#I'll probably ramble more about this after a few days but on a less positive note i didn't really like this take on gerald

[supercasey]

Sonic Movie 3 Moodboard 💖

[niffler-gold]

Burning

Just a short injury fic focused on Scott with some comfort thrown in.

His muscles burned in agony as he tried to get up this morning. Apparently doing two mountain rescues back to back with a lot of climbing followed by rigorous water training led by Gordon did not agree with his muscles. Still nothing a hot shower and some stretching wouldn't fix.

He slowly pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stretched up towards the ceiling his joints loudly cracking to show their disdain at being moved from their current position. He quickly pulled on his running gear and was about to head out before his hot shower. Leaving his room he could already hear Gordon furiously swimming in the pool at this early hour.

Just as he was heading down the stairs to start his early morning routine John popped up on his com. He groaned internally before answering, knowing his hot shower was going to have to wait. "What's the situation John", he asked, ever the professional. "Another climber got into difficulties". Scott paused before answering, "That is the third one in less than 2 days, what are these people thinking, we should start charging for these at least that might be a deterrent", he rambled on. John cut him off before he could get any further, "even so this guy does need our help", he paused for a second before continuing, "it's an unusual one, he was climbing a large cliff face when he said the cliff seemed to move under him, next thing he knew all of his belay wall clips started pinging undone and he fell around 50 metres getting tangled in the line as he went... The unusual thing is I haven't detected any seismic activity around that area nor does it have any implications in the surrounding geology that any seismic activity has taken place in the last 100 years. "He's probably just imagining it and didn't secure his clips properly enough", grumbled Scott in response. "Could be" replied John, "but I did a quick background check on this guy and he's been climbing professionally for about 30 years and has never called us or any local rescue teams out to aid him before." "Hmmmm, that is odd" pondered Scott. "I'll take 1 alone, no need to wake up the bear this early for a pickup.. see you in the sky thunderbird 5", "fab scott, safe flight" and with that John had disappeared and Scott was running towards one's launch shoot to gear up.

Sitting in the pilot's chair of one he slowly tried to stretch his burning muscles out once more but to no avail. He really could have done with that hot shower he thought to himself. Nevermind it could wait. "Approaching the danger zone now thunderbird 5" he called through the coms. "Fab thunderbird 1" John called back through to him. He tried one last futile time to stretch his muscles out before coming into land at the bottom of the cliff face.

After exiting one and surveying the scene before him he knew the best option was going to be to climb up after the man rather than using the jet pack due to the unknown unstable condition of the rock face. Thankfully he could use the grapple gun in order to get up there with speed as the man looked to be hanging on his side completely covered in rope. With precision he fired the grapple into a secure spot of the wall and started his accent.

His limbs were once again burning with the strain of the climb by the time he had reached the man. But still he kept face and called out to the dangling climber. He quickly learned that the man's name was Ben and started trying to secure him to a new line before tackling the rope that was binding him. Luckily Ben seemed unharmed apart from a little bit of rope burn where it had dug in and caught him.

Ben kept chatting to him as he worked and he soon found out he was a seasoned mountain rescue operative on a holiday as he called it to get a little alone time. It was definitely something that Scott would have done if he ever had more than a few hours to himself and he kept wondering how the climber had managed to get himself in such a bind. Soon enough though Ben was free and was back secured against the wall. However before Scott could lower Ben down back to the ground again they had to get his gear cut down so they didn't tangle up with it on their way down.

As Ben was helping him sort it out he noticed something odd. One of the belay wall clips looked chard and burnt and the rope around said clip was in similar condition. He looked at Ben and asked if his equipment was this damaged when securing it to the wall. Ben confirmed it most definitely was not in that condition, then he noted that when assessing the rope to be cut down back to the ground, that would of been the clip that failed when the cliff started moving. This puzzled Scott even more.

Once the gear and ropes had been safely thrown back down to the ground Scott got ready to lower Ben down to safety. But before he could he asked Ben if he knew whereabouts on the wall that the burnt clip had been secured. His Tracy senses were tingling alarmingly but not in a good way at all. Ben said it looks like it was the clip about 10 meters above them, so Scott decided he needed to take a look before returning to the ground. Scott slowly lowered ben back down to solid ground before slowly climbing to the spot Ben had previously pointed out to him.

He quickly found the spot where the clip had been as a small black spot protruded out of the crack where the clip had been secured. Small cracks could also be seen in the burnt section of the wall. He slowly felt around inside the small fisher to see what could have caused the damage as nothing natural would do this type of carnage. His fingers slowly curled around something metallic small and sharp. He cautiously pulled it out and held it to the light to better examine it. He could just make out the chaos crew logo.

His hand flew up to his com button to alert John but in a split second a fireball had engulfed a section of cliff high above him to his right. An ear splitting explosion suddenly came from his left much nearer to him than the first. He started rappelling down the cliff as fast as his equipment would take him. Another explosion just above him and he could feel the heat lick the side of his face. It had detonated where he had just been a second before. Next thing he knew he was falling. The explosion had dislodged his grapple.

He fell as fire and debris surrounded him on all sides. He fumbled with a new grapple cartridge, discarding the old one out of the gun and fired. The line caught him less than 10 meters from the ground. Before he had a chance to get moving again a last fireball explosion detonated just below his right leg.

He was lying on the ground his ears ringing. He could see smoke floating all around him as his vision swam. His right leg was numb with scalding pain shooting all around it. His vision swam when he tensed it unknowingly. He could hear muffled movement round him someone shouting his name. The next time his eyes peeled open against the heat a figure loomed over him. He seemed to be yelling something but it sounded so far away. Green and blue swam in his vision as he lost consciousness once again.

He could hear low murmuring voices all around him. His head swam with confusion. He could feel soft cotton sheets wrapped around him and the tell tale sting of an IV line inserted into his left arm. His body felt numb and his right leg had an odd feeling of coolness about it. Gingerly he opened one eye to figure out what was going on.

He was greeted with the sight of all his brothers sitting around the bed he had been put in. He heard a low chorus of Scott being said around the room as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room. He felt a hand on his and saw Virgil gently holding it looking like he hadn't slept in over a week. "What happend" he gently asked looking at his little brother in the eyes. His voice came out quite horse and raspy much to his surprise. "The chaos crew" Virgil replied quietly and solemnly. Suddenly the images of the rescue and the carnage that had surrounded him came back into his mind. "How bad he asked" still looking at his brother. It was John who answered instead on the opposite side of his bed. "Unconscious for 3 days, bruised ribs and a definite concussion..." He seemed to trail off towards the end. Scott knew he was avoiding telling him something but before he had a chance to enquire further Gordon finished off for John. " Your right leg", he stated nervously. "When we found you it was blackened and chard, your uniform was missing and the parts that were still there were fused into your skin". "The doctors managed to save it though" he said cheerfully trying his hardest to lighten the mood. Alan chose this moment to interject, "you've had multiple skin grafts and surgeries to assist with its healing, for now it's got to stay in the specialty brace to keep it healing and healthy." So that's why, he thought to himself, it felt slightly cold.

He could already feel the sleep tugging at his eye lids as he looked at his brother's noticing how worried and anxious they all seemed to look. Virgil gently brushed the hair back of his forehead, "sleep Scotty" he gently whispered as everything started going black again.

A month later and Scott was sitting at his father's desk keeping an eye out on the rescue that the rest of his brothers were on. He still was on crutches as he wasn't allowed any weight on the leg just yet. The brace that surrounded it kept it nice and cool though.

He thought back to that morning where all he wanted was a nice hot shower but had decided to go running instead. He should have just had the shower he thought to himself. At the moment all he was allowed was a gentle cold shower due to his injuries. He sighed to himself knowing it was still gonna be a little while until he could have the hot water pouring down his skin.

"SCOTT WHAT ARE YOU DOING", yelled Virgil having just materialised on the holo projector in the middle of the room. "What" Scott replied with his cocky grin on his face. "I'm sitting down" he tried not to laugh at the expression on Virgil's face. "You are meant to be elevating that leg, not sitting at the desk". Well at least some things never changed.

[invinciblerodent]

I think after defeating Ketheric is the first time in the story when I'm letting my boy let his unending kindness.... falter a little bit. Just a little.

Semi-coherent 3 am ramblings under cut.

It seems like almost an "act 2 end" staple for me, but... this "midpoint climax" in many games IS, I feel, the natural point for a lot of good-aligned, well-intentioned protagonists to crack a little, and Arvid is no different.

Like. He just came back from what was essentially his *worst fucking nightmare*, having fought the avatar of a quasi-god (and learned that he's gonna have to do that, oh, two more times, just for funsies), having talked his boyfriend out of exploding himself (which was a very shitty, if short conversation, because apparently Gale is nothing if not easily convinced by the words "choose me, the one who loves you"), and overall having a CONSIDERABLY WORSE THAN AVERAGE TIME FOR THE PAST, OH, SEVERAL DAYS (with the Shadowfell, and the watching allies die left and right, and the GOING BACK TO THE MIND FLAYER FLESH-CABINS WHICH IS FUN), and already everyone wants MORE from him.

