#also the last of my easy to eat food was stolen by one of the roommates so. ya

[batz]

HI if anyone is interested in a commission they r Open. the Entire Kitchen is packed up so i have Nothing to cook on for tonight and im hungry after running up and down flights of stairs moving 483937392 boxes

ALTHOUGH cooking an egg just Right on the stove element sounds fun (for th landlord to clean up LOL)

[mialikeshockey]

Jet - Luke Hughes

part two, to oli

requested by @hrts4edwards

(credit to gif maker)

Luke’s birthday is right around the corner, he’s always talked about getting a dog. Jack and Quinn said that was something he’s always wanted since he was a kid, was a dog.

After all of the foster kittens went to their forever homes, Jack and I have been talking about surprising Luke with a puppy. Jacks always talking about how much Luke has wanted a Shih tzu, so Jack and I got him a Shih tzu.

It’s currently Lukes birthday, I woke up early and started making him a birthday breakfast. In a couple minutes Jack would be bringing over the Shih tzu for Luke.

I flip the French toast that’s on the stove, while Luke walks out of the bedroom. “Good morning, birthday boy.” I smile, while he walks over to me and gives me a kiss on my cheek.

“What are you making?” He questions me getting out some cups to make the coffee I haven’t started on yet. “French toast. Sorry if it’s not what you wanted, it’s just one of our favorite things so, I thought it would be special for your special day.”

Luke just smiles and helps finish everything up. “Why is there more plates out?” Luke looks around, confused. “Your brothers and Nico are coming over.”

Before Luke or I could say another word, someone knocks on the door. “I’ll get it.” Luke walks over to the door and lets Nico and Quinn in the door. “I thought you said Jack was coming too?” Luke pokes his head out of the door frame to see if his brother was left behind in the hallway, but not a sight of the other Hughes was there.

“Jack said he’ll be a little late because of traffic.” Nico states walking over to give me a hug. “Why didn’t he just go with you guys?” Luke says sassly. Quinn tries not to giggle while looking over at me who’s putting food on everyone’s plates. “Come on, eat up while we wait for Jack.” I push Lukes plate in front of him.

After everyone done with eating, Nico helps me do dishes while Quinn keeps Luke busy. “Whys Jack so late?” I ask Nico who’s drying the freshly washed dishes I’m handing him. “He’s probably waiting for the right-.” Before Nico could finish his sentence, there was knocking on the door. “Luke could you get that?” I call out to my boyfriend.

Luke stands up and walks to the door, he opens the door to see Jack standing there with a puppy and a big smile on his face. “So you took so long to buy yourself a new puppy, on my birthday.” Luke laughs while letting Jack in.

“Actually…it’s not mine.” Jack hands Luke the puppy. “Wha-.” Before Luke could say anything fully the puppy licks him. “Happy birthday little bro.” Jack smiles. “Thank you.” Luke walks over to show me.

“You’ve been talking about wanting one, so I talked to everyone about it and we all got together and got it for you. Also because it hasn’t been easy with all the cats leaving, it will give Oli a brother.” I dry my hands off and go up to pet the puppy.

Luke lets the puppy go run around to get his zoomies out so everyone could play with him.

“What are you gonna name him, sweetheart?” Luke takes a second to think. “Jet, I think Jet fits.” Luke giggles watching Jet run back and forth between Nicos legs to Quinns.

After a couple minutes of everyone playing with the dog, they all left, to get ready for Lukes party. “Do you wanna nap before we go? You didn’t sleep well last night.” I ask him, seeing the tiredness on his face. “Honestly…that would be great.”

Luke walks to the bedroom while little Jet follows behind him,Oli staying behind with me. I pick Oli up and head to the room and walk into Jet being cuddled up to Luke already.

“Looks like I have someone who has stolen my boyfriend.” I giggle, petting Jet. Luke smiles and closes his eyes before he drifts off to sleep.

Maybe being an animal mom isn’t bad. Maybe Oli and Jet are all we need.

—

this is so bad but I’m so bored at 5am right now and this has been in my drafts since Luna and I were on FaceTime the other night so I thought I’d let her wake up to this. I’ll probably go back and edit it, later in the day because I did not proofread this 😭

[nee-biter]

[Pt. 2] A night with Miguel, Peter B and MJ

warnings: more intense than last time. pnv sex, dacryphilia, throat-fucking, wife-swapping, rough sex, throatpie, cuckolding (?)

minors dni 🙏

tagging: @sadslasher13 @a-randomscrub @cyberbugg @optimisticshoeartisanland @migueloharasgirlfriend @tallmanlover @6thhokageswife

part one

Miguel left kisses from your back to your shoulder, before pushing himself off the bed. (Meanwhile, Peter B grunted as MJ gags on his cock). "Look at me." Miguel demanded, hating the way your attention gets stolen, before turning you to lie down on your back.

He moves on top of you, his cock dangling over your face. You instinctively grasped his hand that widened your mouth. Miguel drew circles on your tongue, before pushing himself deeper. "That's right, blow me."

Your nose brushed his balls and you inevitably gagged. The way you struggled and moaned while your lips were wrapped around his length was to die for. Miguel bucked his hips, unable to contain his need for you.

"Go easy on her, Miguel~" MJ teased, as she knelt down beside your form. You were too focused on your husband to notice that MJ was wiping off the cum on her tits.

Peter B probably came on her after she sucked him dry.

You felt kisses on your body. MJ was on your right, peppering tiny kisses on the expanse of your chest. "Doesn't she look like an angel, my love?" She asked her husband, who responded by spreading your legs apart. Peter B gestured for his wife to take a taste of you.

MJ obliged, giggling as she brought two fingers to spread your pussy. While she was focused on pleasing you and making you feel good, Peter B made an effort to stay erect at the sight of his wife going down on you and the sight of you being face-fucked by his best friend.

Miguel couldn't contain it anymore and came inside your mouth. Some of his cum shooting into your throat. By the time he pulled out of you, Miguel noticed tears under your lashes. He kissed them and brushed your hair, giving you some semblance of comfort before whispering, "My little angel deserved that."

You found yourself in different other positions that night. None of you could stop.

At one point, you were on top of Peter B with his hands on your waist, rocking you back and forth on his cock. MJ was being spooned by Miguel to your left, her pussy stretched even wider as Miguel pounded into her.

At another point, you watched as Miguel sucked Peter B's cock, allowing you to adore your husband even further. He's got this side of him that was endearing to watch—a side that you want to see more. When Peter B painted his seed on Miguel's cheek, Miguel had to say, "This stays between the four of us."

The four of you took a small break by midnight, making way for a steamy makeout session between you and MJ as the two men ordered food—

—before resuming one last time, with both of your husbands on top of you. You could swear they made it into a competition, 'who could make their wife cum the fastest?' The answer was sooo obvious~

[TAKE THIS TIME TO BREATHE]

Morning after—MJ would wake you up by tickling your ear, saying there's a breakfast buffet downstairs if you want to catch it.

You declined, still spent from last night. Also because you wanted to stay behind with your sleeping husband. He was peaceful as he slept and you didn't want to disturb it by relinquishing your warmth from him.

MJ and Peter B went down to eat, but you kissed your husband good morning. Miguel had a smile on his face, still woozy from a few hours ago. Shifting his weight so that he'd be the one to give you sweet kisses, Miguel took his time to take care of you.

But he had one thing to ask from you, "Mi amor, I enjoyed last night. But I want you to assure me that this won't be a regular affair? I prefer to have you mine and only mine."

So, which is it? A frequent night of escapades with your hot friends or forever with your one true lover? The answer is up to you to decide~

thank u so much for reading 👁👁 more content from me soon i just gotta write my thesis lol

[justrainandcoffee]

“Come on, baby, light my fire” (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1

Story masterlist - Alfie x Rose masterlist

Summary: The first time he saw her was on TV in middle of a riot caused after the assumption of the new Prime Minister. Then, as if the fate was determined to force them to meet Alfie and Rose crossed paths more than once.

Warning: None. But if you support police, this fic isn't for you. ||Alternate universe. Fireman!AU || I'm perfectly aware that it's not THAT easy to set a kitchen on fire, but welcome to fiction. ||

Words: 2.3k

Try now we can only lose and our love become a funeral pyre, come on baby, light my fire come on baby, light my fire.

The Doors.

People think that the policy of "not romantic relationship between employees" that some workplaces have, can be considered medieval, old fashioned and oppressive. Because what can be better than work with the person you chose to love? Stolen glances, smiles across the room. Secret kisses behind the door. Perfect, until the couple breaks up. Then the harmonic paradise becomes in hell.

Quite accurate, thought Alfie looking at Thomas Shelby passing by in front of him. Tommy was still wearing the gear, except the helmet, after the last call they received. He avoided his gaze and kept walking. They still talked, they had to because it was necessary to communicate to operate effectively, but they didn't talk about what happened between them.

Alfie let out a grunt when he removed his heavy boots and also his jacket. There, with only his pants, socks and a white t-shirt, he leaned against the bench and let his back rest.

