#JADE HAS SPOKEN

[bookskiver]

The holy trinity

[deadandphilgames]

oversharing in the tags time :)

[threejadesoflan]

❝ ah, forgive this humble scrap collector, hanguang-jun, ❞ the white-clad cultivator scratched his jawline sheepishly with a finger. the silver, glimmering butterfly on his shoulder fluttered its wings indignantly, as though softly chiding the man for reducing himself.

despite appearances, he regarded the younger jade of lan with a soft gaze, softer still at the man beside him. there was a paternal love glinting in golden eyes, reflecting the grin that his xiǎo tāng yuán gave as soon as xie lian was recognized.

❝ i only wish to offer my blessings, ❞ xie lian continued, with a beautiful smile. it was not unlike wet wuxian’s, in the way that it lit up his expression, except his was full of grace and humility. ❝ thank you, hanguang-jun, for giving a-ying happiness. may you have a harmonious union that lasts one hundred years. ❞

The man may have appeared like any other cultivator, but he failed to fool Lan Wangji from the start. While he has never sensed the qi of a god before, something about Xie Lian reveals him and his golden core as simply not mortal, and Lan Wangji is no fumbling junior disciple. When the man mentions A-Ying, he understands.

He dislikes speculating on this particular matter, but Wei Ying's beautiful mind runs in all directions at all times of the day and had at one point decided to latch on to why he had never responded to the many, many times and places Lan Wangji had played Inquiry for him.. He'd speculated that because an entity called 'Crimson Rain' and one he refers to as 'His Highness' had sheltered him in the ghost realm and taken care of him. He had said that the ghost and the god were likely the reason his ghost fire never dispersed despite the way he had died- something he clearly has an idea of but refuses to tell his husband, to Lan Wangji's immense frustration. Though many of Wei Ying's memories of that time are vague, he insists that the two entities had taken care of him as though he were their son but had also let him go when Mo Xuanyu had called him.

In a sense, Lan Wangji owes everything about Wei Ying's return not only to Mo Xuanyu, but also to them. And now one of them stands before him, thanking him and offering blessings.

This cannot be right, surely.

Lan Wangji cups his hands and bends a nearly full ninety degrees at the waist, holding the position as he speaks. "Taizi Dianxia," he guesses as there is no crimson in the man's clothing or appearance. "It is this mortal who owes you gratitude. Wei Ying told this one everything." He is not religious, but lying is forbidden by the Lan Clan of Gusu. As such, he speaks the full truth when he continues: "You and Crimson Rain protected and cared for Wei Ying when this one failed him in every way. For that, this one owes you tribute if not devotion. Speak your demands, Taizi Dianxia, and they will be met to the best of this one's humble ability."

[cak31ssuperi04]

Clears throat. Sora for the character ask game

<3 Starboy <3

[averyintrovertedfangirl]

thank you for tagging me!! :D ok ok let's see

hmm. yeah i'll take it. ew tiktok mention

@jadegr8 @d1mndnthr0ugh here u go (*⌒∇⌒*) no pressure of course

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hi, there (again) :D

Second and last request, if it is not too much trouble I can request:

Can I request a "A kiss stemmed from jealousy" trope? with Silver, Malleus and Jade?���

If I exceeded my number of orders, you can discard it but if not, take your time and without pressure. Thank you <3

Jade Leech:

Jade was always watching. It was ominous yet comforting at the same time, knowing he was observing you from afar whenever he could; you had joked he was like a hero who could swoop in to save you, while he chuckled and said it’d be much more fun to watch you independently solve whichever problem was plaguing you in the moment. This moment, however, required his direct interference and there’s a dark aura rolling off him in waves that has bystanders scattering. You can sense him coming up from behind you before he arrived, his shadow looming over you and you conversation partner; when his hand rested on your arm you turned back to greet him, surprised to see a cold glint in his mismatched eyes. You’re left speechless when he introduced himself as your boyfriend without even giving his name, the smile on his face giving away just how irritated he was with this situation. While the other person is thinking of a way to save their skin Jade leaned down to press his lips against yours, a hand on the back of your head to keep you glued to him until he was truly ready to let you go. If this didn’t get his point across, then nothing short of violence would.

