#at one point i managed to make a small amount of it purple but it took way too much pigment for like 8ml

[artificer-dice]

I made some molds for the new versions of the d4 shells for the clipped shape and I have to say I missed being able to make molds that weren't safety orange!

Look at that pretty green! That's actually that Papaya pigment but that is not what I intend to use the poll results for.

But this pigment is really a teal base with a gold shimmer and

So much nicer than opaque "warm persimmon" the other silicone comes in. Mind you, I can't get that color to accurately show up on camera.

This does however mean I get to start making the improved liquid core d4s that shouldn't be too small now!

[pellucid-constellations]

All Over Again

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part

a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books. 

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s. 

“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!” 

The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor. 

This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.

“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!” 

The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation. 

“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend. 

But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar. 

Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands. 

You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent. 

“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear. 

It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back. 

“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?” 

Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend. 

“Y/n—” Azriel began. 

“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down. 

Azriel blinked. 

He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders. 

When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare. 

“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words. 

You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?” 

“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?” 

A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend. 

“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers. 

“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.” 

This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?” 

“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.” 

You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?” 

Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him? 

Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.” 

Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.” 

Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs. 

Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye. 

“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?” 

“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s. 

It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared. 

Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own. 

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking. 

You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women. 

His married woman, but that was beside the point. 

A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth. 

“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.” 

His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing. 

“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.” 

“You said th—” 

You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face. 

“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.” 

Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips. 

And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.” 

The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms. 

Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home. 

[hyperfixationstati0n]

Curling Iron

Pairing: Spencer x bau!reader (kind of gender neutral, i feel like it could be interpreted many ways but idk)

Content warnings: Allusions to sex

Word Count: 1,005

You and Spencer had been dating now for almost a year. You had managed to keep it a secret from the rest of the team…for the most part. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know. You just didn’t want it to affect how you worked more than it already did. You were spending the night at Spencers when you both got a phone call one after another. Unfortunately for the two of you, it was because you had to go in for another case, when you were supposed to have two days off. You both reluctantly roll out of the warmth of your shared bed and start getting ready long before the sun has risen. Which was bad on all accounts, especially since neither of you had gotten much sleep that night. Truthfully, you never really did when you were together. 

As if you needed another reason to put you in a bad mood, this case had caught you on the one day you weren’t prepared. The only work clothes you had with you were the ones you had left in the day before, strewn across Spencer's bedroom floor, and they weren’t exactly in the best condition at that point. You groan and start to pick up your black dress pants from the floor, slipping them on as Spencer retreated to the bathroom. You then put on your dark purple long sleeve shirt. You stand to look in Spencer's mirror. You looked like hell. Your pants were wrinkled, your hair wasn’t sitting quite right, and you couldn’t wipe the tiredness from your face. That is in great contrast to your boyfriend, who walks out of the bathroom looking like he always does. The only evidence that his night was interrupted was the sleepiness in his eyes. You did manage to smile a little when he walked out to you, in a navy blue button up and a purple tie. 

You tilted your head and looked at him, as he noticed your attire.

“This could not have happened on a worse night.” He says, his voice still low and groggy having only gotten out of bed less than ten minutes ago.

All you can manage to do is nod and look at yourself in the mirror again. You were always known for looking and being very put together, and this morning did not reflect that. You groan and run your hands over your face, trying to get yourself to wake up. Spencer walks over to you and puts a hand on the small of your back, pressing a kiss into the side of your head.

“Come on, we have to go.” He says in the softest, most comforting voice. You can’t help but let him lead you out of his apartment and down to his car, hand in hand the whole way.

In fact, you don’t stop holding hands until you get out of the car, walking into the BAU trying to act like you were just co-workers. Spencer gives you an apologetic smile as he makes his way around the other side of the table and takes a seat, waiting for JJ to start briefing you all on the case that had woken everyone up at two in the morning. You also take a seat, between Morgan and Hotch, your usual placement.

