#and oh dear i'm writing poetry

[roger-elizabeth-debris]

so, my appointment to like, start getting on estrogen is a little over a week away, and I have gone back and forth between euphoria, dread, and anxiety. honestly this might be the most anxiety I've ever felt, but idk if it's the kind of anxiety right before I step on a stage to perform and shine like a star, or the type like I'm about to make the worst decision in my life.

uh, so, if there are any trans girls out there that might be able to shed some light on my situation, I really want to know: how did you know? and more importantly, how were you sure?

[im-an-anthusiast]

Scribbles 

Fresh inspiration – tearing from a vein 

Fresh inspiration – feeling just like pain 

Amateur scribbles – about things long passed 

Amateur scribbles – can't describe the past 

Gaze of longing eyes – making me so sick 

All those pretty lies – really make things tick 

Tick and churn it does – self-harming clockwork 

Doesn’t reach the eyes – but there is a smirk 

Same inspiration – deep in arteries 

Same inspiration – can't tell what it is 

Repeating scribbles – much alike last time 

Repeating scribbles – using the same rhyme 

Not gladly thought of – false hopes, for a way 

Not truly told off – so can’t stay away 

Worthy of a scoff – these sweet thoughts I loathe 

Something to write of – untruths to unclothe 

Old inspiration – an escape it seeks 

Old inspiration – drink it, if it leaks 

Recycled scribbles – differently disguised  

Recycled scribbles – just slightly revised 

The point fades quickly – already unmade 

Was it felt deeply? If it was mislaid? 

Forgotten swiftly – as should be the case 

All gone, finally! Was too hard to face 

Stale inspiration – flowing there and back 

Stale inspiration – coloured deeply black 

Unchanging scribbles – looping and looping 

Unchanging scribbles – lower still, stooping 

[thehallstara]

the way i'm just like. oughhhhh i want to be done this fic so bad but i need to finish it and meanwhile as much i'd like to work on it i do need. quite a bit of game dialogue written by wednesday it's fiiiiiine

[dira333]

Big Stretch - Kenma x Reader

@luvring you cannot post a Kenma hc and think I won't find out and marinate it in my head until I have to write it

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oooh, big stretch."

Kenma turns to glare at you, arms not fully extended yet. He folds in again, pouting slightly. "I'm not a cat," he says and you cock your head to the side to observe him.

"Could have fooled me." You tease.

He huffs, face growing red as he looks to the side. Oh no, did you go too far?

“Hey,” you lean in, try to catch his eye, “That was meant as a compliment. I like cats.”

He hums low in his throat, turns his amber eyes back to the paper in front of him.

“Can we just go back to work?” He asks and you nod. “Yeah, sure.”

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma sends you a pointed glare. The guy next to him, hair dark and disheveled, chuckles low in his throat.

“Your friend?” He asks and Kenma makes it a point to shake his head exaggeratedly.

“Should I turn around so you can finish stretching?” You ask, leaning into your seat, “Or can I stay to enjoy the show.”

Red blooms on Kenma’s face as he ducks behind the collar of his shirt.

“Stop,” he whines, “There are people around.”

“Ah, young love,” the guy next to him whistles and Kenma digs an elbow into his side. “Stop it, Kuroo! I don’t even know them!”

“Liar,” you call him out, “You love me.” And though it’s said as a joke you can’t help but think that it’s more of a manifestation. If you say it often enough it will come true.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.” 

Kenma huffs. He stops moving, frozen for a second before he throws his arm around you, rests his head on your shoulder and fakes the loudest snore you’ve ever heard.

“Long game, huh?” You ask, eyes finding Kuroo’s who’s got the usual knowing smirk.

“Aren’t you tired too, dear manager?” He asks.

You shake your head, heart bubbling in your chest with how close Kenma is. Even if you had been exhausted, you couldn’t be anymore, not with him cuddling into you.

Out of sight of his teammates, his ankle crosses yours.

Truly, feet-holding is so much cuter than hand-holding.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma blinks, sleep settling heavily into his skin. He makes grabby hands, calling you in, and even though teasing him is as necessary to you as breathing, you cannot stay away when he’s cute like this.

You settle on his lap, lean over him, hands on either side of his face as if you’re kabedon-ing him into the mattress.

“Slept well, little kitty?” You ask and he smiles, hair fanned out around his face. 

Instead of answering he hooks one hand around your neck and pulls you in, his lips soft and a little chapped, writing poetry into your skin.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma glares, lips stretching into a pout at your words. You can tell he’s not fully done stretching yet, but he’s unwilling to stretch again just because you commented on it.

“In my defense,” you tell him, nudging his back with your socked foot, “You are napping like a cat.”

“‘m not.”

“Am too. It’s cute.”

“Your mom’s cute.”

You snicker. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

He groans. “Look away,” he says, “I need to stretch.”

“Mhm, no, I got full staring rights when you said ‘I do’.”

“Should have read the fine print.”

“Should have, yes.” You lean forward, fold yourself in a way that’s making your back ache, but now you’re face to face with him, able to press a kiss to his nose. 

“Now you’re mine.”

He smiles, unable to keep up the pout, ducking his face behind his long hair.

“‘m yours.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 4

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: I will not be taking tags for this series!

Series Masterlist

The next day, your Aunt Eliza takes you to the modiste for new dresses. The ones you had gotten earlier in the season "wouldn't do anymore" according to her. Now, you had to stand out more, make yourself look more appealing. Corsets were tighter, hugging your figure more and making you breathe less.

Your aunt is holding up some fabric against you when Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton enters the shop with an annoyed Eloise following her.

"Good afternoon, Lady Bridgerton," you greet the woman with a kind smile.

She observes the fabric held against you, "Well, that is a beautiful fabric. It goes well with your eyes."

"Thank you," you give her a small nod.

Violet clears her throat, "I assume things are...well now?" The dowager does her best to be discreet.

"As well as they can be, Lady Bridgerton," you respond.

After Aunt Eliza brought you home, your father was asleep, still cradling a bottle of brandy in his hand.

You confessed to Aunt Eliza about your secret identity, about your writings. She was proud to know that you never truly gave up on poetry as well as how famous your words were becoming. However, she was saddened that you felt the need to hide your ongoing love for poetry from her. She expressed that she would have helped you, that you didn't need to hide that love from her, especially since she also loved your mother like her own sister.

Aunt Eliza became even more determined to help you out of the situation.

Although your father and Aunt Eliza are siblings, none of the luxuries of your father's lordship well onto her. She also never found someone to marry, becoming a spinster and learning to become content with it.

She can only do so much to help you, given that your father still has the funds to help. Thankfully, your Aunt Eliza had stepped in to help manage the finances.

"Remember, dear, if there's anything you need, you let me know. We are happy to help," Violet says as she places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. Your family has always been so kind to me."

Violet gives a smile and greets your aunt, the two moving towards a shelf of silks that catch their eyes. You move to Eloise with a grin, whose face is the complete opposite of yours, "Everything alright, El?"

She groans, "You disappoint me. Mama, says you're taking this season more seriously now and that I should do the same. I blame you for this!"

You let out a deep breath, "My condolences, but, trust me, this wasn't the plan either."

The young Bridgerton steps closer to you and whispers, "What happened? Anthony and Benedict were talking about you this morning when we were breaking fast."

You blow air out of your mouth, "My father threatened to marry me off to my dreadful cousin if I am unable find a husband within a month's time."

Eloise makes a pondering face and then asks, "Is it the cousin that visited a few summers ago? He tried to best Anthony in everything?"

You scrunch your face in distaste, "The very same."

Eloise shudders, "God, he was...appalling."

"Yes, and there is absolutely no chance I am marrying him. So, you see, I'm lacking a choice." You give her a pointed look and she nods.

"Oh, Y/N," Eloise hugs you, "We shall both get through this together."

Aunt Eliza calls from the door, "Y/N, make haste! We must continue!"

Your shoulder slump forward, "I'm coming!" you give Eloise a wave and follow your aunt out.

______________________________

Benedict's in the sitting room, sketching in his notebook. He's sketching a pair of eyes, ones soft and full of wonder. The very pair that belongs to you, the eyes that he loses himself in.

"Here," parchment falls over the sketch and Benedict sits up, looking at Anthony, who's given him the paper.

"And this is...?"

"The list of eligible men for Y/N."

Benedict gulps as he reads of the names, sitting up to read the list "No to Harris," he says with a shake of his head and then grimaces, "Absolutely not to Woodrich."

"What's wrong with them? They're from good standing families, no scandals-"

"That you know of. I hear Harris has been visiting the brothels far too often lately. Woodrich apparently invested in the empty mines that Lord Featherington spoke of last season. So he has no money."

Anthony gives his brother an annoyed expression, "I shall cross them off the list, but the rest of them?"

Benedict hands the paper back to his brother, "I suppose they're alright. But Y/N gets the final say, obviously."

"So you have truly decided you won't do anything about this whole ordeal?" Anthony asks his brother in disbelief.

Benedict stands with a sigh, "Yes, brother. I have. I won't do anything but assist in Y/N's search for a husband. That is final." He steps aside, striding out of the room in annoyance.

Hyacinth, who sits with Gregory playing a game of chess, shakes her head, "I always thought Y/N and Benedict would get married."

Anthony nods, "As did I, Hyacinth," he murmurs and also exits the sitting room.

____________________________

No longer were you able to be a wallflower when it came to balls, soirees, luncheons, etc. You and Penelope had been wallflowers together since both of your debuts. However, now Penelope is on her honeymoon with Colin, so you are left to fend for yourself.

You now stood more towards the front, more accessible and noticeable. You hated it. You hated how people looked at you when you attended the next ball with your new gown and different hairstyle.

When you saw the Bridgertons, you immediately rush up to them, clinging onto Benedict's arm.

"Please dance with me," you beg in desperation, yearning for some sense of familiarity.

"Of course," Benedict takes your gloved hand and leads you to the dancefloor. When he looks over his shoulder, Kate is winking at him and he rolls his eyes.

You curtsey as Benedict bows before the next dance, a waltz. With the strings, you and Benedict move as one. Swaying to the melody, bringing each other in close.

"Thank you, Ben, for dancing with me."

"Of course. It is tradition at this point, is it not?" he gives you that cheeky grin that always makes your heart flutter.

You sigh, "Might be the last time I get to dance with you for a while. I should probably prioritize potential suitors."

Benedict's smile slowly fades, "Yes, well, Anthony came up with an impressive list. I overlooked it as well. You might find some of them...agreeable."

You hum as you circle Benedict, "Are any of these men here now?"

Benedict takes a quick glance around the room, "A few of them. Shall I introduce you?"

You shake your head, "No. Thank you, but it is probably best I do that myself. You might scare them off," you give him a smirk and he chuckles.

"That is a fair argument. If I am quite honest, I don't think any man will truly be worthy enough for you."