Malleus Draconia:

There’s a sudden electricity in the air, the little hairs on your arms and legs standing on end; your conversation partner seemed unaware, and when you rubbed your arm they reached out to touch you, teasingly asking if you were cold. Lightning struck suddenly which caused you to jump apart, confusion written all over your face as you looked up at the sky that had seconds ago been clear and blue. There’s a dark shadow that casts over you but before you can feel alarmed, you made out the familiar shape of horns. You whipped around to greet Malleus with a smile on your face, with him wearing a smile of his own, but you sensed something was different about him, as though he were standing taller than normal. You’re even more shocked when he leaded down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, his gaze becoming much colder when they slid over to acknowledge your companion. The storm clouds seemed to intensify the longer you stood there but now that the conversation was stilted, there wasn’t much of a reason to stay. Malleus quickly escorted you away, saying he wouldn’t want you to catch if it started to rain.

Silver:

Silver wasn’t used to feeling this way. He had no doubt about your loyalty to him and your relationship, and he could recognize that the other person was the one being overly friendly with you. You had been the one to explain what flirty behavior looked like as he seemed lost, nodding his head along with your words before thanking you for enlightening him. But now that he did understand it he saw how much attention people would invest in you, the way they’d looking at you with hungry eyes clearly not knowing you were spoken for. You’re shocked that Silver of all people showed this brief sign of possession, surprised by the hand on your waist before gasping as he leaned it to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. He didn’t speak a word to the other person, his attention solely on you as he asked if you wanted to get lunch together and then led the way without giving you a chance to respond.  

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions. 

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you. 

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.  

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access. 

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other. 

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.

[strawberrymochin]

Crown prince!gojo who has met you on his little sneak trip out of the imperial palace. He saw you lone scrubbing on a piece of silk, as slow tears trailed down your chin.

“does washing a single piece of silk cause you such great sadness?” his tone startled you, lacing with a hint of sarcasm.

You take a look on his stunning majestic brocade, and shiny silk robes, his hair tied up with a silver hair piece in which delicate blue crystals sparkled the evening sun. His attire suggested audience, unable to conceal his blood rank.

“i expect nothing from you to understand who hasn't even worked himself for a single day.” you made a snarky comment, frustrated from the overflowing tasks given by your mistress. You cared any less for pleasing or showing any respect for an notable rank.

Crown prince!gojo who had never been spoken so harshly with a taunt in air, had spiked his interests. After your abrupt leave, he got his attendants to search for you. And the next thing you know, is that you are summoned in the imperial palace to serve his highness who has requested you from the household you work in.

You who had never met any royals, and no idea who the mighty crown prince, taking over the kingdom after his father looked like, had your colour drained from your face after a single look at him.

He looked cunning with his azure eyes as his white hair, was now tied up in a knot, white robes with blue brocade and a belt of silk wrapped around his waist, which shone in the reflecting lights from the courtyard where you were summoned in.

“your highness" you bowed, your brow touching the grounds, mentally cursing your tongue to have provoked him the last day. God knows what he might ask you to do. Worse even your life being snatched away.

Crown prince!gojo who tells you to rise your head up, dismissing his attendants, now his smile looking more of mischievous. “you shifted your personality with such measures I'm impressed,” his lips creak a bit, but as of incredulity.

Crown prince!gojo who grinned even more when you unable to keep your composure snap at him. He wants you to be his companion, learning by his side before he assumes his court duties.

Crown prince!gojo who confesses to you the night you beat him in sword fight after almost 2 years spending day and night with you. Falling even more every single day.

Crown prince!gojo who clasps your hand to his chest while kissing you, under the solicitude of moonlight.

Crown prince!gojo who tells you he wanted to kiss you for so long, that his heart burned with agony.

Crown prince!gojo whose eyes darkens everytime he sees you taking with captain!geto from afar during your war practice sessions.

Crown prince!gojo who gifts you a tassal woven by him with tear drops of jades dangling from it, which is enchanted and protects you from all harms.

Crown prince!gojo whose dull eyes avoids yours during the entire crowning ceremony, face looking pale at the moment the emperor announces his betrothal to a princess of another strong kingdom.

It stabbed your heart, smeared it into Shards of glass and if you were tranced by an enchantment, you also joined the crowd praising the holy couple soon to be married.

Your throat felt dry as your heart burnt with rage. That's when finally his eyes meet yours—knowing very well this is the last time you see it.

Crown prince!gojo who cries himself to sleep as you left to join the army, never returning back to the imperial palace, as his companion anymore.

Crown prince!gojo whose heart thunders in his chest as whenever he learns you were about on a mission to fight with dangerous monsters.

Crown prince!gojo who sneaks in your room to heal your injuries with his magic, before any healer appears.

Crown prince!gojo who gets annoyed at the appearance of captain!geto, who came to check up on you.

Gojo's gaze steady upon geto as he entered the room nonchalantly, obvious to the tension in the air. He knows it rages the prince whenever he talks to you. And you know what? your captain loves to feast upon what others can't have. Especially in this case the we are talking about his highness Prince. How could he not lace his finger with you only to see prince gojo's fists rolling into balls as veins popped out on his jaw.