His dog approached him and rested his big head on his knees. Alfie caressed him behind the ears.

"How are you, buddy?"

Cyril was a puppy that someone, for some reason, abandoned in front of the headquarters two years and since then, two years later, he was the official pet of this fire department located in Camden Town. Although Cyril was never trained to be a rescue dog, he was an honorary member of the team.

The animal looked at him with his deep brown eyes and Alfie chuckled "come on, I'm going to give you a treat." His back wasn't happy to move again, but he was hungry too, so he needed to eat as well.

Some of his men were also there, resting and chatting. He cared about them, despite his reputation of being a grumpy man. Captain Solomons inspired fear in some of them, especially the younger ones and he was aware of it. He needed to keep the discipline and if being grumpy was the best way to do it, then fine. But not so deep down, he was a good man and his men trusted him.

Cyril was finally eating from his bowl and Alfie already microwaved his own food, something that he didn't like, but there in the headquarters the options were limited.

The TV was on, although almost none of them were paying attention to the news. Riots. Nothing new. Since the new Prime Minister assumed, those against the Tories went out to protest as it was usual.

Alfie kept looking at the TV screen. A group of rioters was painting the walls around 10 Dowing Street, while others were throwing rocks and everything they had in their hands to the police. Something similar was happening near the Parliament where a bigger group was setting on fire a mannequin representing the PM. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

A brown haired girl with a megaphone was congratulating the multitude that went there and asked to those watching or hearing from their houses, to join them and protest against 'the bleached fucker and the pigs.'

"Another one who thinks that can end with a government by causing disturbance" Alfie moved his head towards the voice in front of him.

"Well, Tommy, she's doing more for something she believes than you complaining here, chewing a mint gum."

"Just wait until we have to go there to extinguish the fire started by them."

"Your friends, the fucking cops, will take care of them, as usual, Tom. So don't worry. It's called repression."

"It's called keeping the order. And they're not my friends."

"They're more friends to you than they're to me. Policemen, they cannot be trusted."

.

Alfie was right. Police arrested several of them for disturbance in public spaces. They were going to release soon and the only consequence of their actions for now, was a legal folder containing their arrest records.

Some of them got their freedom after few questions or right after the police got their fingerprints. Others, were still there. The girl who had the megaphone among them.

"If there's not female officers, then, don't you fucking dare to put your dirty, bloody hands on me, motherfucker. You're going to regret it when I put your fucking name in every social media: Gregory Williams, first officer, touched an unarmed woman. Do you want a legion of feminists in front your police department? Because I can do that."

The man pushed her against chair "just waited there, Coldwell! It's always a pleasure to host you here. Your cell is waiting for you."

"S.M.P"

"I don't know what that means, but I'm assuming that you are sending regards to my mother."

"Your mother is not the one to blame, she's not guilty of what you are. S.M.P, means suck my pussy. I'm already under arrest, the least I can do now is let out the hatred in my heart."

It was good that one of her younger brothers was a lawyer. Instead of spending a whole day there, they let her out before midnight, even when Williams was willing to leave her there for two weeks.

"I'll be back, fucker."

"Rose, shut up," his brother Samuel, the lawyer, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the police department. "One day, it will cost you more than a bail."

"I did nothing, Samuel. Prisons are overpopulated with criminals, killers, rapists and the worst of all, according to them: innocent people. So, I don't fit in any category therefore, I'm fine. But thanks again, Sam."

"Don't mention it. Are you going to your apartment?"

"Yes. I need to walk. I call you when I'm there."

"Ok. Take care, Rosie."

Rose put her hands in her pockets and began to walk. The streetlights, the shop signs and the cars illuminated her way. Was it worth? Yes, definitely. No one in humanity got anything by saying please and thank you. Humans were born to fight. In wars or in daily life, but everything was a battle with few moments of peace.

Rose always felt inside her, probably in another life, she did something similar too. Maybe worse. Fighting for people's rights was something that she was born with. But she didn't know why.

She stopped by a coffee shop to buy a latte. It was late, but who were going to stop her? Besides, she was hungry and last time she ate something was that morning when had her breakfast.

.

Alfie ended his shift gladly to return home without any major accidents that day. A sandwich was what he wanted. Around the corner was a coffee shop opened 24 hours and had the most delicious cheese sandwich that he knew. His stomach growled in anticipation of the feast.

The place was almost empty except for two men holding hands at a table and the girl in front of him waiting for her coffee. He looked at the couple and couldn't help but think about him and Tommy. It was long time ago to be considered ancient history and yet, it was yesterday at the same time.

He turned his gaze towards the list of coffees there and thought that maybe he could order one like the girl in front of him did.

The girl.

Alfie paid attention to the woman there and he recognised her from the news he saw earlier that day. So, she was fine, after all. The news also showed later how police apprehended the rioters and take them to the station.

Alfie cleared his throat making her to look at him for the first time.

"Good night," he said.

"Good night."

"I know you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Really? Because I don't know you." Rose, looked at him. Really looked at him. A tall, bearded and, in her eyes, a good-looking man. Yet, she knew very well that creepy men where everywhere and some were handsome. So her mind was in alert. Just in case.

"I saw you today in the news. Megaphone in hand."

"Oh, I didn't know I was in the news."

"Problematic people tend to be famous."

"Excuse me, are you calling me problematic?"

The barista had the cup of coffee in his hands to give it to her, but he was also interested in the current conversation. Nights used to be way boring.

"Someone inciting violence in the streets isn't an angel."

"What are you? A cop?"

"Fucking ridiculous! I prefer to be dead before being a cop. I'm just saying, sweetheart."

She frowned "well, congratulations then, anonymous man. You get it very well who I am."

Rose finally grabbed the coffee that the barista prepared, thanked at the boy and went out.

"If i were your age, man, I'd ask her, her telephone number," the barista said preparing the sandwich that Alfie ordered.

"What do you mean my age? I'm just 30!"

"I'm just saying, sir."

Insolent kid. Alfie chose not to order the coffee and also left the place after paying for it.

The young woman wasn't near to be seen anymore.

.

Her head hurt the next morning. She slept very bad and the sound of workers on the other side of the street didn't help at all. Next to her in bed, her English bulldog called CPU, was snoring.

"Lucky lady," Rose thought looking at her.

She let her dog sleep, although CPU probably will be demanding food soon.

It was an ordinary breakfast what started everything. The same she prepared to her day after day. Although in fact, it wasn't the breakfast per se what caused the incident but a series of unfortunate events.

The kitchen cloth was in the counter and the burner was on. Maybe, a part of the cloth was touching the fire.

Kitchen is a dangerous place if you're not careful. And she Rose hadn't been careful. Not with the migraine accentuating her bad mood and tired as she was. Maybe, if CPU had been awake asking her to be fed then Rose could have noticed the first flames, but she wasn't. After drinking her tea and taking an aspirin she went back to bed. She didn't check the burner at all.

The cooking oil was also in the counter and the fire began to melt the plastic bottle, causing the oil started to spread over the floor and the flames followed the path.

CPU started to bark, but Rose was too tired to understand what was happening.

Until the smoke started to fill the whole apartment. Grey and thick like the things you saw in movie.

"Fucking God!" Rose jumped out of the bed, only to see her place covered by it. Coughing, she dragged her dog out of there. Her phone, remained inside.

It was a neighbour who called the fire department. The smell of smoke was reaching his own apartment. They arrived pretty quickly.

.

"New day, new problem," Alfie said driving the truck trough the street with the sirens on.

He saw the smoke as soon as he turned the corner. People outside were looking at the place where the fire started.

"Get the ladder!" One of the fireman yelled.

"Anyone inside the house?" Alfie asked to one of the neighbours.

"No. That girl and her dog live there, but she went out just in time. Both of them" and old lady replied.

While his men were climbing, he turned around to see the owner of the apartment.

You're kidding me.

"So, the problematic girl is causing problems as expected."

Rose, still hugging CPU, raised her eyes to see the man in front of her. The distinctive gear: turnout pants and jacket, helmet and boots gave him the appearance of someone bigger. Yet, despite the helmet, she recognised him. Of course she did.

"Are you a fireman?"

"Unless you guess I'm a freak wearing this thing that is heavy as fuck, then I'm a fireman, sweetheart. The Captain, in fact."

"Good."

"You need to tell me what happened. Do you need medical assistance?"

"No, I don't. I'm fine. She's fine too," Rose said refering to her dog. "But I guess my fucking apartment is not. I don't know what happened, but probably I left the burner on. I don't remember. I woke up feeling really bad so I made tea, took an aspirin and went back to bed. When my dog started to bark much later I saw the smoke. That's all."

"Ok, fine. Don't worry, accidents happen all the time. My men will take care of it and will determine what happened. Sadly until you can hire people to fix this mess you can't live here."

"Yes, I know. I'll be back to my mother's place."

"It's a good choice."

She nodded. It was the only place she knew, on the other hand. The firemen were still working behind his Captain while he was filling out a form that after few minutes he handled to her.