This case was a rough one, and you would be leaving in half an hour. Just enough time to make coffee, you thought. So, with that, you wander over to the coffee station. Sure, the coffee was borderline stale, but you needed something. Anything. It wasn’t surprising when both Morgan and Spencer were right behind you, clearly having had the same thought. As you pour the coffee into your mug, almost falling asleep as you do, Morgan gives you a sideways look. 

“So, what’s his name?” Morgan asks in a smooth voice, pouring his own cup before passing the pot to Spencer, who looked amused. 

“Hm?” You question, stirring copious amounts of sugar and creamer into your cup.

“Don’t play innocent.” Morgan laughs. “Wrinkled pants, the same clothes you were wearing yesterday, that tired look on your face, and…” He trails off, lifting your hair off your neck with his finger. “What’s that?”

By the smug expression on his face, you already know what he was pointing at. A hickey. Spencer had given you a fucking hickey, and the both of you were too tired to notice it before you left. You give him a quick glare over Morgan's shoulder, seeing the man you loved stifling a laugh over his mug. 

“I…burned myself with my curling iron.” You lie out of your ass, just hoping he would accept it and move on.

But no, it was Derek Morgan. The man who made it his life's purpose to tease you, even if he did it out of love. With your words, he gives you another look, raising one eyebrow.

“Your hair isn’t curled, Y/N.” He says with a flat yet amused tone of voice.

Your face goes red and you lean it on your free hand to try and hide it. Morgan laughs and pats you on the back before walking away, giving Spencer ample space to slide down next to you. You can just feel the mix of guilt and pleasure emanating off of him. Your face is still hidden by your hand when he speaks, in a low whisper.

“Sorry angel…I forgot I did that.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Mhm” You groan, yet you can’t help but smile through the embarrassment. “It’s alright, it could’ve been worse. Plus, I don’t really mind.” 

You adjust your hair back over your neck from where Morgan had moved it, making sure the mark was well hidden this time. You and Spencer sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping your own respective coffees next to each other.

“So I'm a curling iron, huh?” He says, already laughing at his own comment.

“Shut up.” You say, laughing as well.

(AN: I don’t know why in the only two things i’ve posted on here Morgan is a menace lmao-but as usual leave feedback if you want, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ilysm :)

[sleepchapter]

yeonjun yandere prompts 4 and 6

“you’re flinching like i hit you already today.”

“tell me, do you like making me mad?”

warnings; kidnapping (current situation for reader), noncon kissing, abuse, reader is restrained, blood mentions

how long have you been here? how many times have you tried to find a way out? how many times have you cried here? you’ve lost count. however, you refused to lose hope. you refused to let him win. you refused to love him or give into whatever sick fantasy he had in mind.

you had woken up awhile ago and were just laying tied up on the ground. you’d guessed it had been around an hour before he walked in. his shadow projecting on the wall.

“good morning honey,”

ah, there it was. that same cocky smile he wore no matter what. no matter the situation, it was rare that his smile ever faltered. even when you didn’t listen it only would become more sadistic or shrink into a small smirk.

he crouched down to the ground and that smile he wore just looked even more cocky. and it was as if it was starting to mock you. he reached his hand out for your arm and you flinch immediately. he looks you in the eyes and his eyes held amusement and a slight curiosity in them. he then just reached his finger towards your neck. it wasn’t even his whole hand, he just glided one finger across your neck and collarbone, which you immediately flinch when he touched you and you stayed tense as he glided it across your skin. soon after he pulls away and actually laughs a little out loud.