Crown prince!gojo who takes his leave, dismal as he exchanges cold glances with captain!geto.

This is terrible. You thought.

A/n- and it's fun for me. Lol. Shall I continue this with captain!geto?

[mochinomnoms]

I can't stop having Jade thoughts so I'm gonna throw them at you.

I know people have talked about PTM yuu playing into Jade's dirty thoughts to get a rise out of him, but I really just... I can stop thinking of Yuu just giving Jade sudden and subtle compliments. Like they hear his thoughts and there's an insecurity he doesn't talk about and Yuu makes a comment to try to make him feel better. Or Yuu doesn't even have to be subtle in compliments. Maybe Jade did something different with his outfit or maybe is trying a new perfume to hopefully get Yuu's attention and Yuu didn't notice it but they overheard Jade's thoughts so they comment on it and Jade gets so happy.

Or Jade has thoughts of how he's trying to act cool or handsome but Yuu calls him cute or pretty instead. Like he wasn't expecting to hear that and now he's a blushy and having to hide away to get his act back together.

Also a kinds related but also not really thought. If Yuu ever comments how they can tell Jade's fake smiles vs his real ones how would Jade react? Luke his fake smile doesn't show teeth but his real one does or something. And if Yuu said they likes his real smile more or comments that his real smile is cute then what? Would he die?

Aaaaaa you can always send me Jade thoughts I love my darling Jade!!!

Would you all be surprised to hear that it's actually the sweeter things that make him fall further in love with Yuu and not just the more risque scenarios (tho he does love those too).

Jade as a character is always performing a certain way, not necessarily to please others but to get what he wants out of them. We can see it in other's perceptions in the game, his classmates know that Jade is just as unhinged as his brother and manipulative as Azul, but others don't. Trey thinks Jade is like him, trying to just placate situations and being a pushover to his housewarden and brother, when Riddle points out that it's very much not the case. Vil gets unsettled when Jade is able to perfectly perform every single task he's given, no matter how impossible. Even when his perfect image as a soft-spoken, polite man is shattered once others find out just how mean and condescending he is, there is still a general notion that he's capable, intimidating, and almost a miracle maker. In fact, he revels in how unsettled he makes others, finding it funny.

But he doesn't want Yuu to see him like that, he doesn't want them to be put off by him. But the reality is that they've already have been looking at that way, and it's been a whole year for them to develop their own notions of Jade as a person.

It's a deep insecurity he has regarding them, a fear that Yuu will never see past that image. Maybe it's why he has such vivid daydreams, ones skipping right over that roadblock and immediately turning into one where he's already won their heart, rather than fighting for it. He's a bit of a coward, he hates to admit it, the fear of not being capable for once stumping his development.

Of course, Yuu knows this, and as much as they don't want to admit it, they've grown fond of Jade the longer they hear his thoughts. He is so firm in performing a certain way, it's nice to hear how open he really wants to be with them. (It's also the fact that it's only with them he wants to be open with that makes them a bit pleased, even if they don't want to admit it.)

But it's a bit hard to do outwardly experience that when Jade is so firm on being be person he thinks they want, and the Seven know hat they won't make the first move, so they try what they can to pull him out.

"It's so rare to see you smile like that, I kinda wish you'd do it more."

"I like your hair when it's pushed back, makes you give off a different vibe...huh? What kind? Aaah, nothing important..."

"Come on, I see the gears turning in your head, you have a joke? Tell it, I don't mind!"

"I remember this! Epel's grandma really went all out with your clothes. Haha, you look kinda cute with that hat..."

It helps, Jade becomes less concerned about being a certain way around Yuu, but does become more preoccupied with trying to get them to say more things about him.

He's hoping, with how sweet their words are, that a slip of the tongue might bring out a confession. Yuu is hoping for the same. I suppose it's a matter of who will utter those three little words first.

[cowgirlcherrie]

STARTEAM ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ volleyball! loser! ellie drabble

a/n: there is no plot for this it’s just a thought I haven’t been able to shake since seeing the amazing volleyball! ellie art by @caspervi ♡♡

volleyball! ellie art. support their work here!

update: also just realized @elliespeach has a wonderful volleyball! ellie fic and basically kickstarted the idea so support their work here too !!

content: 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, lowk saliva play if u squint bro, fem! water girl! reader

— song(s): STARTEAM by lastclass & byelilfly

Ellie was in timeout. 