"Routine paperwork just to demonstrate that we worked here," he said as she started to fill her personal data there. She gave the papers back to him, who smiled.

"Well, Rose Elizabeth Coldwell, also known as problematic girl. I'm Captain Solomons, but you can call me Alfie."

And he winked at her.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt12

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Had this idea out of nowhere, and I thought it would be a good filler so I'm not jumping super far ahead very suddenly. I may do another part with the love test, but I wanted to go ahead and share this bit

Also, I know this is not at all like the fair or w/e in-game. I haven't played the game yet (😔) and so I based it mostly around my ren fair experience(s)

Warnings: food, eating, reference to starving, references to past abuse, references to emotional abuse, hints at torture methods, social anxiety, crowds, mentions of loud sounds and strong smells, honestly very fluffy I promise

Word Count: 1,906

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The sights and sounds and smells were overwhelming. Crowds of people, young and old, wandering from stall to stall for food and merriment. Barkers beckoned them over for games, promising prizes for any who dared to test their luck.

It made your head spin. You stepped closer to Astarion, tentatively brushing your hand against his.

It was supposed to be fun - it was fun. Karlach had bounded on ahead with Wyll in tow, eager to test her skills at one of the games with loud proclamations of her imminent victory. Gale and Shadowheart were tempted by the wine tasting, whether to find the best of the bunch or to drink as much as possible before getting kicked out, it was impossible to tell. Lae’zel was particularly intrigued by a display of Dwarves demonstrating how they build weapons, the best way to sharpen them, and how to care for them so they last a lifetime and a half.

And here you were, at the very cusp of it all, seeking safety in Astarion.

“Ah, another first?” he asked, taking your hand in his and running his thumb along your knuckles. He wasn’t so bothered by the loud body of people or shouting and laughter - he’d been in the thick of it back when he sought victims for Cazador. Besides, he found it rather easy to blend in… And slip some tokens from the pockets of unsuspecting passersby.

You let out a long breath. “I don’t think so,” you admitted. “I feel like I’ve been to one of these before, but it’s all fuzzy. Maybe I just dreamt it.”

You both watched, amused, as Karlach cheered and whooped, excitedly taking the stuffed toy from the vendor, before turning bashful as she handed it to Wyll. They made a rather cute couple. Certainly the most normal of the bunch - and that was saying something.

Astarion snorted. “It would be rather difficult to dream up a place like this out of nothing.”

A couple passed by, brushing against your shoulder as they did. You instinctively stepped closer to Astarion to avoid the strangers’ touch, squeezing his hand. He frowned down at you.

“We can always go back to camp, love. They know the way back. And we’d get the whole place to ourselves.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

You chuckled, slightly strained. “You just want to read Shadowheart’s diary.”

“She has a diary?” he gaped, overemphasizing his words and pretending to be shocked. “Why, I had no idea! We should ensure it doesn’t get stolen by any unsavory types that might be lurking about.”

“You can’t read her diary.”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Spoil sport.”

The idea was tempting, though. It would be quiet. There wouldn’t be people to bump into you or crowd you in. You could spend an entire day forgetting what lay ahead of you, what trials you had to face, what foes were sharpening their swords and awaiting your arrival.

With a deep breath, you took a hesitant step forward. And another, and another. Your friends were enjoying themselves… surely you could too, right?

“Let’s just… look around.”

Astarion followed along, close at your side. As you began wandering, glancing at stalls that offered handmade trinkets and jewelry, ciders, and even face painting, he worked to make the experience more bearable. This meant subtly directing you out of the paths of heedless fair-goers. Every now and again, he’d whisper snide little comments in your ear; snickering observations of an obviously rigged game upsetting a child who screamed for their parents to let them try again, remarks on intriguing tidbits of information overheard from loose-lipped conspirators, scowling growls at annoying vendors who tried to get your attention to look at their random nonsense.

He was your anchor, grounding you to the experience. His comments eased your anxieties little by little. Your shoulders relaxed, you looked around with wide eyes that sought to capture everything going on. You didn’t feel the need to run. Not with him there. You wished you could show how truly grateful you were for it.

You stepped into a tent toward the center of the fair. Immediately, a flood of smells hit your nose - smoked meats, tart fruit, something floral you couldn’t quite pin down. Chatter filled the air until it devolved into a wordless humdrum, buzzing ceaselessly in your ear like a persistent bug, but there seemed to be enough space to walk about. Astarion followed as you followed the empty space like a path.

Stalls all aligned against the walls presented various foods from all over Faerûn. Delicacies, both appetizing and slightly disturbing, sat next to chef specialties. Wood elves and druids with various prepared mushrooms and herbs, orcs with meat piled high, farmers from the surrounding area that gathered with their fresh-grown crops. There was something for everyone here, guaranteed.

You leaned closer to Astarion to speak without shouting over the noise. “Shall we find a booth for you?” you teased.

He laughed. “Darling, this is a veritable buffet. None quite compare to you, however,” he flirted with a seductive grin. He reveled in the way your heart skipped.

You both scanned the stalls a bit longer, until something caught Astarion’s eye. Excitedly, he tugged you along. “What is it?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “Something as sweet as you, dearest.”

At the end of the row, tucked away in a corner, was a mess of hobbits, cherry-cheeked and full of mirth. Their entire stand was full of baked goods, from cakes as tall as Astarion with a multitude of layers and intricate detailing, to itty bitty cakelets that would be the perfect size for a mouse decorated simply.

“Ah, here we are!” He plucked up a tiny cakelet and tossed a coin to a hobbit that was all freckles. When they thanked him, the rest piped up to thank him, too. He paid them no mind, instead tugging you somewhere quieter and more private, despite the bustling people that filled every inch of this tent. He held it up to you between his fingers, an offering. “A sweet treat for my sweet treat.”

You laughed despite the corniness of it, cheeks warming with affection. There was something about hiding away in a dark corner that felt like some cheesy romance novel directed to young teens. But you liked it. A rare moment of peace away from the world, with Astarion and his rounded eyes and his charming grin. “You don’t even know what it tastes like,” you teased, eyeing the cake warily.

He hummed as though the thought had never crossed his mind, but his smirk said otherwise. “Well, I had rather hoped to try it myself.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in until his breath brushed your ear. So close to your neck, and yet… you didn’t feel the need to pull away. “From your lips, of course.”

His words had an immediate effect on you - your heart raced wildly, your breath hitched, your thoughts spun. His red eyes watched you intently as you looked at the little cakelet. It was innocently iced white with a small red berry on top. But it wasn’t what it could taste like or what it could be laced with that made you hesitate. Hells, it could be fish paste and roe and you’d try it if he looked at you with those big, pleading eyes.

When you were behaving, when she acted like you were her most precious thing, she would feed you. Countless fruits and sweet meats had passed from her long fingers to your mouth, and now here Astarion was, doing much the same.

But it wasn’t the same.

She adored you as an item - a little plaything she could dote upon and torment as her mood dictated. Astarion truly cared about you, in ways unique to him. He was rude and demanding, but you never had to do anything. He’d be horribly needy for a hug or a cuddle, with no proper, easy way of asking, so he’d demand it, lamenting about how terribly lonely he was. But even then, despite his theatrics, you could turn him down with no consequences. No dark rooms or scold’s bridle awaited you. Even now, you could refuse entirely and he’d smile politely and tug you back into the throng of people. You could even feed yourself the cake and still accept his kiss. She would never be so kind. You would eat what she offered, or you would starve.

He could almost see the mental war you fought written on your face. The slight crease between your brows, the way your throat bobbed with an uncertain swallow. After a second too long, he panicked. He’d done something wrong, overstepped or ruined this entire relationship altogether. Whatever it was, he was about to step back and make a witty remark to laugh it off, and pray to all the gods who cared enough to listen that whatever he did the relationship was still salvageable. But you looked at him, and he froze, waiting for you.

You inhaled, gathering yourself. When you exhaled, you smiled, soft and sweet at him. “I trust you,” you whispered.

Somehow, by pure accident, he’d uncovered something horrible. And yet you seemed to be willing to press through it, to experience it anew with him. He was honored. Truly, genuinely, honored. You’d trusted him with so much already, and here you were, doing it again. Oh, he could kiss you without need of the cake to bolster his intentions.

Still, he held it up to your lips. The world around you disappeared as you glanced at the cake again, and opened your mouth. He watched your mouth attentively as you bit down, the juice of the red berry on top staining your upper lip. It was sweet: A vanilla cake covered in white chocolate with a tart red filling. But what truly made it wonderful was Astarion, when he tilted his head and slotted his lips with yours.

His tongue was quick to slip out and lick your lips, seeking the flavors you’d just experienced. You opened your mouth to him with a soft sound that made his undead heart seem to beat once more. His tongue dipped inside to taste more. He groaned quietly as the red berry hit his taste buds. Tilting his head to kiss you deeper, he caught a hint of the chocolate. Cupping your cheek with his free hand, he found the vanilla. You tasted sweet on your own, but this was heaven - if such a thing existed. He wondered what the rest of you would taste like if he spread the hobbits’ confectionaries along the rest of your body.