You know, as if this whole day wasn't, like, one deeply traumatic experience after the other. As if these past weeks hadn't been pushing him slowly towards a breaking point.

The dream visitor is acting... kinda suspicious and cagey, as per usual (she's dodging questions and speaking in confusing metaphors while doling out insurmountable-seeming tasks, which is just 👍👌🤙🖕), Wyll is immediately having himself a little storytime moment that he probably should have thought to have weeks ago ("btw my eye is a sending stone that enables Mizora the Literal Devil to track my every move" IS KIND OF A BIG DEAL, MAN, YOU COULD HAVE, IDK, MENTIONED THAT SOMETIME OVER THE PAST THREE WEEKS OR SO), Gale is understandably feeling wild and wired after that weird, partially self-imposed near-death experience (which, idk about you, but an "I'm glad we survived babe, are you okay" would have been at least appreciated BEFORE the whole "YO DID YOU SEE THAT POWERFUL ARTEFACT, I WANT IT" thing), everyone in that damn room wants something else from him ("hey, sorry I was an asshole earlier after you saved my life, why don't you help me more! Won't tell you how or why or with what tho!", "hey you're back having done what's supposed to have been impossible, so what's up with Thaniel, the issue you solved literally a week ago already, I wasn't paying attention lol", and the likes, even Withers is being fucking weirder than usual)...! Jaheira and Astarion seem to be the only ones to offer any kind of praise, or optimistic feedback, which is already weird...!!! But the others? "Oh, hey, you're back. So, when are you gonna do that again (or this other, different thing for me)?"

Like... thanks? I guess I'll just go fuck myself then???

The poor boy just wants to take the most intense bath of his life (sit in a lake somewhere for a few hours, get the illithid-sludge off his body and scrub his skin until it's no longer blue but flushed, raw, and purple, maybe then he's going to feel clean again and less *hyper-aware* of the wriggling in his skull), get roaring drunk to at least momentarily forget the monumental task ahead, cuddle up to his dog, owlbear, and/or boyfriend, and go to sleep in a fetal position for the next 48 hours. Maybe cry a little or punch something, he hasn't decided yet.

Just... everyone seems to be forgetting that he's just Some Guy. Even if he turned out to be some chosen one, he's unaware of it. As far as he knows, he's just a random priest from the countryside who only ended up in the city like a year ago because the church there needed a new healer, and suddenly, after getting abducted and his BRAIN wormed, he's everyone's go-to guy for god-killing. He barely knows anyone, has no family (or really friends or personal connections deeper than the superficial outside of the party), nobody misses him where he's from (which is no longer his home, but neither is Baldur's Gate), and he doesn't even know if he's doing the right thing at any given time, messing with forces he doesn't understand. But everyone just wants MORE, and MORE, and MORE, and he's giving more and more, as much as he can, only he's not sure how much more he has left.

So yeah, he's gonna snap at- and be a bit short with Art, even if Halsin doesn't like it. Yeah, he's gonna be a little snide to the cagey gnome that all but told him to fuck off previously. He's gonna be a little impatient towards the skeleton-man doling out poetic brain-teasers for him to solve while he's still bleeding profusely, from several wounds. He's gonna give a couple fewer fucks about Isobel's reunion with her gf after having already figured out who she is (it's. Not like that was a hard feat. Those dots were not particularly hard to connect. He has an intelligence of 10 and he still figured it out.) than he would otherwise. He's, like, happy for them and all, but would be MANY TIMES happier if someone just handed him a sandwich and a glass of water, and said "hey, good job".

I have not yet gone back to camp or left the building after the return last night, but I'm hoping there's gonna at least be a chance to unwind before we'd march on. :/

[valberryy]

efficacy. — zhongli

hi!! this started out as an oc fic, but i thought i'd convert it to a reader insert!! i tried to change some of the more "explicit" oc info, so hopefully it's fine now!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injury/death, contemplations of/vaguely attempted murder, slight swearing. if these topics are sensitive to you, i'd recommend clicking away.

i. 

[Name]'s life would be nothing without order. They found a certain comfort in routines—working at the bookshop with Jifang in the afternoons, working for their less-than-legal clients once night fell. There was an odd kind of safety they found in it, in completed contracts and crossed-out bounties on a board: as they wiped the blood off their blade at sunrise, they found themself glad they no longer lived at the whims of ice, and snow, and migrating deer.

Tonight was odd, though. 

A dagger twirled deftly between their fingers, and [Name] raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the informant sitting before them. A mask and hood alike obscured his face, and he seemed almost to hesitate slightly beneath their burning gaze—a newbie, then, or a fool.

"So?" they asked, their voice like a whip-crack in the silence. "Don't waste my time."

"Apologies," he said, and [Name] had to resist the urge to scoff. At another raised eyebrow the informant dug through his things and passed them an envelope. 

Gingerly, they tore it open. "...Wangsheng?" they muttered to themself, before glancing back up. "I trust you have the right compensation?"

A stiff, "Of course," was their only response. 

The knife between [Name]'s fingers stilled, before it became embedded in the cheap wood next to their now-client's head.

They stood, gave an almost-mocking flourish of a bow, and walked off without another word.

ii. 

[Name] did not glance up from the shelf they were restocking when the footsteps of another customer coming up the stairs came into earshot, only saying a gruff, "Welcome," as they grew closer.

Their only response was a content hum, and they resisted the urge to sigh in relief that this particular patron wasn't a chatterbox. 

The minutes trickled by in comfortable silence, as the man—for he was a man, [Name] learned, as soon as they looked up and towards his direction—browsed through their selection. The only sounds to be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the idle chatter of people walking past.

"What a fine collection you have," he said, and turned to face the counter they were seated behind. At the sight of his face they were thrust back into two nights ago—an unpleasant evening in a dingy old house, an envelope in one hand and a cheap knife in the other. 

Not now, they thought to themself. Not now, when the blood can seep into the floorboards. The smell will hang for days.

"Thank you," they elected to say in reply. "...Will you be buying?"

He nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Indeed. The entire stock, actually."

[Name] faltered. "The entire…?" They coughed into a fist, regaining their composure and leaning forward on the counter. "That's going to cost you, sir."

They could almost see the excited sparkles around him as he opened his mouth to speak again, and whatever thoughts they had on how elegant and refined he seemed were thrown out to sea.

"Yes, of course," he began, "there truly is no treasure greater than knowledge, after all—there is a subtle nuance to the art to capturing a moment in time so vividly using just words alone…" 

As he continued to ramble, [Name] rested their chin on their palm. The daggers concealed beneath their clothes were cool and heavy on their skin—a constant reminder, a subtle threat. 

When his voice trailed off they gave a small, polite smile, standing upright again. "If you have the Mora, there should be nothing stopping you, sir."

The faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes grew lucid at the mention of Mora. "Ah, of course. Mora," he said, and started patting his pockets searching for his wallet.

When neither of them heard the telltale clinking of coins, they glanced at each other almost exasperatedly. 

"My deepest apologies—"

"...No, it's okay—"

The knife still burned against their skin, but they brushed it aside for a moment to grab an unwrapped copy of a book under the desk. They held it out to him, their face blank but the faintest, faintest hints of amusement dancing in their eyes.

He was…interesting. Dead men can rarely boast as much.

 "Take it," they said, simply. 

His eyes seemed to widen in pleasant surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked, and at [Name]'s casual shrug in the affirmative he gingerly took it from their hands. 

"Thank you kindly," he said, raising the package in the air and inspecting it. "I'll have to repay you, for this."

They looked at him again, and thought of the envelope from the other night, thought of how they could almost feel his pulse as their fingers brushed just seconds prior.

"I'll hold you to it, then, sir," they elected to say.

Not now, not now, not now.

iii.

On his lips played a gentle smile that [Name] couldn't help but to distrust. 

"There's a restaurant I believe you'd like," he had said. "Allow me to treat you for lunch, as thanks."

Their head had thus begun to swim with backup plans and what-ifs. Did he know? Was this some elaborate ruse to poison them? Surely not, right? They had been so careful up until now, too…

They blinked away their initial surprise and canted their head to the side. "Where?"

At that he went off onto another tangent, just as long as the ramble he had gone on a few days prior. [Name] found themself zoning out, glancing at where they knew his jugular was beneath his collar—or perhaps poison during their impromptu outing would fare better?

No, they scolded themself, there would be witnesses at a restaurant.

"...Don't worry, of course, I'll be sure to bring the Mora this time around," he said with a velvety laugh, and [Name] suddenly found themself back in the present.

They leaned forward on the bookstore counter, an eyebrow raised. "I don't even know your name, Mister Philanthropist." 

Another smile graced his features, then—apologetic this time, and he outstretched a hand for them to shake. "My apologies," he said. "I am Zhongli, consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."