Well not literally, but being benched felt like she was. Suddenly she was 5 again and her teacher was moving her card to red, for her indecent behavior. Ellie wanted to whine, she wanted to fight back – bitch and moan. She had been putting in the work! Up in the gymnasium at the crevice of the glowing somber night to practice her bumping and setting; perfecting her spikes and it seemed as if she would never get to reach tranquility. She couldn’t be an ace, she couldn’t beat her opponents. 

She was drenched in sweat head-to-toe —  the fabric of her jersey sticking to her chest like glue. Beads of fresh sweat dripped down her forehead as she licked her dehydrated lips. She needed to breathe. But Ellie didn’t know breath control. She didn’t know stopping either, her routine was damaged, she was jaded and her brain was fuzzy the plays didn’t even make sense to her. Her brain was insanely flawed.  Nothing but incoherent doodles as her coach yelled in her face to take 5. 

All she knew was routine:

Wake up at 5 am. Go for a run at 7 am. Nutritious breakfast at 9 am. Practice 10-4 pm. A quick nap and muscle soak before a game.

All her hard work burned into ashes; eventually to dust and crumbs as it became nothing but a false sense of dedication. Sleepless nights and aching muscles just to be benched. Ellie was incandescent. Her eyebrows furrowed, cheeks a pulsing red – like clown makeup from the intensity. Her blood cells flowed healthily and her heartbeat was in the root of her ears like the pulsing of the music that kept her going.  While some may say a body is a temple; her’s was a ticking time bomb ready to go off in any second. 

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes open, the sound of sneakers against the freshly polished floors made her eardrums bleed, similar to scraping a metal ruler against a school board. 

Dropping her head as she looked down at her legs. Her thighs were drenched in sweat the shin guards cutting off any circulation, making her thighs look wonderfully plump and 10x more muscular. Ellie was becoming hyper-aware until a sudden tap on her back and a sweet toothache-inducing smell filled her nostrils. 

It was you.

The water girl, her hero. Just the right person to fix her cravings. A thin white ridged paper cup in your hand with water filled to the brim as you held it out in front of you with a gentle smile. Ellie always thought your sweetness was ravishing. She thought her teammates were undeserving of such pleasure and authenticity from you. The other girls would dim your light – and by dimming it she meant flirting with you. Calling you sweetheart and asking to take you out to dinner which was followed by your rich voice telling them, “It’s unprofessional!” but she was too bashful to admit it; she wanted to do it too. 

The word baby could not escape her lips without being immediately flustered by it, Ellie was too smitten and starstruck by you. Quiet and lightly spoken, hell she was called ‘Bitchless 7 Williams’ for a reason. Stuttering over her words, hands shakier than ever, her affection becoming aggression she wanted nothing more than to drag herself out. She wishes she could be more flirty, more outspoken; then just maybe she would have been lucky to snag you, her water girl. 

You knew she could get down, she palpably could get rough with the right motivation. It was the way her anger transcended on the court, you were sure it would manifest in other places too. But part of you loved it, it turned you on, when you were alone at night, entangled in your duvet as you wondered what she would look like calling out your name. She was a fucking loser, a pathetic whiney player that still took the fall.

Initially, you thought you were sweeter; more gentle but Ellie was more bashful than you. She wasn’t like her teammates. Ellie didn’t make eye contact with you at all or call you names. She did, however, stare at your boobs for too long through your tightly fitting workout jacket that hugged every crevice of your body just right. Giving your boobs an extra push. It was perverted, but you caught her every time. Coincidentally that’s what got you hooked on her. You weren’t going to stop her. 

Like a hound dog you could smell what she wanted, you never failed to see the drool finally dripping from her tongue that she masked by bringing up her cup with great speed as the stretchy saliva dripped down the edge of her fingers and her cup. You did notice how she would leave a sticky residue; her clear fluids all over the cup before handing it back to you. Running off right before you can get a word in.

“Hope you’re thirsty It took me hooours to pour this” you teased, holding out the cup towards Ellie with a smile. That soft grin of yours that easily made anyone swoon on you. Ellie caught herself doing it again. In a room with so many people, her team, friends, and family, she sent a quick look at your boobs before looking back at the sparkles in your eyes. Like diamonds and pearls; vibrant and warm. Lewd thoughts raced in her brain like gnats. 

She was giving you teeth, as she took her shirt up; again, to wipe her forehead clear of the everflowing liquid. 

“Oh yeah,” Ellie taunted back, with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from, so she reached out to take the cup from you. Bringing the cup up to her lips as she tilted her head back, taking large gulps of the water not breaking eye contact with you. You saw the string of saliva again as she dropped the cup from her lips, taking a soft breath. 