Unfortunately, the raucous laughter of a drunk couple reminded him of your surroundings. He stroked his thumb along your cheek as he eased off, and finally, reluctantly, pulled away. Your cheeks were all flushed, burning with hot blood against his hand. Your eyes stayed closed a moment longer. It was as if you had to find your way back into your body after the kiss. When they fluttered open, your eyes found his immediately, pupils dilated. He had to force himself not to kiss you again.

He grinned and pulled away, leaving a somewhat respectable distance between you. He fed you the other half of the cake, and licked his fingers with a devious smile.

“Absolutely delicious.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer

[athenaspeculiardaughter]

i had too many just to put in the comments. i dont know how much you wanted so... thats on you.

jason loves heavy metal and plays the drums. he's also gay and in a qpr with leo and piper. hes got a wolf cut and still has some of his wolf-like tendencies, having adopted them from living with lupa at a young age. when he went to camp jupiter, those tendencies dissapeared over time, people telling him that it wasnt normal to eat raw meat or chew on things. but he never quite learned to smile with teeth when he was happy, and growls when hes mad. also i think he has a peircing somewhere. and i think he used to be super jacked, like shredded unhealthy jacked, but when he went to college he had less time to work out and he got some fat around his muscles and he loves it so much, and he looks a lot cuter this way.

leo is aroace possibly gay as well, and loves 80s music, like huey lewis and the news, some billy joel, and some dire straits. he also is obsessed with back to the future (his fave is the cowboy one, bc of his texan roots). on him being from texas, i think he has a little bit of a texas accent, just bc he was mostly raised by foster families in the south. he used to have a spanish accent, but it faded after having spent so little time speaking spanish and being around spanish speaking people. i think he totally wouldve been a band kid except he never had the time and the time passed a long time ago.

piper has lots of peircings, her newest one is snake bites and she always has smudged eyeliner. she likes the cure and is kind of goth. shes a lesbian, but, again, in a qpr with jason and leo and says theyre the only guys she thinks are hot. she loved heathers and totally had a crush on winona ryder. she had an ed bc of how exposed she was to hollywood culture, but shes working on it. she has a tooth gap and an indigenous nose. she has this really loud pretty laugh and she loves to dance.

annabeth listens to arctic monkeys 24/7. shes unlabeled and strictly wears jeans. no jewelry besides her necklace, not even her ears are peirced. she forgets to eat, but only because she gets so engrossed in her work, and percy has to bring her food. at that point its pretty easy, if percy just puts the plate next to her she'll absentmindedly eat it, same with a cup of water. she's got lots of band tshirts too, a lot of them stolen from percy.

percy is a skater boy. he wears baggy band tshirts and sweats or jeans and a couple necklaces and peircings. i think he has an eyebrow peircing and was really tempted to get cheek peircings before realizing that then he would have holes in his cheeks and that fucked with his brain too much to get them. he also wears eyeliner but likes doing annabeths makeup more than his, which he gets to do often, since she could never refuse his puppy eyes. hes got lots of sea animal stuffed animals on his bed instead of pillows. he wore a skirt once and wasnt opposed to them, but eventually decided it wasnt worth flashing people. in the summer he is a strictly no shoes no socks man, can only find him barefoot or with sandals.

hazel is short. thats canon ik but its important. she likes softer music like sleeping at last and music like tori amos. she also likes astronomy and stargazing, and youd think she believes in astrology but she thinks its all bullshit. she likes drawing objects like theyre sentient, not humanoid, but she makes them feel alive, like creatures. she loves stuffed animals too, and is in the process of learning the viola. she still uses old fashipned words (canon) but curses like a sailor and has very modern views for someone born in the 30s.

frank never loses his fat. hes still fat, i hate that they made him all buff like it was a part of his character arc to lose weight. frank is a theater kid. thank you for coming to my ted talk. he likes graphic novels like amulet and nimona, etc. he has a really infectious smile, wide, dimpled and too cute. again, theater kid, though i dont think he can sing very well, but he has fun trying.

i think thats most of it. honestly i got really caught up in it and made up some stuff along the way. if you dont like any of it thats fine:)

Honestly your headcanons are really interesting I never thought about 3/4 of them and I actually like them😄

[potabo]

If there is magic in the light world, I will eat my hat

And here's why:

We've already seen a world with magic, so every difference between worlds is important:

toriel's stove

the books on magic in the librarby- note that in deltarune it's a book of magic *tricks* that require *floating hands*

this also comes with a more profound understanding of the soul than we have in deltarune...

2. The Direct Evidence

Note that Susie and Noelle here are listing the ways in which the dark world is DIFFERENT than the light world, also following on that last line...

sorry I got something in my eye

note again, that magic is referenced in terms of tricks- sleight of hand- only further emphasized by the name "jongle" a portmanteau of the words "juggle" and... something else (this carries over in JP)

now this one is slightly more esoteric, but bear with me-

the mere fact of a bathroom and the lack of healing the hot chocolate provides means that the food, quite simply, is not magic like it is in UT- it is decidedly mundane

LAST AND VERY IMPORTANT POINT:

DETERMINATION =/= MAGIC

THE ABILITY TO SAVE AND LOAD IS NOT, BY LORE, MAGIC

THE ABILITY TO CREATE DARK FOUNTAINS IS NOT, BY LORE, MAGIC

3. The Counterarguments

This first one is easy to move past, and a fairly weak argument overall, but it involves, in particular, catti:

pretty suspect right? until you consider the surrounding dialogue

She's an edgy goth teen- this is in reference to her family being loud.

again pretty convincing right? not really no:

"studying the occult" from a goth teen is about as reliable as it sounds- and on the same level as the party tricks from earlier.

the second counterpoint is something along the lines of "but what about noelle and snowgrave"

to which the obvious answer is: we already know one line of spells from the "Dragon Blazers" games, it isnt much of a stretch for snowgrave be the metaphorical firaga to flare of final fantasy

Another relatively tame explanation could be that our monster allies simply *know* spells upon entering the Dark World (Susie with Rude Buster, Berdly with his Tornado) and snowgrave is either something she acquired through the route (Like susie with ultimate heal) and REALLY doesn't want to use, or a spell she simply actually doesn't know.

The other two counterpoints however, are harder to dismiss, and they have specifically to do with monster biology

Monster Funerals, technically speaking

While not directly stated in game, its a fairly reasonable assumption to make that the reason monsters turn to dust when they die is their lack of physical matter. Where this becomes relevant is through Father Alvin's infamous line about "this hammer" which implies that the burial tradition (and thus the physicality) remains constant between the two games. This would imply that, in-spite of the food and bathrooms, monsters are still made mostly of magic (further obscured by the lack of confirmation on monster blood we have)

2. Blookster

Let's assume for a second that monsters are physical. That they are confirmed to have blood and dont turn into dust and all that comes with it. Then what about Ghosts?

hmm.

(many images stolen from @nochocolate )

[loosingmoreletters]

Summary: A song you can’t name is a love you can’t grieve. Wen Yuan has never left the Burial Mounds before.

Wen Yuan has never left the Burial Mounds, so when he takes his first steps past his guardian’s protections, he staggers and very nearly drops to his knees at the lightness of the air surrounding him. He’s never known how heavy his limbs were until he could move them without a struggle, his lungs not fighting for every single breath.

He’s strong in this world that seeks to harm him, this world that is so very bright and alive.

Conversations feel awkward in his mouth and the food tastes strangely on his tongue. He tries meat for the first time and wonders if it reminds everyone biting into it of human flesh. Not that Wen Yuan has ever been fed a corpse, but they’ve never been able to keep an animal as they all succumb too quickly to the resentment, turning into beasts they need to kill instead.

And the crows, no matter how often joked about, are not for them to feed on. They are their guides and Wen Yuan has never been without.

The idea of eating any bird distresses him, but he tries the dishes for the experience of throwing them up in an already dirty alley. Wasting food like that reminds him of the ribs beneath his uncle’s robes and the winters even Wen Yuan knew hunger not just by name but also shape, and guilt taunts him, hurrying him further along on his way.

Wen Yuan shouldn’t be wasting time, he’s expected to return before the wards start to waver, but his family told him to enjoy the experience. If not for his task, Wen Yuan probably wouldn’t have left the Burial Mounds. When he was younger, curiosity had eaten him up, and he’d sneaked down all the way to the borders countless times.

Once, just once, he’d gotten into a screaming match about their unchanging remaining.

Afterward, he’d resigned himself to their fate, wondering which particular guilt urged the others to encourage his leaving.

What use is the sight of a world he’ll never join?

It is loud in all the ways the Burial Mounds aren’t, even at the gates of the Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian spoke of the Lans’ home as a place of tranquility, but Wen Yuan hears it screaming even beneath the soft ripples of water running down the mountain. Resentment lingers here too, though its echoes are much younger than those Wen Yuan grew up hearing. The protections are easy to slip past even during the daytime.

