#also it would further damage this poor hair

[thegeminisage]

im spot checking the places that are orange with the purple shampoo

[themultifanshipper]

don't be shy. elaborate.

personally i see this podium as carlos holding reader in place between his legs, readers back against his chest as oscar absolutely devours them. i just know he's the king of guy to unhinge his jaw and eat his partner alive because have you seen that man? no further explanation is needed. carlos is praising reader to no end while they're squirming and poor lando is sat in the Cuck Chair TM (there's one in every hotel fight me) unable to touch himself even though he's so hard it HURTS and all he can do is grip the armrests of the chair until his knuckles turn white. go forth and do with my thots what you will 🙃

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/750822766739111936/or-foursome-if-youre-not-a-pussy

This lineup goes hard

Warnings: nasty, nasty foursome. Unhinged Oscar. female reader

Oscar and lando bet that whoever was in front would get to eat you out while the other was forced to watch.

They put everything they had into that race, but Lando got damage and fell behind Carlos through no fault of his own.

So Oscar had an idea: let carlos join, just to torture Lando that much more.

So there they were, Oscar with his head buried between your legs, Carlos behind you holding your arms behind your back so you couldn't touch oscar, whispering sweet praises into your ear, and poor Lando in his cuck chair facing the bed.

Lando wasn't allowed to touch himself, so he was white knuckling the armrests as he squirmed, cock hard and leaking in his pants.

Oscar had promised him that if he was a good boy, he would fuck him nasty after, so he was determined to last.

Oscar was undeniably the best at giving head. Lando and Carlos were good too, amazing in fact, but Oscar had that lazy desperation that drove you insane. He alternated between gliding his tongue over your pussy, and shoving it as deep as possible while using his nose to rub at your clit, jaw unhinged and eyes rolling back as he loses himself in the sensation of your sweet juices running down his face.

You were three orgasms in when he finally lifted his head, face and shirt soaking wet, and looked at Carlos, who was also very hard but didn't dare try anything.

"Do you want to fuck her while I fuck Lando?" He asked, droopy grin exposing his bunny teeth, but weirdly he looked more menacing than cute in that moment.

Carlos groaned, his head rolling back towards the headboard. Lando whimpered in the corner and they both looked at him.

"Yes, please" was all Carlos could muster, the sight in front of him was changing his brain chemistry. Lando's hair was soaked in sweat, as was his underwear, very obvious tent under the wet patch as he panted and rolled his hips, searching for friction.

That's how you ended up in reverse cowgirl as Carlos pounded into you from below while Lando faced you on the bed, on his knees, prostate being abused by Oscar's fingers.

Once he was prepped, Oscar grabbed his hair and shoved his face down towards where your pussy was quivering around Carlos's cock, forcing Lando to look at it, and slid into him to the hilt, before starting a punishing pace.

Lando wailed into the covers as tears ran down his cheeks from the pleasure after being denied for so long, as Oscar started teasing him.

"Look at that Lando. Look at our girl's pussy being split open by another man's cock. That could've been you."

Lando whined as Oscar gave a particularly hard thrust before continuing "You could be making her feel good if you hadn't fucked up your race"

He knew that it wasn't Lando's fault, he was just being mean. But it was working because Lando moaned and tightened around his cock, so he slowed down to a slow grind, making Lando wail in desperation again.

"Don't be selfish Lando, our girl needs to come first, why don't you help her out, hmm?"

So he let go of Lando's hair, the older man immediately surging forward to lick over your lips spread around Carlos's cock, and Carlos groaned as he slowed down ever so slightly to help Lando out.

When Lando licked over your sensitive overstimulated clit, you shrieked and clenched around Carlos, which created a chain reaction.

Carlos suddenly pounded back into you, pumping you full of him as he came inside you, which made you come, drenching Lando's face in your juices, the sight of which sent Oscar into a frenzy, slamming his hips into Lando's, who then came completely untouched, the two mclaren drivers tumbling over the edge together.

You were all a mess of panting, sweaty bodies as you all caught your breath on the now very damp bed.

Lando spoke up first, wiping his slick wet hair away from his eyes. "Next time I win, you're going to suffer, Osc"

I spiralled (what else is new?)

Look at THESE MEN! RAIL ME! PLEASE!

[ladyymiisa]

UP SO LATE?

summary: a late night visit from your sweet boyfriend!

tags: hawks x fem!reader, fluff, a bit of spice but it’s barely there like you have to squint to see it

author’s note: YEAAAHHH WE ARE SO BACK BABY i’ve had this idea for months now im so glad i could finally write it out it was eating me up 🤞 also on a scale of 1 to 10 how wiling would you guys be to read obey me fics 😋

it happens during the late hours of the night, when you're completely worn out from a long day of work, after you've showered, applied all of the lotions in your bathroom, and changed into your coziest pajamas. by the time you’re usually done, your eyes can barely stay open from how tired you are, and all you can think about is sleep.

just like clockwork, right as you settle into the most comfortable position in bed, you hear it: three knocks on your balcony door—one firm, two light. the all too familiar signal that announces his presence.

despite the tiredness weighing down your limbs and your body’s desperate plea to stay cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, the excitement of seeing him always overcomes your exhaustion. it drives you to get out of bed quickly, your feet carrying you eagerly to the balcony to let keigo inside.

a fact about keigo is that he never fails to arrive with some sort of gift for you. whether it’s a small flower he picked up on his way or a box of chocolates he knows you particularly enjoy, he always comes bearing something. perhaps it’s his way of compensating for the lateness of his visits.

tonight is no different. without even glancing at the shopping bag he’s holding, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

the action causes keigo to let out a surprised sound, which quickly shifts into an amused chuckle. as he adjusts the bag with the help of two feathers, balancing it effortlessly so that the contents inside don’t get damaged, he embraces you back just as tightly. his warmth, mingled with the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air, envelops you entirely, making you acutely aware of just how much you had missed him during the day.

“looks like someone’s quite eager to see me,” keigo remarks teasingly, his voice partially muffled by your hair as he plants a gentle kiss to your head. “you almost knocked the daylights out of me, babe.”

instead of giving keigo a verbal response, you nuzzle further into his shoulder, concealing your burning cheeks from his view. he laughs again, which prompts you to grumble softly against his jacket.

“keep acting cheeky and you might end up sleeping on the balcony,” you warn keigo, drawing back from the embrace to face him directly. despite your words, your arms remain looped comfortably around his neck.

now that you can clearly see his face, you take notice of the faint blush reaching the tips of his ears. sly bastard, he has the audacity to tease you as if he were any better. fortunately for him, being the considerate girlfriend that you are, you decide to refrain from commenting on it.

unfortunately for you, keigo’s fluster is short-lived. he quickly becomes more daring as his hands, which were previously caressing the small of your back, move to rest on your hips. he gives them a gentle squeeze, drawing you closer to his body while his fingers trail lightly along your sides.

honey-shaded eyes gaze at you devilishly. your warning appears to have no effect on keigo; if anything, it seems to amuse him further.

he hums softly, a lazy grin playing on his lips. “oh, really? you’d actually deprive your poor, overworked boyfriend of your warm bed?” he leans in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “and your touch? your warmth?”

before you can even register it, his lips begin to trace a path of feather-light kisses from your cheek to your jaw, gradually moving towards your neck with slow, carefully practiced pecks. he’s clearly aware of the effect he has on your body, for the moment his teeth intentionally bite into that particular spot that has your mind short-circuiting, any retort you had prepared fades away. the way he works you up so easily is enough to erase any trace of tiredness from your body, replacing it with newfound excitement instead.

your arms tighten their hold around his neck. he feels the way your fingers entangle themselves into his hair, giving it a firm tug. the sensation causes him to emit a low, appreciative grunt against your skin. as keigo continues to kiss, lick and suck along your neck, you find yourself unable to suppress the soft moans that fall from your lips any longer. the moment his ears pick up on them, he promptly lifts you, his hands moving beneath your ass to support your weight.

without any complaints, you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing yourself to yield completely to his touch. at this point, there’s no use in trying to fight back. you’re in for a long, long night.

as keigo slides the balcony door open and carries you into the bedroom, he takes care that his feathers place the shopping bag carefully on your desk. seems like you won’t be needing the lingerie set inside it tonight. no matter, he’ll ensure that you find use for it next time.

[dark-and-kawaii]

Feel free to respond to this whenever/if ever the mood to do so strikes.

Zevlor would eat you out with the dedication of a paladin sworn to carry out a life or death mission. He would drop to his knee for you faster than if a superior order him to 'Drop and give me 20!' Also, imagine being able to grip his horns while he is between your legs.

ᯓ★ On His Knees - Zevlor

DAMN STRAIGHT ANON!!! Zevlor is one of the best at giving head and no one can change my mind on this!!!

✧₊⁺ Content: NSFW - Zevlor Gives You The Best Head - Drooling Pussy - Sweet - Comfrot - Adorable Kawaii Ending xoxo

You could feel his tears wet your thighs as he pushed his face further into your dripping aching pussy. He was so honored, so happy you had chosen him, grateful that he could do this with another once more despite his age. Zevlor was beyond happy to pleasure you, to taste you, to be the one who makes your body sing with release and joy.

The man was a god when it came to him dropping to his knees and sliding that warm slick tongue of his deep inside of you. His tongue massaging every inch of your insides, his tastebuds rubbing against your plush gummy walls- your walls clamping down on his tongue as if begging for him never to leave.

His stamina unmatched. He had been going down on you for what felt like hours, your head was spinning, your legs cramping with how tight you kept them closed over his head. The way your hands clung to his horns, gripping them so tightly you feared that snap off within your grasps.