Gingerly, they took his hand in turn. They could feel the rhythmic beat-beat-beat of his pulse under their fingers.

Soon, they thought. 

"Call me [Name]," they said, and forced themself to smile.

A few days later, it just so happened that both of their schedules were free. 

"Would you still be willing to indulge me?" Zhongli asked—he had been visiting more often lately, and it just so happened that many of his visits happened to be on the days [Name] was there, as well. Jifang seemed curious, and honestly they were as well—did he enjoy their company? Was there something about their short, curt responses that didn't turn him away?

Or maybe he was planning something, too?

Nevertheless, despite their raging paranoia, it wasn't like they were in much of a position to complain. Jifang seemed content at their new, distinguished guest, and [Name] took it as an opportunity to learn more about him for the time being. 

"...If you so wish," they said, plucking the book he was holding out of his hands to wrap it for him. 

"Only if you do, my friend." Damn him and his deflection. "But it is my firm belief that the generous receive what is due to them, in time."

They hummed idly as they thumbed through the book he had chosen—something or other about the natural beauty of Inazuma—and then glanced back up at him.

And that was how they found themself here, they supposed.

Their table was relatively silent compared to some others, but it was by no means uncomfortable or awkward. With the idle chatter of other people and the clear sky above as a backdrop, the two dined in comforting silence—only the clinking of ceramic against each other to be heard, and to [Name]'s surprise, no traces of poison to be found whatsoever.

As the sun began to dip down the horizon, and all their food had been finished and the bill paid, the two found themselves taking a stroll down by the docks. Zhongli's gaze was trained ahead, while [Name]'s flitted about cautiously.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, however…" he began, "...But you're not a native, are you, my friend?"

A jolt, then, a bolt of white-hot fear running through their limbs. Did he know? Did they give themself away? 

"I'm not," they said. "I was born abroad." 

A satisfied hum was their response, and when they turned to glance at him, they found the smallest of smiles on his face.

"It's getting late," Zhongli said. "Thank you for today. I'd like to do this again, with you."

[Name] took pause at that. They thought once again of the envelope hidden under their drawers, and the knives hidden under their clothes.

They thought about the way Zhongli rambled on about whatever tale it was the storyteller across the street had spun—how "that indeed is one interpretation of it, but in the original text, the author actually meant to imply that…" 

There was a pang of what almost felt like guilt in their chest, at that. 

"...And I, you," they said, finally, "...my friend."

iv.

Perhaps stumbling into your supposed assassination target's home half-bloody with an arrow sticking out of your side was not the brightest idea, but in [Name]'s defense were two things: first of all, they had no fucking clue it was Zhongli's in the first place, and secondly, they couldn't exactly keep running from their angry former client with an arrow sticking out of their side.

And thus whatever levels of discretion they normally would have had were thrown out the window as they climbed into Zhongli's in the dead of night, and probably knocked something over in the process (if the new bruises were anything to go by). 

(To be fair, they had been calling each other friends for a while now. Is this what friends did? [Name] couldn't be sure—their shady friends weren't exactly the best examples, after all.)

They had just sat up and groaned in pain when Zhongli came in, alarmed first at the noise and then at their sorry state. 

"...Sorry," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Thought the place was empty—ow, shit! I can—I can do it mysel—"

"Nonsense," he said, his voice and hands firmer than they had noticed before. "...I still haven't repaid you for your favour to me, after all."

They stopped for a moment, at that. "...I thought the lunch was repayment?"

Somehow, Zhongli found it in himself to laugh, albeit tensely. From where they were sitting, they could see his face a lot more clearly than they had before—the tenseness in his brow, the flecks of gold in his amber irises, the way his nose crinkled at the density of the smell of blood.

"No," he replied, "that was a thank you."

They hummed, before hissing in pain again. "Pull the other way; the arrowhead went in at an angle—"

"Ah, yes, my mistake…"

[Name] continued, "I suppose this is your repayment, then?"

They only barely hid their surprise when he shook his head again. 

"I'm doing this because I want to, [Name]."

(Somehow, they liked their name better when hearing it from him. Was it the timbre of his voice? Was it the appeal of hearing your name from a man who was supposed to be long-dead?)

"...I see."

As he sealed the last of the bandages and allowed them to adjust their clothes, he helped them over to what they assumed was a guest room, of sorts. He helped them to take a seat on shaky legs, and placed a firm, almost comforting hand on their shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, my friend."

They glanced away, their face oddly warm. Wasn't blood loss supposed to do the opposite? "I can't guarantee that, Zhongli."

He followed their gaze over to the floor, and then glanced back at them. "If not that, then I'd at least ask you to…rely on me more," he said, and something about the sincerity in his voice struck them as odd. 

They almost wanted to burn that envelope in their drawers when they went home.

[Name] glanced back up at him, forcing themself to face his questioning gaze.

"...I'll try." 

But only for you.

+1.

In [Name]'s life, there exists a line they do not dare themself to cross. On one side stands sweet Jifang from the bookshop, the tenacious Traveller and their friends, and the ghosts of their loved ones from Inazuma; and on the other stands themself and their other shadowy benefactors. 

The first to tread the line between the two was Zhongli—who, despite the bounty on his head, still managed to maneuvre his way into them somehow being able to call him their friend.

Honestly. The Seven damn him and his stupid charisma, and his stupid voice, and his stupid encyclopedic knowledge of silk flowers.

When [Name] woke up, they were not in their home. 

Through their shock they failed to register the bandages wound around their torso, and bit back a yelp of pain as the wound threatened to reopen. In the dark they could see their overwear folded neatly on the bed next to them, and Zhongli asleep, slumped over in a chair.

Suddenly, they were acutely aware of the old bone knife under their clothes—their only souvenir from home, unstained by blood for years, and years, and years.

Would Zhongli be its first, then?

Quietly they stood and dug through their folded clothes until they felt it—the uneven blade, the worn-down grooves near the hilt. They skulked their way over to where he slept, and tried to ignore how painfully peaceful his slow, even breaths were.

His eyes fluttered open just as they pressed the blade to his throat. He seemed too calm, though, not even a twitch of his hands or a hitch in his breath to give away any surprise at all. All he did was place a loose grip on their wrist—a stark contrast to their white-knuckled, shaking hand—and ask,

"What are you doing, [Name]?" 

They grit their teeth. "...I'm sorry," they said, "but I have a contract to complete."

Something in Zhongli's eyes softened at that. This was his domain, they realised—contracts, and contingencies, and wordplay. 

His grip on their wrist tightened, ever so slightly, and he traced his free hand over their clenched jaw. "But so do we," he replied. "I've still never paid you back, after all."

There was a pause, then—a long, pregnant silence. 

"May I kiss you?" Zhongli asked, his voice like a whip-crack in the space between them. [Name] said nothing, but the crease between their brows deepened further. 

The dagger embedding itself into the floor and the soft, firm press of their lips against his was enough of an answer.

[viinchester]

I'll tag a few writers I can think of right now whose stuff I read daily so they'll know why I won't be active as much. It's not because I suddenly lost interest in your writing, I promise.😜

@stargazingfangirl18 @slothspaghettiwrites @angrythingstarlight @syntheticavenger @whisperlullaby @river-soul

I'm aware my blog's not really big and I only have like 100~ followers (which mostly consist of bots), but I wanted to still announce something for everyone who is interested.

From tomorrow, 31st March 2021, on, I'll be significantly less active on Tumblr and every other social media platform and I don't exactly know for how long. It may vary from 2 to 6 months or even more.

The reason for that is that I've finally been given a place in the mental health clinic that I've been waiting for since October of last year.

I'll explain my situation a little for those of you that want to know more. If you're not interested, you can just skip the next part until the divider.

TW: Mental Health

Ever since I was as young as 4 years old, I had a therapist or some support in similar form by my side because of problems in my family and social surroundings that affected my mental health pretty badly. I've had many different therapists and procedures done over the years and was diagnosed at age 11 with Severe Depression and Social Anxiety, as well as some not fully evolved traits of Autism. I've been working hard on myself all my life basically and it showed significant improvement over the years, but I still had my downs of course. After some.. rather unfortunate choices of mine regarding my views on whether I should even be allowed to continue living, I was admitted to a children clinic for mental health in 2015 and stayed there until 2016. The time I spent there and people I met helped me a lot in figuring out how to accept myself. When I left the clinic, I was provided with a social worker from the government who would visit me every week or so and take me places to work on my social anxiety and confronting my fears, as well as serving as a outlet to the situation I had going on with my family at home that I won't go into detail about. This social worker helped me a lot, I'll be forever thankful to them, even though I knew it was their job. Fast forward to 2019, a big year for me. I got a job and started working, like so many other people my age. In October 2019 I turned 18 and the government pressured me to lose my social worker, because I was an "adult" now. My problems and issues were nowhere near solved at that time, but I tried convincing myself that I would manage without any additional support. I couldn't even have a therapist because my work schedule didn't allow it, so I've been mentally on my own since then for the first time since I was 4 years old. Enter 2020, the most depressing year I've had so far. Inbetween Corona and my disfunctional family I could barely convince myself to get out of bed, and my mental health hit me straight in the face. It got so bad even my employer started to notice and my position at work was indefinitely threatened. My social anxiety crept up again and I felt like everyone was pitying me and laughing, so I stopped going to work, pretending to be sick and making excuses just to stay at home. Eventually, my mother (bless her heart, I owe her so much) intervented and forced me to face reality. She made me see that everything I've been working towards was hanging on a thin threat and that I needed to get myself together. I really tried, but nothing I did seemed to be enough and eventually I even started having very bad thoughts again, spiraling down the black hole I'd dug for myself. Thus, my mother convinced me to finally find help again in the form of a mental health clinic, seeing as it had helped me back in 2015/2016 too. Because of Corona the waiting time was longer than before, so I've been waiting since October of last year for a place there.