Dressed in the stolen robes of Yunmeng Jiang, nobody pays him any attention as the visiting guest disciples walk through the halls.

Wen Yuan had planned to pass Lotus Pier on the way back, but he wasn’t sure if his visit to Gusu wouldn’t end with him rushing home, so he’d bought all he needed there beforehand. Lotus Pier is as beautiful as described, and even louder, unfortunately.

Wen Yuan ducks away from two disciples in purple and follows along the path his crow guides him. Deep into the Cloud Recesses he follows to a house that stands out from all other buildings in this place, much like the Demon Subdue Cave back home.

This is it, Wen Yuan knows. He won’t be welcome, but he’s not aiming to stay, merely to deliver a message.

The doors to the house open easily beneath his touch, almost as if in greeting.

He finds two men at a table, enjoying tea that is probably more expensive than any Wen Yuan has ever had the pleasure of trying. One of them shows his surprise more openly, and thus, Wen Yuan disregards him as unimportant.

“This one greets you, Hanguang-jun,” Wen Yuan says and bows exactly once as deep as he never will again after this day. Despite the mischief of his youth, Wen Yuan is a polite boy. He enjoys showing his respect and appreciation where it is deserved, but he has to give up his right to it.

He will smith himself in arrogance and invincibility, his own rite of passage to adulthood.

“Forgive my intrusion, I was trusted with a delivery to your person.”

He breezes right past Sect Leader Lan to present the last gift Wei Wuxian had ever given him. Lan Wangji’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t brush Wen Yuan away and unwraps the small package, revealing a letter and a white sash.

Wen Yuan’s own is hidden away for the sake of getting into Cloud Recesses, but the moment he leaves, it’ll be tied around his robes again.

“He passed away two weeks ago,” Wen Yuan says blankly. He’s been coming to terms with this impending death since he first felt the spark of his golden core, but Lan Wangji falls apart in devastation.

The sourness in his mouth might be jealousy protesting at being robbed of that, the ability to love someone living instead of someone already half-deceased.

“He asked not to be mourned excessively, only remembered fondly like an untitled song.”

Wen Yuan has learned how to play it in these last months to prolong the inevitable just an hour longer. The song has a title resting on the tip of his tongue, but much like Wei Wuxian, he’s never been able to voice it out loud.

Perhaps it is for the best. A song you can’t name is a love you can’t grieve.

He’s never been given a courtesy name, but he inherits the title of a man he never called his father and yet made him his heir.

“This one thanks Gusu Lan for their hospitality.”

He rises from his position at Lan Wangji’s side.

“Your sect may distribute the news as it sees fit, but be assured that the Burial Mounds will remain as they have been for the last thirteen years, and any attempt to change that will be met with the same force.”

Perhaps even with a stronger one, his golden core still burns brightly. He straightens his robes and turns around, the red ribbon in his hair surely catching their attention. Chenqing hums beneath his fingers when he allows the flute to fall into his hand again, all too willing to be used by him.

The seal stayed at the Burial Mounds as it is as unfaithful as ever and allows itself to be used by any master. The same can’t be said for the dizi or the sword he inherited.

“Goodbye, Rich-gege,” he says over his shoulder, refusing to see what recognition Lan Wangji might have allowed himself to show.

He has no use for it anymore.

The Yiling Patriarch leaves, marching homeward to his waiting grave.

[livingingloworld]

June 16th, 2024

Goodmorning ladies, gents and ladigents🕵🏽‍♂️today I woke up pretty fatigued and decided to skip my morning run. I took a shower, got dressed and met everyone downstairs for breakfast. This morning was a little hectic as we all had to pack up our bags for wales and leave the rest of our baggage at the hotel for when we return. In the midst of this event three of our classmates got extremely ill due to food poisoning and either had to be left behind or took it very easy throughout the course of this morning. Once we finished eating breakfast and organized our baggage we met with Ivo who led us to the The British Museum. This museum was the biggest museum i’ve ever stepped in, there was three floors filled with global history and I’m sure an immense amount of stolen artifacts from all over the world. We only had about an hour to look through the museum so I strategically planned my visit by going downstairs visit one part of Africa which had bewildering tribal art and statues from western Africa. I made my way back upstairs to the Egyptian exhibition where I found myself quite disgusted by the display of bare naked Egyptian bodies of the most influential which I discovered was stolen from Africa by a British scientist. The Egyptian exhibit had a vast difference compared to the European history exhibition which was filled with beautiful architecture, paintings and books to represent their history of rapping and stripping the resource and people of every colony they ever stepped foot on… Lastly I made my way across the museum to the Asian continent where I spent my last 10 minutes admiring the Indian/ Pakistani exhibit and not once did I read Britain was at fault for the division between the two countries.. My mother is originally from Karachi, Pakistan and I had the brilliant opportunity to visit Pakistan as an adolescent so I feel very drawn and connected to the history of Pakistan becoming a country and the role that Britain had played into dividing not only their culture, family, traditions but also the many wars that followed behind the division which just RECENTLY ended in 1999. I noticed that our tour guy (Not Ivo!!) and the British museum has a biased perspective of Britains involvement in the division between India and Pakistan that it was quite sickening and made me leave the museum with an unsettling feeling. Subsequently we headed back to the hotel to get our bags and took a 5 hour train ride where we landed in Aberystwyth, Wales. There we checked into our personal dorms and met with the director of Wales for a welcome Welsh dinner. I was quite worried for what I would be able to eat as a vegetarian as many stapled dishes in Wales are made out of meat but surprisingly they had accommodations for me. Once we finished dinner my group walked the campus where we saw the most beautiful view of downtown that sits right of the lining of the Irish Sea, before making our way back to the dorms to settle in for an early restful night.

[outofangband]

Yet another Morwen and Aerin ficlet

cw abuse in the background

This is a very sad, tired Aerin here but she does get a blanket and some soup at least

I enjoy writing these obsessively and they’re important in two of my longer stories but I know they can probably be a bit repetitive so I apologize for that

Also I know this one is pretty bleak but I should note it takes place in one of said longer fics and so things will get worse and then somewhat better

my next fic will be Maedhros and Angband :)

Night has fallen by the time she is at the door. It is colder than ever, a clear, aching cold that it is far too easy to become numb to. Her gloves are for riding and not warmth and her fingers are aching as she dismounts from the borrowed horse. He was not stolen, Aerin thought, because she would be returning him to the stables as soon as she returned. The poor lad who had been assigned them had collapsed from exhaustion and had been asleep at the small table where she used to clean her own tack. 

The bruise on her face is clear against pale skin when she walks over the threshold, shoulders slumped and eyes down. She had hoped to be able to hide it though she could not have said why. Morwen closes and locks the door quickly, leading Aerin to the only comfortable chair, putting a warm mug into her hands. Perhaps she had already had the soup made or perhaps there was a period of waiting for the fire to ready that Aerin was not aware of.

“You should not,” Aerin mutters, looking down at the contents though her stomach twists with hunger. It is a rich smell. Meat stew of some kind.

“We were lucky,” says Morwen shortly, “The snares Sador and I set were unsuccessful but for one. Not a surprise in this cold” She gestures to the pot over the fire, “One large rabbit. I dried most of it but there was enough for one pot with fresh meat.”

“You should not give your food to me,” Aerin says again. The mug is comfortably warm in her hands. Morwen has put her own cloak over Aerin’s shoulders. There are a few more patches on it than the last winter when Aerin had last borrowed it under such drastically different circumstances. 

“I recall telling you the same not one month prior,” says Morwen, “But you are cold and this is all the warmth I can offer.” She has dried herbs for teas but these are sparse and strictly medicinal. She has already given Aerin small pouches of one mixture in particular.

Aerin knows she must look pitiful if the other woman has not even offered reprimand for coming despite the cold she has risked in addition to the usual dangers.

She doesn’t have the strength to argue more. The stew is too warm to eat but she takes a few sips anyways. It burns her tongue and she can pretend it is only that which brings tears to her eyes.

Morwen sits beside her watching as Aerin sweeps her hair off of her face. Her fingers go briefly to the vivid bruise in the process.

“When did this happen?” She so rarely asks. Why would she need to? 

“Eve before last. No reason, really,” Aerin shrugs and then shudders, “I was just there.”

The memory strikes her as quickly and harshly as the actual act of violence had been. She was lucky, she thinks, that it had not been worse.

When she looks up she sees Morwen’s eyes flash. It is a dangerous look and for all that it may be useless, Aerin enjoys the warmth of her protective anger.

“Would that I could make it so he will never lay hand to you again,” Morwen says quietly. For the briefest of moments Aerin lets herself see the woman Brodda so fears, standing before her, proud and fierce and not almost as exhausted as she is.

“I know you would,” Aerin says and she means it, her voice sounding more her own for the first time in days. Morwen’s returned expression is inscrutable as ever. Aerin feels it searching her. And then her exhaustion becomes more evident again.