You arch a brow at him, "Oh?"

He nods, "You're...everything and so much more."

The way he says those words, you feel like there's something more to them. He relayed them to you so breathlessly and he's looking at you with a gaze that makes you feel as though you two are the only ones in the room.

As the dance nears its end, you and Benedict are face to face, so close to lips touching. However, when he inches closer to you, you pull away and curtsey.

"Thank you for indulging me, Mister Bridgerton," you walk away from him without another word, fanning yourself as you grow warm.

[leighsartworks216]

Brown Eyes

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this really quick. Idk if I'm happy with the ending but I wanted to write something before I go do work until probably midnight

Based on this post by @lumar014ad

Warnings: swearing, slight sexual implications??

Word Count: 670

Main Masterlist

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

AO3

Tag List Form

You gently trace under his eye, trailing your finger down his cheek until he catches it in his hand. He lifts your knuckles to his lips, feather light and meaningful. It was perhaps his favorite way of showing affection.

You hum. “You have such nice eyes, Star.” It was a delicate subject, and certainly not one you enjoyed broaching, but the thought was implanted in your mind since you caught a glance at yourself this morning. Your hair, wild and untamed. Your cheeks, flush from exertion. And your eyes. “It’s like looking into a barrel of wine. Deep and rich.”

Astarion grinned, but it was tempered. He didn’t like focusing on his vampiric traits. “Not half as lovely as yours, love.” You couldn’t stop your scoff; it had been entirely unintentional. You flushed as he raised a brow at you.

“They’re just brown. They’re not that special.”

He frowns, pulling your hand from his lips. He looks almost pained to think you would ever thing any part of your person, no matter how small, was anything but unique and wonderful. “Don’t be silly, darling,” he chastises lightly. “They’re not just brown.”

You hum, unconvinced. “You’re right. They’re shit brown.” You chuckle, but he frowns deeper. Uh oh.

One moment, you lay beside each other in bed, close as you could be. The next, he rolled you over onto your back and straddled your hips, hands cupping your cheeks. He could feel the warmth beneath his fingers as he tilted your head so the candle light caught them just so.

“They’re so much more than brown, my dear.” He leans down and presses a kiss just below your eye. “When the sun catches them, they’re golden; a warm and hardy ale. Sweet and soft like melted caramel, especially when you look at me.”

You don’t miss the smirk that paints his lips as he teases you. You can hardly be embarrassed when you know it’s true. Besides, he did the same with you. How many times now had you caught him watching you with such fondness, so much that it overflowed from his eyes into a tender smile and relaxed shoulders?

He kisses his way across the bridge of your nose. He doesn’t take his eyes from yours. The prolonged eye contact only flusters you further. “The color of deep, rich soil after summer rain. Oh, don’t even get me started on how they look at night, when every star reflects in your eyes.”

His lips brush yours for just a moment. His hands holding your face keep you still, so you can’t chase after them. Your hands slide up his thighs to his waist and grab onto the bottom of his sleep shirt.

“Even now, dove, you look at me with shimmering jewels. Amber and topaz and jasper.” He catches your mouth again. A restrained passion keeps him contained, as though he simply couldn’t resist kissing you again when you looked at him like that. He sighs longingly as he pulls away, remaining close enough that his nose brushes yours. “A million things - but never shit.”

You squeeze his hips playfully, but your eyes are half-lidded as you stare up at him. “This was meant to be flattery,” you repeat his own words back at him, “not poetry.”

He smirks. You feel it rather than see it; he’s so close. “How can I resist with you, my love? Now, where was I?”

You look away bashfully. “I think you’ve made your point, dear. You can stop now.”

“Not yet, darling. I don’t think I’ve fully captured each aspect of your lovely eyes. I haven’t even told you how they look when you’ve had too much wine, or the way the firelight catches to make them burn. In fact…” He sits up, catching your eye again as the movement attracts your attention. He looks quite self-satisfied, like the cat that got the cream. “I think we’re going to be busy all night; until you realize just how gorgeous your eyes are.”

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive

[cerezzzita]

Hi, i saw you have your request open so here i go, requesting some hcs for Dante, Vergil and Trish having a short sweet-toothed s/o who also loves to bake.

notes: heeey there, anon! In advance sorry for the waiting, it took long enough but at least here we are! I hope you like it, because I surely did loved writing these headcanons, and with Trish being included? Better than ever!

Enjoy the reading and thanks for requesting! <3

⠀🍓 ˖ . ᵎᵎ Dante, Vergil & Trish with a short sweet-toothed S/O

♡ tags: gender-neutral reader, no use of pronouns (you/yours only), no description of reader's appearance, short!reader, use of petnames, three devils being soft af, Vergil and Trish might have been sorta ooc pardon in advance.

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Dante

Perfect match, to be honest.

Calls you "shortcake" or "shortie" most of the time and if you're annoyed by that… he'll keep doing it, sorry. He loves you enough to annoy you as well. 

Being as sweet-toothed as he is, no wonder he'll ask you constantly to make some desserts with strawberries or red fruits in general such as raspberries or cherries. 

And please don't let Dante get one inch near the kitchen, this man will eat as many of the berries plus he's catastrophic at cooking.

At least let him add some of the ingredients and mix them together here and there, he'll be satisfied and happy enough. 

He'll eat the batter when you're not looking, by the way. 

Still on the ingredients topic, doesn't this bitch (affectionately) loves when you ask him for help to reach something you can't? He's all smugly smirks, towering you with that huge figure of his and in the best of the cases, lifting you so you can reach it by yourself. 

Dante's personal favorite dessert made by you became The Devil's Cake, but instead of being fulfilled of chocolate only, there's lots and lots of strawberry jam and fresh strawberries on top of it. 

Late night munchies are a must! You two can and will be watching whatever series or movies while cuddling and devouring almost all of a whole damn bakery because Dante has a black hole instead of a regular stomach. 

Saw a recipe for dessert pizza once, got obsessed with it, asked you to make it, you made it, he's even more in love with you. 

"Babe, you're a sweetheartie. A candy angel, I love you so much," said Dante, mouth full of sweet pizza and eyes full of tears of joy and passion. 

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Vergil

Vergil strikes me as a cinnamon roll enjoyer. That's it, that's the post. 

But really, I don't think he has a sweet-tooth or enjoys sugary foods that much. He likes it, sure, but at moderate bits. 

Unlike Dante, he does not make fun of your height… Yet he finds it quite endearing. 

Calls you "little bird". Let me have him be affectionate and lovely for a sec, okay? 

Vergil also gets worried by the amount of sugar you consume. 

"You'll get plenty of cavities if you keep eating desserts at that level." 

He helps you with your recipes too. I'm kinda sure that Vergil knows a thing or two in the cooking field, correct me if I'm wrong (I am wrong). 

As previously said, he likes more, hm, refined flavors, such as cinnamon and vanilla and if you're baking cinnamon rolls, count him on it! 

Don't ask Vergil to chop the ingredients unless you want him to put on a show about it. 

If you like drinking tea, you better prepare a bunch of sweet treats because you're having regular, calm silent tea evenings ft. Vergil and his poetry book. 

ⓘ gif's not mine!!

Trish

Oh my, what can I say about Trish?

She's not a sugary-sweet person. Instead, she's mostly on sour candies and neutral fruits field. 

With that being said, I hope you're ready to constantly bake lemon pies and banana cakes. 

Trish does not know how to cook for her dear life, she prefers watching you instead and maybe teasing you along with it.

"Trish, I could use a little hand." "Pardon me if I can't help but think you're all cute on your own, sugar."

Speaking of teasing, this devil surely knows how to make you fluster with her little comments about your height, but of course, always keeping it comfortable enough to not get you mad or sad. 

"Need some help there, honeypie?" "My, if you ever get trouble reaching that shelf, you need to wear some of my heels."

And although Trish is not your sous chef, she is certainly your personal tasting critic, which is an advantage mostly to her. 

"So, what do you think?" "Hm, I liked the caramel on top of the fruit, and it's sour just in the way I love. It's a ten out of ten, honey." 

Brought you some silly clothes like sweaters and shirts with some candy motif and oh, sure, fruity flavored lip gloss. 

Anything for her honeybun~

cerezzzita©, 2023 · all rights reserved ⓘ do not edit, copy, steal or claim as yours | reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[oh-biwan]

[rattling cage] Do you have any Obikin fics that you've enjoyed? Your beautiful art made me slip right down the ship rabbit hole and now I need recs, any rating/theme.

-blushes, clears throat- Hi!

I like a lot of different flavors but, to keep it simple, I'll try to match my recommendations to the theme I'm cultivating on this blog so far.

First of all, I have to mention skyl_tales, they wrote some of the absolute Obikin classics and I love their work, it's very dear to me. If you haven't read anything from them yet, I strongly recommend taking a look at their works and going for anything that captures your attention!

Alright, now my conscience is clear and we can move on:

Armageddon Game by posthumous_vigor

One of my more recent obsessions. Basically, padawan Obi-Wan gets captured by Sith Anakin and then groomed to the Dark Side. What I enjoy about this one is how, even despite the unfavorable cards that Obi-Wan has been dealt, he cleverly chases down his goals... but not without twisting himself in the pursuit as well. He is an active actor in this play and ultimately it is not Anakin who Obi-Wan plays against. And by recommending this I'm recommending the whole series :).

Untouched by objectlesson

This fic has one the most predatory padawan Anakin I've ever seen. This child is just so deliciously fucked up in the head. I... I think I'll just let the author's summary speak for itself: In his darkest moments, Anakin began to think of it as his right. To control Obi-Wan’s sleeping mind, force it into a box, shut it up so he could take what he deserved. Warm skin, slack face, soft snores. And then—then—more.

pleasure, little treasure by objectlesson

A guilty pleasure of mine. And probably a very hard pill to swallow, so careful there. In this one, Vader goes back in time, kidnaps Jedi initiate Obi-Wan, and makes him his apprentice. Yes, it's very dark, a psychological horror, but this author writes with such skill and poetry that I trusted they could make me enjoy reading stuff I'd normally avoid... And I was right. The beauty in the abominable. That's why I love this author, the things they write are so refreshingly daring and so deeply fucked up on so many levels, but served in a way that makes me swallow it all up without question. (oh, I should probably mention that as of now this fic is unfinished, I seldomly pick up unfinished works, but with this one, I have no regrets :))

hold my heart more gently than you do my throat by tennessoui

This is a role reversal omegaverse AU. Master Skywalker has been captured by the Separatists, and behind the Council's back, his omega Padawan sets out to save the master in distress. It is debatable if the master in question needs the saving -noises of massacre in the background- (he did need the saving, in my opinion :)). What I really love about this fic are the horror vibes of little Padawan getting chased down the hallways of the enemy base full of dead bodies, and an unknown monster breathing down his neck, but the only thing on his mind is how to find his master and rescue him. Also, I enjoyed the final twist and how the story unfolded in the end. Satisfying. If omegaverse is your thing I definitely recommend this one.

game plan by treescape

Out of all the recommendations, I consider this to be the tame one. If all of the above made you hesitant to try, this is the one to go with. The summary: Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It's kind of a thing. I'm recommending this one for the banter. Some of it is just next level. Very amusing to read. Chef's kiss.