“you’re flinching like i hit you already today.”

today. he hadn’t hit you yet today. he probably would end up doing it at some point. light shades of brown and purples littered your arms from his hits on you. usually he only left them when you had tried to runaway or did something ‘awful’ in his book. however, sometimes his grip just left bruises on you. he barely even needed to touch you. it was as if he made your skin weaker and easier to bruise from the amount of abuse he had inflected on you.

he leaned in closer to your face this time ignoring your flinch and attempted to kiss you. key word, attempted. attempted because obviously you hated any touch from him so you turn your head away. even his eyes staring at you made you want to just crawl out of your skin. he didn’t have the patience to wait or give you a second chance to allow him to kiss you. he grabbed your hair and forced you to kiss him. although you bit his lip he continued to hold the kiss for a few more seconds. he pulled away and kept your hair in his hand and pulled it tighter causing you to whimper. he grabbed your face with his other hand forcing you to look at him and you could see his lip was bleeding quite a bit. that smile still there, but his eyes were glazed with almost excitement.

“tell me, do you like making me mad?”

he moved his hand off of your face allowing you to look away from him. it seems as though he wanted you to answer though because he had yelled at you for a response. you shook your head back and forth as much as you can manage with his hand still in your hair. tears streaming down your face rapidly. he finally takes his hand out of your hair and your head drops down onto the ground and you groan in pain, sucking the air in through your teeth. he just slowly rises to his feet and looks down at you. his eyes still glazed with that almost excited look. his smile never disappearing.

“i will drain every last bit of resistance out of you. it doesn’t matter how long it’ll take. and i’d advice you listen. i said i hadn’t hit you today, but do you think that you’re not going to get punished now?”

the day had only just begun, but you could tell the hours were just going to drag on from here. excitement in his eyes, fear now in yours.

[siriusblack-the-third]

The Marauders: Pranks!

(in no particular order)

31st October, 1971 (First Year): the idiots somehow managed to get Peeves on their side and messed with the feast. Additives to the food had the entire castle running towards the bathrooms. The pipes were clogged for weeks afterwards. They served detention for the entirety of the duration.

31st January, 1973 (Second Year): Sirius tricked the gargoyle that protected the headmaster's study, got into his library and took several rare tomes. Dumbledore only realised when Sirius marched into his office two weeks later and dropped 14 books onto his table, announcing, "I'll be borrowing your books frequently, thank you." Just for the sheer talent of getting through his protective spells, Dumbledore allowed him to do so. However, detention of two weeks was handed out for breaking and entering.

23rd September, 1976 (Sixth Year): everyone woke up to see that the 26ft bronze dragon statue atop the fountain in the courtyard vanished in the middle of the night. No-one has seen it since. Nobody knows where it is. However, every time James or Sirius pass by the fountain, a small smirk curves over their lips. On another (completely unrelated, of course) note, James has an exquisite new pen, made of bronze and covered in a beautiful, intricate dragon motif.

13 December, 1974 (Fourth Year): the entire castle just. Floated up into the air without a warning. Exactly 77 feet off the ground for 77 minutes. It took all four of them three months to hand carve runes into the perimeter of the castle, and before that it took all of August for Sirius to come up with the right rune sequence that would stick a timer to the magic. They didn't serve detention, only because the rune sequence was such a stroke of genius— fourth year students barely knew how to use single runes in magic, let alone sequences long enough to cover a perimeter.

12th May, 1977 (Sixth Year): any time someone touched a goblet, said goblet would turn into purple butterflies. Very pretty, but very frustrating when all you wanted was a drink after a hot day. It turned out that they had mixed a transfigurative potion into the dishwashing water, and McGonagall made James write a paper about his invention. Technically, he earned his Potions mastery before he got his N.E.W.T. results.

4th February, 1976 (Fifth Year): a vicious storm cloud hung over Hogwarts starting from the 4th all the way till the full moon, making it rain sleet and hail non-stop, 24 hours a day. Everything came to a standstill, including Quidditch (James had to be persuaded for this one). Under the pretense of a month-long detention, McGonagall and Flitwick sat Sirius and James down and had them explain the thought process that went into the spellwork— weather magic not only required obscene amounts of raw power, but the steps as well were notoriously difficult to execute.

