

[daireannx]

I’m sick too ong 🥲 I love your style so much, could I possibly request an Alexandrite? No pressure though!

Oh damn, hope you feel better soon! Aww thank you aaaaaaand of course~ One Alex a day will keep the lunarians away

[inkspottie]

hello hello, i saw an ask that mentioned tarot cards and in the tags i saw something about rocks.. so i assume you mean the shiny kind :)

please. please. if i get my hands on said shiny rocks i may make jewellery with em because i love these squishy little angst beans-

Hehe shiny and normal rocks. My grandpa is an avid collector so I grew up polishing them and making pretty geodes.

So ye I have a few

Sebastian of course is Sodalite and for a gem I like Alexandrite for him too.

Sadao is Epidote, and Peridot

Anzu is Lepidolite and Amethyst

Gabriel is Labradorite and Sapphire