“More . . .” Her voice was breathy as if she ran a mile. 

“More what?”

“More water…please?” Ellie pleaded, she spoke fast and in a whisper shaking the empty cup as she handed it back to you.

“Sure thing Els,” You confirmed taking the cup from her hands feeling the sudden dampness of her drool around the cup. Almost damaging to the deteriorating paper. “You got something here”

You pointed to your own chin with your pointer finger, as Ellie quickly rushed a hand up to wipe off any excess liquid with the back of her hands, fingertips covered in bandaids. 

“Sorry,” it was a quiet whisper. 

You turned to the back this time giving Ellie a full view of the way you looked in the short shorts — that were almost as tight as your top. Ellie had to look away. Almost as if she were being under surveillance, she had to behave; control her wandering eyes that betrayed her more than often.

Just as you were about to give Ellie the cup again, a shout from her coach filled the spacey gymnasium. With that simple shout, Ellie became a machine. Lifting her legs up forgetting about her water request and rushed back onto the court. If she was so lucky to have the chance, she’ll fetch the water from you later. Hopefully with a reward on her back. 

Williams! Back on the court! Let’s try it again #7 Hustle! 

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Octavinelle dorm (Azul, Jade, Floyd) × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

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Azul's ideal type would be...

Someone witty. Azul is a smart guy who likes being entertained. While his way of achieving that is less... for lack of better words, aggressive than the tweels', he enjoys a good mental game. If you can carry a good conversation with him, he'll remember you.

Someone who doesn't pressure him into making decisions. He is someone whose independence is very important to him. On top of that, his signature spell literally revolves around choice as a concept, so he understand the importance of it. Someone as stubborn as Azul will keep his distance if anyone tries to influence his free will.

Someone who appreciates music. He's a pianist and a good singer, which are skills that require a lot of practice and hard work, something Azul is known for. He will appreciate any genuine praise, but if you ask him to teach you more about music or, Sevens forbid, you want to duet with him, all of his three hearts are yours.

Someone who doesn't mock him, not even when teasing him. If you really know Azul, you know how bitter he is towards the people who have brought suffering onto him. The words they said are ingrained into his brain, controlling his choices for years after they were spoken to him. I'm not saying to constantly uplift him, but bringing up old wounds will only push Azul away with low chances of getting any closer again.

『••✎••』

Jade's ideal type would be...

Someone whose next move he can't accurately predict. It's kind of easy to catch the attention of any of the tweels, but it's also easy to lose it. The key to keeping Jade's eyes on you is to make him believe he's had you all figured out, then do something unexpected. Being a little unpredictable, even when you think you're outside of Jade's vision, will pique his curiosity.

Someone who plays along his little tricks and schemes. Jade is not an honest person: he always has some ulterior motive, hidden behind carefully worded questions and statements that he uses to poke and prod for information. If you try to help him and his twisted game of detective, he will certainly find you amusing, if not helpful.

Someone who goes exploring with him. Just like his brother, Jade has a fascination for the land above water, and he loves learning things about the fauna and flora. Someone who understands his appreciation for nature and genuinely embraces his curiosity will have a bit more of his appreciation.

Someone who doesn't try to understand him. Jade is very careful not to reveal too much about himself. Being awfully private with himself, he won't open up to just anyone. So he will appreciate someone who doesn't try to pry into his business too much. At the end of the day, Jade can be many things: a bartender, a vice housewarden, an informant, but he'd like to be seen as "just Jade" sometimes.

『••✎••』

Floyd's ideal type would be...

Someone who isn't intimidated by him. It's a surefire way to catch his attention. Even if you just pretend to not be intimidated by him, he'll stick around and try to push all of your buttons, test your limits, squeeze all that he finds interesting out of you.

Someone willing to teach him more about land folks. Everyone knows that Floyd has quite the interest about land folks and their customs. He wants to know more, so don't be afraid to throw random land people things towards him every once in a while. If it's something he didn't know about, he'll tell you to prove it. Congrats, he won't leave your side for a couple of hours.

Someone who doesn't compare him to Jade. Since he's the more polite and responsible one, Floyd gets compared to his brother pretty often, and some people even assume he's the younger twin. It is exhausting to have his other half be given as example on how to behave time and time again. If you reassure him he doesn't have to be like his twin, that being Floyd is just fine, it'll pull at his heartstrings.

Someone who takes his mood swings in stride. From people thinking he is a threat to people who just find him annoying and hard to work with, no one really takes Floyd's mood swings seriously. That doesn't mean he'll open up if you asked him "are you okay" and "what happened". Still, it would be the first time someone outside of his family reacted like that to him. It will baffle him, in a good way.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Jade is a contradiction of many things, all wrapped up in a little pink bow which you can never fully unwrap.