21st December, 1977 (Seventh Year): at exactly 23 minutes after eleven at night, the entire castle got wrapped up in huge, terrifying thorny branches. They crawled through the hallways, spilled through windows, blocked the doors and crept over the suits of armour. Huge roses— about two feet in diameter— bloomed all over the castle, dark haunting pink in colour. Waking up in the morning was quite a shock for people when they found out the vines had grown literally everywhere and taken over the dorm rooms. The inspiration was Disney's animated Sleeping Beauty, and Flitwick and Babbling both gave the Marauders twenty-five points each for the creativity. They did serve four months of detention, though.

.

WARNINGS

do NOT tag w*lfst*r or j*gul*s i mean it i will block you

I do not want anyone calling Sirius or James stupid

If you wanna argue with any of these, argue with the wall. These are headcanons, not reality. Chill.

[accio-victuuri]

Bottled Joy continues to not give AF. 😂😂😂

I said i wouldn’t make another post about them cause to me it’s case closed and they really have that bias. but these ones are too good to not share and archive. cause maybe one day the wind will change and either wyb does not endorse them anymore or their social media manager or whatever will stop with pro-cpf posts.

P1: It’s so obvious. Red and Green which is their colors and that turtle plushie ( squirtle from pokemon ) which is closely associated to turtles. We call ourselves turtles and that specific character is used in CPF memes. It also doesn’t help that Bottled Joy attended YH family concert and they probably saw the red and green headband light signs used. Also someone brought yellow turtle signs. The track playing also had the words good view or what a view— which could be referring to that lovely view or red green and yellow from last night’s event.

They could clearly get away from red & green, but adding that turtle in the middle is the nail in the coffin. There is really no room for other interpretation here as far as i know. 🙃

P2: The Guangdian themed bottle and WYB green-black themed one together and their laces seem to be holding hands. Lol. So it’s not enough that this pair is featured together, they have look really close. like a couple. hmmmmm.. very interesting….

P3: Again, Guangdian themed bottle with the small green cup ( also at some point with the red one ). but the important here is the bgm, which is a pretty popular one, but it’s also one that GG sang in the 2020 NYE. It’s a cpf favorite because there is a candy that WYB seems to be singing the backing vocals so for them to choose it is 👀. and well knowing their history, it’s easy to think that this was deliberate.

P4: throwing a purple colored bottle. lol. I didn’t want to include this but it (kinda) shows how much they know about the fandom. I don’t endorse hatred towards their co-stars no matter how problematic we think they are but you all know who cpfs “hate” that loves this color. 😂😂🍆🍆

Anyway, if this is a marketing strategy or whatever— it is definitely working and people are paying attention to the douyin account at the very least. I love how, whoever is doing this knows a decent amount of fandom cpns and what would make us react.

I hope WYB continues to work with them in the years to come!!!! <3

-END.

[asherthephoenix]

Oooh! Here's a question! What is one (1) headcanon you have for each reboot kiddo? (One for Priya, one for Bowie, and so on.)

Most of these I've had for awhile but thanks for helping me realize there were a few characters from this cast I never bothered to make hcs for lol. Some of these are gonna be sadder than others (I like making angst). TW FOR MENTIONS OF: Child neglect, transphobia, homophobia, the foster care system, child abuse, relationship abuse Caleb: Dumped Priya shortly after the season 2 finale when he realized they just weren't compatible and he'd rather just be friends (please let this be the case in s3🙏) Axel: She's related to Shawn and has a part time job as an instructor at the flower shop and fighting school. Years after the show she gets promoted to manager/class organizer

Nichelle: She's the daughter of the in-universe equivalent of someone like Beyonce or Will Smith, and so she got into acting as a baby.