But your fears were quickly forgotten as his lips wrapped around your clit and suckled gently.

“Ah~ ♡ mnn!!~ Z-Zevy!!!!~” your entire body shaking as your second, or was it your third?- Ograsm washing over your body. You could feel his fingers tighten over your thighs- his nails holding you in place as he tried to keep himself grounded and in control.

Your own face flushed in embarrassment at the fact that his face was completely drenched with your juices, your thighs, his lips, his chin all glistening from you and his saliva. But Zevlor didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, the old hellrider kept going- licking up every drop you offered him.

“Z-Zev- I-I~ ah~ ♡!!! Ah~!!” Your nerves were fried from the overstimulation, “I-t feels s’like I-I’m on firreee~ ♡ Ahn~! AH~!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ NGHHH!!~~~” your voice cut off with a broken gasp. Your body trembling as he wrapped and swirled his tongue around your clit.

Zevlor’s eyes looked up to meet yours, the look on his face, the way he was smiling against you as he watched you fall apart, “You’re overflowing my dear, are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

His words alone sent you into a full body shutter as he brought his fingers down to your entrance, pushing them inside delicately- making sure his nails don’t cause damage as his mouth focused solely on your clit. His fingers pumping, his lips suckling, his tongue lashing over your bud as his eyes drank up the sight of your body reacting to his every action.

“I- I can’t sh-shtop sha-shaking~ ♡ ♡ ahhn~ ♡!!! It- s’t-too muhhh ♡!!! Much~ ♡!! Can’t s-stop m-moanninngg~ ♡!!!! Ah-haaannn~!!! Zev~ pllleeeeassseee-“

He could tell you were at your limits, and even though he wanted to continue to worship you for the rest of the night, he knew it was best to allow you some time to rest. Your crying and begging for mercy was evident enough.

Slowly he pulled his lips away from your clit, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the bundle of nerves. The poor bud throbbing in a dull ache, your pussy clamping and spasming around his fingers, desperate to milk them as he withdrew his hand.

His knees ached from being on them for so long, and as he sat up to catch you before you collapsed against the wooden flooring he could hear his bones popping and creaking, but his body was still strong, still able to hold you in his arms.

You were a beautiful mess in his arms, your face was flushed, your hair sticking to your forehead, the furs below you both stained with sweat and your juices. You had a goofy little smile on your lips, your eyes hazy and glazed over as you stared at your lover, “Z-Zevlor~ ♡... So happy you’re mine~”

Zevlor couldn't help but laugh at your cute drunken expression, he kissed your forehead, his thumb caressing your cheek, his other hand holding you securely, “As am I my dear…” His tail caressed your toes, making you giggle, “as am I.”

[queenvhagar]

How did Alicent not create and further a hostile environment when she essentially forced Rhaenyra to present her baby immediately after childbirth, and acted with mocking concern that Rhaenyra walked all the way to her. Even while Alicent KNEW her mother died in childbirth. Alicent furthering rumors that her children are bastards, Alicent making Rhaenyra’s life hell and dangerous so much that she left to Dragonstone, Alicent leading to Harwin’s death. By your logic Cersei didn’t create any hostile environment either since they’re all just blameless women who don’t have power. Cersei couldn’t stop Joffrey from doing anything so Sansa has no right to hate her then

Alicent asked the baby be brought to her sometime after birth, and Rhaenyra chose to maliciously comply by carrying the baby herself, so people would see how bad Alicent was for making her go all that way when in reality Alicent just asked for a servant to bring the baby to her. Why did both of them do this? Well, it's clearly established that at this point there's been a decade of back and forth shot-taking at each other. The green dress moment, this incident, the contrasting opinions at the small council, the petty comments... all of this is indicative of the two of them trying to power play each other out because they didn't like each other. In this case, Alicent wanted to confirm for herself the third bastard, and Rhaenyra knew this and decided to accompany the baby despite Alicent not asking her to in order to shift the focus onto Alicent's request being unreasonable and away from the idea that she was requesting to see the baby so soon to confirm its parentage in the first place. It's them playing with perception of others here and trying to control the situation better than the other. Again, because there is a mutual dislike each other and there are competing interests between the two women.

None of the women in this story are wholly powerless, but there are women who have more or less power than others. Rhaenyra always had more power than Alicent, point blank. Rhaenyra is a Targaryen dragonrider, in the king's eyes his favorite and "only" child, and named heir to the throne. Alicent is the non-Valyrian dragonless daughter of a second son, and even though she became Viserys' second queen, clearly the king did not value her, setting her aside, laughing at her in public, calling her the wrong name in front of others, and he clearly did not care at all about their children together. The power level between the two is uneven, and it's crazy that people seem to think somehow Alicent is this all powerful villain who could have one-sided outright bullied a poor, powerless, helpless Rhaenyra. The power difference is clearly seen at Driftmark, when Rhaenyra gets the king to do everything she asks while Alicent begs him for any care about her son just to be ignored. All along Rhaenyra could wield her father's favoritism to benefit her, and she did, in that moment and again when Vaemond Velaryon came to court.

It's also important to acknowledge that the bastard "rumor" was not solely a Green creation that Alicent decided to make up with the purpose of making Rhaenyra look bad or something. As Aegon put it at Driftmark, everyone had eyes and could see that these white skinned brown haired boys clearly looked more similar to the white skinned brown haired man always at Rhaenyra's side than her husband, with his dark skin and white hair, who spent less time with Rhaenyra and the family than Harwin and more time with his squires. This plain fact is damaging and dangerous to Rhaenyra, but Rhaenyra is to blame for this. Her and Laenor tried maybe once before she immediately became pregnant with Jace by Harwin, according to the timeline, and as Margaery and actual history shows us it was definitely possible for queer men to have gotten a woman pregnant with the purpose of producing an heir. However, Rhaenyra was just interested in acting to their arrangement of dining as she pleased, and then proceeded to recklessly have not one but three clear pieces of evidence to her breaking her vow to her husband (which maybe is less scandalous to us, the modern viewer, but oath breaking is pretty serious in Westeros, especially for women). And before there's an argument of how she was forced to marry a gay man... Rhaenyra (and Daemon) did that. She left her marriage tour to pick her own match among hundreds of suitors early and then was seen in a brothel with Daemon, tarnishing her reputation and forcing her father to quickly marry her to a Velaryon (and of course Daemon brought her there with the purpose of sullying her reputation enough so Viserys would just let Daemon marry her). The funny thing here is that Harwin himself could have been a marriage candidate as the heir to Harrenhall and an active member at court, and he was certainly an option to consider! But she lost her chance. As heir to the throne and a Targaryen woman, there was no situation where she would not have needed to get married and make an heir, and Rhaenyra should have known this and considered her options while she had them. Then even when she was married to Laenor, there were ways around his queerness. Try to have a baby, or petition that he's infertile and the marriage should be absolved on that grounds so she can marry someone else. But Rhaenyra wanted to have her cake and eat it too; she wanted the Velaryons on her side to support her claim to the throne and a son of hers to one day inherit Driftmark, and she wanted to only have sex with Harwin and have his babies. Both were impossible at the same time if she wanted to avoid conflict.

Essentially, all of this put together, it was through her own choices that Rhaenyra had three obvious bastards that weakened her own claim and put herself in the middle of a political scandal. And even when Alicent talked about it at all, it was only with Viserys, Criston, and Larys in private (and she potentially told her children, likely to warn them of the further succession crisis this would cause when Rhaenyra or her sons try to come to power despite their weak claims and bastard status in this society that despises bastards). Obviously all of them already had eyes and knew the truth, and Criston had also already known the truth of what was going on because Rhaenyra explicitly had told him about the arrangement, and it was clear that Harwin was the one who filled that role for her. So when the third bastard is born, he goads Harwin into fighting him, exposing his role in the situation, and the attention on Harwin this causes results in Lionel Strong sending him back to Harrenhall. Then, Larys takes advantage of the situation to kill them both and become Lord of Harrenhall. He says he did it for Alicent, to get her father back, but realistically there's no reason to expect Viserys should have even asked Otto back as Hand after firing him (and he really shouldn't have, if he was trying to help Rhaenyra consolidate power). All of this considered, it's a pretty big step to say that Alicent is to blame for Harwin's death. I personally say it was Harwin's decision to be Rhaenyra's lover and father to her children that got him sent away from court, and then it was his own brother's decision to kill him for power.

Not exactly sure what your point is trying to bring up Cersei when the contexts are pretty different... like sure she was a lady married to a king who didn't love her and then she fought for her children's rights ruthlessly. But Cersei has a closer parallel in Rhaenyra, to be honest: a mother to three bastards who uses them to usurp thrones they have no real claim to and who ignores their misdeeds completely and/or weaponizes them against their victims. The obvious parallel here is Joffrey threatening and cutting the butcher's boy, getting attacked by Nymeria, and Cersei immediately pushing her own version of events that unquestionably paints her son as the ultimate victim and demanding the king take action against the others, and the Strong boys ambushing Aemond with a knife, beating on him four on one, cutting out his eye, and then Rhaenyra immediately pushing her own version of events that unquestionably paints her sons as the ultimate victims and demanding the king take action against the others. Cersei definitely did create hostile environments through her actions, as did Rhaenyra. Cersei could have tried to control Joffrey better, but she was unwilling to acknowledge his flaws or try to hold him accountable when he had done wrong. Almost like how Rhaenyra never talked to her boys about jumping a kid and cutting his eye out because she was unwilling to acknowledge their role in the situation or hold them accountable for their actions. Both mothers saw their children as largely flawless and were unwilling to confront them with their mistakes or misdeeds.