Now, I'm finally able to go there and because of that, I may not be online as much anymore.

I'll still try to be active at least once a day, reblogging posts and interacting as much as I can, but I probably won't be able to be here as much as I'd like to be.

I'm not sure how long this will take, they said it could be anywhere between 2 to 6 months or longer, so we'll see.

Thank you so much for any and all support, it means a lot to me and I hope I haven't annoyed anyone too much with my rambling, but I felt like I own the few mutuals and followers I have as well as the writers I read stories from daily an explanation for my sudden disappearance of sorts.

[afoxysunny]

Jives as High Duke

So Jives gets a second pick and oh my G did i struggle with choosing this one. In the end I'm pretty happy with the decision to give him the Monkey Miraculous

The whole story for how he ended up with having to pick a second time is already on the post about Stingy, who gets the Turtle from Jives, so I'll try not to repeat myself too much

So here are the references for this design

This design came out a lot simpler than it probably should be considering that it's based on the Chinese Monkey King but Jives isn't one for overly flashy and elaborate costumes in my opinion

Also, yes, again, his eyey should be blue but making colour changes to coloured pencil drawings is really hard, I'm sorry

Again, i just did what felt natural to me and in no time this was the outcome. Conclusion: drawing Jives comes very natural to me and i appreciate him for that

Design Notes:

Chest Pattern - i wanted to make the chest pattern here resemble the one he had as Grinder Turtle, this was also a big factor that sold me on giving him this Miraculous. I just think it looks really cool and it connects the two designs in a vague sense

Beanie - my boy Jives always wears some sort of hat, this is no exception. The Monkey Miraculous is a Crown and here it blends in so it now replaces the brim section of the beanie. On second thought it might be a little basic to choose a beanie but it just really suits him, i couldn't think of a better fit. Especially because it goes along really well with the headshape of the monkey i based him on

Toque Macaque - I'll be real with you, I'm not a huge fan of monkeys which makes them one of the few animal species i don't love and also makes the biggest reason i wasn't immediately happy to give my dear Jives this Miraculous xD I'm shallow i know. Anyways. I may not know a lot about monkeys but i knew enough to pick this macaque because the colours go well enough with the Monkey Kwami Xuppu and i liked the markings it has. [coicidentally this specific kind, the Toque Macaque, happens to share its natural habitat with the peacock ;)]

Tail - on his back you see how the rope detailing from his chest and pants combine into the belt and eventually the tail. I wanted the markings to kind of resemble a harness for climbing, i don't think it comes across too well though

Hair - the little bit you can still see of his actual hair coincidentally blends in almost seamlessly with the colour of his costume, that wasn't planned but i like it a lot

Reasoning:

At the point in time where i made the decision that Stingy would take the Turtle Miraculous from Jives i already had most Miraculous assigned to most other characters, in fact i was only really missing one for Ziggy. So spoiler alert i guess for him. I fudged around for a while between the Mouse and the Monkey, both would've worked well with either but in the end settled on the Monkey for Jives for multiple stupid timy reasons. For example the chest pattern i already mentioned, my ship-trash side going "a monkey and a peacock fit together way better aesthetically than a mouse and a peacock would", he and Xuppu would have a funny bro dynamic together etc.

Story:

I already explained why and how Jives loses the Turtle Miraculous to Stingy in my post about the latter so I'll just give a short summary here before moving on

As per usual Jives didn't eat much throughout the day and ends up fainting. This time it's a much bigger deal though. Usually he doesn't actually fully faint, just sway a little, maybe collapse but for the most parts he stays conscious just really weakened. That day the team of new heroes is fighting an important battle when he full on passes out in the middle of it. Luckily Stingy is able to step in to build their defense up again.

Obviously, instead of saying "i eat as little as possible because i have a problem" Jives just shrugs it off and goes "guess i didn't eat enough again, my bad guys, sorry" and thinks it'll be fine. He didn't expect Álfurildi, aka Sportacus, to take this very literal and announce that he planned on having them eat in his airship as a whole group anyway gor team moral and to make sure they're all healthy enough to actually handle a Miraculous. They deduce that must have been the reason Jives full on fainted this time, while going by his usual life he obviously didn't need as much energy as he now needs to be a superhero so the simple solution is to just eat more.

He makes excuses to not eat with the others as often as he can but one day he'd have to actively leave the others to do so as he already is in the airship with them when they start preparing to serve the next meal. That day he actually snaps at Sportacus that he just doesn't want to eat. Unfortunately, thanks to being such a gentle soul and also sensing Jives frustration and hunger Sportacus tries to comfort Jives with the worst thing he could've said. "heroes gotta eat well, so you can become big and strong" to which Jives absolutely loses it. He snaps at him "I'm already too big without eating anything, can't you just leave me alone!" and just jumps out of the airship. By now he already has Xuppu as his new partner so of cause he makes it down unharmed to run off into the forest. Sportacus wants to follow him but Robbie stops him. Robbie, who so far was pretty quiet and reclusive when the teens came to visit, says he will go find and talk to him taking Pixel with him as he is his best friend after all.

I'll spare you the unnecessarily details i cane up with and just say this is the moment Robbie gets to explain how the powers i gave him work and we get to see that he does really deeply care but just can't really express it. They find Jives and thanks to Robbie being able to relate to him about some of his insecurities and Pixel being a great friend he ends up confessing to them about his eating disorder. He never wanted to be the odd one out but never managed to fit in with the others. It's hard to hide you're different when you're towering over your peers so he figured if he just stopped eating he'd stop growing and though it had no positive effect on him he just couldn't stop doing it even after realizing how bad it had gotten.

Going back to the airship together once the situation calmed down a bit and with Jives' permission they let Sportacus in on this secret. As Robbie figured, the local health expert knows exactly what foods wouldn't upset such an empty stomach too badly and they start the process of finding a few good things for Jives to eat so he doesn't break down again.

Name:

Quick, something more lighthearted

When Jives gets his second pick for a Miraculous his eyes fall on the little Monkey, Xuppu. The two pretty quickly get along thanks to Xuppu being a jokester and Jives liking how bro-like they can talk and poke fun at each other. This turns out to be a great pick as this Kwami of Jubilation not only like shouting random noises around just like Jives but is also sassy and straightforward enough to remind him to eat every once in a while by poking fun at him using something Pixel once said to him "I'll not let you eat less than the Kwamis" (yes this part should've technically been in the reasoning section but you kinda need the context of the story for it so i put it here)

So Trixie explains that Xuppu's transformation and powers are based on the Chinese Monkey King (she knows that from the Guardians) but Jives really isn't one for flashy costumes and important titles so not only is his costume more basic than it probably should be but also he wamts to name himself "Duke". Stingy immediately objects "A duke is about as royal as a prince! You're completely underselling this concept. You have to trade with me! You get yoir turtle back. Let me be King!" Xuppu and Wayzz look at each other and roll their eyes, Xuppu then steps floats forward to say "well, he's not entirely wrong. Wouldn't you like to pick something higher?" so Jives chuckles and goes "High Duke". Again Stingy is outraged by this disrespect "that's ridiculous!" but Xuppu laughs and says "no, i like his style! Let's do this!" and so their new duo is established

Look, don't judge me, everyone headcanons Jives with growing not all legal things in his garden so now that he's actually a teen in my au I'm keeping it xD

Thank you so so much for reading so much of my rambling. You're so cool for taking the time to read this!

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (N.H.)

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

twenty-one

Niall couldn't help but feel out of place. 

As he sat in the near silent waiting room, surrounded by mother's cradling their baby bumps, holding hands with their partners beside them, and chasing after children, he began to wonder how he'd ended up in this place, sat beside Krystal as they awaited her very first OB appointment.

His palms were sweating, which probably had something to do with the fact that with every passing minute this became more and more real. He was going to be a father. In six short months he would have a child; a miniature version of him staring back at him.