[noforkingclue]

I'm not sure if you still wrote for Thomas Thorne but if you do would you write a fic with him and prompt 8 from the in bed together prompts please?

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course I still write for him! I love Ghosts (the BBC version) and love writing for it :)

Hope you like the fic!

Prompt list: list

Title: Night Time Talks

Ghosts tag list: @violetlucreziastuff, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You let out a sigh of relief as you lay down on your bed. Who knew that being dead was so exhausting. Today just seemed to be one drama after another and not even Alison could seem to be able to sort it out. Oh well, hopefully things will be better in the morning.

“My dear, are you asleep?”

You opened one eye and looked up at Thomas. A guilty look crossed his face and he sat down on the bed.

“Sorry,” he said, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you sat up and rested against the headboard, “can’t seem to get off to sleep. Maybe it’s because you’re not here.”

Thomas gave you a bright smile and jumped on the bed. He rested his head against your chest and looked up at you. You smiled down at him and started stroking his hair. Thomas closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

“How was your day, my love?” you asked him

“Oh wonderful! I managed to get up early to see the sunrise.”

“Yes, I was wondering where you were when I woke up this morning.”

“I wanted to wake up earlier to capture the moment. To try and immortalise the beauty of nature for everyone to see.”

Thomas sighed and snuggled closer to you. You wrapped your other arm around him and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Thomas leant into your touch and smiled softly.

“So, why the sudden urge to write poetry in the early morning?” you asked

“Does one need a reason to create art?”

“I guess not.”

“The truth is,” Thomas rolled onto his back and smiled up at you, “I wanted to give you a present. Alas, it is a shame that I cannot hold a pen anymore.”

His hand rose to his chest where you knew that damned letter was. His expression fell a little bit but he quickly brightened it again.

“I wished we had met while we were both still alive,” he said, “and for me to have given it to you. I always found it romantic to give the one you love the most penned in your own hand.”

You sighed and briefly tangled your fingers in Thomas’s hair. He let out a soft hiss and you quickly loosen your grip.

“Sorry,” you said, “reflex.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you tell me the poem.” you said

“But what if you forget it later.”

“Then you’ll just have to repeat it to me.”

You closed your eyes as Thomas launched into his poem. You gently stroked his hair as the sound of his voice slowly lulled you into a peaceful sleep. You were vaguely aware of Thomas’s voice slowing down, confident words turning in sleepy murmurs as your actions helped relax him. The two of you slowly fell asleep curled up in each other’s arms.

[etheries1015]

Hii I’m so sorry but I’m the anon that asked for the s/o who gives generous compliments and poetic words and I just wanted to say what you wrote was very adorable and made me smile but due to my dyslexia I thought I had already written Jack’s name on the request 😭 I’m so sorry I didn’t write his name in the ask that was so embarrassing! 😭😭😭

SESDLKFj THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHA I was staring at it and thinking to myself the most popular tsundere characters and made a guess....i'm so sad I got it wrong 😭 It's okay I gotchu don't even worry about it I do stuff like that all the time EOIFJSLDKJ

The prefects muse...pt2!

Featuring: Jack!

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, not proof read (very well, that is heuheu.) I hope you like it! I feel I'm not the best at writing Jack, but I hope it was still enjoyable nonetheless <3 thank you for the ask!

Tw: none!

Jack

Jack was always strong in his resolve about finishing school with ease and without distractions of love and affection...until you came and wreaked havoc. When you had asked Jack if he would be interested in studying with you, he was not aware that included hour-long sessions of him trying to revert your attention to textbooks while you seem to be indulging in some sort of poetry. While staring at him.

"Didn't you say you were failing this class?" He groaned with a pink face after you went on a tirade about how beautiful his hair looked, "Stop getting so distracted. School is important, you know! It'll be the foundation of your future-"

"Oh, I'm not failing."

....What did you just say? You giggled at his reaction which included staring at you with his jaw open ever so slightly in surprise at your sudden confession of academic skill. He was ready to throw in the rag seeing as you were "wasting his time," but you knew the right words to make him stay.

"But Jack," You gave him your best puppy eyes, "You're always so busy...you never hangout with poor, lonely, woeful me. Time is but limited, why not spend what I can with my dear beloved Jack?" You went into the entire theatric display - on hand in the air and the other over your heart, as if you were the prince declaring love to the damsel.

And it was working.

Jack has a very strong sense of loyalty, and to see how valiant and generous you were in dishing out compliments always seemed to give him a run for his sense of self-preservation when it came to school. He found himself eager to hear your words of honey and perhaps even finding ways to seek it out, craving those compliments and reveling in every single praise you threw the beastmans way. He took your declaration as you reciprocated his enjoyment of your company, face red and hand rubbing the back of his neck in contemplation of his next course of action.

"W-well..." he said, before faltering down into a mutter, "You don't need an excuse to hang out, you know..." You almost didn't catch what he had said, leaning in with a bright smile his face turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"N-not so close!" He stumbled over his words, "Jeez, just...just ask me next time! We can find other things to do together, I like your company, too!" He finally let out in a burst of confidence.

His mistake.

You were swooning! Giggling and teasing Jack at his cute reactions and seeing how your words affected him so. His face ended up buried in his hands, groaning at your brazen display of affection.

This was only one of many examples, though. You had a habit of throwing out random compliments passing the halls or in class, as well as in front of other people. No matter how many times he told you to stop in a whiney voice or claimed he disliked such attention, Jack is a fiercely loyal man, and never truly wanted you to stop. He was snagged in your charming word, and convinced himself perhaps one day he would get used to your teasing remarks and flamboyant scripts of poetry.

<3

[almayver]

hi alma!!!!! i see you often rb phumpeem fics. do you have any personal favorites that you would like to recommend?

HI Anon!!!! OH BOY. Do you know who you sent this ask to? OF COURSE, I have personal favorites, and I'm very, very happy to gush about them, thank you dear anon.

So first I did a mini smut rec a couple of weeks ago (A MONTH AGO?? Time flies, damn) and I stand by all of those so here. All of them are very, very beautiful, and fun and have a lovely grasp on the characters and their relationship (Also if you are not reading Cole's omegaverse fic I urge you to fix that right now. I breathe for that fic)

Also, this has to be obvious by now, but I'm very biased, and I think that @thunder-point @alan-apologist and @therethatstar are gifts of the universe to fill our world with great writing. So yeah.

Muse - Very sweet take of phumpeem after the kiss. Love the imagery and the flow of it. Just really nice.

Around the sun - Different first meeting AU featuring absolutely smitten Phum!

reach for me a bit (this loop is infinite) - HYBRID AU MY BELOVED. Cole rewrote my brain chemistry with this one folks. I keep thinking about them. Its very sweet and lovely, with Peem being very protective and caring!

Now and forever - This one is just a very beautiful introspective look from Phum about his relationship with Peem and the group, and its sweet and a little smutty and just very beautiful and soft.

Tiny moments everyday - I'm fully cheating here because this is a TanFang fic, but you don't understand the emotions this fic made me feel. I'm always here for soulmates AU, people we need more We Are soulmates AUs. And Phumpeem are cute in the background

pretty in blue - GLORIOUS SMUT, courtesy of Alan of course no one is surprised. But also, OH MAN, this one is very sneaky and it's actually POETRY. You are like yay smut and then a line comes that makes you clutch at your chest and process the emotions. Once again its Alan so really we shouldn't be surprised.

I hope it's not the kind of rain that only soaks you for a little while - This one is a soft little hurt/comfort that took my heart. Very soft and sweet and beautiful.

your back beneath the sun, wishing i could write my name on it - Star wrote this “Phum thinks they are FWB” that was very beautiful and also had me cackling

Counting stars - and then @danonenen was inspired by that one to write a “Phum thinks they are FWB” that actually had me very emotional and feeling a lot for my sweet insecure boy.

Wild geese - A very cute short different first meeting AU with some lovely ruminations about love

My dog really digs you - This one is an ongoing multichapter that I'm so invested in! A bit of magic and curses and loneliness. So fun!

hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better - Star makes you feel like you are in this house party watching two strangers fall in love in real time and you will have the time of your life

in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you - A fic about soulmates. In the most beautiful way possible. This fic has my heart and soul and if you want my thoughts on it I keep leaving my ramblings on the comments. So go read it, weep, leave your own comment and read mine.

i got an appetite (you too, just maybe) - The famous and beloved lap sitting fic. Really really cool exploration about feelings, and desire. Just fun!!!

Not without you - I see this as a tribute to Peem. And its a truly beautiful one. Featuring insecure Phum and the friendship group being lovely as always

Take my self-control - Short fun different first meeting au (Yes i like different first meetings im aware).

When I look at you - A bit of a canon divergent fic about Peem drawing Phum. Very fluffy and fun.

Every day's a memory - This one to me is a classic. Just a collection of drabbles, not all of them phumpeem but all of them very lovely and sweet.

There are SO MANY more, and as always go to the AO3 phumpeem tag and have a look around because oh gods so many good fics! These are just the ones that stuck with me a bit. Also I will say some of the best fics are the ones that are being written here through a weird form of exquisite cadaver through asks and tags (like the hanahaki fic Cole is threatening my sanity with (yes i made the og post but she escalated the situation)). So def check the tag here and try to catch some of those because oh gods they are glorious.

Thanks for giving me the chance to rant about phumpeem fics because i do love to do it!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

we had a chef MC headcanon, now how about M6 when MC made them a meal but it tasted just downright horrible and MC is just kinda oblivious to it, asking M6 with the brightest, most innocent smile "Do you like it?"

i hope you have fun writing this if you do choose this humble request

- 🌼

The Arcana HCs: When MC is a terrible chef

~ this reminds me of the time when teenaged me combined old rice, hot dog chunks, cold broccoli, and buffalo sauce (in one bowl!) for a late-night snack. thank you for the giggles this gave me, yellow flower friend, let's hope I pay them forward! - brainrot ~

-- to set the scene --

Somehow it's been one of those weeks when everything in your food supply begins to reach its end or expiration date at the same time. You know your regular grocery shopping is tomorrow, and you have an extensive list prepared, but dinner is up to you tonight and you don't have anything comprehensive planned. It looks like it's time for your famous "everything but the kitchen sink" stew. You've only made this in the past when it was just you in the shop and you were still figuring out how to cook, but you remember it being fairly edible.