[riririnnnn]

As I mentioned in my post earlier:

His cuff (that thing around his neck) is near transparent which gives us a lot of room to ponder since we don't exactly know what this chain even represent.

Taking Hiori as an example, let's suppose the chain represents the burden that holds back someone's true ego.

His cuff being transparent gives us two things:

1. It might be plastic which doesn't really make any sense if I were to be honest.

2. It is glass which makes a lot of sense because how's glass? Hell yeah, my geniuses, glass is really fragile which completely fits into what he said:

Further, in that volume cover, he has pulled down his collar which puts a lot of spotlight into his blue rose tattoo, and we all know what that tattoo symbolises for Kaiser.

In case you don't remember: Kaiser got this tattoo as a reminder to himself to never fall back into his weak mentality because Blue Rose symbolises the achievement of impossible, and he saw it as an example to turn impossible to reality since Blue Rose, itself, is artificial and defies the natural order.

What is said above can be found with a quick Google search:

But what grabbed my most attention is this panel:

WHY?

If he only wanted to push the soccer industry to despair, then why he is adamant about winning the Champions league and the World Cup?????

Also, contrary to popular beliefs, I don't actually think Kaiser has a superiority complex because, look:

What Chris said could be considered as an exaggerated way to rile someone, but isn't this, indirectly, exactly what Kaiser says after the Manshine City match ended?

Kaiser said something along the lines of, "BM's main character is Noa and it's impossible for me to be the current number one, that's why I came to NEL to use Isagi as a way to increase my value." He even went as far as to say that he is a secondary character in BM because BM is Noa's team.

I don't think so that anyone with superior complex will admit such real facts.

Further, why did he got so angry when Chris said those things? Isn't someone bound to be angrier if the other one was to point out their obvious weak point? So, does this mean, Kaiser actually got an inferior complex?

I'm not a psychologist, so I'm not dwelling too much into it.

However, there is another thing I want to point out:

So, because of that spreadsheet/official art of a very damaged soccer ball beside Kaiser's foot, the Fandom widely believes that Kaiser was poor while growing up .

BUT!

Being poor as a backstory has already been used three times: Naruhaya Asahi, Noel Noa, and Lorenzo Don.

I understand that in any sector with a lot of money and/or fame, there are many people who come from a poor economic background, but this is fiction, baby. No author wants anything be repeated to the point it feels overused.

That's why, I highly believe that Kaiser was either bullied or mistreated by his seniors when he started playing soccer which explains that he practiced fucking hard that the soccer ball was damaged, and also his supposed hatred towards the soccer industry. It also explains his long, unkempt hair because he was too indulged in practice.

OR!

It goes a bit darker, so proceed with caution:

Soccer somehow destroyed his family's peace just like the brotherhood of Itoshi brothers.

I may write about others in another post, but in this post, I would like to think that the person who destroyed his family's peace was his own father. It could be that his father was a soccer player himself and due to some circumstances, he fell off the soccer industry which took a toll on his mental health, and he started physically abusing either Kaiser, his mom or both.

Why physical abuse? Because Kaiser is shown having an affinity to choking.

If we get our minds out of the gutter, then there have been instances when he choked himself because he was frustrated. Also, didn't he say that he stroked his rose tattoo as a good luck before matches and compared it to, "as if tightening a noose," or something.

That's why, I kinda think that, AT LEAST, someone has choked Kaiser as abuse/bullying.

I'll rant about the above thing in another post tomorrow or some time later because I don't want this post to be too long, and also because I'm hungry af.

.

.

.

I remember a vivid dream when Kaiser threatened me to join BM.

[tralalalalally]

Some sketches of headcanons for Maedhros' body-type, tattoos, and scars.

I will give a warning for talk on poor mental and physical health before my notes:

. His body-type in particular is something he specifically works for - before Thangorodrim I think he had the more stereotypical elf-prince body (his mother-name is "well-formed", yes?) - something classically desireable. After his capture, the mix of starvation and hard physical labour made him unhealthily lean. After being rescued he was able to build up body fat again, but instead of regaining his old body he works for this new one. Something undeniably strong, untouchable, a warriors body further exaggerated. Not only does he want to distance himself from the perfection of the old him, he wants to make sure noone looking at him could see him as weak. I doubt he'd remember at least the first few months after his rescue well, but from what he does, he feels ashamed. Hiding, cowing away in fear like a child, striking out at those trying to help, revealing far too much of his trauma from the enemy. Emotion becomes a weakness to him, and he learns to control that, but then as he heals further he seeks control over his body too. I think he might eventually see himself - both body and soul - like a project similar to the construction and ruling of Himring. Especially I imagine a disconnect from his body - it is something to be built up, made strong and impenetrable, anything to not be harmed and tormented again.

. The most important scars for my headcanon (other than his missing hand of course) are the brand on his shoulder and the whip marks on his back. The brand effects him the most, and is something he covers as much as possible. None would know about it other than Findekano, Makalaure, and a few healers. Unfortunately due to it being raised, it cannot be tattooed over (nor do I think he'd be able to sit through any tattoos). I am thinking of designing some type of clothing that would essentially be part of his underwear, something that would keep it covered as often as possible - goes over the shoulder, wrapping around his body to beneath the right arm pit?

For the whip scars - when first brought to Thangorodrim he would sometimes be put to work with the other thralls. This was meant to be demoralising, the thralls seeing their prince/king reduced to this, and to show Maedhros how much had been taken from him. Of course the scars healed poorly and were often infected (I think with the brand, it may have been purposefully aggravated to make the scarring worse), though due to his positioning he got enough medical care to keep him alive. Now that he is free they still give him trouble - mobility issues from ones that cut into muscle, and the scarring itself makes the flesh stiff and less flexible. There is also a lack of feeling for most of the area.

. Tattoos - I honestly don't have any real sure designs or positioning fro them. My main thought was the vision of a tattoo of the 8 pointed star, broken up and faded due to scarring caused at Thangorodrim. You can still tell what the tattoo is of, but it has undeniably been damaged. I think I'd like to design for him a large back tattoo - star of Feanor in the middle, with other references surrounding it. Then, of course, the whip scars on top.

(Ah, and for body hair: I imagine elves can grow it, just usually not as thick. I think I remember reading that some can grow beards in old age? (As with Cirdan), so why not the same for body hair lol. I mean, humans also only get most after puberty)

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hi! I love love love you writing! (I've been here all morning, my chores are not getting done lol) Can we get the boys (tm) reacting to/taking care of a WoL who's sick? Like something that requires them to stay in bed and actually rest, something I imagine most WoL's aren't very good at lol maybe a lost, scratchy voice or something too pls <3

Look at these boys, taking care of their poor little meow meow lmao

ff14 boys (tm) taking care of a sick WoL:

Thancred needles you gleefully, but it's playful. What isn't playful is the way he's handling you. Damn but you always forget how strong he is. Easily lifting you off your staggering feet and into bed, from your bed to a bath and back. propping you up with one arm to tip medicine down your throat. A strong, weathered hand checking your temperature, patting your cheek, brushing your hair back so he can lay a cool cloth across your forehead.

In that hazy space between sleep and awake, you think you might even hear him singing to you, low and sweet. It's. Probably just the fever though.

Urianger isn't going to say that he warned you, but. Well. He did kind of warn you.

He doesn't rub it in, either. No, instead he's almost infuriatingly patient with you. When he's easing you into taking foul-tasting medicines, when he's bundling you up in blankets, when he's feeding you soups without letting you so much as lift a finger. He even reads to you-- mostly just dry historical texts that have you dozing off within minutes. It's the best rest you've ever had in your life, and you wake up feeling more alive than ever.

And THEN he will tell you that he warned you :)

G'raha seems like the kind of person who might panic and run around like a chicken with his head cut off. And he might have been, at one point. But he's an older soul now, with experience with a much tougher patient than you: a young Lyna.

He's kind, and gentle, but firm. Yes, you do need to stay in bed. No, you cannot get up. No, he is not going to bring your paperwork or needlework to your bed for you, but he will happily fetch a book for you to read, the new Heavensward memoir perhaps? Yes, you have to take the medicine, but yes you can also have a hot cocoa to chase the taste away.

Estinien stares at you where you're leaning on your lance. You stare at him. He raises an eyebrow. You look away. You can't even give a good excuse-- your voice went out about an hour ago, and you don't have the energy to croak words out around the frog in your throat.

He sighs, scoops you up despite your largely-mute protests, and carries your sorry ass back to the Forgotten Knight. He's no healer, but he remembers the very basics: a roaring fire, hot soup, soothing tea, and rest. It's hard for him, too, he'll freely admit. It feels like there's so much to do, and resting feels like a waste of time.

But if you keep working a damaged muscle, you'll just hurt it further, he reminds you, and helps you with your first few bites of soup. You have to rest, so that, at least if you don't come out the other side stronger, you come out the other side alive.

Aymeric seems calm and composed, but he is 100% internally a screaming chicken. He's already called on the best chirurgeons who would answer, gotten you the best of the medicines they recommended, helped his cooks prepare your favorite meal. All that is left is to wait, and. Aymeric is a strategist, he's good at the long game, but.

He lingers in the door to your room. In your comfy bed, all bundled up in warm blankets, you look so. small. Not the Warrior of Light, not his stalwart friend, but just. A person. Who gets sick. Who he might lose. And that. Scares him. More than a little.

You lift your head and blearily blink at him, and then your chapped mouth pulls into a smile. You pat the edge of your bed next to you for him to sit.