It wasn't that Niall didn't want to be a father. He'd always pictured it as part of his future. Chasing a giggly toddler around the living room. Kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the green grass of his backyard. He'd even envisioned himself changing a few smelly diapers. But when he'd imagined it, it had always been with someone he loved beside him. A child created because he loved someone so much that he couldn't wait to bring another person into their life together. He'd never thought he'd become a father in this way- knocking up his fake girlfriend in a one night stand because both of them were lonely.

Niall looked over at Krystal. She was twirling a piece of her long blonde hair around her finger, over and over again, her eyes fixated on the blank beige wall in front of them. She hadn't said a word since Niall had picked her up this morning, well, except for a very soft 'Krystal Hoffman' to the lady at the front desk. Niall knew that for every ounce of fear he had in his body, the number was a thousand-fold in Krystal's. This wasn't what she'd planned either. She was supposed to be getting ready to land her first acting gig, not preparing to have her life changed forever by a child.

He reached his hand out, placing it on top of hers with a reassuring squeeze. Krystal turned her head and gave him the smallest of smiles, but Niall saw right through it. Her eyes revealed that she's just as terrified as she was when she broke the news to Niall almost four weeks ago.

******************

After their "hook-up", Niall chose to act like it never happened, and lucky for him, Krystal chose the same stance. Maybe they'd both realized it was a poor decision, made in a vulnerable, emotional moment. Things returned to normal for a few weeks, they went on their last few PR dates, they maintained their friendship, and Niall still  returned home at night feeling like his life was in shambles. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the end of the contract was in sight. The promo was done, the concerts sold-out, all that remained was one final blockbuster-worthy break-up to get Niall that last ounce of publicity.

But then something changed. One day Krystal was cracking jokes with Niall as they walked down Rodeo Drive hand in hand; three days later she was nearly mute, speaking only when absolutely necessary. She seemed unfocused- like her mind was in an entirely different place than her body. He'd tried probing her, thinking that maybe she'd talk to him about it- the boy that was on her mind or the audition she was stressed about . Instead he was answered with a sharp "It's nothing. I'm fine" and the most forced smile he'd ever seen.

Niall attributed it to the nerves of this all ending. He told himself that Krystal was simply looking into auditions, trying to find her next step after the split from Niall. Niall didn't even consider the idea that there was something bigger eating her up inside. Much bigger.

"We need to talk," Krystal said one evening on a PR sighting out to dinner, her eyes shifting to look out the window.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," Niall laughed. They were talking. That's all they'd been doing at this table where a few paparazzi had come to take some pictures. The media had died down slightly, perhaps because the newness of Niall and Krystal had faded. Perhaps they were on to the next celebrity couple- at least for the time being.

"I think this is a conversation that would be better to have in private." Krystal's voice shook every so slightly as she spoke, and Niall couldn't help but notice that she can't seem to look him in the eyes.

"Okay," he responded cheerfully. His insides, however, churned in anticipation of what Krystal could possibly have to say to him in a private conversation.

His insides continued to churn. While they exited from the restaurant with Krystal's hand intertwined with his. While they drove in near silence back to Niall's house. And now, while Niall sat impatiently on his sofa as he waited for Krystal to speak. 

She was staring at the black and white framed photo of The Eagles positioned on Niall's wall and Niall could have sworn that she hadn't blinked since they'd arrived. He watched as Krystal twirled a piece of her hair inbetween her fingers, her chest rising and falling in deep even breaths as if she's concentrating on her own respirations.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out suddenly, her words leaving her mouth so quickly that Niall's not even sure he heard them correctly.

At first, Krystal's statement didn't even register in Niall's mind. It made sense to him- why Krystal would be acting so anxious, why she seemed like her mind was on something else. And then suddenly, his brain comprehends why she's telling him this. His stomach lurched. It couldn't be.

Niall's mind scoured for any recollection from that night. But there were hardly any pieces to be found. He remembered Krystal showing up at his door, her remembered comforting her, and he remembered laying in bed afterwards feeling like he'd been punched in the gut- but the in between? That was all a bit blurry, like his emotions had blocked it from his mind.

"But," Niall began, as if protesting what Krystal had said would somehow make it less true. "Didn't we use..."

"I don't remember," Krystal spat, as if she'd suddenly gotten her voice back. "But I'm on the pill and I mean I guess sometimes I forget or a miss the alarm but I swear I always take it when I remember and..." Krystal began to ramble.

Niall didn't hear the rest of what she said, her words sounded muffled, like Niall was underwater. He certainly felt like he could be underwater. Like he was drowning- the outside world slowly slipping from his grasp. 

"Fuck," Niall muttered under his breath. He felt his pulse quickening, his head  pounding, and his breathing becoming ragged. He couldn't be in here, in this space with this announcement. He rushed towards the back door, flinging it open with a bang and rushing out onto the green lawn.

"Where are you going?" Krystal shouted but Niall didn't even hear her.

He stood there for a moment, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He felt like he was not even in his own body. Like he's watching a movie of his life- a very bad one at that, where everything that could possibly go wrong for the protagonist does. Niall looked up at the blue Los Angeles sky. He figured that at any moment, the skies would open up in a torrential downpour, to really set the mood. They didn't. Instead, the sun shined back at him and he felt that maybe he should curse at the world for all the bad cards he'd been dealt as of late. But he couldn't do that either, because this -this was all his own doing. It's the wake-up call that Niall  had needed for so long. The shock to his system that finally made him realize that he was on a path to self-destruction. And in that moment he realized that his life was never going to get better if he didn't start taking back control. And that started with facing the consequences of his actions. 

Niall heard Krystal sniffling as he re-entered the house. He watched as she quickly tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, but even that couldn't hide the puffiness that now surrounded them. He instantly felt guilty for running out on her like that. She'd probably been terrified to tell him in the first place, and here he was bolting like a total dick.

Niall didn't say anything at first, sliding onto the couch next to Krystal and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She laid her head against him as he whispered "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like that."

He half expected her to lash out at him. To yell at him for leaving after she just told him something so serious. To lecture him that his actions were nothing like that of a father, and that he had a long way to go if he wanted a place in this child's life. She didn't.

"It's okay," she responded in a shaky voice that proved that it was far from okay.

There were a million questions racing through Niall's mind, including the looming question of whether or not this was even his baby. He knew it was a possibility, but it was a small one right?   They'd only ever slept together once. 

"It's mine?" Niall asked, "You're sure?" Niall wasn't sure what transpired that night, but he swears he is starting to remember grabbing that foil package from his bedside drawer. He was always careful. Always.

Krystal  quickly nodded. "I've looked at the dates a million times and it... it just adds up that way." Niall could have sworn he heard some hesitation in her voice, but maybe that was his brain trying to hear things that weren't there, searching for a way out of this. Krystal wouldn't lie to him. Not about anything this important. Not about something that would change the course of  both their lives. He suddenly regretted ever asking about the paternity, thinking it likely made him look desperate for a way out. 

"I'm sorry, I debated not even telling you, and I know we have the contract meeting next week and..." Krystal's eyes began to glaze over again. "I just want you to know that I completely understand if you want nothing to do with this. I'll keep quiet about it- even to your management."

Niall looked Krystal in the eyes. He could see the fear filling her hazel irises, and he began to think about just how much strength it had taken Krystal to tell him. The turmoil that had likely been going on inside her head day in and day out . And though every ounce of him wanted to be angry, at himself, at Krystal, at his management for every putting him in this situation in the first place, all he could feel was an ache in his heart for Krystal.

"Krystal, look at me," he said, taking her hands into his.  "I will support you in whatever decision you make. You aren't going to go through this alone."

Krystal nodded, but her eyebrows were still laced with concern. "I'm going to keep it," she murmured softly, as if she was hesitating to vocalize her decision aloud. "Maybe my mom's right and I've made a terrible mistake and I'm ruining my life, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise? " Niall could tell that Krystal was still trying to convince herself of that last part. He wanted to press her about her mother, but he knows know is not the time.

Instead, he wraps his arms around Krystal, hugging her tight. "You're going to be an excellent mother, I just know it."

*****************

Niall and Krystal came to the conclusion that they had to mention their news to Niall's management, especially since their upcoming meeting was supposed to be all about how to break things off. Not to mention the fact that Niall was supposed to be on tour during the time Krystal's online due date calculator indicated the baby would be arriving. Niall found it a bit ironic, for so long he had longed for the day when he would be free to spend time with whoever he chose again, and here he was willingly giving Capitol a reason to continue to dictate his personal life.

Mr. Michaels was perched behind his desk with a sinister grin plastered on his face like always as Niall and Krystal entered his office to discuss the status of the contract. Entering the Capitol Office never got any easier, and Niall wondered what bombshell Mr. Michaels had to drop on Niall's plans this time. Niall wasn't thrilled with the idea of extending the contract, but he wasn't sure what else there was to do at this point. He was trying to do the right thing. And if the right thing meant continuing to fake a relationship with Krystal- that's exactly what he would do.

He took a seat in the chair next to Krystal, rubbing his palms against his grey trousers as Mr. Michaels began to clear his throat. "As you both know, the contract is about to expire. So we need to discuss how we will wrap this relationship up," Mr. Michaels announced.