(Continued below the cut)

You get some beans boiling (there hasn't been time to soak them), add a cup or two of vinegar to soften them faster, dice the not-molded parts of a tomato and onion you found at the bottom of a sack, and rinse the slime off of some wilted greens before throwing them in. You're craving something spicy, so you dump in the rest of your chili sauce, but when the steam makes you tear up you scrape out the rest of the mayonnaise to even it out. It was starting to smell funky anyways. Your hand slips when you add the salt, so you pour in some honey to counteract it, and in a final burst of inspiration, you plop in two bananas that have gotten too mushy to eat. The signature suspicious scum of your original dish is just floating to the top of your soup when your beloved returns, hungry from a day of work.

Julian

Too happy to see you to notice the poison on the stove at first

The words die in his throat when he does. Tell him it's a potion. Tell him it's a curse. Tell him it's a prank. Don't tell him, don't tell him it's ... it's dinner, isn't it?

He watches you happily ladle a generous scoop of your curdled concoction into his bowl and gulps. He loves you. He's got this. He will eat your food, he will tell you it's delicious, or he will die trying

He's starting to get caught up in the poetry of it as he sits down across from you. Like a lamb to the slaughter, accepting the sweet taste of death from his beloved's cruel hand - stew isn't supposed to be sweet, oh god why is it sweet

But for his darling's delight, he will overcome -

"Julian, is everything alright? You look like you're about to go on stage."

"Oh, is ah - is that what I look like, my dear?" He's pale and sweating at this point, poorly disguising the tremble in his hand as he brings his second glass of water to his lips

"It's my stew, isn't it?" you dolefully lift a gelatinous spoonful and watch it fall back into your bowl with a sickening squelch. "I remember it tasting weird, but not this weird ..."

"No, no!" His voice cracks against his will as he sees your sadness as proof of his failure. "It's delightful, delicious - worthy of the gods, even." You hear him mumble a prayer for forgiveness under his breath and drop your spoon

"I know when you're acting, Julian."

"Ah, so I - so I am. You know -" he stands abruptly, his chair falling behind him in his haste. "I just remembered that Pasha invited us for dinner tonight. Shall we?"

He's never been so happy to see you walk out his front door

Asra

They can smell it as soon as they walk into the shop and are immediately concerned. That is the smell of death. Why is the smell of death in your shop oh no - "MC? MC, where are you?"

"I'm upstairs!" Thank the patrons, you're okay

Then again, maybe you're not, considering how perfectly comfortable you seem standing over whatever monstrosity is releasing toxic vapors into the atmosphere. Is that ... soup?

Color him intrigued. He's doing his best to hide a laugh and find a way to ask what enabled you to create something so terrifying out of simple kitchen ingredients without insulting you

"So, is this recipe an MC original?"

"Yep!" You smile at him cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the stomach-churning way that the chunks plop from the soup spoon into their bowl. "I always make this when we're running low."

"You've made this before?" They're starting to get concerned again

"Just a few times, when you were on a trip. Do you like it?"

He takes a bite, so intrigued by the way it seems to wriggle down his throat that he tries a second. "I've never had anything like it."

"What do you think of the mayonnaise? It smelled a little funky ..."

We have mayonnaise? They wonder, but on the outside they're still smiling. "It certainly adds to the experience. Is this ... banana?"

"Yeah, it seemed too mushy to eat on its own, so ..."

Asra sets down his miraculously empty bowl with a loving smile. "MC, you shouldn't have to do the cooking so often. Let me help out more often."

Nadia

She doesn't know how it's come to this. Nobody knows how it's come to this, when the Palace kitchen is kept fully stocked and there are chefs available at all hours

But you had said that you missed your home cooking, and she had given you full access to the backup kitchen to do as you pleased, and - ah, the only things kept in there are leftovers

That would explain the stench

Speaking of, her respect for your resilience has reached new heights. How you've been able to survive on your own is a mystery to her. Please tell her this isn't how you ate for three years -

But you seem as deathly serious as the radioactive sludge that's churning in her fine china like a lava lamp, and she realizes that this is going to be a labor of love. She must eat her fill and do so with elegance

You watch her bring the daintiest (read: tiniest) spoon of slime to her lips, pausing to test the aroma before setting her jaw and putting it in her mouth

Oh, look at that, she's already eaten her fill

"MC, my darling, what do you say to an evening walk? It seems I haven't the appetite to dine at this moment, how about a stroll around the palace gardens? The night is still young."

She's relieved at how easily you agree, deeply concerned by the fact that you've already finished half of your bowl, and eager to get you out of the palace so that the maids can make dinner disappear

She's going to lose sleep for the next three months about whether or not she should be honest about what happened to your soup

There's now a bald patch in the grass behind the kitchen that hasn't been able to grow anything in three years. There's a rumor that stepping on it will release a stench so foul that you won't be able to eat for twenty-four hours afterwards

Muriel

He's not too worried. He used to eat spoiled food out of the trash heaps all the time as a kid, he's sure he remembers how

But he's a little surprised that said rotting food is being actively cooked. By you. Seemingly in a choice made of your own free will

He wasn't expecting ... this, but a quick glance around the hut makes it clear to him that nothing terrible has happened, that you seem perfectly sane, and that you don't think anything's wrong

Well, you seem to trust your cooking, and he certainly trusts you, so ...

He side eyes Inanna's dramatic performance of whimpering and pawing at her nose, eventually turning to let her back out of the hut as you serve your bowls with a smile

He takes a glance at his serving as you dig in. Asra still talks about the time he ate a whole chili pepper without flinching - he can do this. He picks up his spoon, scoops up a jiggling chunk, and eats

You're a little surprised at how quickly his bowl disappears. You're not really enjoying your food yourself, but you're not going to judge his strange enthusiasm

"Muriel? If you're still hungry, there's more on the fire ..."

"I'm fine." He's getting out of his habit of depriving food of himself, but in this case, refusing to eat is a personal kindness

He drinks several glasses of water while you finish your dinner, asking you about your day and trying not to grimace at every silent burp that pulls the aftertaste back into his mouth

Inanna buries the rest after the two of you go to bed. Nobody knows how she managed it without opposable thumbs, but everything is possible for a wolf desperate to preserve her nose

Portia

Her brother might be an award-winning actor, but her flair for the dramatic only goes as far as silly little bits designed to make people laugh and pretending that she isn't about to punch somebody

She is a woman who knows her mind, her heart, her strength, and her limits. This is a limit, and she is doing her best to pass it

You can tell right away that she doesn't want to eat what you've made. You've never seen her smile look so uncomfortably tight, and you certainly didn't miss the way her stomach heaved when she leaned over the pot to take a closer look at your creation

But she's insistent on going through with your evening, even steering you towards the kitchen table and serving the bowls herself. She tries so very hard to mask the look of revulsion on her face when different chunks of stew jiggle at different frequencies

She places your bowls on the table and lifts her spoon, waiting for you to take the first bite in the hopes that your eyes will be opened and you'll insist on eating something else

No such luck. You're two spoonfuls in, so in the spirit of keeping an open mind, she loads up her utensil and shoves it in her mouth

You weren't expecting to be sprayed by the choke that seizes her, but sitting across from her puts you in the splatter zone and you're quick to give her your napkin and ask if she's okay

She nods weakly, looking slightly green. "MC," she says, "you are definitely stronger than I imagined." She takes another look at the gelatinous blobs on her table. "Stronger than you need to be."

She dusts off her hands and practically drags you out of the cottage. "Let's eat out tonight! My treat. And I just had the best idea for our next date night - we should take cooking lessons together!"

Lucio

He notices Mercedes and Melchior acting up on the way back to your campsite, but doesn't have any idea why until he gets a whiff and - oh, that is nasty

Some kind of skunk jacked up on magic must have done that, never fear, MC! He's here to save the day now - what do you mean that's dinner? That is not dinner. Dinner is not supposed to smell like that

He's not sparing a second to consider manners or acting. Lucio calls it like he sees it, and all he sees is poison

"MC, do we have to? It smells so bad, look at it MC, just loo - bleugh - no I'm not being dramatic! The smell made me gag for real, watch!"

And he leans over the pot again, just to take a deep lungful and subsequently let out the most visceral gagging belch you've ever witnessed

"See? It's bad, it's really bad, and I don't want to eat it! Why are you being so mean to me, MC?"

To be honest, you're not particularly excited to eat it either, but it's all you've got until you make it to the next town tomorrow, so you tell him as much as his pout slowly deepens

"Fine, I'll do it. I guess it can't be that bad if you made it -" He watches the way it slops into his bowl and gulps. "I take it back."

Sure it's a little spicier and clumpier and saltier and sickly sweeter than you planned, but you're able to stomach it just fine

And to your surprise, Lucio can too. He complains loudly the whole time, but his whining somehow grants him the ability to eat three full bowls

"See, you ate so much of it!"

"Well of course!" he puffs out his chest proudly. "I'm the best. At least it's not as bad as what we had in the army. But - MC?" he looks at you with pleading eyes, "please don't make that again."

[rosewaterandivy]

10. a kiss is not enough

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C.: 4.5K

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), real-talk with Nancy Wheeler, idiots still being idiots, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: Holy shit, I can't believe we've come to the end (or is it 👀) of this series! When I started this, I had no clue how many people would respond to Trouble and Steve's idiots-to-lovers story - but I'm so glad that they did! This series will always be near and dear to my heart, for a variety of reasons, but primarily for the people it brought into my life (here's lookin' at you, babe!). This isn't a goodbye from Trouble and Steve so much as a see you later - don't hate me too much! Poetry excerpt from John Keats. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Trouble’s playlist from Steve: trouble will find me

Steve's playlist from Trouble: rebel without a clue

previous || epilogue

Now, May, Finals Week

“Just think about it, kid,” Hopper says on his way out your classroom door. He’d requested a meeting during your conference block, when normally he’d amble in under some pretense just to shoot the shit.

You nod, at a loss for words. It’s not like you needed yet another thing on your plate— waiting to hear back from admissions and not spilling to Steve or the gang was bad enough.

Yeah, you’d applied for grad school (even though grad students were the worst) and Hop had been contacted as a reference, which prompted his little visit today. Apparently, the district had approved a stipend and sabbatical for faculty furthering their education in graduate school.

“I’d like to recommend you,” Hop said matter of factly, sitting in a desk across from yours. “Maybe not for the sabbatical until you’re further along in the program, writing your thesis and whatnot.”

“I, uh–” you stumbled to find the words. “Cart, horse. I haven’t been accepted yet.”

He leveled you with a look, “Are you shittin’ me? Of course you’re getting in.”

You swallowed audibly and busied yourself emptying your desk for the summer, “Well, time will tell I suppose.”

“This isn’t—” Hopper paused in thought. “This isn’t about Harrington, is it?”

“Huh,” you nearly yelled, clutching the cardboard box for dear life. You had been so careful too.