“It matters not,” Morwen says finally, “Even if I had the means of intervention I could not put you at further risk.”

“Of course it matters!” Aerin says more loudly than she means to, “It matters to me deeply.” She reaches for Morwen’s hand again, brings it to the side of her face that is not bruised. Morwen lets her, resting three calloused fingers on her cheek. The concern on her face is clearer than Aerin has ever seen it before. She holds her hand there for as long as she can. Morwen lets her. 

(She will sleep later. she really, really needs a nap. Honestly they both do. But Aerin will sleep for a few hours or so with her head on Morwen’s shoulder)

[focailmarbh]

Want to info dump about my egos and Anti’s little ‘family’ (gaggle of kidnapped people) in that AU

Jackie/Hoodie and Sheep/Henrik are kept separate from Sunny/Chase and Carver/JJ, usually spread out in the living room of the mansion Anti hijacked. Kitten/Marvin is definitely the worse off one though, they’re stashed away in a spare room upstairs since Anti’s hypnosis doesn’t work on them. Can’t have them ‘infecting’ the others with ideas when they’re so obedient!

Carver and Kitten were the first ones he snatched up, as you can read in the stories I’ve written. They were living in a stolen house in Japan to hide, but Jackie was lured in to save them, and he actually did manage to grab Marvin and run. Anti caught them the minute they hit the nearest city, and literally dragged them back after a scuffle where Jackie was stabbed. Jackie was kept in a spare room, chained up and beaten within an inch of his life. Without his antipsychotic and under constant influence of hypnosis, he was incredibly easy to turn into Hoodie.

Hoodie was allowed to take care of the pets in the beginning, patching their wounds and getting them fed and clean. Anti dangles the threat of taking his antipsychotics away over his head to keep him obedient. Anti blots out cameras and just steals the ziprasidone for him.

Eventually, in fact before Jackie was fully Hoodie even, Anti packed them on a flight while hypnotizing all three of them and took them to the Netherlands. The hypnosis was so straining on him that he collapsed while they were getting through the airport. To his shock, the three of them gathered around him worriedly, and Hoodie took him to the hotel on his back while Kitten and Carver simpered worriedly beside them. Hoodie laid him in bed to recover, and for the first time Hoodie told Anti he loved him, pledging loyalty while crying. This is where he started liking the idea of having them all as a family.

Chase was taken next. Hoodie was forced to help with the process of breaking him in. Torture, hypnosis, and the destroyed image of his eldest brother made the already meek Chase easy to make into Sunny. Anti likes him, he’s always liked him, so he and Carver were made to live in a separated room as the favourites. They are the ones showered in presents and they’re given larger portions of food. Anti makes it clear to Hoodie and Kitten that if they don’t ‘prove’ themselves as loyal and obedient they won’t be fed.

Henrik was caught last, while Chase was still being tortured and brainwashed. Watching Chase and his brothers act like the demon was their family was frustrating and stopped Henrik from becoming Sheep for a long while. Chase was moved on to the main house and Henrik was still being tortured. He was broken down and his brain was so scrambled that he became quiet, meek, and incredibly jumpy. He curls into a ball and freezes every time any danger appears - this gets him called useless very often. He’s meant to be the little doctor for the group, and he tries as hard as he can to please Anti by doing so.

Anti moves everyone to Germany using a large SUV that he made Hoodie kill the owners of. Hoodie now cannot leave, he would be immediately caught for murder without Anti’s protection.

In Germany they set up home in an abandoned mansion, and there they stay. Hoodie and Sheep live on the bottom floor, having roam of the whole of it. They also run errands and have a deal of freedom compared to the others. Kitten is kept in a spare room alone, being visited by Anti for either affection or torture depending on Anti’s mood. Kitten is utterly hopeless, not able to be brainwashed yet trapped and abused by his own family.

Sunny and Carver are the favourite little darlings. They wear nice, clean clothes and eat well enough for Sunny to be chubby. Sunny has retreated into his mind a bit, acting very childlike and foggy due to the hypnosis and abuse. Carver is aware - painfully aware. He’s belonged to Anti ever since he was born, and despite the hypnosis he knows very well that this is abuse - he knows how wrong it all is. This is not the way the story is meant to be. But, powerless against his brothers, all he can do is watch.

[thetraveler2023]

We've Been Robbed!

I was awakened abruptly to the sound of my roommates and other classmates down the hall of the hotel screaming “Wake up! We’ve been robbed!!!!”. Disoriented I began frantically looking around the room to see what might’ve been stolen. Most things looked as though to be in the original place. Then my roommate Saige shouted “My phone is missing!” Nick down the hall “My apple watch is gone!”. More and more similar reports began to be shouted in the air for all to hear and account for. It seemed that only electronics of value were the common theme of stolen items here. I looked around for mine but saw my phone was still safely tucked under the sheets next to me. Also my big ipad pro was still nicely propted on top of the pillow in front of me. Both roommates to my left and right had been robbed, but not me. Day 9 of the Italy trip while it being day 3 in Florence, I was feeling a little disappointed to have missed so many things thus far. I woke up still feeling very queasy so I decided to take it easy in the morning. However I was determined to have an adventure of some sort later that day. I could not let this get the best of me. Plus this was going to be our last day in Florence till we left for Venice. I started getting ready for whatever might occur. First things first, I hadn’t eaten for over 36 hours so I decided to try and find a restaurant with food that was familiar to me so I can ease my stomach back into regular eating. I did some research and found this breakfast spot called The Rooster. Slowly I made my way to it and finally had the closest thing to American food I've had. Eggs with french toast, hash browns, and a cold coffee. My appetite had not fully returned so I was barely able to finish it, but it sure tasted good! I took my journal out and started writing out some things. Then I decided to head down to the market to walk around and browse the souvenirs. While walking past the apple store I ran into 5 of my classmates inside that greeted me. Two of them had also gotten their phones stolen and were trying to locate them. A bunch of us decided to go on an adventure together to salvage the day. So we jumped on a bus and left town! We ended up in this awesome little spot from this ancient civilization that there was there even before the Romans arrived! Gorgeous old city ruins, with plenty of stones to climb, and beautiful fields of flowers to behold. There was even this small outside auditorium-like structure where people would go to speak. After our aimless wandering and exploration of the ruins we went into this little museum they have about the ancient civilization that inhabited the land long ago. It was so neat! They had these red clay vases that reminded me of the ones from Hercules! Come to find out they're the same kind of vases that were used to specifically record great battles and mythology just like in Hercules. We all grabbed dinner later then hopped on the next bus back. Some friends and I went back in town on a search to find the perfect David souvenir and then called it a night. We bargained well. It was a great day. 

[invisiblepiecesofme]

When my strength becomes defeated

The shadows I see sometimes scare me because they look like people, someone is next to me, or think there is someone standing on the side of the road while driving are a few examples that I can think of.

Multiple sclerosis has stolen my muscular strength and left me weakened, pained and in constant discomfort.

The chronic depression and anxiety along with paranoia multiple sclerosis has given me is a reminder of how fragile one mind really is and how hard it is to fight for your mental stability when you are constantly battling impure thoughts of sadness, defeat and uncontrollable anger mixed with grief.

I feal broken weak and feeble with bowl intolerance bladder spasms and embarrassing leakage.

I am hungry, but also, I am nauseated to the point of vomiting every day.

Then when I can eat my throat so inflamed closes while I am trying to swallow causing me to choke a spit up my food.

If I am lucky enough to swallow my food without choking, I must pray it does not get stuck in my windpipe causing me to “yet again” choke.

As with everything else related to my illnesses all my eating issues of course add to my already high anxiety and many times they end up sending me into severe panic-induced anxiety attacks.

I blend all of my nutrients into a smoothie, at least this way I can get some nutrition, although this is not easy either, it does work better than any other option I have.

I always try to stay positive and try to never be discouraged.

I always shoot for my goals and dreams, trying to prevail and no matter how many times I fail I try to stay focused on succeeding one feat at a time.

I am aware that I cannot change my diagnosis and that I am being dealt a whole new deck of life's playing cards, but I also never lose the thought that I oversee how I respond to all the matters in my life.

I try to take home lessons from all the challenges I face in this compromised new life I lead. This helps me realize the reality of my illnesses and helps me keep a keen eye on my very deliquiate state of health. Also, it helps me not only size up problems or unfamiliar problems, but also allows me to break them down into pieces. This makes them easier to face while I am still trying to find the answers to my health always in of.

Believe me when I say, “I am still very salty that I now have to live this way.”  It feels as if everything I have worked for and strived for in an already not so easy life, has been stripped of me as I have been blindsided by a bag of batteries to the head and a Louisville to both my knees.

I am weak, beaten and feel like a disappointment to myself for not being able to be the man I want for my loved ones. I have learned a lot from myself and others in my shoes over the last decade or so and have learned to face realities that I have chosen to ignore in the past. This helps me stay grounded during times when I am disheartened and grief stricken, but it still does not make facing anything any easier

[lytters]

jealousy, jealousy || b. katsuki

chapter six

masterlist

“oi, open up.” a voice calls through the main door, followed by the sound of someone kicking it.