"Tell me about your day?" you croak.

And he takes your hand, and he does.

Haurchefant shakes his head fondly as he moves to help you off the floor where you've fallen.

There was a short period of time when he was really, truly worried for you. When you had just woken up into the new reality of your life, your blank eyes staring at the space where you arm had once been. It's hard, he understands, for a warrior to lose so much of what had once defined them.

But you've still got your fire, to his relief and his chagrin, spitting and cursing and wiggling as he settles you back into bed and flops his entire not-insignificant weight on top of you.

"Hush, now," he says, his mouth right next to your ear, one hand coming up to curl, warm and heavy, around the back of your neck. You're still running a fever, he notes idly, but it's certainly better than it was before. "I think we've earned a spell of rest, don't you?"

Sidurgu freezes at the first cough that rattles through your chest. The memories rise horrifying and unbidden, of coughs that echo in armor, of shaking hands and failing strength and nights hungry, trembling, curled around each other in a desperate bid of warmth, terrified of falling asleep because he doesn't want to wake up to a frozen corpse next to him. And Fray lived, sure, but the cold in their bones never did leave them, not until the day they--

But this is now, he reminds himself, and you are not Fray. There is gil for medicine AND for food, and even for a warm place to sleep. There is Rielle, diligently studying her conjury and happy for a real, live patient to practice on, falling asleep against your chest not because she exhausted herself, but because the hour grew late and she, bored.

How terrifying it is for a Dark Knight to know peace, he thinks as he carefully repositions her so that she is not putting so much weight on your sick lungs. As he brushes your hair from your forehead and places a single kiss there before replacing the cold compress.

How terrifying, and how wonderful.

BONUS

Erenville has this way about him that is undeniably guilt-inducing. The kind of demeanor that reminds you of clucking mothers and worried-looking fathers, all with his hands on his hips and a single eyebrow raised, and you don't even have the voice to argue with him as he takes you by the hand and half-drags you back to his room.

In a city full of scholars, doctors, and healers, he gripes, and you couldn't find your way to any of them? What if you had gotten hurt? or accidentally gotten someone else sick? or spread something to the delicate denizens of labyrinthos?

But you can sense the very real concern for you, beneath his scathing tone. In the way he keeps one hand on your chest to feel your breathing, the other on your wrist to monitor your pulse. The way he takes you to his home-- not the shoddy room the forum gives to any gleaner, but to the one he's build in the Golmorean section of labyrinthos-- and keeps you there until you get better.

[earako]

Actually hang on I like library uncle and actually have an idea now hang on

-/-

Ballister was by no means a fighter. But life on the streets, living in the lower castes, it taught him how to scrap when needed. It wasn't elegant or show boaty but it kept him alive.

And now it looked like he needed to unleash his street urchin ubringing for the sake of the child who burst into his library crying for help.

He barked out an order for the patrons to get the kid behind his desk. Meanwhile, Ballister grabbed the metal baseball bat he kept stashed under his desk, lept over it, and just managed to clock what seemed like the leading man in the group that was chasing the poor child.

Again, Ballister was not a proper fighter. He was observant though.

Over the years Ballister analyzed the different ways he saw people defend themselves. He swung his bat like a sword while still utilizing kicks, punches, and headbutts, a bastardization of the institutes fighting style mixed with what Ballister saw in street brawls. And as messy as it was, it was effective.

The group after the kid eventually gave up and ran out of the library, cursing Ballister and threatening to burn the library down.

From the corner of his eye Ballister noticed phones recording. Good. He might need those recordings later.

Okay, now that the immediate danger was taken care of best to make sure the kid's alright. He leaned his bat against one of the shelves and slowly walked up to the kid, crouching infront of them.

Wait.

Ah, figures. From the clothes alone Ballister could tell the kid was a noble. He motioned to the phone he kept behind his desk. "Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?" The kid just stared at Ballister, silent for a few moments before a large grin formed on their face.

"That was awesome!" The kid cried, and where those stars in their eyes? "That was so cool! You were all bamp! wham! And-and then you kicked their legs and there were three of them on you and mister are you a knight?!?!"

Ballister stifled a laugh into his hand. Him? A knight? Oh that's just adorable.

"No, no," Ballister said through small laughs, "I'm just a librarian who grew up in a tough area." The kid eyed Ballister with what looked like skepticism. "...Are you sure you're not an undercover knight?"

"No, I assure you, just a one armed librarian," Ballister said while waving at the kid with his prosthetic. Before the kid could get excited over that, Ballister asked again if there was a number the kid could call.

"We can also wave down-" as if summoned, a knight came bursting into the library. Ballister frowned, first the kidnappers now the knights?

"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from damaging my doors any further," Ballister said, arms crossed and not quite glaring at the knights though his expression was more....reserved than usual.

The knight that had kicked down his door scoffed and went to advance onto Ballister when an arm was held across his chest to stop him. "You are a knight, not a school yard jock. Act like it, Sureblade" hissed a knight in golden armour-hang on.

Golden armour.

Bleach blonde hair.

The crest on his armour.

This was Ambrosius Goldenloin.

Hm. So the Golden boy wasn't afraid to do the dirty work.

Now, Ballister didn't quite dislike Sir Goldenloin, he just seemed mor of the type who would rather spend their time starring in advertisements, or prancing around a stadium while adoring fans chanted his name was over and over and over again.

"Sir Goldenloin!" Ballister's attention snapped back to the child...who seemed to be attempting an imitation of Ballister when he leapt over the desk. The child tripped and would have fallen flat on their face had Ballister not quickly caught them, clutching the child against his chest as his heart raced.

"How about we keep our legs on the ground, hm?"

"But you did it earlier!" The child protested. Ballister sighed and placed the child down. The kid wasn't one of his regulars, really it wasn't his place to scold them....

"Did what?" Sir Goldenloin asked, stepping closer to where Ballister and the kid stood. The other knights made to follow but Sir Goldenoin held out an arm again, probably signalling them to stay back and to let Sir Goldenloin handle the situation.

"Oh! Oh you shoulda seen the mister, Sir Goldenloin!"

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

"Hey now-there's no need-"

"The men who took me-mister librarian jumped over the desk and used the baseball bat to fight-"

"It's less impressive than it sounds-"

"And he was swinging and kicking and three guys were on him-" All Ballister could do was bury his face in his hands as the child gushed over his supposedly 'heroic' actions.

Ballister's skin tone may be on the darker side but he was certain his blush could be seen through his hands.

"Well, that sounds like quite the ordeal. Why don't you head back with the other knights while I talk to Mr.Librarian here?" Ballister's head shot up. Right, the knights probably needed him to report the kidnapping. He briefly glanced at the security cameras and wondered if they'd be enough. Maybe he could ask for some of the phone recordings too...

"Bye Mr.Librarian" The child yelled as they headed back to the knights. Ballister smiled and waved back. "Take care now, and be careful next time!" He called after the child and the knights.

The kid was lucky this time...Ballister shuddered to think of what could've been. If the kid hadn't thought to duck into the library....

"So...do you actually have a name, Mr.Librarian?

"Oh, right! Apologies. Ballister Blackheart." Sir Goldenloins brow furrowed at Ballister's last name.

"Rather odd surname." Ballister frowned. If he had less self-preservation he'd have made a comment about Sir Goldenloin's own name...he couldn't afford to aggrevate the knights.

After all, he was just a commoner.

Right, time to give Goldie what he's looking for. " I can give a description of the group who kidnapped the kid along with video surveillance footage. I also saw some phones recording, I can ask them for footage as well. I assume I'll also be asked to file a kidnapping report, I have the files ready to download and can fill them out now if you'd like."

Sir Goldenloin blinked at Ballister. "You...seem very well prepared for these sort of situations."

"It's sadly not uncommon for people to flee here for safety," Ballister sighed. "It's...well, I'm just glad no one got hurt."

"Right, right. I'd like to see those tapes? And interview you if thats alright?"

Hm...Sir Goldenloin was certainly...different from the other knights.

He was stating everything as a question rather than an order. Then again, Sir Goldenloins knighting ceremony was only just this month. Maybe it's because he's still fairly new.

"Sure. If you'll follow me this way." The golden knight trailed after Ballister and leaned over his shoulder as he filled out the reports and retrieved the video surveillance footage.

He had to stop himself from being distracted by the scent of lavender.

This was just business.

It didn't mean anything.

[thekrows-nest]

Fun facts?

Is Krow’s top a one piece hoodie with different coloured sleeves and hood, or is it like a scrub top layered over a black hoodie?

(I’ve seen green hoodies with black and white striped sleeves but also plain black hoodies with sleeve stripes so don’t know.

I’m getting scrubs vibes off the green part despite the fact Krow would likely only wear that for art, work or ’other’.

If that’s a separate layer maybe it’s not scrubs but still to protect his clothes from general dirt and wear? Or just for warmth. But it doesn’t look like a vest or any separate casual garment I’ve seen.)

Are Krow’s pants blue work slacks or denim jeans?

Does Krow trim his own hair at home or pay someone else?

What is the thing he hates the most about his house, and what is a perk that sometimes makes it feel ok?

Would Krow rather accept a ripe mango or tomato from Eliyah, or something gross from Dove? (Idk maybe they’re a terrible cook/barista or didn’t notice the food had spoiled)

Ps. I’ve fallen into using he/him for Krow as frequently using two ‘thems’ gets confusing. (Dove is either an enby too or gender hasn’t been chosen.) But that can change if Krow really prefers to go by they/them

So the hoodie is meant to be one piece of clothing, sewn together as one thing. The paint splatters are since... it's his main and favorite hoodie. He doesn't mind the paint getting on since, to him, it adds character, and isn't really "hurting" the hoodie. Generally it's for comfort and warmth.