He cracks a smile, “I saw the pair of you at graduation, you think you’re so slick.”

That brings a smile to your face, good ol’ Hop sussing out the goings on like he’d never left the force. 

“It’s nothing.” You assure him, “We haven’t— We’re professionals, okay?”

“I know,” he nods, voice lowering as if he could spook you. “I’m happy for you, really.”

A small smile breaks across your face, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

Finals done and grades posted, you’d never been so happy to get home. Had plans to pour yourself onto the couch and not move for 72 hours. 

But life (and Steve) had other plans.

He was sorting through the mail, chucking envelopes into various piles on the countertop. The loft was quiet that afternoon— Eddie had a gig in Indy that evening and Robin was crashing at Vickie’s for the night. Steve hummed a tune to himself, the occasional slap of paper hitting the granite punctuating it.

“Oh hey,” Steve turns with a large envelope in hand, “This looks important.” Tosses it with freakish accuracy, the white paper landing with a thwack where your shorts had ridden up against your thigh. 

Distracted by whatever drama was unfolding on TV— something about a crew working on chartered private boats— you mindlessly slip your thumb beneath the lip of the envelope and tear it open. 

It’s only once you’ve pulled the papers from it that you glance to see what’s what. The university’s crest shines like a beacon, your thumb worrying over the topmost letter. Steve, the bastard, has stopped his mail sorting and turned toward you.

He leans lazily against the counter, a knowing smirk fixed on his lips. You scramble up from the couch with the papers, too nervous to see for yourself. “Here,” you say, thrusting the envelope and documents to his chest. “Can you—”

Pulling you to his chest with an arm, he brushes his lips against the crown of your head. “Sure, honey.” You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest— warm and familiar.

“You know,” he drawls, “The big envelope generally means something good, right?”

“I know,” muffled against his shirt.

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle your head. Steve clears his throat, reads the opening of the letter in his best announcer voice. “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that…”

The rest is drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears, the tears pooling in your eyes breaking free to cascade down your cheeks. He squeezes you tight abandoning the acceptance letter and letting it flutter to the floor in favor of drawing you closer. Steve kisses you, licking your own tears into your mouth, your taste onto your tongue. And it’s so weirdly hot that your heart starts fluttering again, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Because of course, just as things were going right something had to come and throw a wrench into things. 

Plans for lazing in the early summer forgotten, the next few days saw you coming and going from the university campus for orientation, meetings with faculty, so on and so forth. As you were leaving the grad student mixer, a professor peeled off from a group of faculty to flag you down with a call of your name.

You turn, not recognizing them from the English department. She’s an older woman, has maybe a few years on your mother, and is swathed in a lovely linen dress— the cool elegance of minimalist style.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Holland,” she says shaking your hand. “I’m on the admissions committee and was very impressed with your work on Dante Alighieri.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“And you studied Italian as an undergrad?”

“Certo.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Perfetto,” she says with a perfect Italian accent and waves over another faculty member. “I only ask because there’s a summer intensive in Italy beginning next week that I think you’d be perfect for.” 

Your mind reels. The new professor introduces himself and echoes Dr. Holland’s sentiments— a summer session of classes in Italy, in partnership with Università di Bologna, the oldest university in operation in the world. Scholarships that would cover the cost of tuition, travel, and accommodations for you to peruse.

What the fuck.

Vision swimming, you somehow come back to the conversation at hand. Dr. Holland presses a folder to your hand, “I know you were planning on taking the introductory grad school courses over the summer, but I hope you’ll consider joining us in Italy instead.”

You nod, gobsmacked and make your way to the car. Settling into the sweltering seat, you start the car and call Nancy. If anyone would know what to say in this situation, it would be her.

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, wine glass in hand as you slump on Nancy’s couch. “We’re not anything, haven’t discussed it. I mean, sure, we fuck like rabbits, but aside from that?”

She blows a raspberry and sips from her glass. “He’s in love with you, get over it.”

You jerk up, “Okay, maybe,” you allow. “But he hasn’t said anything.”

“And you won’t pony up to do it yourself?”

A scoff as you drain your glass. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Nancy laughs at that, loud and bright. “Unfortunately, yes!” She refills your glass before continuing, “Let’s be honest, you’re both hopeless when it comes to eachother.” She raises her brow before you can balk, “Full offense intended.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

She hums at that, head cocked to the side in thought. Her nail taps against the glass with a soft clink. A bite to her lips before she heaves a sigh, “Sometimes he just needs a push.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I am absolutely not telling him he’s bullshit, if that’s what you’re after.”

Nancy, to her credit, winces uncomfortably at the memory. “No, no,” a shake of her head. “Absolutely not, you would never.” She sets her glass down carefully, giving you her full attention. “What I’m getting at is this: do you want to be something with Steve?”

She lets the question hang in the air between you. 

“Because if you don’t know Trouble, you should back away now.” A low warning tone. “You’re it for him, have been since he laid eyes on you, but you’re both too scared to do anything about it.”

You drain your glass to the dregs and hastily take your leave. At the sound of the door closing, Nancy grabs her phone and brings it to her ear, “Hey Harrington, I need a favor…”

Returning from a less than helpful hang session at Nancy’s, you find a post-it note left on your bedroom, door that reads ‘meet me at our spot on lover’s lake. - s.’

Prizing it from the wood grain, you make your way back to the kitchen to scavenge for something to eat, in an effort to soak up the remnants of wine in your system. Opening the fridge you spy another post-it stuck to the topmost shelf: ‘get your ass down here, i’ll feed you soon enough. - s.’

With a laugh, you let the fridge door fall shut and grab your keys.

_

He can see you now, just barley, even in the indigo dark. Wonders to himself, how are you even real? How is it that you’re mine? An explanation that won’t ever come. 

You slip into the cool water of Lover’s Lake like a dream, with nary a sound. Steve stumbles after you on the piles of clothing you’d left behind—bunched up denim shorts here, a threadbare tank-top over there, the silk of your thong musky and damp. 

Fisting his shirt to pull it up and over his head, it falls to the forest floor behind him, jeans shucked off and tossed elsewhere, boxers joining your lingerie by the shore. His patience is wearing thin as you wade further and further from him out into the lake. 

Little minx, he smiles and takes a breath before diving beneath the waves. Arms cutting through the placid water at a quick pace until he’s occupying the space between your bare legs, and coming up for air. 

One arm drags you near, lazily pressing you close, tight around the small of your back as the tide breaks around your waist, minute movements almost imperceptible— the slow roll of your hips against his.

Water shallow enough to tread and keep you buoyant. Steve kisses you slow and sweet, pulling you flush against his chest while you writhe under the water’s surface. Body slick and wanton and arching into his own. 

His dick jumps when you lift yourself to drape your arms around his shoulders. A sharp breath replaced with a shaky exhale as he brings his forehead to rest on yours, dark eyes taking in the exhilarated flush of your body. 

And Steve knows, under his skin and tucked into the cage of his ribs, near the beating of his anguished heart, that you’re the only thing left in this world worth worshipping. To keep you, and render you a flightless bird, to clip your wings, would be all for naught.

He has to let you go again, and so soon after you found him. From perihelion to aphelion before the moon’s full turning. The soft curve of your throat drawn taut as you glance upward, marvelling at the stars and planets in the northern sky. 

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Your voice is a husk, low and hoarse, in the dark. “Its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.” Your eyes, once fixed on the sea of stars above, shift to him once more.

Closer to the shoreline now, and unbeknownst to you, Steve had gently waded you both inshore, until he could draw you toward the dock. 

You let him walk you back until you’re flush against a mooring pole, wood rough against your moon-bathed skin. Body yielding to him as both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls you forward by the hips.

“S’okay, honey,” He mutters—right into your panting mouth with a sultry pull of his lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss from his lips that he laves and sucks to the column of your throat.

He ignores you, crawling his hands onto your hips to keep you from squirming. Works his thigh in between your legs for good measure. Once you’re settled, he moves one hand to your center a finger trailing up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto the spot that makes you keen, just behind your ear. You fist his hair in both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But Steve doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your neck and into your kiss-bitten mouth, he doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion lights a terrible match inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to a forest fire.

Calming breaths in and out. Steady head, steady heart. When you’re able to meet his gaze again, you take a moment to see him as he truly is: dappled in moonlight, forelock hanging in front of his eyes, his entire focus trained on you.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, scissoring them, pumping them in and out.

Steve sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive skin and lips, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching back into his hand, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

You shake like a leaf in his arms, not knowing if it’s from the cool night air or due to the man before you. 

Instead of increasing his pace, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third. Your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean back with a whimper.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, so soft and low that your heart stills.

Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, his previous two fingers pushing inside gently. The third finger meets resistance as you tense up. “S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m…” 

Your head knocks back against the wooden pier. But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear.

You blink owlishly, trying desperately to weave your threads of thought together. A shake of your head to rattle them loose. A sweet smile up to Steve, a barely there kiss to his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy, breaths heaving from your chest. Steve commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you.

You gasp and moan, arching your chest into his and pulled as taut as a bow sting—back forming a crescent-shaped arc, a sliver of the moon radiant in the inky blue reflection of the water.

“C’mon, that’s it, honey. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked collar, bristles on his cheek and jaw tickling your sensitive skin.

Coming back to yourself, you shiver bodily. And Steve looks at you as if you hold infinities in the palms your hands. 

You reach for him reverently, desperate for his shape of beauty and noble nature. A dream realized, a wish granted, gentle and true. You feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination.

You whisper, "Missed you," eliciting a shudder from him as your palm grips him tenderly. 

Relishing in the temperature of his body, you sigh. Spreading the beaded precome at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, head falling to yours.

“Missed you more,” He hums, eyes heavy-lidded and lustful. 

Gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly and without haste, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could burst from your throat.

You whimper. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the gratifying sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re fearful to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, as water lapping against your thighs, holds onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you cry, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He moves in you, like a prayer.

A groan escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, lover… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. 

The two of you feel rooted together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away, your shaky legs held in his secure grasp.

The black slik of night gives way to the earth’s rotation, stars and moon bending to the will of gravity. Splashes in its silent, dark depths as you broach the shore. A little shaky on your feet, but he’s close behind, sultry and brilliant like the summer morning quickly approaching.

Whispers and murmurs tucked between fervent kisses as you dress. Fabric sticking to damp skin as his hands roam. Frenetic movements as he backs you up against the car, the coolness of it causing you to shiver. 

“You should do it,” he rasps against your lips. “The Italy thing, you always loved it there.”

“How did you–” you sputter.

You can’t see him roll his eyes, but you just know. “Nance, who else?” 

The warmth of Steve’s body burns against you, a hand threading through your hair half-convinced the moon is hiding there, hanging like a jewel in the night. And you’re a mess when you kiss him. Your breath is warm and so sweet, and the center of his chest squirms like something alive. 