“coming, coming! stop abusing my door!” you yell, rushing out from your room. the kicks only intensify at your voice, and you curse at the idiot behind the door. quickly unlocking the door and yanking it open, you glare at its assailant.

hitoshi merely grins at you, one hand flashing a peace sign, the other holding out a bag of fried chicken.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you huff, snatching the bag out of his grasp. “at this rate, i won’t have a door by the end of the year.”

“nah, that door’s strong. it’ll survive a little tough love.” he slams the door behind him, earning another glare from you. “please, like you haven’t put it through worse. remember when you threw a knife at it?”

“shut up!” you gasp. “that was an accident.”

hitoshi shoots you a dry look. “sure jan.”

“keep that attitude up and see if i let you only eat the drumsticks.” you sniff haughtily.

“oh no,” he deadpans, dropping onto your sofa face-first. “whatever shall i do then?”

“perish.” you sneer, smacking his ass hard as you set the food on the coffee table. “move over, i wanna sit too.”

“no, i’m dead, remember?” hitoshi’s voice is muffled from where his face is pressed into the sofa.

you roll your eyes and settle for sitting on the floor, pulling on the complimentary plastic glove from the plastic bag. taking a drumstick out, you poke hitoshi’s cheek and he turns his head enough to peek one lilac eye at you.

“open up, you dramatic ass.”

he turns his head fully and opens his mouth. you shake your head at his behavior, practically shoving the drumstick into his mouth. once hitoshi has taken a bite, you set his drumstick down in the corner of the box, opting to feed yourself instead. you can feel him move around behind you before finally sliding onto the floor and settling down next to you.

as hitoshi pulls on his own glove, you reach for the tv remote, flipping through the channels until you settle on a slightly familiar movie.

“oh, the main character dies in this one.” hitoshi then proceeds to take a huge bite of his drumstick like he didn’t just spoil the movie for you.

“hitoshi!” you elbow his thigh, vexed. “thanks for the spoiler i did not ask for.”

“you’re welcome,” he grins through a mouthful of chicken.

groaning at him, you decide to focus on the movie, slightly put out that you now know the ending. as much as you like to complain and whine about hitoshi’s behavior, you’ve also come to love and appreciate him. your friendship hadn’t started off on the right foot, but over time, you grew on each other. dinner is spent in companionable silence, punctuated by the occasional comment from you or hitoshi whenever the actors do something questionable.

once dinner has been cleared, all the bones picked clean, you curl into hitoshi’s side, sagging as he wraps an arm around you. his solid warmth is soothing, and you feel the week’s exhaustion lessen a little.

“you give the best hugs, you know that?” your voice is muffled from where your face is pressed into his chest. hitoshi shrugs, the movement jostling you slightly.

“so i’ve been told.”

you sit in silence for a bit, enjoying just being able to exist with someone else, without the need for conversation, or action. it’s peaceful, a tranquility you realized you haven't had since graduating highschool. between moving out to your own apartment and starting college, calm hadn’t been more than fleeting moments stolen in showers and sleep. with hitoshi here though, it’s easy to find it.

but of course, peace doesn’t last forever, and hitoshi breaks it with a question you’ve been dreading and anticipating all the same.

“so… a little blonde birdy told me all about this new thing you have going on with hado-san, care to explain?” he drawls, leaning more of his weight towards you.

you grunt under the added weight, shoving an elbow in his side. hitoshi shoots away from you with a yelp, crashing onto the floor with a loud thud. he scowls at you, rubbing his side.

“i’m reporting you for domestic abuse,” he drops his head back. “i’m sure that’ll look great on your resume when you apply for future jobs.”

“great, then i’ll tell them about all the times you’ve tackled me to the ground, stolen my things, and forced sleepovers on me then.” you grin sharply, pinching his calf.

hitoshi lifts his head up with a groan, lightly kicking you with the abused leg. “if i go down, we go down together. now stop stalling and spill, because i know you’re not really dating hado-san.”

your heart skips a beat and you tense up for a moment, before relaxing once more. your head tilts back to lean on the sofa. of course hitoshi knew. he always knew things without you having to say them. at least you have one friend you aren’t lying to.

“yeah,” you sigh, drawing circles on hitoshi’s ankle. “i’m not.”

“do you wish you were?” hitoshi asks.

that makes your drawing pause. do you wish you were actually dating nejire? she was sweet, funny, willing to help you out, and extremely attractive. she was what everyone sought in a girlfriend, but… she wasn’t katsuki.

“no.” tugging at a loose thread on your shirt, you continue to ponder aloud. “she’s great, but she’s just not who i want. how we reconnected makes for a good story, but-” you shrug- “we don’t feel right together. i’m crazy, right? to be turning down the chance of dating one of my highschool crushes, who has been nothing short of an amazing friend and fake-girlfriend?”

hitoshi nudges you with his toe. “nah, i get it. hado-san is great, she makes for great entertainment, but she isn’t great for you.”

“yeah,” you smile wryly. “funny, isn’t it? an amazing woman practically drops into my lap, and instead, here i am, pining for a man who has probably never looked at me in that way.”

“and you chose to pine for the brashest, loudest one of all. good job!” hitoshi claps mockingly.

you scowl at him, pinching his leg again. “katsuki may be that, but he’s also really kind to his friends. you’ve seen him be nice, so cut him some slack, alright?”

“i will when he stops stringing you along. it’s my duty as your best friend to hate people for you.” he informs you.

“he’s not stringing me alone!” you snap. “i’m the idiot who decided to fall for him. he’s just… being a good friend.” you finish lamely.

“sure,” hitoshi snorts. “tell me how this whole fake dating thing started anyways. you always said how much you hated this trope, and yet here you are, living out your very own fake dating story.”

“i know,” you say miserably. “honestly, i didn’t even want to at first. nejire-senpai suggested it the night of the party, and i did say no to it the next day. but then we saw katsuki with his girlfriend after dinner, and one thing led to another, and here i am, with a fake girlfriend!” you wave your hands mockingly, scoffing at yourself.

“wow, you really dug your grave, huh?” hitoshi’s voice is filled with amusement. “at least hado-san is nice and attractive. you could’ve gotten someone like… monoma for example.”

your face screws up in disgust. “ew, i’d never date monoma. he was so antagonistic to our whole class just because we happened to be class a. and besides, he almost made momo punch him, and we all know momo has the most self-control out of all of us.”

“and i still stand by my decision that we should’ve just let her punch him,” he sniffs. “he had it coming.”

“monoma doesn’t deserve to have our yaomomo touch him, punch or not.”

hitoshi makes a disgruntled sound, clearly still disagreeing with you. he finally sits up, leaning on the adjacent chair to the sofa. “have you spoken to bakugo since then?”

“i have, but we didn’t speak for long.” you pout, recalling the abrupt way katsuki ended call the other night. “he asked about nejire-senpai and i, and when i was halfway through sharing, he said he needed to go sleep. which was ridiculous, because we haven’t talked in months, and he didn’t even want to stay up a little later for me.”

fiddling with your fingers, you look up at hitoshi when he takes a little too long to reply. his eyebrows are sky high, eyes even more dead than usual. you frown.

“what?” you ask defensively. “why’s your face uglier than usual?”

“because,” hitoshi sighs loudly. “everytime you speak, more of my brain cells die-” your mouth drops open in offense- “what exactly were you saying before he ended the call?”

“i was just telling him where we went for our dinner “date”,” you air quote, “at the restaurant he and i used to go to all the time during highschool.”

somehow, hitoshi’s eyes grow even deader. he mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

“sometimes,” he says, head lifting to stare at you. “i wonder how you’ve gotten this far in life. your social cues are abysmal.”

“i hate you.” you say flatly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means, you should drop this charade and just tell bakugo how you feel.” he deadpans.

“uh uh, no way in hell am i gonna do that.” you shake your head profusely. “he clearly doesn’t feel that way towards me, especially considering he has a girlfriend now.”

“and how sure are you that they’re real, let alone serious.” hitoshi demands. “he didn’t even tell you about the relationship, hasn’t mentioned shit to anyone before, and you know bakugo isn’t the type to just go around and pick up a relationship out of the blue. if he really liked that girl, don’t you think the class would’ve heard something beforehand? they’re the nosiest bunch of people we’ve ever met.”

“i…” you were at a loss for words. it was true that it’s a little suspicious that you hadn’t heard any whispers of katsuki being interested in someone, but katsuki could have been keeping things low-profile. after all, he was incredibly protective about the things he cared for, so it would make sense he’d keep harada a secret. your class could be… overwhelming sometimes, especially where relationships were concerned. you wince just remembering the drama that went down when the class found out about tsuyu’s then-girlfriend.

“even if there was a chance,” you say slowly. “i don’t think i can take that risk. katsuki is too important for me to risk our friendship on a maybe, and if things don’t turn out how i want to, i think it’ll hurt more.”