And she likes to keep it that way.

In her heart she will always be a businesswoman first and foremost, which means that she's always looking for things to be in her favor. As good as she is at her job it can get so tiring. Even she fantasizes about days in which she could just put her feet up, have an ice cold drink and have a cute little thing to fuss over her, telling her all sorts of silly and amusing things...

And you just happen to check every single box she has.

It's so easy to rope you into her arms. She can give you anything and everything. The best part is that it's all 100% guaranteed, literally every single person you've spoken to who has had her as business partner can attest to her skills, wit and charm. Honestly, you would be a fool to not work with her - that's what everyone says at least.

She comes to you like a whisper in the wind, her presence calming and reassuring. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours." she croons, a soft pout on her pretty pink lips as her hand hovers over your tear stained cheek.

"I shall take care of everything."

And indeed she does.

All of your debts are paid. All of them, every single one. Even your friends and family start getting random sums of cash, and there's such a large amount that they don't even know what to do with it! You can finish school in peace, start a business from scratch, travel the cosmos, the whole world is your oyster really!!

Jade gave you a pair of wings you never even dreamed of having. And she archived it all without even breaking a sweat. You thanked her profusely, over and over, showering the wonderful Lady Bonajade with every single kind word there ever was.

However, just as you were about to soar high into the sky, the horrible reality of the situation made you crash right back down to earth. Hard.

There's a sudden coldness around your neck, like a necklace of sorts. Her gloved fingers dance around the soft flesh, her eyes laser focused on the task at hand. You don't even get to ask her what was going on, not until she suddenly yanked you to the floor.

With a grunt, you fell onto your knees and was forced to look up at her, a satisfied glimmer in her eye.

"There." she said, her tone laced with confidence. "You look so much better like this."

She yanked on the chain once more, forcing you even closer to her, so much so that you could feel her thigh against your face. She kept you there on the ground for hours as she did her paperwork, her hand occasionally stroking your hair in a way an owner would pet a dog.

She didn't seem to care for your tears and if she did, she didn't comment on them. Any and all pleas were ignored, especially when they were about the dreadfully tight collar around your neck.

You were a fool to think that you could have gotten such a good deal without paying some sort of price. There was a part of you which was ready to sell something of yours, perhaps even an organ if need be.

You just didn't think that Jade would want your freedom in exchange for her services.

[loveandleases]

I can imagine Mc becoming highly successful. Modeling, etc. You name it. Just imagine the media comparing Mc and Jade. And just showing Mc's accomplishments, and then they are like,'Oh and there is the other one 🤷‍♀️'

I think that's the sweetest revenge. Jade finally getting a taste of what it is like for people to make you feel inferior and less.

Oh, and Chris realizing they lost a baddie. Imagine turning the TV and once a week they just talk about your ex.

"The other one!? The other one??! Can you believe they just called me that?"

😆 I love that. Revenge is best served sweet and what better way than MC sending Jade a little dessert. (That they made from scratch.)

Everyone at the law office would mention MC, asking how they are, and if Chris has spoken to them recently. No rest for the wicked!

[feroluce]

HOW DID RAPPA AND BOOTHILL END UP BEING SO SWEET???

Before 2.6 even dropped, they were being cute! In Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail, Boothill describes Rappa's creations as "high-tech ninjutsu" rather than equipment, or machines, or anything else that someone would have normally defaulted to. This is something Rappa is very proud of and insistent about in her work, and he respects that!

Even with those party join lines, he refers to her not as a Galaxy Ranger, but by her chosen title!

Rappa seems to get a lot of shit for how she talks, too, with people throughout the patch accusing her of playing around or not taking anything seriously. Boothill though is swift to correct that, that even if it sounds like nonsense, Rappa is someone to be respected and a force to be reckoned with. He seems to really admire her resolve, and especially her intellect! He has nothing but praise for her, it's so so sweet.

And the way she talks about him, too! Like there are. A lot of things you can say about a man like Boothill fjkdlsajk but she always speaks so admirably of him?

There's also the difference in nicknames- Rappa refers to every other person as "Ninja." And most of them are descriptions that you can pick up at a glance, or without knowing a person too deeply. Singer for Robin is obvious, everyone knows who she is. Gama for Reca means "toad," which is a reference to the assistant director he always has with him. Baseball Bat for the trailblazer is also obvious. Ruri for March 7th means "lapis lazuli" which is probably a reference to her Six Phase Ice, or even her appearance since she looks like if a Stellar Jade became human. Hiryu for Dan Heng is actually "flying dragon" but it's also a famous video game reference so I'm only willing to put so much stock into that one fjkdsjakd and besides, she could have easily heard about March 7th and Dan Heng from Boothill, since he talks about the dango trio to Rappa, too.