"Before we discuss that," Niall interrupted hesitantly, noticing that his voice cracked. "We have something to tell you that may...influence how the ending of this is handled."

Mr. Michaels raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I'm pregnant," Krystal blurted out before he had a chance to ask questions.

Mr. Michaels was silent for a moment, and Niall took small satisfaction in knowing that for once he had caught the man off-guard. "I see," Mr. Michaels paused, tapping his pen against the metal surface of his desk. "Well in that case we can certainly extend the contract as needed, although  it's not what we had planned for promotion I can't say that this won't generate its own set of publicity..."

"No," Krystal said suddenly, causing Mr. Michaels to look up abruptly.

"I'm sorry," he asked, giving Krystal a confused glance.

"No, I won't sign another contract," Krystal repeated, her voice firmer this time. "I'm simply notifying you so that you can alter your plans. If Niall wants to be part of this child's life, I want it to be by his choice and on his terms."

Mr. Michaels looked startled, like that was the last thing he expected to leave Krystal's mouth. Niall wondered if he looked shocked too, because he also hadn't even considered the fact that Krystal would refuse signing the contract. 

"You didn't have to do that," he said as they entered the elevator to leave the Capitol building, having come to an agreement with Mr. Michaels that their relationship in the public eye would fizzle out without any outside interference and that Niall's tour dates from mid-February to March would be rescheduled. 

"It was the only thing I could do Niall. I don't want this contract dictating your life anymore, and I certainly don't want you to resent me or this baby because of it."

"Thank you," Niall replied softly, but he knew even those words weren't big enough to express just how grateful he was to finally be out of Capitol's control- or at least partly. 

***********************************

In the time since they'd met with Capitol, there had been many rumors circulating. Rumors that Niall and Krystal had broken up when their sightings together disappeared. Rumors that they were expecting a baby triggered by the suspicious rescheduling of some of Niall's tour dates. Even rumors that the two had broken up because of the baby. 

They weren't together- not in a romantic sense- but Niall had committed himself to being there for Krystal in whatever way possible, especially after learning that her mother had effectively disowned her when she learned she was pregnant. He knew he was doing the right thing- but that didn't make the right thing easy.

He often laid awake at night wondering if this is what his life would become, a platonic co-parenting relationship with his former fake girlfriend. Fearing what this would do to his career. Imagining what this news might do to the person who still had a grasp on his heart, no matter how much time had passed. A part of Niall wondered what would have happened if all those months ago, Capitol hadn't decided he needed a girlfriend to promote his record. Would he be where he was now? Or was his life always meant to be this way?

"Krystal Hoffman," the nurse called out, entering the waiting room with a clipboard in hand and snapping Niall back into reality.  Krystal stood abruptly and Niall noticed her hand shaking as she reached to grab her purse. He reached out, setting a hand on the small of her back and leaning over to whisper in her ear. "We can do this." 

But he's not sure who needed more convincing- Krystal or himself.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall​​ , @ihearthemcallingforyou​ , @niall-is-my-dream​​ ,​  @stylishmuser​​​ , @thicksniall

[musicallisto]

Hello, may I request a male ( to be matched with) matchup please & thank you from play choices Royal romance, decor and decorum and red dead redemption 2? LINK -  The first part is infoship2 (.) tumblr (.) (com) (without the parentheses). You can take as much time as you need to, I don’t mind being patient & waiting. If the information is too long, let me know and I'll shorten it if necessary. If you don't want to write for some of them, I hope it would be alright if I chose another one.

I ship you with...

Ezekiel Theron

Ezekiel, out of all the nobles at court, is the one who's most comprehensive of your love of animals, your introversion, and your mental conditions, especially anxiety and OCD. I think he'd be the best match for you because he's a soft-spoken yet passionate and loving person, and he'd be undisputably devoted to you and to your relationship.

He appreciates that you are such a good listener, but I think he is, too. Sometimes when you've had a horrible day and you just need to unwind, you'll sit together on the couch and he'll listen to you ramble about whatever is pissing you off and how bad of a day you just had while he rubs your shoulders comfortingly.

(In these moments, you swear that for a little instant every worry in the world ceases to exist and you are finally at peace with yourself, your mind, and your surroundings)

You witness him veritably thrive once he finally opens his veterinary clinic; he's happier than you've ever seen him. Visiting him at work always cheer the both of you up, because he sees your cheerful face and his mood is lifted, and because you observe him in the environment he's most comfortable in, taking care of the animals with such gentleness that it makes you swoon

(When a dog who's just had a heavy surgery has to spend the night at the clinic, you get to pet and cuddle the little, tired patient after closing hours, when darkness and quiet have fallen on Castelsarraillan, and it's like having your own little family with Zeke)

You both are not the most outspoken people, that much is clear - actually, Kiara jokingly wonders out loud what you can talk about when you're together, since you are very reserved and keep to yourselves a lot when you're in social situations. But she fails to see how comfortable you are in each other's presence, and how well you know each other, to the point that words are both natural and unnecessary. Communication, love, trust, and your ever-growing friendship are all held by little gestures, affections, that anyone else would not notice, but you do.

(Such affections include the time Zeke took you to a botanical garden in Castelsarraillan to watch the colorful butterflies burst into bright waterfalls inbetween the leaves, because he thought it would be a calm date that you would appreciate. He was nervous about it at first, fearing you'd find that stupid. Judging by the kiss you gave him at the end of the visit, you did find it anything but stupid.)

Viscount Harry Foredale

As strange as it may sound, you'd both bond thanks to the fact that you have felt cheated by love, or that you simply will not, and have no interest, in looking for it anymore. You both have been through a lot and have resolved not to let down your walls for anyone, fearing it might lead to hurt. And yet, after being friends for quite a long time, you can't help but be touched by Harry's kind soul, and he starts to consider you as more than a friend once he discovers gentle sides of your personality that he had not imagined before.

He knows that you don't particularly like balls and other fancy gatherings - to be honest, neither does he. You have to put on a lot of makeup, long, restraining and uncomfortable dresses, show yourself to the world and make small talk with snakes who are more than eager to cross you. As Viscount, he can't avoid attending some, especially the ones thrown at Edgewater, but he'll always find a way to whisk you somewhere private where you can dance freely and only be watched by the stars and the fields.

(One time, much to his surprise, you were the one who asked him to get away for a little while, by a sudden burst of initiative. He happily followed you through the gorgeous gardens of some Count's mansion in the English countryside, smelling the flowers and telling childhood stories. For the first time, you did not care how your laugh sounded, you just let it dissolve in the night sky.)

Something that he won't admit, but is true nonetheless about him: he's insecure about his scars. He thinks they're the most noticeable feature on his face and he hates them, feeling it makes him more of a monster and less of a human. To you, on the other hand, they are a sign of his strength. When he tells you the tales of his adventures in France, you make it a point to remind him how courageous you think he is. He blushes and fumbles with his words everytime.

(After a few times, he makes it a point, too, to remind you how courageous he thinks you are. You're not sure why he thinks so, and even why he would tell you this, but when you look into his earnest eyes you are absolutely sure that he is not lying.)

Afternoons spent sketching on the sunny parlor of your estate, with a fuming cup of tea right in front of you, and your dog snoring at your feet, are your favorites. You sometimes hear the old wood tiles creak under Harry's feet upstairs - he spends hours working and writing in his office, but sometimes he comes downstairs and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Curiously, you're not ashamed to show him what you've been drawing - most times it's a landscape, or your dog.

(Once or twice, though, he's come into a empty room salve for the pen and paper left on the table, and he's felt his cheeks redden and his chest fill with love and pride when he recognized that you were drawing him, with scars and all, proper in his horseriding suit, judging the observer with an unmistakable glint in his eye.)

Arthur Morgan

I highly doubt you'd be part of the gang - it really isn't the kind of ruthless, cruel and deceptive life that you would choose to follow. No, I rather think that you would be a seamstress, working with the Saint-Denis tailor, having made of your love for sewing a living. When Arthur comes in for the first time to buy his clothes for the ferry job in Saint-Denis, he's enraptured by you. You're discreet, but there's this magnetic pull about you that makes it so difficult for him to take his eyes off of you. He watches you work in the back of the shop, and he notices how gently you handle the fabrics, and the care that you put in each of your movements. Quite frankly, he's rarely seen anyone so absorbed and focus on their work, and especially not a work of such quality; he doesn't understand a single thing about sewing and clothes, but at that precise moment he's already sworn to himself that he will try to see you again and get you to talk with him.

He forgets that he's a big, bad outlaw, and that he can't properly talk to anyone, let alone ladies - he's pretty much the polar opposite of what a delicate girl like you would want. But when he comes back to your shop a few days later, then the day after and the day after that, you think you understand his intentions. You're not sure - you're still damn oblivious to flirting and romantic interest, but it definitely looks like he has taken a liking into you.