“but at least you’d know.” hitoshi insists. he’s sitting upright now, face serious. “i love you, y/n, and i don’t want to see you hurt yourself pining over bakugo, and not even trying to see if you have a chance with him.”

“i can’t, hitoshi.” you drag a tired hand over your face. “if i dared to, don’t you think i would’ve tried long ago?”

“just because you couldn’t in the past shouldn’t stop you from trying now.”

“what if i confess, and he rejects me and gets weird about it? you’ve seen how he is with people who’ve confessed to him before – he rejects them and distances himself from them. i don’t want that to happen to me too.” even if he did already distance himself from you without you confessing, you think bitterly.

when hitoshi echoes your thoughts, you scowl deeply.

“drop it, hitoshi. katsuki doesn’t see me that way, and i’m not going to confess.” you say sharply.

“then why are you continuing with this fake dating shit?” he raises a challenging brow at you. you resist the urge to tear his eyebrows off with a package of strip wax you’re sure you have lying around somewhere.

“i don’t know, and i don’t want to talk about this anymore. unless you wanna spill on that girl in your psych class.” you shoot him a glare.

that shuts him up real quick, and if eyes could kill, you’d be shredded into a million pieces.

“fine, whatever.” he huffs, slumping forward to rest in a seemingly painful position. he seems to be comfortable enough though, and you leave him be. you have plenty to think about anyways. as much as you’re annoyed with hitoshi’s pushing, you also know he comes from a place of care and concern. and as maddening as his prodding is, he also brings up plenty of good points.

why did you keep up the whole fake dating thing? if katsuki really was in a relationship, what’s the point of trying to see if he’d get jealous? he wouldn’t have a reason to since he was with harada, which clearly meant he had feelings for her. but there’s a niggling feeling that keeps you convinced enough to continue this pretense.

convinced about what, you’ve yet to decide.

[crab-instruments]

The Crime Lord’s New Groove Part 3

Master <Part 2 Part 4>

Pairing: Silco x GN Reader

Summary: You find that your boss, Silco, has been turned into a cat.

Warnings: Angst? In my warm up, sandbox fic? It's more likely than you think (mom issues)

a/n: we see Silco express more cat like behaviors

“Okay, so based on what I’ve translated from the various meows and other sounds, the lady requested to see you, she didn’t have an appointment—jury is still out on whether you actually take appointments or if you have a secretary—you had never seen her before, she didn’t say ‘I’m turning you into a cat’ BUT did say something! And you did not see her leave. I think with all of this information… we can… assume… she doesn’t like you.”

Silco let out an exasperated, long meow, followed by a few defeated meows.

“Look, I can’t just go around making accusations like ‘You turned my boss into a cat, change him back,’ right? It is also very difficult to understand you and you don’t make it easy with your little kitty threats, okay?”

He responded with angry, held out meows and yowls.

“Yeah, yeah, my mugs are very scared. Look, I’m not going to be able to figure this out until I eat dinner. I assume you still eat? I won’t even bother with cat food, I don’t have any.” You didn’t even bother to wait for a response from your boss, making your way to your meager kitchen and opening a cabinet.

Your heart dropped when you realized the only thing in there was two cans of sardines that you had been saving for dinner the next two days. Getting food wasn’t an option, you spent your last dollar on bribing the bouncer.

It wasn’t that Silco didn’t pay you enough, he paid well for an Undercity crime lord, it was that most of your money went to a loan shark, who held the debt of your good-for-nothing mother. Your mother gambled away all her money and put collateral on you without your knowledge. When she passed, the moneylender came to collect. You had considered going to Silco and discussing the issue, he had the power to do something about it, but you preferred to stay out of site. Owing one to Silco didn’t sound smart, either.

The crime lord probably knew, anyway, being the ‘Eye of Zaun’ and all.

You debated on splitting the food, but didn’t want to look weak in front of Silco. He could also get offended by the idea of splitting, or worse, that one of his employees was fiscally irresponsible. You resisted the urge to rub the frustration out on your face before putting a small plate on the counter and dumping the contents of the can on it. Pushing it towards Silco, you walked back to your bed and crouched, pulling out a random assortment of books.

Were they stolen from various residents in the building? Maybe, but no one could prove anything.

When Silco meowed curiously, you quickly improvised an excuse. “I um… had a thought… For you to turn into a cat, there had to be magic involved, yeah? I remembered I have a book I… borrowed… it had some stuff about magic. Worth a shot, right?”

You looked at the cat sitting regally on your counter to see if he bought the lie. He seemed to accept your answer and ate. Focused on finding something in the book, you didn’t notice how much time had passed nor hear Silco plunk down and wander over to where you sat on the floor. Silco called out with a few short meows but you were focused on the task so you wouldn’t think about food.

The next thing you knew, he had jumped up on the bed and started to tap you with a paw in the face, progressively getting harsher with the movements until you gave him the attention he desired.

“Good Janna, if you’re going to stay a cat for a while, we are going to cut your claws. What is it?”

Silco smugly meowed, as if that answered your question. When you still looked dumbfounded, Silco rolled his eye as best as he could for a cat before leaping off the bed and trotting a few short steps. He looked over his shoulder expectantly.

“Follow you, got it. Where exactly are we going in this tiny place?”

He led you back to the counter before vaulting his way up to the counter again. With a few purposeful taps, Silco pushed the plate towards you, only about half the fish eaten.

“Sorry I don’t have chefs, Silco, I guess I could try frying it if—”

The scruffy cat cut you off with a sharp meow, his little face annoyed. A few seconds of tense silence passed as before he huffed and carefully made his way toward you. Unceremoniously, Silco bonked his head on your arm and then looked at you in anticipation. Not fully understanding, you lifted your arm and watched as he sat back, observing your hand with wide eyes. You then placed it on his head and gave a few experimental scratches. At first, Silco responded with a harsh meow but he slowly accepted being pet for a minute. For a mean cat, he looked a little relaxed and at peace.

“Did we have to come all the way over here for you to request scratchies?”

That seemed to snap him out of the trance his was in. Silco maneuvered out from under you hand, lightly bit a finger to drag it close the plate. He sat back on his haunches and tapped your hand lightly with a paw a few times before placing it there, making sure it wasn’t going to leave this position. A second later, he was looking back at you impatiently.

You furrowed your brows. “The rest… is for me?”

Silco slowly closed his good eye and tilted his head in a half nod, like it took so much effort to get to this point.

“Are you sure?” When he responded with a rough meow that showed his sharp, little predator teeth, you gave a “okay, okay, I’m eating it.”

While you ate, you observed Silco scamper around, examining different corners of the tiny apartment. Even though he was scruffy, he was fairly fluffy, his tail up in the air flowing adorably. Still the aristocrat, even in as a cat. Eventually, Silco found a spot to watch you from, tail placed perfectly on his paws. He fought to keep his eyes open, wobbling in place a bit.

You mumbled, “tired kitty,” not even thinking about it. Silco meowed to refute such a lie, but yawned mid process. “Yeah, I thought so. I have some extra blankets I can make into a little cat bed for—” You turned your head back and Silco was already curling up in the middle of your bed. “Now, now wait a minute.” He’s a cat, so like this isn’t a ‘one bed’ scenario but he’s still… your boss. Sharing a bed would be weird, right? What were the fucking rules here? It wasn’t like you could sleep on the couch; you didn’t have one. “—I can make a little human bed on the floor for me, I guess.” You laid out some blankets, preparing to sleep on the cold floor.

A thud caught your attention. You looked back at the bed to find he had hopped down, understanding the situation and making a choice. “Ah, Silco… I mean you’re the boss, so it would make sense, even—” Silco gave two chirps, not willing to negotiate. “… Thank you, sir.”

When you finally got under the covers, lights out, you thought about what tomorrow would bring. “We should probably tell Sevika about this. She’s more competent than me, able to actually help you.” You rolled over to your side and sighed. “Sorry you got stuck with me, Silco.”

The cat didn’t respond, so quiet it was almost as if he wasn’t there at all. Everything was a dream.

A weight at the end of the bed interrupted your sleep process, shocking you from falling asleep. Your eyes shot open to meet Silco’s near your feet. The expression on his face was something more like a mask. He wanted it to say, ‘say anything and I’ll use this sharp, little claws to rip you to shreds.’ But there was also a question, like waiting for you to say you weren’t comfortable with this. You didn’t say anything, so he walked in a circle and kneaded at the blanket before plopping down against your shins. Silco closed his eye, the bad one glazed over.

You couldn’t fight the smile that came across your face after seeing the vicious, blood thirsty ‘King of Zaun’ so vulnerable and cozy.

Part 4

*~*~*

The first night with my cat, Kazooie, went a little similar to this. She just looked at me like "I dare you to say something" and then curled up on my legs. She then proceeded to attack my toes.

My first cat, Dr. Gray, just yowled all night.

Kazooie in the position I described Silco in

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”