But Boothill! Rappa refers to Boothill as "Silvergun Shura," with Shura being a reference to Asura, a demigod of war. It's a name used to describe someone fighting a relentless, inhumane war and desperately seeking victory. It also refers to a level of hell, governed by anger and pain. Both interpretations suit him strongly. It's not really a title you could give just looking at someone. It's something you'd have to know them at least a little more deeply for.

Boothill also very distinctly lacks the common ninja title- instead, in the EN translation, Rappa calls him Lord. It's a highly respectable title even in the original Chinese, apparently akin to addressing reigning royalty.

She just. Seems to respect and admire him so much? It's so so sweet?

And despite how often it's stated that Galaxy Rangers tend to work and travel alone, it seems these two are at least fairly familiar with each other, which makes me really happy! In an instance of beautiful timing, just today Hoyo released a new text convo, and! When she wants someone to hang out with, Boothill was one of the first people Rappa thought of!

Rappa knew Dan Heng because Boothill talked about him. She knew about Clockwork. Boothill has spoken with her often enough and long enough to know how deeply her hatred ran, and to be upset for her when Primon got away.

They both speak so positively of each other, even when one is out of of earshot. They openly show a ton of respect and admiration for one another, and the way they talk about each other is more than just two people who happen to be part of the same faction. They know each other more closely than that. Boothill is only in Penacony at all because of Rappa, and Rappa trusted Boothill enough to seek him out for this.

My favorite, though? The part I considered the cutest?

Rappa literally went all the way to the Luofu just to watch Boothill fight in the Luminary Wardance.

[sky-scribbles]

You know what I really appreciate about Kaidan's character arc? He gets a story about finding self-acceptance and letting himself let go and feel things - but at the same time, he still gets to be an introvert. He still gets to be, in his words, someone who isn't 'the life of the party, who has a lot of friends'.

I mean - in ME1, Kaidan fully admits to a romanced Shepard that he doesn't feel human. When he killed Vyrnnus, he became someone Rahna was afraid of, someone she saw as dangerous... so he holds himself to nigh-impossible standards. 'You never let yourself lose control,' Shepard tells him. He's very, very indirect in a lot of his conversations with Shep, because he's trying so hard not to be too direct, too forward; he's constantly polite and disciplined and professional because he can't be a problem. He can't let anyone see him as unpredictable or dangerous because that's when they start seeing you as terrifying. That's when people you love look at you like you're not human.

But Shepard can encourage him to let himself feel, and show it - 'I might need to loosen up. A little,' he admits, sheepishly - and when you see him again on Horizon, he lets his feelings be open and messy and a Problem. By ME3, he's completely embracing his nature as a biotic, gleefully letting everyone know at the Citadel party that he can Reave now, joining in with the other biotics roasting James in the 'biotics vs strength' argument. He's accepted himself, he knows his friends accept him, and he's letting himself laugh and drink and dance like a complete dork, and he's grown so much, and yet -

And yet, he's still a fundamentally quiet, self-contained person. Maybe I'm just jaded from all the media where introverted characters get told to loosen up, and then they suddenly realise that they do want to be the life of the party now actually. But Kaidan? Kaidan hangs out in the observation deck, perhaps the quietest part of the Normandy - the same place where Samara spent her time, a place where no other characters are present. (Ashley, in comparison, spends a lot of time hanging out in the bar, where there are constantly other characters around). Kaidan's Citadel hangout with Shepard? He doesn't head out onto the Silversun Strip with you like many of the other characters; his ideal evening is cooking a meal for his friend/partner and having a chill time with the two of you. A lot of the conversations you have with him on board ship are quiet, introspective. His hangout place on the Citadel is a quiet Presidium cafe.

It's just... comforting to me. He grows, but he doesn't have to change who he fundamentally is, y'know? ME3 Kaidan is more confident and sociable and (despite everything) happy than ME1 Kaidan, but he's still a guy who's not fond of too much lights or noise or crowds, who's soft-spoken and sensitive, who gets caught up in his own thoughts sometimes. I just really appreciate that.

[luveline]

Jade, if you don't mind, I'd love to see more of Spencer with a badass!reader who doesn't want to show much emotion bc it's a bit hard for her :)

Have a nice day<33

thank u!

cw graphic imagery + minor character death 

The gunshot is loud. It's deafening. It's deja vu. 