(You are not entirely sure until the day Arthur explicitly confesses, rubbing his neck and blushing slightly, that he has not liked anyone in a long long time and he doesn't know how to deal with it. And even then, after you start going out together, you're not quite sure that it is real.)

Your "dates", if you may be as bold as to call them that, are rare, but always immensely pleasurable. Sometimes you just like to take a stroll in the city near the docks, because breathing the sea air does you both good. Other times, you decide to leave Saint-Denis altogether for a little while, and although Lemoyne is not your favorite place - too hot, too humid, too many people and too many alligators -, you like it better than the moisty city covered in soot. Arthur teaches you how to ride a horse, and you both trot down the path that leads to Rhodes, near Caliga Hall, talking about your hopes and dreams, your fears, and admiring the little birds take flight from their nearby nests. You are positively sure that Arthur is the only person who you feel one hundred percent comfortable around, and with whom you don't maintain your facade of vague happiness and contentment. He takes you as you are, and you dive head first into his embrace, uncensored.

(The first time he tried to teach how to ride, near the abandoned train tracks in the outsides of Saint-Denis, you almost fell off your horse, and he managed to catch you by the waist before you hit the ground, securing you with his deep, comforting voice and rough and steady hands. You had to admit, you were glad he had jumped in at that moment, but also his touch made you feel some kind of nervousness that you did not know before, and haunted you for the first of the trip.)

He would sooner die than introduce you to the gang, to his life, to his ways. It's not that he doesn't like them, or you, enough - it's just that you're so pure in his eyes, that seeing the horrid reality of what he does, what abysses he's strayed to, would change you, corrupt you, and most probably break you in a way that he could never forgive himself for letting happening. His childhood, his upbringing is just running and lies and deception and betrayal, and he doesn't want you to be killed by that. It's better if you remain his secret, and so you do. Sometimes, in the bad days, the aura of mystery that surrounds him is enough to make you question. Does he love another? Is he courting and feeding the same lies to every other woman? But when he holds you close to his chest and murmurs that he's missed you more than the sun, you feel his heartbeat ring true, with unspeakable love and adoration, and you allow yourself to melt.

(Because what the gang life has told him too is loyalty, and loyalty is the most important thing to him as well as you. He is not a man of many promises, but you are absolutely sure that when he makes one, he will fulfill it if you give him enough time. That's why, when he swears, looking you dead in the eye, that he will save you from this misery and buy you a little cottage up in the mountains so you can draw the wildlife, read novels and solve puzzles all day long, at peace with him, you shiver with anticipation, tears already brimming in your eyes as you mutely nod your head. This is the first day of the rest of your life.)

get your ship now!

[softspaceboibrian]

Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: none

Wc: 2700

A/N: okay, so, not as many people as I thought read the first chapter, which is sad since I thought it was good. but yeah, I'll keep posting it anyway and, hopefully, it will gain readers with time

Other chapters: 1 - 3 - 4 - 5

“Gosh, you’re soaking wet… get inside the car” He sounded worried and confused. You didn’t let him beg for you to actually do it. You didn’t know why, but you trusted him enough to get instantly inside his car, even though you had known him for, what? Less than a day? “What happened to you? I thought you were going to go home by bus.”

“Well, the bus didn’t come, I don’t have money for a cab, my flat mate is still working, I don’t know if I left my keys at home or if I lost them. Oh, and it started raining.” You explained without managing to look him in the eyes. You were embarrassed because of all that happened to you in less than ten minutes.

“You can stay at my place till your friend gets home.” His voice was soft, his smile sincere.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry. You can just drop me off at the library or, I don’t know, a café. I really don’t mean to bother you.” You started rumbling on, really not wanting to be a weight for him.

“You are not bothering me. I live alone with my dog, and she loves people. You’re more than welcome, trust me.” He smiled gently, before starting the car. Apparently, you didn’t have much of a say in it. He just decided that you were going home with him and, for some reason, that didn’t bother you, at all. The drive wasn’t long and surely a lot less embarrassing than the walk they had together to get to his office a few hours before. It was filled with funny comments and stories of embarrassing students hitting in him during lesson or trying to kiss him during office hours. After fifteen minutes or so, the car stopped in front of a beautiful townhouse, which reminded you of London.

“Make yourself at home” said the man while letting you in. The house smelled of cinnamon, books, coffee and cranberry. You looked around, noticing that that place looked exactly how you expected the house of an English literature professor to look like: books everywhere, papers full of notes and stains of coffee, tons of used notebooks, numerous bookshelves filled with every kind of book you could ever think of, the desk and the coffee table submerged with papers and, yes, you guessed it, more books. “I’m really sorry for the mess, we were obviously not expecting any visit anytime soon.” He laughed. The way he talked about himself and his dog warmed your heart.

“Don’t worry, my home is a lot worse. I mean, two girls leaving all by themselves, without any parent to remind them to tidy up the room. I think you can imagine how that looks like.” You giggled, putting your bag down and taking off your shoes. Immediately afterward, you felt something touching your leg and, when you turned around, you saw a furry ball sitting right in front of you, with two beautiful blue eyes, and a ball in her mouth.

“Lady, don’t bother our guest” Said the man, getting closer to them, probably to take the dog away. But you got down on your knees, petting the dog before taking the toy from her mouth.

“Lady, that’s a beautiful name” You commented, starting to play with her, throwing the toy and waiting for the dog to bring it back to you.

The man didn’t answer. He just smiled and disappeared in a room, coming out of it a few minutes later in some more comfortable clothes. “You’re still wet, maybe you want to take a shower and change into some warm, clean clothes.” His voice was so gentle it almost gave you shivers.

“Ehm… yes, thank you. If that not a problem with you.” You got up from the floor, leaving Lady alone and walking towards him.

Twenty minutes later you walked into the kitchen wearing warm clothes that were definitely too big for you, your hair had been pulled up in a messy bun, but at least you were no longer soaking wet because of the rain. The kitchen smelled even more of coffee than the living room did, inviting you to get inside and take a seat at the table where the Professor was working. The last thing you wanted to do was to disturb him. But as soon as you sat down, he looked up from the laptop, laying his eyes on you, that soft smile that showed the little wrinkles around his eyes made its way on his face, making you blush for no particular reason. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” You smiled, lowering your gaze on the table, while you started fidgeting with your hands.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I actually prefer tea”

“Black?”

“Yes, please”

“Coming” He winked, going immediately to the stove to prepare you tea. It amazed you how different he looked there, at home, where no one could see him, where he simply was Gwilym, the nice guy next door with an adorable puppy and amazing taste in books. “I’m working on an article.” He said breaking the silence. “I write for an online newspaper. I take care of the literature section. I review new books, I write about recently deceased authors, but this kind of article I’m working on right now is by far my favourite: I have to work on a theme, analyse it through different works, authors, countries, genres.”

“And what is the theme of this article in particular?” You asked, being sincerely curious.

“Don John. You know, the famous Spanish womanizer.” He turned around, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I started by analysing the first drama ever written about him, then I compared it to the Romantic version. Then, I talked about Mozart’s and Byron’s plays and Kierkegaard’s theory of the three phases of life.” He explained with a proud grin on his lips, until he got unexpectedly cut off.

“Did you consider writing about Wilde’s Dorian Gray as modern Don John?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, laying your cheek on the palm of your hand.

He looked at you speechless. “No, I did not…” You had surprised him, positively surprised him.

“Well, you see, they are more alike than one would ever imagine: they both care about appearance more than everything, they like to seduce people – here’s the first difference, Dorian seduces not only women, but also men. Then, for example, look at the characters and the object: Sybil is Doña Ines, Sybil’s brother is Don Gonzalo, the picture is the statue. Easy.” He was amazed by the girl in front of him and her knowledge. “Why modern, you might ask. Well, you see, when the story was first written, it was set in Seville, Spain, one of the most glorious reigns of those times. When Wilde wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray, England was the most powerful country in the world and geographically the centre of the world. Don John used to go out drinking, Dorian is known for using drugs, such as opium.” You kept rambling on for several minutes, stopping only to thank the man for the tea.

When you finished presenting your theory, Gwilym remained silent for a couple more moments, still astonished by your intelligence. “You know Spanish literature too?”

“And Anglo-American, German, Italian, Scandinavian and a little French and Russian.” You replied, right before taking a sip of your no-longer-too-hot tea.

“You will never stop to surprise me, won’t you?”

You giggled, hiding your now rosy cheeks behind the mug, not really knowing what to answer. “You can use my idea, if you want.”

He sat down across from you, setting his mug down on the table right on a small pile of papers. That’s why there's stains pretty much on each paper on his house. “You should write for a blog or a magazine yourself.” His voice was gentle, just as his smile.

“Oh no, writing articles isn’t my thing. I’m more into poetry and novels.” You shook your head, crossing your legs on the chair. “But, I’m serious, use it. If your readers find it interesting, all you need to do is thank me.” You giggled, putting down the mug on the table.