More under the cut!

Ya know, I think in my head that when I drew his pants that they were jeans but looking at them again they don't... really look quite like jeans. So they're really probably some poor beat up, paint splattered slacks lmao.

Oh Krow trims his own hair. He's really not picky about his hair and doesn't see a need to pay someone to do it. He'd rather his money go elsewhere. (Although if Dove were a hair stylist, that's a different story.)

Hmm... the thing he probably hates the most about his house... Probably pests likely. Depending on them they can cause further damage to the house and some of the work/repairs he's done, but also they're just... annoying. This would go for any veggies he grows too. He may have bought ladybugs and mantis's to dump in the garden for some natural pest control ha ha.

The perk he likes is both the seclusion (he is able to do art and all in relative peace) and the... secret rooms in the house are also a perk. He mostly lives in them, and can hole up in them if he gets unwanted visitors and they really wouldn't be able to find him.

Logically he should go for the mango or tomato but Krow also has some pride, so he'd rather accept whatever gross thing from Dove than even the tastiest mango from Eliyah.

Krow really doesn't mind he/him! He does like it when peeps use they/them at least occasionally but he really won't get upset or anything. :3

[mileycyprus-hill]

Barbells and Barstools

Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Summary: So, yeah this is totally not a self-indulgent fic at all *cough cough*. Reader is an Olympic-level strongwoman who travels with Miss Marjorie's Medical Miracles troupe. Being overprotective of simple-minded Bertram, you find yourself looking for a fight with the man who beat him up at the Van Horn saloon. Things take a turn as you and Arthur find yourselves quickly turning from enemies to lovers.

Warnings: violence, mature language. Part 2 gets steamy.

…………………………

You burst through the rotting door of the old Van Horn saloon, your cheeks hot and teeth clenched hard.

"Alright, who's the asshole who thinks he can beat up a poor simpleton!" You bellow as you push the saloon doors with such force, one of them cracks as it bangs against the wall.

A silence falls upon the saloon, which is unsurprising given the lack of clientele in this filthy establishment. All at once the eyes of the haggard labor men look to you. Once they glance at the sight of your tall frame blocking the doorway they quickly avert their gazes to their cloudy and nearly empty glasses.

You remain standing with your hands placed at your hips and feet apart on the dusty floor. A gust of wind behind you blows a stray hair from your braid onto your flushed cheek. Dust blows onto the floor, which is indistinguishable beneath the thick layer of dirt.

A deep and hoarse voice answers from your right, towards the bar.

"That would be me," says the voice.

With a scowl painted on your dry lips and sweaty brow, you dart your eyes over to the bar. A man of similar height to yourself leans forward on the bar in worn and dusty clothes. Upon his head he wears a black leather hat, scuffed and dirty. His face is hidden from view until he finally raises his head. Steely eyes glare at you from beneath the wide brim of his hat.

"Shit." You breathe in a frustrated whisper that's as silent as the wind. You notice the black eye already forming on the man's face and the beer bottle held to his reddened cheek.

The man is barrel-chested and his shoulders are broad beneath a light blue, cotton button-down shirt that tapers into a loose tuck in his lean waisted pants. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows to expose his pale, thick forearms. No doubt this man packs a punch hard enough to knock back the mighty Bertram.

However, what this man may not know is that while Bertram lacks speed in favor of brute force, you carry the skills of both agility and strength. Upon further inspection, it also appears that Bertram has worn this bastard out, as you watch the man continue to catch his breath while leaning on the bar counter. This lesson you plan to teach him should be quick, you think to yourself.

Appearing annoyed from under your scrutinizing gaze, the tired man speaks from across the bar, "And before you start throwing fists at me, I'll have you know, he started it."

"He doesn't know any better!" You defend with heated venom on your tongue. Walking closer to him, you scold, "He's got the mind of a child."

You cross the hollow parlor in just a few strides of your long legs. Broken shards of glass crackle against the dirty floor beneath your feet. Your thumbs rub against your index fingers anxiously as your arms swing at your sides.

The man exclaims with a snarl, "That ain't no excuse! He nearly killed the barman, not to mention myself!"

He points to his own beaten face with a hand that's equally bruised and slightly bloodied as you had seen Bertram's.

The barman behind the counter raises his palms, "Now listen! If you two wanna continue this, then do it outside. I don't want any more damage to my place!"

The two of you ignore the barman pointing to the broken glass and splintered wood that litters his floor.

"I'm staying right here." The tired man says, promptly ignoring you to sit himself on a rickety stool beside him. "I ain't done anythin' wrong."

With a barely audible scoff, you cock your head to the side and watch him slowly blink his eyes.

"Guess again, asshole." You lunge forward and grab the front of the man's shirt. Like a heavy sack of potatoes, you yank him off the chair towards you. You need only to drag him a few feet towards the door before you turn on your back leg and toss him through the saloon doors with minimal effort.

~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur felt his feet float beneath him as you grasped his shirt and pulled him away from the bar counter. His breath caught in his throat and before he realized what had happened, he found himself stumbling through the doors of the saloon into the street.

"Shit!" Arthur yells, swinging his arms to balance and prevent himself from falling face forward onto the dirt.

Arthur thought you looked big, but assumed it was just his perspective from the barstool. Jesus, the last time someone threw him like that it was through the bar window in Valentine, and that man was a giant.

How far was he from the door when he sat on the stool? You threw him further than he could spit, which is a considerable distance.

He hears the doors swing open again and turns to watch you stomp outside to the street. In the bright afternoon light, he's finally able to get a better look at your frame.

By god, you're the brawniest woman he's ever laid eyes on.

The tight, pine colored trousers tucked into your leather boots do you no favors in hiding your thick, hard thighs and brawny backside. A dark brown belt cinches your stocky waist and tucks your tailored, ruffled white blouse into your trousers. You push the long linen sleeves of your shirt up past your elbows to expose your chiseled forearms. Your rounded biceps and wide shoulders flex underneath the light fabric. All of the buttons of your blouse are done except for the first three of the top, showcasing your jutting collarbones in contrast to your buxom chest.

In Arthur's moment of awe-struck weakness, that chest of yours is suddenly directly in front of his face. You grab him again by the front of his shirt, lift him up onto his toes, and forcefully push him to the ground. He lands flat on his back with your hands still entangled in his shirt while you kneel over him. The air escapes his lungs from the impact and he gasps like a fish out of water. A tightened fist hangs above his face and threatens to come crashing down on his chin.

Instinctively, Arthur stops you by grabbing your fist with one hand and wrapping around your wrist with the other.

"Goddammit, she told me to do it!" Arthur shouts. He kicks his heels against the dirt beneath you. Your knee is pressed against his lower stomach, just above his groin, pushing your weight upon him. Your other leg is outstretched to your side, steadying you while he attempts to push you off of him.

Visions of the muddy street in Valentine flash through Arthur's mind as he holds back your fist with both hands. Memories of a brute named Tommy shoving his face in the mud cause his heart to beat at a panicked rate.

With your fist immobilized, you reach with your other hand to wrap his throat. Arthur feels your powerful fingers grip tightly around his own thick neck. The base of your thumb presses against his bulging Adam's apple.

He kicks his feet and thrusts his hips in a manic attempt to buck you off, but no matter how much he pushes, his strength is evenly matched. In a panic, he sacrifices the holding strength of one hand from your wrist to reach for your hair. Calloused fingers interlaced with silky fibers of hair, he curls his fingers closed and pulls downward.

Goddammit, it only makes your grip tighter on him. You shake your fist free from the hold of his hand and wrap it around his throat. He pulls your head closer to his. You don't make a yelp or a cry at his pull on your scalp, only an angry growl through your tight lips as you stare into his eyes.

His eyes begin to water until your hand quickly loosens its grip at the sound of a pleading voice.

The voice is deep yet has the meekness of a small child.

"Don't, (Y/N)! He'll hurt you!" The voice begs you.

You both turn, locked in your position with Arthur's hand in your hair and your hands around his neck. You both look to see Bertram standing there, hands raised and shaking. His face is cringed with worry and sadness.

Noting your distraction, Arthur takes his opportunity to strike a swift punch to your ribs. You exclaim in shock instead of pain, despite how hard he struck against your side. Nevertheless, he rolls you over to the ground and straddles your waist, grabbing both of your hands and holding them by your head to pin you beneath him.

Arthur stares into your angry eyes and warns, "Listen! Now, I don't want more trouble for beating a nitwit and a woman, but if you don't--"

Bertram cries again, "No! Don't hurt her!"

Bertram takes two steps towards the both of you as you wiggle against each other for dominance before a shrill whistle cuts through the air like a steam train through the open plains.

The three of you cinch your eyes shut and cringe at the intrusive sound. Poor Bertram stands with his hands covering his ears, nearly buckling over in pain.

A familiar, scrawny woman rushes to you and Arthur in quick steps with a small silver whistle in her mouth. Arthur keeps his full weight on top of you with your hands still pinned to the ground.

Spitting the whistle from her lips, Miss Marjorie shouts, "Enough! Can't I turn around for one minute without you getting us into trouble again?"

Arthur turns his attention from Miss Marjorie down to you, then back to her. He realizes her anger is solely directed towards you, as he feels you release the tension in your arms and sigh. Turning his gaze to you once more, he watches your eyes clench shut and lips tighten in frustration. You refuse to look back up at Marjorie who glares down at you with her hands on her hips like an angry mother to her troublesome child.