Spencer watches the body collapse in on itself with ears ringing, a pitching forward, a mess where a head used to be hitting the tiled floor. Barely a teenager, snuffed to nothing. You collapse onto your knees beside it, the sound of your knee caps connecting with the floor the only distinctive sound to his ears. He can't hear Hotch, rarely pissed, and he can't hear the sirens outside. He can't hear any of it. 

Blood spray on your cheek transfers to his hand as he remembers himself, falling onto his knees beside you, gore sinking into his pants. It's hot in its pool, colder where it's painted your face, the spray metallic as he swipes it away from your eyelashes. "Are you okay?" he asks, trying to meet your eyes. 

Your gaze is a thousand miles away. You won't look at him. He forces your chin up and it doesn't matter; you aren't present, no you behind your eyes. 

He applies pressure to your face. Nothing cruel, enough to drag you back to the present as his thumb sets about stroking a soft line, the only softness he can offer right now. "Are you okay?" he asks again. He says your name. 

You barely blink. 

"Take her outside, Reid," Hotch says, pointless EMTs creeping into the room. They're there to confirm death. Nothing else. "Just take her out." 

Spencer hooks you under the arms and drags you up against his chest. You're rigid, dead weight, and he has to plead with you to get you moving. "Come on," he says, his arm behind your back. 

Morgan sees the struggle. He has questions of his own, but all his off-kilter teasing and pet names fall on deaf ears as the two men help you outside and onto a low flower bed wall. You seem to snap back into action, then, breath suddenly quick and hands stretching out to touch your blood slick knees. You visibly fret at the staining of your palms and wipe your hands down your calves, a bundle of harsh movements. 

"It's okay," Spencer says. 

"Does she need a medic?" Morgan asks. He sounds angry, somehow. Spencer knows it to be a manifestation of his worry for you in your reluctant friendship. 

You turn to Spencer, eyes imploring. 

"No," Spencer says, "just give us a minute." 

Morgan squints. A minute, he seems to agree, and not a second longer. You're quick to anger, sure, but quicker to logic, and your shock is catching everyone unprepared. You've never reacted like this. Spencer has never seen you on your knees like that. 

"I'm sorry," you say, touching his thigh. Your voice is barely your own, thready and hoarse. "I tried." 

"I know you tried. I know you did, you have nothing to be sorry for." Spencer's reeling himself. They haven't had a case like this in years, and it hits the same. Another bullied kid failed by the people around him, who could've hurt hundreds of people, who could've killed them, and killed you. It's complicated but remarkably simple. "He was going to hurt you." 

"We could've–" You choke on something, some suggestion of a what-if.

You don't let yourself connect to people on cases. You have sympathy for victims, empathy, but you don't react like this. You're like Emily in that you compartmentalise everything you can. You've never spoken about past cases and what you might change, never even suggested to him that you think about your failings after they've happened, until now. 

"I don't know what happened," you say, your voice near whining, high-pitched and logged with panic as you stare down at your legs and cover your face, as though you don't want him to see you. 

You turn away from him. 

"It's okay," he says. He tries to be soft but his adrenaline is coasting, his reassurance panicked. You sound like you're in pain. 

"I don't know what happened," you insist, covering the back of your head with your hands as you curl in on yourself. 

You don't cry. Spencer wasn't expecting you too. You just panic, tensed, turned away from him, and flinch at his attempts to touch you. "Don't. I'm fine," you force out. 

"You're not fine. You don't have to be fine," he stands up and you flicker, hands pushing down harder. Spencer covers them with his own and sighs. "It's okay. It's okay." He drops to a whisper. "It's okay, you're okay." 

You're hard to comfort, but it's not impossible. Spencer isn't stupid. He knows if this were anyone else touching you, you'd have sprung from your makeshift seat or pushed them away, but he's lucky in that you seem to have this tender spot for him, a sweetness that never wanes. He drifts in closer and hugs your head to his abdomen, one arm covering your hands until they fall, the other across your back. 

Your job is your job, but there is nothing wrong with needing comfort after seeing something horrific. "It's okay if you don't feel how you were expecting," he says, rubbing a half-circle into your back.

"It's hard… for me. This is…" 

You don't finish. It doesn't matter. Spencer paused any action to hold you, his eyes shuttering closed, dumb to any sound beside the strange shudder in your breath as you catch it. You've always had a talent for removing Spencer from his surroundings; you've looked at him and snagged him out of time. He never knew it could happen like this, though. You struggle to fall apart and Spencer doesn't know if he should hold you together or let it hurt. 

Whatever you do… "I'm here," he says, rubbing your back. 

You wrap your arms around his waist.