In that moment, you love him but can’t tell him, not yet. You decide the sun that will kiss freckles to his face will do it for you.   

The song of summer sings out as you load your suitcase into Nancy’s car a few days later. The trunk slams closed and your back is pressed against his chest, his arm hanging casually around your collar. It is the end of May, the first bloom of summer balmy on your skin.

Steve had not taken the news of Nancy driving you to the airport well.

At all.

A sponged necklace of kisses to your throat as the light creeps in. Sheets kicked to the edge of the bed so you’re tangled up in him. Skin already glinting gold in the summer sun. Twisting in his hold, desperate to glance at the time. “Steve,” muffled against the heft of his shoulder, “I gotta go, Nance will be here soon.” 

The turn of his weight bearing down, trapping your body under his. A cruel circle of his hips has you shuddering. His breath ghosts along your skin, “Baby, baby please.” Nose trailing down from your sternum to the swell of your stomach. Pausing there for lips to lave kisses on the curves that trailed to your hips. 

Eyes dark and heady with promise, “Just a taste.” Lips and mouth delving lower now, fingers parting the cleave of your cunt with a squelch. He hooks them back into his mouth with a groan. “Mmm,” he slurs, drunk off your arousal. “You taste good, sweetheart,” His nose bumps against your clit, “Like honey.”

Breath stuttering in the cage of your ribs, you fist his hair in one hand and tug. Steve moans overtly, pupils blown wide while he’s face deep in pussy. “Steve,” Your voice trembles. He glances up, smoldering and glorious, drinking you up. “Ah—fuck,” before you’re overtaken again.

You’re desperate, and he can hear it in your voice. A quiver in your throat, you swallow thickly mouth falling open in a pant. His fingers work into you easily, dragging exquisitely along your channel—warm and wet, only growing more so with every thrust of his hand. You mewl, hips bucking up as he sucks your swollen clit. 

Legs thrown over his shoulders, as he cants your pelvis forward, arm heavy against your stomach to bully you in place. “Sweet girl,” He coos, lips ruddy and wet with your slick. “Doin’ so well for me.” You shiver in his hold, sunbeams hazy with orange glow, the refracting light makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then you feel something pulled taut in your belly. A chord stretching like a rubber band before it snaps. The wind up is excruciating, Steve’s litany of devotions falling in hushed murmurs from his lips. His fingers plunging up into the chasm between your legs, pulling away wetter each time.

He bends back down, tongue circling your clit at a dizzying pace. A third finger slides in impossibly, a keen igniting from your throat—high and whimpering. God, you’re so close. You babble, hands scrambling purchase against his dewy skin.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

“Oh my god,” you thrash on the bed, hair sticking to the sheen of your face, hanging on by a thread as his fingers drive into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Steve promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your lust-addled brain, the telltale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of your cunt— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time.

“Stevie,” you mewl, “Steve.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

You drily sob out something broken, a tiny echo of affirmation as he keeps fucking into you like he could break through. He’s really abused your pussy this morning, maybe gone too far, but every time you come like this, it’s like he’s seeing something holy. 

“Oh my god…!” It’s a small shout as you shatter, and it makes Steve’s spine light up as you rub your face further into the pillow.

“Praying to me, sweetheart?” but doesn’t stop those tiny, hard circles, doesn’t stop melting into your body, his dick pulsing as he ruts against the sheets. “You can keep doing that,” he urges, “I like that.”

So, you’re not surprised when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished breakfast, as predicted, in a terrible disarray, and Robin crosses herself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Eddie clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his ring-clad fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

As much as you tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t goodbye but instead see you soon, it didn’t stick. But the ache in your gut did—low and menacing, growling like an animal. 

Eddie and Robin were easy, promises to stay in touch and bring back the best candy. Your parents were less so, tight hugs and dried tears on cheeks. 

Steve, however, you needed to brace yourself for. Short of chaining yourself to Nancy’s car, you weren’t sure how you’d escape with your dignity intact. He was already kissing on you, soft and sweet, as Nancy slid into the driver’s seat while Eddie and Robin waved goodbye walking back inside.

You slip from his grasp in a flash, pulling him by the belt loops to knock hips. “Stevie, lover mine,” you sing, his palms cupping your ass as his hands slide into your back pockets.

Lover.

What a word.

You think about it every waking second—the way he stretches in the morning, how he sings in the shower, dances in the kitchen, smiles and beams at anyone who passes by—how good he is.

How you love him.

“Mm—” raspy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Feet walking you closer and closer and you’re pressed against him. Nosing along the column of his neck, nipping at the delicate skin there, watching as his throat bobs when he swallows. 

Hands free themselves from denim confines, a thumb caresses the small of your back. Steve pries your hand from his chest, and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss against your palm. 

You hum as his lips brush your skin, observing as he meanders to the thin flesh of your wrist. Hazel eyes near golden in the morning sun as Steve looks to you, face open and fond. Lips featherlight when they kiss your thundering pulse.

Only then do you start to break. 

You thought you were prepared. But it steals the breath from your lungs, levelling you to ruin, a creeping sense of hopelessness in its wake. 

He’s quick to notice, crushing you to his chest and hand cradling your head. Soothing murmurs of “S’okay honey, we’ll be alright,” and the rasp of your name. Fingers brushing hair from your face with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And it is hard to leave him, but you can do difficult things.

Forehead bent to yours, back warm in the sun’s decorous rays, a searing tear-laden kiss and you’re off. Turned back in your seat to see him recede in the distance until he’s a mere speck on the horizon as Nancy tugs you forward.

All the goodbyes had all been said, save one thing lodged in the depths of your throat. 

I love you. 

[mirikitakato]

[Translation] Skits of "Our magical party wiz you" and the staged reading ""A Mixer After the Mission"

Good day, everyone! I have translated the skits and the staged reading from the “Our magical party wiz you!” (Mahoawa) event on January 28-29th, 2024. It took me a while, and this is not the full translation for the 2-hour show. There are also Q&A activities involving seiyuus and some additional skits with characters. However, I translated all the skits featuring CaiOwe and the 20-minute main skit "A Mixer After the Mission" written by the devil Tsushimi Bunta!

Please feel free to share the link to the translation or screencap it to react.

Characters: Oz, Arthur, Mithra, Rutile, Cain, Owen, Snow

(The Day’s skit)

Owen: Hey, are you kidding me?

Mithra: That's my line.

Cain: Hey there, you two. Let's not start off on such a tense note, alright? What's going on?

Mithra: The thing I just had for lunch is called Napolitan pasta. This guy has more bacon in his bowl than mine, not fair at all.

Cain: More bacon? How nice!

Owen: That's not nice, comparing to that pudding he has. Mithra's pudding is bigger than mine.

Mithra: Obviously, because I eat faster than you.

Owen: You were just eating everything randomly, weren't you? Ah, I feel sorry for that pudding, being eaten by someone like you.

Mithra: So you're not giving up? How unsightly.

Owen: Hah? You want to die?

Mithra: Just what I want.

Owen: Cuore Memini–

Mithra: Athrim—

Cain: Wait, hold on!! Let's not start a fight out of nowhere! You'll wreck the place.

Rutile: Ah, how about this? Since we're in a theater, why not have a competition fitting this place?

Mithra: A competition fitting this place?

Rutile: Let's have the spirits of this land as judges. Since they love singing and art, we could have a poetry competition. What do you think, dear spirits? (The audience applauds)

Rutile: Thank you.

Mithra: Well, okay. I'm the strongest at writing poems.

Owen: I won't go along with your ridiculousness. Such a stupid game.

Mithra: Oh? Is it because you don’t have confidence?

Owen: Aren't you just led by the nose?

Cain: Please don't start a new round of quarrels, guys. Owen, if you're not interested…

Owen: Fine, I'll participate. With Mithra's brain, my victory is assured.

Sir Knight, let's start quickly *kick*

Cain: Ouch! Why did you suddenly kick me?!

The theme is “Winter”. Owen, you first!

Owen: Eh? Me?

Cain: 321, GO!

Owen: The…the winter sun…on top of the sky…turns into…a frozen white jade…

Rutile: Wow, what a beautiful imagery!

Owen: On the snow field…there's…a fluffy dog…but his fur sheds…and vanishes with the wind…

Cain: Ahhh, he was so fluffy, though.

Mithra: That's it? Well, no surprise that you're at this level

Rutile: But the first part was great! I couldn't have come up with “frozen sun”!

Cain: I also love fluffy dogs, they’re like winter. When you see your dog getting shaggy, you know winter's here. It's a shame his fur fell out.

Owen: Oh, you like that? Then why don't I turn you into a big hairless dog and throw you into an extremely cold place where it snows all the time?

Cain: Why do you come up with words to insult me so easily?!

Cain: Next theme is “Northern Wizards”. 321, GO!

Mithra: On the snow field…there is a fluffy dog.

Owen: Wait, don't copy me.

Cain: It’s even the same dog.

Mithra: Standing there is a creature more majestic than a dog, a huge crocodile... and the strongest and most fearsome, me...

Mithra: Hmmm, sounds weird. Rutile, you are up.

Rutile: Huh!? Uh...if you step on the shadow...

Owen: Hey hey, it'd be cheating to ask others for help, wouldn't it? Rutile, don't say more.

Rutile: I'm...I'm sorry. I can't resist answering when someone asks me...

Mithra: Huh? Is there a rule against asking others?

Cain: Well...no, there isn't. Sorry, I forgot to set rules. But I trust the spirits (audience) will judge fairly. Let's hear Rutile's first.

Rutile: Yes! Owen's expression was particularly poetic, and Mithra was great at involving others.

Cain: I see. Both had unique elements in their poems. What do the spirits think?

(The audience applauds)

Cain: I see. Congratulations, Owen and Mithra, you share the victory!

Rutile: Congratulations!

Mithra: Winning was too easy. Poetry seems like child's play.

Owen: You just won without a fight. Let's start over.

Cain: The spirits seem pleased, making the atmosphere livelier and more energetic here.

Owen: That means…

Mithra: Then...

Owen/Mithra: *fighting each other* Cuore Memini/Arthim!

(The Night’s skit)

Snow: You're back too. Just walking around, not bothering anyone and not killing anyone?

Owen: You think I'm Mithra? I don't do those things. *sound of chewing*

Cain: What are you eating?

Owen: Dango from a nearby stall. It's right over there, by the red gate.

Snow: You're right, it smells sweet and delicious.

Cain: I noticed it too when I passed by earlier today. But I was so full that I couldn't eat anymore, so I didn't buy any.

Owen: Because you had too much Napolitan pasta, didn’t you? What a glutton, ordering such a large portion.

Cain: I couldn't help it! It was so delicious. After that, I walked around the streets with Rutile for a long time and started feeling hungry again.