But, at that point, the article was long forgotten, the laptop went on standby mode. “Are you staying over for dinner?”

The next day you woke up at the sound of your alarm going off. You reached for the phone, without finding it. It must have fallen from the nightstand or something, or at least that was what you thought. When you finally managed to open your eyes, the view of a room you had never seen before appeared in front of you, leaving you perplexed. You finally found her phone, which was on the nightstand, charging. A just not your nightstand. It was only when you read Rose’s text messages that it all hit you.

[9:47 pm] Honey, I’m so sorry if I didn’t answer. I was still working. Hope you’re fine.

[9:48 pm] Oh, I see, you’re with Prof Charming.

[10:14 pm] Yes, your keys are home. I’ll leave the spare one under the mat outside the door.

[6:45 am] You’re not home? Are you already out or did you sleep at your teacher house?

[7:01 am] I’m actually a little worried. Text me asap, so I know that you’re okay.

You unlocked you phone and immediately responded Rose’s messages. Yes, you had spent the night there, but you didn’t recall falling asleep in that bed. That was extremely confusing. At that point you got up, taking your phone with her and walking outside of the room, following the scent of black tea and coffee coming from the kitchen, finally finding the tall man, who was standing in front of the stove, waiting for the coffee to be ready, printed papers in his hands. You just walked in, looking at him and greeting him, waiting for him to realize you were actually there. And when he finally raised his eyes from the papers to meet your gaze, a soft smile formed on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice was still a little raspy, he had probably just woke up himself. “Did you sleep well? I made you tea, and here you have toasts with jam or butter, granola, cookies, fruit. Take whatever you want.”

You sat down at the table, still looking at him, hoping he would say something that could remind you how you ended up waking up in his bed. Like, did you drink so much that now you couldn’t even remember doing it? Did you have sex? What happened?!

“Last night you were watching TV and you fell asleep on the couch” He said, as if he could read your mind. “So I picked you up, took you to my room and let you sleep in my bed, while I slept on the couch instead.”

You looked at him in silence for a second, waiting to finish chewing the cookie you had started to eat. “You didn’t have to. You could have woken me up and driven me home, or even just let me sleep on the couch.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry.” He smiled in that gentle way, like he always did, that kind of smile that reassures you, makes you feel comfortable. “Do you need me to drive you to your place so that you can change before going to University?”

“Yes, but you could just drop me off there and then I could take the bus, you don’t need to wait for me.”

“I insist.” His voice was soft, soothing, in a way. He had only known you for less than a day and he was already so caring and thoughtful. And the was weird for you because never in your experience someone did that just because they wanted to. Back in high school, people always wanted something in exchange. They treated you kindly and then they wanted you to do their homework; they invited you to parties, and then they wanted you to vote for them; they invited you over to their place to study together, and then they wanted to have sex. “Come on, I’m just trying to be nice. After all, we’re going to work together now.”

You didn’t let him go on for a lot more. You trusted him, even though you weren’t sure why. In his eyes you see that something that ha led you to accept his ride the day before. You trusted him, and that was the reason why you eventually gave in. And there you were, twenty minutes later, in front of your apartment, finally opening the door and letting the man in. “I’m really sorry for the mess.” You giggled, immediately running towards your flatmate’s room to close the door – it looked like a bomb had exploded inside that room, there were clothes all over the floor, open books on the bed and shoes on the desk, nothing was where it should have been. Luckily, the rest of the house wasn’t that bad, still a mess, but it could have definitely been worse. The living room wasn’t that big, the couch took up most of the space, all of her books were still inside those big cardboard boxes, only a couple of notebooks were lying on the coffee table with some other papers, most of them covered in tea and mug stains. Your room, on the other hand, had a reason for it to be a mess: it was still a work in progress, there were still boxes out, you hadn’t put all the books on the shelves nor all the clothes inside the closet, but that was just because you would usually have something else to do in the afternoon or in your spare time instead of tidying up.

“You can wait here, on the couch” You smiled, right before vanishing inside your bathroom. It didn’t take you long and fifteen minutes later you had showered and were now wearing some dark wash mom jeans, a loose navy blue turtleneck with white stripes, a cream coloured long cardigan and white sneakers. As simple as it could be. You put on some lip balm and walked out of the bathroom, picking up your bag and going back to the living room. There you immediately met those blue eyes that almost sent shivers down your spine, before going back to what they were looking at before. There was something about that man, something that you couldn’t yet understand but that still made you want to spend time with him as if he was a simple friend.

“Your poems are breath-taking. I didn’t expect you to be this good.” He commented, his eyes still on an open notebook. “I mean, I imagined you were probably really good, but I didn’t think you were this good.” When you finally realised what he was holding in his hands, you let you bag fall to ground with a big thud, before running towards him, taking the notebook from his hands and closing it immediately. He looked puzzled, why should someone this good hide her talent? “I’m really sorry, I found it there, on the coffee table. It was open, and I peeked. It’s impressive what you can do.”

“I never show my poems to anyone.” You whispered, hiding the notebook behind your back.

“I don’t get it? Why not share it with the word? Those are wonderful.” His voice was soft, sincere, his eyes tried to meet yours, which were now looking at your shoes.

“I don’t… I don’t think people would actually like them.”

He looked at you in silence for a while, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “The Romantics, am I right? Those are the poets you look up to. Keats is probably your favourite.”

“Yes”

“Well, that explains a lot.” And you knew exactly what he meant by that, so you just kept your eyes low, trying to hide the peachy colour of your cheeks. “We should get going.” Said the man after taking a quick glance at his watch.

[midnight-in-town]

I know this may sound stupid or something, and I'll guess you'll disagree with me in some way. But in my opinion, if Undertaker were to really help Ciel's twin get revenge on our sweet lil's brat Ciel, I think I'd lose some of the "respect" for him, and Idk how I should feel about him then. I mean, him not caring about random people dying is one thing, but if he went out of his way to help RCiel, to get revenge by helping him killing Soma/Agni, I don't think I could be that fond of him anymore.

Hey Anon and that’s totally okay, no matter if I agree or not, you’re free to have your own opinion. :) However, that’s kinda funny because I really don’t disagree with you there anyway. xD

Basically, I meant every word I said on that post (to the second Anon) about hoping that the 2CT becoming canon won’t debunk some characterizations, namely Lizzie’s and UT’s, knowing that I wrote my worst case scenario for the two of them (so everything that I don’t want to see) here.

If I have to be honest, I’m not so worried about Lizzie as I explained already [x] unless Yana really intends on writing her as shallow, but I’m a bit more scared about UT’s character, seeing as it’s really hard to see where he even fits in the arc so far. 

Simply, after the last chapter, I can’t be sure of anything anymore. After all, if we look at what we were told about UT’s character, namely:

that he has a strong and emotional link to Ciel’s family, probably because of Claudia initially

that he cared about Vincent a lot

+ that he more or less showed that he cared his own way about our! Ciel [x]

and that he doesn’t really seem to like the contract to Sebastian, even if Seb makes for a good protector for the time being

…it seems completely OOC for him (imo) to just help the Twin in his possible revenge against our!Ciel (taking Lizzie away from him + trying to kill Soma) when he says things like…

So really, seeing as they’re both Vincent’s son, I don’t see why UT would favor any of the twins in particular and I understand even less why he’d purposedly help the Twin get his revenge over his brother when said brother is already endangered by a demonic contract.

…Unless UT is trying to teach our!Ciel a lesson because, by taking Lizzie away and hurting Soma (one of the few friends Ciel has even if he doesn’t refer to him as such), he wants our!Ciel to realize that revenge isn’t the only thing he cares about in his life…

…which could lead later to Ciel possibly reflecting about all the choices he made so far (like the contract to Seb for example, if his character development goes down this road), but even with this idea, it means that UT is basically using the Twin which… doesn’t really make sense either, if we supposedly understood that UT liked the entire Phantomhive family enough to try helping them so that they wouldn’t all suffer from the same painful fate.  

Basically, UT wanting to bring back the twin makes sense since he’s a Phantomhive, but UT helping the twin attack his brother (even if just indirectly for now)? That doesn’t seem right (to me) with what we know of UT’s character and I certainly don’t want this scenario to happen (even if it’s for the theory that UT is actually using the Twin to make our!Ciel realize that selling his soul wasn’t the best deal he ever made). 

TL;DR I’m hoping that this arc won’t become some sort of Twin & UT vs Ciel & Seb conflict because it wouldn’t make sense with UT’s character, no matter how desperate he surely is, and I really don’t want this to happen. ;_;I’m also hoping Yana won’t let me down on that aspect, so that I will still be able to enjoy Kuroshitsuji’s plot and cast but yeah, I’m definitely worried for the moment because I can’t really get a good grip on where UT fits in this arc for now. :/

Sorry for rambling Anon, I hope it made sense. :3 Please have a nice Kuro positivity day and here’s to hoping UT won’t become too OOC with the current arc!