Miss Marjorie continues, "Your job is to find that little bastard Magnifico, but here I find you fighting this poor gentleman who was only helping me just moments ago!"

"You call that helping?" You retort, lifting your head and pointing with your eyes over to Bertram's bruised face, who maintains his distance from the three of you and attempts to cover his face with his hands in shame.

Arthur's gravelly voice rises in pitch in response, "What else was I supposed to do? Fight him with my words?"

He feels your body tense again as his words incensed you. Your nostrils flare and your bright eyes cut him down as if he were nothing but a rabid mongrel deserved to be put down.

Through his arms and legs, Arthur feels the seething rage return to your muscled body and he tightens his grip on your wrists in response. His thighs pinch your ribs, as if steadying himself on top a wild mustang who refuses to be broke. The two of you stare into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to relent and turn away or even blink.

Suddenly, Arthur can't help but let a smirk pull at the corner of his lips. The sight of you laying pinned beneath him in the dirt, cheeks red hot in fury and eyes of steel piercing through him, it makes his own cheeks flush with a warm desire from the depths of his hardened heart.

He's won this wrestling match, he thinks, but you refuse to admit to defeat despite him holding you down with all his weight and Miss Marjorie watching you from above.

You could easily push him off of you, he thinks. As effortless as it was for you to toss him like a bale of hay, it should be no different now to simply buck him off like a wild mare.

So why haven't you?

He finds it amusing, seeing you so angry like this and holding yourself back to avoid further rebuke from your matriarch. He relaxes his furrowed eyebrows and crinkled nose. His smirk pulls higher at his lips now as he watches your hot-tempered stare cool down to confusion. Your well-manicured eyebrow quirks up and your eyes slightly widen in distrust to his smile. Your bosom that was once rising and falling in deep, angry breaths has now paused. Slowly, you let out a shallow and reluctant exhale from your nose. Your lips remain tightly pursed. Arthur notices the subtle cock of your head against the ground, like that of a perplexed puppy.

Your gazes both remain locked as Miss Marjorie speaks, "I am sorry for her behavior Mister, uh...what did you say your name was?"

Arthur unfurls his fingers from your wrists and straightens himself up, sitting back on your hips.

"I didn't," he replies, turning his head to Marjorie before turning back to you. "Arthur Callahan."

Still straddling you, Arthur looks into your eyes and extends a calloused hand to you as an offering.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you raise one arm to receive his hand.

"(Y/N) (L/N). But, most people call me Miss Atlas."

You both grasp the other's hand firmly in a show of strength. You squeeze his hand tightly, and he squeezes back in response. His eyes scan your face for any discomfort from his grip, but he sees only a roguish purse of your lips that barely mimics a smile.

Arthur repeats with a soft, rumbling chuckle, "Atlas...Was 'Lady Hercules' taken?" He gingerly rubs his throat.

He takes a moment to watch your eyes roll in response. Finally, he rises up from you and onto his feet to offer you a helping hand, to which you ignore and stand yourself up with a small grunt and brush away the dust from your clothes. What you don't ignore though, is Arthur's attempt to sneak a quick glance at your plump backside. He feels you stare at him, angry and confused at his lewd gaze, as if he's a randy teenage boy who's been caught peeping.

Miss Marjorie speaks up between you two with urgency, "Well! Now we're all properly introduced and can be friendly again, perhaps you won't mind Mr. Callahan helping you find Magnifico?"

Snapping your head towards her with a glare, you state firmly, "I can handle it. I don't need--"

"I'd be happy to help, ma'am." Arthur replies, ignoring your attempt to dissuade her.

He doesn't face you, but he peers at you through the corners of his eyes. You stare at him with such heat in your glare that he'd be surprised he doesn't burst into flames at this very moment.

Another crooked smirk falls upon his lips and he quirks a brow as if to mock your boiling frustration. His eyes slowly move in attention to Miss Marjorie.

"Great!" She exclaims happily.

This should be interesting, Arthur thinks to himself.

[dangantums]

Hi! I just wanted to say I love your works! I’m not sure if you charge for requests, but would you be willing to write a short fic or imagine where Phoenix overeats and gets a stomachache and he tries to hide it from Miles who just teases him about it? It can be short and fluffy, whatever you think is best❤️

HI!!! sorry it took me a bit, finals week! but im on winter break now soooo.... hopefully I should be more active, hehe

Respectable Attorney

this fic contains: burps, belly noises, belly kink, belly rubs, SFW

ship: w.rightworth

TLDR: every friday, phoenix buys himself a bowl of ramen for lunch. this friday, however, he bought more than he could handle.

Every Friday, during his lunch-break, Phoenix would go get ramen from the ramen stand down the street and order himself a bowl of tonkotsu ramen and a small soda. On this particular Friday, however, Phoenix had an… exceptional appetite.

As Phoenix Wright sat at his desk, surrounded by stacks of case files, he was also surrounded by two large bowls that were once filled with tonkotsu ramen, an empty large cup that once had soda in it, and an empty container of gyoza. The raven-haired lawyer leaned back in his office chair, his weight making the leather seat moan. Phoenix himself responded back with a groan, his hands cupping his distended gut. The organ gurgled loudly beneath him, protesting the overabundance of food. He was certainly feeling the consequences of his gluttony – his stomach was aching, and he fought to suppress a series of burps.

A knock on the door caused his head to perk up. Sluggishly, Phoenix sat himself up. One hand continued to cradle his overactive belly while the other quickly discarded the plates and bowls into the trash. He failed to notice knocking the large cup onto the floor as he scooted in close to his desk. “C-Come in!”

The door swung open as a familiar face appeared in the doorway. His boyfriend, prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, with a stack of files under his arm. Without even fully entering the room, he immediately sensed something is amiss. 

"Wright, what on earth have you done?" Miles inquired, gray eyes scanning the surrounding area for clues.

“What?” Phoenix, attempting to maintain his composure, weakly replied, "Nothing, babe. Just a bit tired, that's all." 

“You’re sure?”

Phoenix attempted to brush off the question with a nonchalant grin. “Yup,” he said as his stomach rumbled loudly, betraying him further.

Edgeworth leaned against the doorframe, his piercing gaze fixed on Phoenix. "Tired, you say? I find that hard to believe… especially with that cup on the floor. You usually get a small one, do you not?”

Phoenix’s eyes darted to the floor, noticing the large, empty cup on the ground. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, looking back up at Miles. "I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, unsuccessfully stifling a small burp.

Edgeworth couldn't help but chuckle, crossing his arms. "Oh, love, you really should learn to control your impulses. It's unbecoming of a respectable attorney.”

Phoenix’s mouth gaped in a poor attempt to defend himself. But all that managed to come out is a long, deep belch. Groaning with relief and humiliation, the attorney finally sat back. Giving up. Letting his belly be on display.

If it was anyone else, Miles would scold them. But it was Phoenix. His lover, his partner, his everything – so it was endearing. Miles couldn’t help but smirk as he shut the door behind him. As he approached Phoenix, he remarked in a low voice, "You really should learn moderation, Wright. It's a valuable lesson.”

"Yeah, yeah, lesson learned,” Phoenix grumbled, his hand firmly pressed against his aching belly.

Edgeworth's smirk widened as he leaned over – inspecting the damage done to Phoenix’s unhappy stomach, and taking note of the large empty containers in the trash can. Placing a hand on his bloated and swollen belly, he began to massage, eliciting a mixture of relief and embarrassment from the defense attorney. Phoenix groaned, half in pain and half in mock protest. 

"You're enjoying this a bit too much… Bwwurrrp! Hah – … D-Don't you have cases to prosecute or something?" Phoenix asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Though he had to admit, the belly rubs felt extraordinary.

Miles snorted, responding as he rubbed small circles on Phoenix's bloated belly: “It’s my lunch break too, Wright. I came by to discuss tomorrow’s case – but obviously, the plans have changed. Afterall, taking care of my partner is a duty I take very seriously."

“Oh,” Phoenix replied. “That’s right… Sorry, I’m not feeling so good – mmMMRP! – Ooh, ‘xcuse me, sorry…”

“Too much, too fast?" Miles asked, placing a kiss to the top of Phoenix’s head. After he watched Phoenix nod in response, Edgeworth let out a small hum, massaging further into Phoenix’s upset belly. “Don’t worry, you have some time to relax. You’ve got about twenty minutes until you’re needed in court.”

“... Shit.”

[fandomchill]

Changeling Au - Tangotek

Tango is a elemental Changeling, specifically of the Will-o-Wisp and Bright one variety. He appears to be a type of Troll, long pointed ears, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes with bronze skin. He has a whip like tail that is mildly prehensile and has a single flame at the end of it. His hair is made of the same fire. Both glow a soft yellow, though they will shift colors and intensity when his emotions take control. He wears smoked goggles to protect his eyes.

Originally chosen for his affinity with fire Tango was put to work as a Forge Flame for the Grand forge. He was placed on the night shift due to his brightness, but since many slept late at night he found himself quiet lonely. He would wander during the night, and often find himself assisting a Certain Goat with his work, allowing him to forge metals in exchange for conversation. This allowed him to form a friendship with Doc, who taught him the work of Runestone Magi-tek. He started tinkering on his own when the others slept, and soon he worked up the courage to ask for his position to be switched to Lab assistant. From there under the tutelage of Doc he worked his way to the Second in command.

Tango is a firebrand, bright and sunny unless you get his temper riled up. He loves to make weapons and armor for his friends, along with devious dungeons to test them in. He's fairly intelligent, though a bit scatterbrained. He rarely uses technical terms, preferring to use his own language for his tools and supplies, which annoys his boss.