Hey, give me one.

Owen: The song of hot dango.

Cain: What?

Owen: If you want one, sing. This is a payback for making me do weird things during the day.

Cain: Are you still holding a grudge over that...? Eh…Impromptu singing? I've never done that without a drink...

Snow: How about this? They also sell hot drinks near the red gate. It's slightly sweet and tastes a bit like wine, but it's actually non-alcoholic.

Cain: Thanks. Ohhh, it smells good. Now this can set the mood I need...

Owen: Cuore Morito

Cain: Ugh!?

Snow: Owen!? What did you--

Cain: ....He he he...there...is a pile of hot dango...~

Snow: Cain!?

Cain: Dango dango~~ Taran taran tan tan~

Owen: He's started drunken dancing and singing now. How clumsy and amusing.

Snow: Dear! Did you cast a spell on Cain? That kid took just a sip and he's already drunk.

Cain: Ha, ha ha...Let's take off our clothes to dance and sing, everyone...

Owen: Do it, do it~

Snow: Wah!!! Wait--! Noscomnia!

Cain: What just happened?

Owen: What, we were just getting to the good part.

Snow: Phew, that was close. Are you okay, dear? You were only dancing and singing, don’t worry.

Cain: I can’t remember…..But then that means I fulfilled Owen’s request?

Owen: Well, you could say that. Here, I'll give you a dango, catch it. *throw it away*

Cain: Ah! Hey, don’t just toss dango around like that!

The staged reading "A Mixer After the Mission" written by Tsushimi Bunta

Arthur: Look, Lord Oz, there are fireworks lighting up the sunset sky.

Oz: Indeed.

Rutile: It seems people are setting off fireworks to celebrate the resolution of the recent event. How beautiful.

Cain: Strange occurrences took place at Granvelle Castle. Although very dangerous and tricky, fortunately, we managed to solve them successfully.

Snow: That's right, the people on the street are also very happy. Beautiful music is coming from the square, it feels delightful.

Oz: Indeed.

Snow: Ah, dear Oz, the young wizards are all very happy now. You should sometimes respond to them with something more enthusiastic, like "Wow! That's fantastic!"

Arthur: Just watching the fireworks with Lord Oz makes me happy enough. And is this music the same as the one played during the inauguration ceremony?

Cain: Yes, the sound of fireworks, the music from that day, and the laughter of the people. Just hearing them makes me feel like I've been transported back to the day of the inauguration ceremony.

Arthur: The sages and their wizards gathered on the terrace of Granville Castle and waved many times to the people.

Rutile: After that, a lot of things really happened. Time has really flown by since then. Being able to become so close to Lord Arthur, Uncle Mithra, and others is like a dream.

Speaking of which, where are Uncle Mithra and Mr. Owen?

Cain: Hmm? Oh, I don't see them either. Weird, they were with us just a moment ago.

Snow: Maybe they went to confirm "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Arthur: What is "The Legendary Wind Passage"?

Snow: The land in this area is blessed by the wind spirit, thus strong winds blow sometimes. The most famous one is a passage where there are always violent storms. It is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through this legendary passage.

Arthur: So it’s the strongest passage?

Snow: Exactly, the strongest passage, literally as the words imply.

Cain: I'm pretty sure those two are competing to see who can fly through that passage faster.

Rutile: I am very confident in my broom-flying skills and would like to participate too...

Mithra: Arhtim

Arthur: They're back. Welcome back, Mr. Mithra, Mr. Owen.

Mithra: We're back.

Owen: Ugh, that was the worst.

Mithra: Oz, it is said that only the strongest wizard can pass through the wind passage - the strongest path, and I have conquered it. In other words, I'm the strongest. Your strongest throne has been taken away by me. How about that? Don't you want to say something?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: Huh?

Oz: Wow, that's fantastic.

Mithra: What's that?

Oz: Wow, that's—

Mithra: Shut up, you're noisy.

Arthur: Lord Oz, your level of agreement is truly superb.

Speaking of celebration, it seems that Lord Oz, Mr. Mithra, and Mr. Owen have never participated in a mixer.

Oz: Mixer?

Arthur: A mixer is to celebrate an encounter. If possible, how about holding one now? I feel a bit regretful not being able to join the social gathering with Lord Oz and others.

I also want to plan a mixer for 22 people including the Sage.

But now that we are here, how about practicing this bonding event in advance?

Mithra: Interesting, I want to join this thing called a mixer or something

Arthur: Thank you, Mr. Mithra.

How about Lord Oz?

Oz: Yes.

Arthur: Thank you so much!

How about Owen?

Owen: I won't. It's boring.

Cain: Don't say that.

If we sit face to face in a social gathering, we can understand each other better and maybe become closer.

Owen: When did I say I want to get along with you?

Cain: I want to get along well with you.

Owen: I don't want to. As if I would go.

Cain: Uhmm okay, that's good then! I actually don't want to get along with you either, but I have to do this because my lord is here. Lucky for me that you refused me first.

Owen: Oh? So you actually don't want to get along with me?

Cain: Yeah, why should I want to get along with you? You took my eyeball.

Owen: Ha ha, what a pitiful Sir Knight.

Owen: Then I will reluctantly join this mixer. Let's get close to each other, shall we?

Cain: Is that so?! Thank you, Owen!

Owen: Huh?

Cain: That's good for you, Arthur.

Owen: What does this mean?

Cain: Everyone, let's join in the fun!

Owen: Hey? Hey!

Arthur: I see!

Speaking of which, the Sage told me once…in mixer, people are supposed to have some special events.

Rutile: Special events?

Mithra: No matter what those are, it’s not a problem for me

Arthur: I don't know the specific details. Let's try to find out.

Rutile: I think I have an idea! (Rutile starts singing)

Rutile: Why do you want to drink? Why do you want to drink? Because you want to drink, so you drink!

(T/n: He is singing a parody of なんで持ってんの, a japanese drinking song)

Arthur: *confused voice* W-what song is that?

Rutile: This is the kind of song everyone sings at the beginning of a mixer.

Cain: Somehow, it feels like I’ve heard it somewhere before.

Rutile: Really? I created this song, though.

Cain: Really? But it sounds a bit familiar… Anyway, since we have songs, there should also be dances, right? Like dancing in pairs at a ball.

Arthur: That sounds appropriate! Perfect for social occasions to celebrate new encounters.

Owen: So how about this?

Owen: We play a game where one person acts as the king and the rest are retainers who follow the king's orders.

Cain: This game might not be suitable for this event, right?

Owen: …it isn’t?

Cain: It could make the atmosphere tense. It doesn’t seem like a social game.

Rutile: Although it sounds fun, I don’t think it's suitable for social gatherings.

Owen:…Hmmm, whatever.

Arthur: So, what dishes do you think should be served at the party?

Rutile: Dishes, huh? If there’s a grand feast at the mixer, the atmosphere will be livelier.

Cain: You must be hungry, Rutile. How about roasting a whole pig or something?

Arthur: Sounds like the mixer will be quite lively.

Rutile: It does sound that way! A roasted whole pig would be nice at a mixer.

Owen: Hey, how about this?

Mixing a hot sauce puff into a plate of sweet puffs filled with thick cream.

Cain: Absolutely not. That's a terrible idea.

Owen: Why?

Cain: Well, it's just not feasible. People who eat the hot sauce puff would be in for a bad time. This is meant to be a rare opportunity to meet new friends, and doing this would definitely make the atmosphere tense.

Owen: …Wouldn’t that make everything surprisingly lively though?

Cain: No, absolutely not. This would make it difficult to warm up the atmosphere. Think about it carefully— putting hot sauce in the puff for people to eat. It's going to be very tense, I'm telling you.

Rutile: I would certainly feel nervous…

Owen: Hmmm, whatever.

Snow: Ah, now I remember!

Rutile: What is it, Lord Snow?

Snow: Dear Sage mentioned a "first impression" game that seems to be held at the mixer.

Rutile: A game of first impressions?

Snow: Yes, for example, a question like "Who looks the gentlest here, or the richest person," and then you point to someone intuitively.

Snow: I hope everyone points to me when being asked "Who is the cutest person here?"

Oz: He just blurts out his wish.

Mithra: I definitely don't think you're the cutest person. If you asked who the scariest person is, I'd probably point to you.

Snow: I'm not scary. I'm obviously very cute.

Rutile: Very cute, indeed. But since we’ve met before, it might be difficult to judge as if it were the first time.

Snow: No worries. If it's just for a short time, I can erase your memory!

Mithra: Hah?

Owen: Erase memory?

Snow: Noscomnia.

Snow: Great, now we can play the first impression game!

Snow: Okay, after preparing, let’s point out who the cutest person here is.

Arthur: What just happened?

Mithra: What kind of terrifying magic was just used?

Owen: Step any closer, and I'll kill you.

Owen: Cuore-- Mithra: Arthi-- Oz: Voz--

Snow: Wait, wait, don't be so excited yet

Mithra: What do you mean?

Owen: Who are you?

Oz: Voz–

Snow: I said wait! Now everyone is playing the First Impression game.

Rutile: First Impression game?

Snow: Yes, it is to determine who the cutest person here is in the first impression.

Cain: Hold on a minute, I don't remember anything, not even you or myself.

Snow: Well, don't worry about that.

Cain: Don't worry?!

Snow: Yeah, don't stress about it, it's no big deal.

Cain: Is it really okay?

…Well, I suppose it is!

Rutile: Great, I don’t remember anything either, so I feel relieved to hear you say that.

Mithra: What's going on? That boy's complete lack of any sense of crisis is making me irrationally angry. My stomach seems to be hurting too.

Rutile: Oops, brother over there, do you have a stomachache?

Drink some hot potion to soothe your stomach, it'll help. I'll warm it up for you now.

Ah, but... T/n: Usually Rutile calls Mithra "Oji-san," but he's addressing Mithra as "Onii-san" now.

Mithra: What's the matter?

Rutile: This potion is very bitter. Brother, can you handle it? Will it be difficult for you?

Mithra: Not a problem. If need be, I can even eat grass.

Rutile: Ha ha, you're quite the wild one.

My first impression of you, brother, is that you're a very wild person.

Mithra: Ah, thank you.

My first impression of you is that of a careless person.

Snow: Look like someone knows how to play the game already!

Arthur: Hm? If you look closely, you two have the same eye color.

Cain: Ah, you are talking about me?

Owen: Me?

Rutile: That's right. Maybe you guys are brothers?

Ah, I feel like I have a brother too.

Cain: Do I have a brother?

*look at Owen* Can I call you big bro then?

Owen: What a joke. First of all, how could I have a brother with such weak magic power?

Besides, just from the appearance point of view, my hair color is similar to that guy’s.

Arthur: Are you talking about me?

Owen: Your magic power is pretty strong. Maybe we really are brothers.