Always ready for a good fight, despite hIs more back room role, he occasionally will join the guard on patrols.

Tango's wish is one he is willing to talk about. He knows that he wanted to stick with his friends and help those who were also going after wishes. Problem is he doesn't remember who. He realizes that not knowing is part of his payment, and is willing to endure the uncertainty because he knows the Gentry have to fulfill the wish.

Rank- Second in command for Research and development for the Grand Forge

Power:- Tango can at will create a blinding flash that can cause damage and stun those around him. Further he can "steal" light by forcing people to have minor poor luck around him. He must be able to see them and concentrate for a moment to use the power, but does not need to touch them.

---

Feel free to Reblog, Like and comment, just always remember to credit me. I do like asks.

[sugarpsalms]

needed an emotional boost before getting ready for my shift today so I added a little bit to my law & doffy doc, feed the living and bury the dead! Snippet below. I'm really enjoying how this high stakes couch surfer storyline is going. Law might not be having a good time, but me and doffy are :)

—

The morning light was sharpening by the time the water boiled. Law snatched the kettle off the burner before it screamed and poured it over the prepared coffee slowly, watching it drip until he had a full, steaming pot. He fixed his cup, leaving the rest of the stove to keep warm, then went back to the hearth.

While he nursed it, he kept his attention fixed on his unwanted company. Doflamingo hadn’t stirred yet, even though an hour had passed and Law hadn’t bothered with being quiet. It was astounding how well he could sleep in the presence of an enemy.

Law revisited the idea that Doflamingo might’ve arrived dead on his feet. A quick once-over showed that he was worse for wear. He was thinner than he ought to be, some of his muscles eaten away, gaunt instead of sharp in the face; concerningly lean. His color was poor and his hair was shaggy, and his clothes and shoes were tattered. There were new scars banding his wrists, also, with ones to match on his ankles.

Prison had done a number on him and living on the run obviously hadn’t helped. Doflamingo was several steps down from his physical peak, and Law wouldn’t be surprised if something was wrong inside of him as well.

There’s a thought. He was a doctor, after all, and this was—for the moment—his house. He put his coffee down and shrugged out of his blanket, leaving both by the fire. He padded over to the couch, opened a Room, and performed a scan, searching Doflamingo’s insides for signs of damage.

Individually, the injuries were insignificant: some bruised bones here, some strained muscles there, a few points of mild inflammation. No major cause for concern, but Law could see how they’d be exhausting. Without proper nutrition, a consistent sleep schedule, and time to heal, they’d cause a low-grade constant pain, affecting how Doflamingo moved. And that would put strain on the rest of his body, risking, by way of stress, further injury. Little things like that could stack quickly, if a patient wasn’t careful.

Patient: the word smacked Law hard across the jaw. He recoiled and let the Room fall away, closing Doflamingo’s body. He was so distracted by the thought that he didn’t notice the change in Doflamingo’s breathing or the fact that he’d uncovered an eye until he said, “That would’ve been the time to do it.”

[veraynes-blog]

I think I just sent this to someone else by mistake (blushes furiously). After more than a decade, I'm still sorting Tumblr mechanics. Anyway, if you'd like to play the Ten Questions game, answer them, please, about Ten and the Spymaster.

Oooh okay, this is such an interesting one! I immediately have so many thoughts about how the hell that dynamic would work... 🤔

Who’s the cuddler?

Honestly? Both. Ten is in blissed-out heaven because finally - finally! - THIS Master is just about as needy as he is. He'd have to first work his way past the Master's prickly emotional defences, mind, but if anyone is persistent and desperate enough to do so, it's Ten.

Who makes the bed?

Neither of them, very often. They don't have an attention span or sense of propriety between them. On rare occasion, if he's making a special effort to make things nice, Ten is somewhat more likely to make the gesture.

Who wakes up first?

Ten. Well, if they ever got to a place where they relaxed around each other enough to sleep, that is. I think Spymaster is in dire need of someone who'll let him rest, properly, and Ten would be more than willing to do that for him.

Who has the weird taste in music?

Spymaster. I feel like the Rasputin number speaks for itself...

Who is more protective?

Ten. I was going to give another 'poor little meow meow' jokey response, but actually I think Spymaster has a lot of very obvious pain and self-loathing, and Ten would absolutely be compelled to try and protect him from further damage.

Who sings in the shower?

Spymaster.

Who cries during movies?

I earnestly think Spymaster would be more prone to it. For two reasons. 1) He's had more practice at least pretending to be a functioning, empathetic person during his life as O, and actually I wouldn't put it past him to have learned to cry on cue at soppy movies, and 2) He has a lot of Issues, okay. He's a bit fragile. He's the version of the Master who's most in touch with his own feelings, even if those feelings are all sharp, broken things cluttered inside him. If he ever accidentally watches a movie that resonates with him in that way, he's going to fucking pieces.

Who spends the most while out shopping?

I don't think either of them are particularly materialistic. Spymaster might still have access to government credit he's willing to burn through just to cause problems.

Who kisses more roughly?

Ooh. Okay, I apologise if this is verging into TMI, but. I think they're both equally a bit feral with each other. Lots of clinging and grabbing of hair and messy snogging.

Who is more dominant?

Sit tight, this requires context. So. Yes, obviously Spymaster's surface persona is about trying to be aggressively dominant. He tells Thirteen to kneel, chokes her out, etc. But. I always got the vibe he was actually looking for some resistance, there. He wanted the Doctor's attention, and Thirteen passively letting him do whatever was a way of denying him that. Spymaster's whole arc was about his sense of identity crumbling around him, and Thirteen not having the emotional capacity to pick up the pieces (I'm not saying she's wrong for that).

But Ten does have the capacity. Actually, he'd throw himself at the opportunity. I also think Ten has a touch of steel in him that other Doctors don't, and that Spymaster is fraying at the seams in a way that would make it a relief to let someone else take control for a while.

In answer: I think Ten would soft-dom the shit out of Spymaster and they'd both have a wonderful time with it. 😳🙃

My rating of the ship from 1-10.

Russia's Greatest Love Machine out of 10. 😌

[nights-with-stars]

How Not to ask Someone out in a Hollow

Billy x Belle

The cunning hares are deep in a hollow with Belle leading them out. Nicole gets fed up with watching Billy attempt to ask out The proxy and decides to intervene.

I used the names of the different types of ethereals in this but in case you arn't sure which are what (I didn't until I wrote this) I'll put a brief description if you don't want to go searching for it yourself. Hati: The unarmored dog like ethereals. Alpeca: Humanoid ethereals, missing half their arms and use ranged attacks. Farbauti: Big bulky one that looks almost entirly stone, likes to stomp the ground alot.

~~~

The Cunning Hares trudged through the hollow with Belle controlling Eous leading the way. Anby was as neutral as ever but was visibly worse for wear. Her hair out of place, scuffs on her gear and the occasional bruise here and there. Nekomata wasn’t showing much in the way of damage, but she complained about how long the Mission was taking. Nicole appeared not nearly as beaten up as Anby, but her disgruntled demeanor was on full display.

“So, Manager. What are you up to later?” Billy followed close behind Eous.

“That would be classified information Billy.” She responded playfully, but she also did mean that. Plus she was more concerned with getting them out.

“More proxy stuff then,” He looked around feigning casualness. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Nicole rolled her eyes as she watched Billy actively distracting their only means of getting out. They’ve already been in for longer than necessary. Their commission was more complicated than they thought and dragged them deeper into the hollow than they would have liked. And yet here she was. Watching Billy unsuccessfully trying to ask out Belle. She would have found it funny if not for the situation they were in.

“Whenever you’re next free, want to go…” Billy hesitates as his systems start overheating. The sound of his cooling systems was very noticeable. He knows what he wants to say but saying it to her was still hard. He thought it would be easier this way, when she isn’t directly face to face with him, but it seems just as hard. Billy realizes he’s paused for too long and quickly tries to finish his sentence. “…to go somewhere cool.” The pitch of his voice increases with every word he says.

“You sure sound like you need to be somewhere cool.” Belle jokes about his clearly overworked cooling system, but then she quickly turns serious. “You aren’t lacking money to get repairs or anything? You’ve been like this for a week now.”

“No, no, no. I’m all good. A Starlight Knight like me has never been better. I just uh…” His bravado breaks as he looks around desperately trying to think of an excuse. “It’s been hotter recently, hasn’t it?” Any attempt he made to ease her concerns was slightly overshadowed by the whirring coming from him intensifying. Belle wasn’t convinced, but she wasn’t going to push the argument any further whilst they were still trying to get out.

Nicole couldn’t tell if she was more frustrated by Billy distracting the Proxy or by his poor attempts at flirting. They weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Both in the hollow and with their feelings. Nicole quickly thought up a scheme in order to do something about this. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone. She quickly made her way over to catch up to them.

“Hey Billy.” Nicole hides her intentions with a casual conversation. “Did you ever get round to asking about that one movie… what was it?” She trailed off. Billy, having no idea what she was talking about, looks at her confused with a slight tilt to his head. Before he can even speak up Nicole continues. “Hollow Horrors or something like that.”

“Nicole-” Billy is interrupted before he can ruin her perfectly good lie.

“You don’t happen to have that one in stock do you Proxy?” Nicole sends Billy a quick glare before he can say anything that’ll ruin her efforts.

“Oh, I love that one. Yeah, we definitely have it. It’s a bit intense but it’s perfect for late nights with your friends, or if you just want some fun horror.” Belle begins her light synopsis of the film.

“Oh, that’s great.” She grins mischievously. “Billy here was interested in seeing it. Isn’t that right?” Nicole turns to Billy, daring him to disagree with her.

“Right uh... That’s right boss. I did.” He stammers with nerves. In all truth he couldn’t handle horror films. He tried watching some with Anby a few times and every time he did, he would end up staying awake all night paranoid. But he knew better than to disagree with Nicole when she was acting like this.

“You can drop by later and pick it up if you want.” Belle continues to lead the way.

“Well, you see…” Nicole crouches down to get closer to Eous causing Belle to turn around and face her. Nicole lowers her voice conspiratorially, but it’s still easily heard. “Billy is embarrassed to admit it but, he wants to watch it, he’s just easily scared by those sorts of films. You wouldn’t mind watching it with him, would you?” Billy hears this and is nearly indignant at the suggestions before what Nicole is doing fully hits him.

“Why can’t one of you watch it with him?”

“Nekomata and I are Busy, and even if we weren’t Anby has booked the TV for a while.” Nicole shrugs.

“Well then, I don’t mind. I’ll take any excuse to watch it again.” She responds enthusiastically, the prospect of hanging out with Billy more thrilling then watching the movie.

“Hey, wait no I wasn’t-” Billy sputtered as he started to second guess this whole thing. He was quickly interrupted by Nicole pulling him down and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“You hear that? She wants to watch it. You can’t disappoint the Proxy like that.” Nicole despite her playful attitude was speaking with full seriousness. He breaks free from Nicoles grasps.

“Yeah, uh. Yeah.” He turns to Eous to get Belle’s attention. “I’ll organize a time with you later.”

“Sure. Let’s get out of this hollow first.” Belle goes back to paying full attention on getting them out. Billy on the other hand escapes to join the back of the group. He didn’t know whether to thank or curse Nicole. Meanwhile Nicole was just happy to not have Billy distracting Belle from getting them out of the hollow. A quick job is a good job, and this job has already gone on for long enough.