Arthur: …Big Brother!

Owen: What's wrong~

Oz: Wrong…!

Arthur: Ah. Oz: That’s definitely wrong, although I don’t know why. Arthur: You over there… Oz: …Are you talking to me?

Arthur: …Sir, you have been silent until now.

Can you say a little more? That way we can get to know your personality better. Maybe the cutest person here is you.

Oz: I have nothing to say to you.

Arthur: Why?

Oz: *Silence* Because I have nothing to say.

Arthur: But why?

Oz: *Longer silence* Because I don't have anything to say so I won't say—

Arthur: Why—!

Snow: So, you guys have nothing to say. Okay, I get it! Let's begin! When I ask who the cutest person here is, everyone points to me.

Mithra: Isn't this cheating?

Snow: Humph! Forget it, let's not ask you; let's ask the spirits of this land.

(Snow asked who is the cutest, who is the noblest, who is the sexiest, and who is liked by animals. The audience responded with Snow, Arthur, Mithra, and Owen. After that, Snow returns memories to everyone.)

Arthur: Where are we?

Owen: Feels like there's a gap in my memory...

Cain: And I feel like I just had a strange dream...

Snow: Ha ha, the first impression game was so much fun!

Oz: I don't remember anything...

Cain: I want to join in too.

Snow: But you already participated.

Cain: Eh? I did? My memory's a bit fuzzy.

Owen: Too bad for you, then.

Snow, did you cast some strange magic on us?

Arthur: I feel like Owen and I were brothers...

Oz: Wrong.

Snow: Ha ha! That was so fun!

Mithra: So, what about the mixer to celebrate our encounter? Is this the end?

Arthur: No, it's not over yet. It's been a while since we last met.

Let’s reminisce about the events from when we first met until now.

Mithra: Are we talking about my heroic deeds?

Arthur: Mithra, Owen, Lord Oz, Cain, Rutile, Lord Snow, and our other esteemed comrades. And let's not forget the heroic deeds of our dear Sir Sage.

Cain: From the Ancient Birds and Beasts to the Resurrected City of the Dead. Three monsters attacking Granville Castle. And the perilous adventures in the Western Kingdom.

Rutile: Too many to recount. Let's share our stories tonight as we delve into the memories we share with the Sage.

Owen: There might be some pages I'd rather forget completely though.

Arthur: Even so, these are the nostalgic scenes that shape who we are. No matter how embarrassing or heartbreaking they may be, let's hold them dear in our hearts. Like precious friends, let's cherish those dark pages with tenderness.

Oz: That’s just like you, who is good at loving others.

Arthur: It's thanks to you, Lord Oz, and the watchful eyes of everyone else, that I'm able to do this. Now, everyone! Let's prepare some warm black tea and sweets. Get ready for our trip down memory lane, with the sound of fireworks and the music we love, while listening to everyone's laughter.

--- END ---

[almightygremlinblob]

Small KenJin Blurb

A super floofie, teenie tiny KenJin ficlet ft. mentions of Sukuna and a very down bad Kenny. I swear, these two take over my head in the most random times...

Kenjaku closes the door with enough force to nearly slam it. It was the same old boring shit. Another day of blabbering about…pretty much nothing to anyone that was desperate enough to hear him and get their validation.

Another day Kenjaku was bothered something he couldn't place.

Well, not quite.

It was actually Jin who was bothered by something - but if Jin was bothered, so was Kenjaku.

"Jin…" Kenjaku pouts and tries to kiss him - the other cringing and pushing him away instantly.

"Not this vessel, love. He's handsome but he's a complete stranger!" Jin sighs. "You know this…"

"I thought you humans liked that sort of thing." Kenjaku opens up his stitches and reveals his true self, to which Jin then tiptoes and places a gentle kiss on the curse's teeth. "I apologize, my dear."

Jin grumbles, trying to push him away and the curse sighs.

"Jin…this is ridiculous." The pout is clear in Kenjaku's voice as he gently takes his lover's chin and forces the other to look at him. "You've been acting strange all week! What is it, dearest? What's bothering you?"

"It's just…weird, knowing he'll be around again."

"Ah." Kenjaku cringes, knowing the other was talking about his twin.

"I…I-I gave myself up for him, you know?" Jin fidgets with his sweater a little, and Kenjaku gently rubs his thumb against his forehead - a mutual signal between the two to let out their thoughts or true self. "In the womb, I let myself be eaten. It was my first and last act of love for my brother. The last thing I wished for before I died was to see him again, one day. Now, I-he…d-did he turn out okay?"

"Oh, it was you…" Kenjaku covers his mouth, feigning shock as he gently shakes the other by his broad shoulders. "My lord Jin! Have you any idea what kind of monster your 'kindness' brought forth, you ignorant fool?!"

"What." Jin frowns, grumbling as the curse pokes him on the cheek. "Do I look like I care? Is he okay or not?!"

"Oh, I'm joking! I'm joking!" Kenjaku snickers, burying himself under his lover's chin - though he had to lean down a little, seeing as his new host was a bit taller than his husband. "Partly, anyways. That does explain A LOT of his beliefs. As for your question, ah…well, define 'okay' first, won't you?"

"I mean, he…he hasn't starved since, has he?" Jin sighs. "Had a roof over his head? Proper education? Stuff like that?"

"Simultaneously none and all of those." Kenjaku rubs his arms, trying to reassure the other, when he feels Jin deflate a little. "He hasn't starved, but his diet consisted of pretty much everything considered sacred at the time…and people."

"WHAT-"

"He knows how to read and write, got really good at poetry and arts, as per the times, but nobody ever taught him. He learned it himself. From gathering and making the materials, or stealing them, to actual calligraphy and watercolor techniques." Jin recieves a sorry on the head as Kenjaku continues to explain. "As for the roof over his head…he had them, mostly, by taking whatever was left after he'd destroyed the entire village or killed and ate everyone in the house. But he'd travel a lot, too. Always looking for new ways to hone his craft and for people or curses to fight. Lived life according to his beliefs."

"Goodness...I never wanted him to be hungry again, but I didn't think...well, at least he never was. It sounds like he lived a life he enjoyed, too. Even from the womb he'd be kicking and punching." Jin giggles and then sighs in relief. "I'm glad..."

"He does seem a bit lonely, though." The curse muses. "Even if he absolutely refuses to admit it."

"He hasn't made one friend in the thousand years he's lived?"

"Not one."

"What?!"

"Well...there was one person, but they're more like a servant."

"M-my god, I…"

"Don't tell me you're feeling responsible…" When Jin tenses, Kenjaku covers his mouth in disbelief. "Don't tell me you were thinking of seeing him again!"

"I-I mean, I'm his brother!"

"Jin, you're insane!"

"I know, I know. I'm not…all there. I never was…" The soft huffs of breath as Jin laughed tickled Kenjaku's neck. "But I can't help it, you know? I just-I care. That much…even after everything."

"Jin…" Kenjaku gently but firmly caresses his lover's face as he forces the other to look at his blank expression. "He ate you."

"And I allowed it! Look, I'm not an idiot okay? I know he's dangerous, b-but...I mean-I should at least-"

"JIN." Kenjaku sighs. "Enough with this! Dangerous is an understatement when it comes to your twin. Just stay here, with me. It's safer with me…"

"…can I at least see my-"

"Nope. No Yuuji, either."

Jin groans and allows himself to fully slump on the curse. "Well…thank you for at least covering half of the payment for his schools. I don't think I could make enough for both his and Dad's bills."

"Ah, yes…the geezer." Jin can hear the venom oozing from the other, and he offers him a sorry pat on the back. "Thanks for not killing Dad, also."

"Anythi-…well, almost anything for you, my dearest."

"Shame we can't do more…" Even without looking at him, Jin can feel the frown on Kenjaku's face. "I hear he's made a few friends already. I'm juuuuuust saying, it would be really nice if we could raise him together. Be a proper family…"

"Oh hush! You and I both know why we can't get too involved."

"Okay, okay!" Jin huffs. "I'll drop it already."

[veespee]

Are you comfortable with writing a few headcanons about firebrand with a partner? This is about your comfort, and if your not comfortable with that,maybe some general headcanons for Sean from whispered faith? Only if your okay with that, though!

i'm not the best with romance, but i can try :)!

(I'll make a separate post for Sean in the future as well, as he's one of my favs.)

Firebrand partner headcanons

(plus a small moodboard for funsies)

-Definitely would write poetry for his partner. Like the most romantic, caring words ever. He would send them somehow with mail, or would get someone to deliver it, since he is stuck in the Collective realm. His handwriting would he very fancy and neat, some words probably wouldn't even be clear from his calligraphy, and he would also put some small gifts in there. Nothing too fancy, maybe a flower, or really anything he can find from the Collective Realm. (i'm not really sure how much freedom he has in there, so I'll just assume)

-If his partner struggled financially, he would not hesitate to send over a bunch of money. Like a ridiculous amount. If he got asked where he even got that, he would not elaborate.

-As for nicknames, he would probably use classic and sweet words, like darling, honey, dear, etc., but most of the time he would use his partner's full name. He'd probably be embarrassed that a god is calling a normal human these things, so he'd only do it when they would be alone.

-Gets in a lot of fights with Observer. They never really had a good relationship to begin with, but if Observer started stalking his partner and being weird around them... all hell would break loose. He would probably monitor Observer 24/7, and if he tried to mess with his partner, especially with electronic devices, Firebrand would quickly shut all signal off. He would basically do anything in his power to protect his partner from Observer.

-I feel like he's just a general masochist. Not in a weird sexual way, more in a 'i want to experience what it's like to be human and feel emotions and pain' way? Pain would just gives him a rush, as Firebrand is mostly emotionless in his life, and pretty miserable too. So i think he really wouldn't mind being a punching bag of sorts. (also a cool HC is that he has high pain tolerance, and can't feel his burnt skin much) Basically, if his partner was angry, he wouldn't mind taking a few punches on the chest. Or if his partner was a smoker, he wouldn't mind getting a cigarette crushed on him. (not in an abusive way, of course, he would consent to it and have clear boundaries)

-I think he'd be pretty scared to show his face for the first time. And when his partner saw his face, and actually thought he looked beautiful, he'd just be like "oh." and get embarrassed that he was so worried. Also i think he's pretty blushy, and would honestly get flustered easily despite his very stoic and stern personality.

-Lastly, I'll just sum up what i think he'd be like in a relationship. I feel he'd be very passionate, like his partner is the light of his life. He doesn't have much light in his life anyway, and being stuck in his god-like form and in that realm, having his partner would make him feel alive. I don't think he'd be the most romantic amd affectionate person ever, as i think he'd be more reserved and would take time to actually be soft and show vulnerability. There wouldn't be any extravagant gifts or surprises, just gentle and passionate love between two different beings that found each other.

thank you reading and thank you for the request!🖤