~~~

They make their way through the hollow, getting closer to their exit. Only they were so focused on the exit that they missed a rather largegroup of ethereals that the team had managed to wander too close to. It was only when one ethereal, a Hati, launched itself towards Eous did they notice.

Nicole batted the ethereal away from Eous before quickly moving towards the others. Belle ran to find an advantages position. Billy, Nekomata and Anby all quickly got ready to fight as well. Ethereals began to surround the group. A lot more than expected. A mix of Alpeca, Hati and one Farbauti. It’s nothing they couldn’t win but in their current condition, It could be a challenge.

“Anby, Nekomata. Take out those Alpeca. We can’t have them sptting ether at us. Billy, You’re with me.” nicole takes charge, gesturing Billy to follow her towards a group of dog like Hati that surrounded the large armored Farbauti. Belle focused on trying to route their way out, whilst trying her best to avoid getting hurt. Dodging and weaving, in and out of friend and foe alike.

Nekomata runs towards the group of Alpeca ethereals nearby. They all shot concentrated ether towards her. She jumped out of it’s way. Quickly moving closer to gather all their attention. Allowing a chance for Anby to get close. Which she did. One of the ethereals were struck down. Quickly but not so quietly. The group of ethereals turned their attention to Anby now. Who dodged their attacks but not as fast as Nekomata could. Nekomata then quickly took that chance to down an ethereal herself mostly to try and get their attention back. She was more agile so she was confident she could outrun them. Seeing Anby moving slower and less calculated was a big motivator to get their attention off of her.

Across the field Billy and Nicole weren’t fairing so great themselves. Nicole kept the pressure on the large Farbauti, letting Billy focus on the smaller, and quicker Hati that kept trying to surround them. However much she kept firing at it though. The beast didn’t slow down. In fact, it only seemed to get more aggressive the more they attacked it. She barely jumped out of the way of one of its attacks. Exhaustion setting in. How long have they been here? Far too long for her liking. Before she could get her bearing back the large ethereal started to charge towards her.

“Nicole!” Billy quickly tackled her out the way before returning fire at it. “Got any plans boss? I don’t think we’re gonna make it out like this.”

Nicole got up from the ground. She looked towards Anby and Nekomata. They were at least faring better but she wasn’t about to ask them to abandon their fight to help with hers. They had already been fighting so much today. Anby desperately needs a break and Nekomata has taken more damage than she’s willing to let on.

Billy, focusing on the big guy now, didn’t slow down but showed small signs of deterioration. A few stray shots here and there weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but he seemed to be missing more than was normal for him. Nicole charged up her weapon to start Attacking the ethereal again. She hit it but it quickly moved out of the danger zone. Only when it did, a few pieces of it’s armor tore away from it.

“Billy! I need you to stall it.” She shouted as she aimed another shot, this time aiming to not hit it center on but rather more beside it.

“That’s what I’ve been doing boss.” He grunted back as he continued to fire barrages at the ethereal.

Nicole shot again, hitting the floor right beside it. More of its coating flaked away. Just a few more and she might just have a solid spot for Billy to aim. Only as she aimed her shot some more Hati appeared around them again. Billy was torn between crowd control or distracting the big one. He looked towards Nicole. She wasn’t in any immediate danger right now, so he continued to focus on the big guy.

Nicole fired another shot near it. It landed just right and tore away just enough armor that the softer part of the ethereal was exposed.

“Aim for the exposed spot!” She shouted towards Billy. He quickly examined the ethereal, finding the spot she was talking about. He raised both guns and kept a close eye on his target. He aimed, and, in a few seconds, shot a barrage of bullets towards it. Those shots were just enough to have the large beats fall to the ground.

The fight wasn’t quite over yet. They still had a few Hati to deal with but that should be easy compared to the big one. Nicole readied herself to finish this fight as did Billy. They quickly got to work taking out ethereal after ethereal. There were still a handful left but Billy’s attention was quickly brought to one in particular. It broke away from the group. He watched it carefully, curious as to why it ran. Only to find it charging right for Eous.

~~~

Belle was so close to finding a way out. So close that she let her guard down. She only noticed when it was far too close to run. And Eous couldn’t do much to fight. Any supplies she’d normally use to help out were already depleted. A feeling of dread set in. Sure, she wasn’t in any physical danger. But what would these guys do without her. Wander aimlessly until their inevitable end. She braced for impact. Maybe she would get lucky, and it wouldn’t rip Eous to shreds. The chances were slim and she knew that. She closed her eyes as the beast approached. Only it never arrived. She opened her eyes after a few seconds, having expected to be ripped to shreds by now. Only to find said ethereal on the ground, slowly fizzling away.

Belle relaxed now. She saw Anby and Nekomata finishing off the last few ethereals. She couldn't see Billy or Nicole yet and began to look around.

“Are you alright?” Billy spoke from directly behind her, more seriously than she was used to. Belle turned to look and saw Billy crouched behind her, one gun still raised from when he just shot down the ethereal.

“I’m fine.” She spoke nearly breathless. Looking up she couldn’t help but notice the stern expression as he scanned around for anymore ethereals. She was glad she wasn’t physically present as she felt her cheeks flush with color. Belle could tell she would be hearing about this from wise later.

“Billy Kid!” Nicole marched up towards him. “How dare you leave me to deal with those ethereals all by myself. We are a team you know!” Nicole scolded him.

“What?” He whined. Any seriousness he held was immediately gone. “I had to save the proxy. How else are we getting home.” He argued back. Nicole crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. She was fully aware of his ulterior motivation when it came to saving Eous but she knew she could not argue against his logic.

“Well, maybe a little warning next time.” She quickly moved to check up with Anby and Nekomata to make sure they were faring well.

“Speaking of getting home.” Belle spoke up again. “We just finished routing our way out and it’s not that far away.”

“Well then. Lead the way my dear proxy.” Billy bowed with a dramatic flair as he waited for Belle to take the lead. She laughs at his antics. Billy’s been like this all day. All week even. She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it though as she begins leading their way out.

~~~

Having successfully led the Cunning Hares through and out of the Hollow, Belle disconnects from Eous and stretches in her chair. She gets up to help Wise with finishing up any loose threads. They had another Commission to get ready for but after how that one went, they would definitely have to let Eous charge a little.

They get some noodles to pass the time, and take them back to Random Play so they can eat in the Staff Area together. The proxy siblings strike up casual conversation as they eat.

“Can’t we just postpone the next commission.” Belle sighed as she leaned back dramatically.

“Unfortunately, the next one is rather time sensitive.” Wise responded calmly. Belle exaggeratedly flopped forward, catching her head with her hand as she leaned on the table. After her dramatic display she began eating again. Belle’s phone chimed. she checked the incoming message. Wise watched as she blushed lightly and sent a quick message back before putting her phone away and eating again. “What did Billy say?”

“He was just trying to organize a time to watch a movie with me.” She answered calmly before stopping mid bite. “Hang on. How’d you know it was Billy?”

“I haven’t seen you get flustered when anyone else messages you.” That comment made her blush even harder.

“I was not.”

“So, you weren’t flustered when he saved you earlier?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms as her blush grew.

“Come on Belle. Just admit it. You like him.”

“No, I-” She stops as she notices Wise sternly looking at her. Playing dumb and avoiding her feelings was not going to work right now. “I guess I like him a little.” She mumbled as she quickly went back to eating her noodles, almost hiding behind the bowl.

Wise seemed satisfied with her answer and relaxed somewhat. Going back to enjoying his noodles. “When are you going to tell him?” Wise smirked only to be met with Belle’s indignant response. She did not get to enjoy her food in peace as Wise proceeded to poke fun at her until their next commission started.