Lauren: Her parents paid very, very little attention to her when she was a small child because they were preoccupied with their (full of illegal practices) circus buisness and Lauren was primarily raised by her older brother (who is 11 years older than her.) The computer was her babysitter a lot of the time and she got into creepypasta stuff at like age 4 Damien: He's trans ftm and was disowned by his parents after coming out, luckily he had a supportive aunt who took him in and allowed him to start HRT. He signed up for TD without hesitation or even bothering to look up what the show entailed when he heard he could win a million dollars because he knew he could use that money to A. repay his aunt for her kindness and B. afford top surgery

MK: Raised in the foster care system alongside her twin brother. She barely ever got anything for herself growing up and developed her klepto behavior after stealing her first video game and console (a 3DS and pokemon sun for anyone curious)

Raj: Figured out he was gay in middle school. Didn't want to come out because while he knew his immediate family would be supportive, his extended family overseas certainly wouldn't be. Needless to say his family cut contact with a lot of distant relatives after the show aired Wayne: He'd never actually had a girlfriend prior to being on TD. When the purple haired intern (who I hc started liking him after he helped her in the fear challenge) told him she had a crush on him she had to explain it very slowly several times over in order for him to understand what she meant Ripper: also had it rough growing up unfortunatley; he mentions at one point his parents dropped him a lot and told him that babies ruin everything so I don't think it's a stretch to say his parents were abusive. Axel was the first person who truly made him feel loved and accepted.

Zee: Uses perscription marijuana for anxiety. The soda is a clear metaphor for weed; while yes he drinks a lot of it normally since he probably wasn't allowed to use drugs (even perscription) on camera he seriously upped the amount of soda he drank as a sort of replacement

Chase: Was actually a decent person once upon a time and legitimatley did woo Emma over with actual charm. With time unfortunatley he started the youtube channel and once it took off the fame got to his head so he would do anything to make the next "viral video," including putting his GF's life in danger.

Emma: She used to be a model student- straight As, participated in a lot of extracirriculars, had a ton of friends, etc. All of that went down the drain when she used 90% of her time to work on the youtube channel. After breaking up with Chase (the second time) she went to therapy and is trying to become the great person she once was, but it's going to take quite a bit of time.

Julia: She first came out as queer for the sake of a pride month post/getting sponsorships from "queer friendly" brands but hadn't actually thought much about her sexuality at the time. Getting to know MK (and Bowie + the hockey bros) during TD made her realize she actually is a Lesbian, she wasn't lying like she thought she was. Millie: Developed a HUGE crush on Priya during s1. She first started gaining feelings around episode 6 or so but didn't quite process that it was a crush until she realized just how happy she was to have Priya back when she forgave her in the season 1 finale + how upset she would have been if she lost Priya. She cried herself to sleep after watching the season 2 livestream at the playa😭 Bowie: Was a huge brony when he was a kid and got into arguments about the show with grown men online in middle school Priya: After season 2, she was contacted by Courtney (who very reluctantly checked out the new seasons and was horrifed by Priya's situation) who offered to be her lawyer when suing her parents for the right to access the s1 prize money. They were sucessful and Priya moved in with Millie afterwards 😉

[dragonwitch77]

Tiny

Chapter 11: Outfits

Things were pretty quiet.

A blessing that was also a curse at the same time.

While he was glad that things had been quiet so far, he couldn’t help but feel a bit on edge every day.

There was no sight of Bittergiggle, even when he was sure the jester was still here. He found signs and activities that pointed to the jester still being on this floor, but he hadn’t caught any sight of the two colored Case anywhere.

Normally he would have spotted Bittergiggle staring at him from around corners, or only catch glimpses of him as he ran off with a trail of giggles following him. But now, he hardly ever saw or heard the jester. Nowadays, he hadn’t heard a single giggle that alerted him of the jester’s presence, and he knew for a fact that Bittergiggle could NOT for the life of him keep himself from giggling.

It was the one thing that always foiled the jester from being completely hidden, so the fact that it was so silent made a part of him worried that Bittergiggle was planning something big.

Or, in a possibly more concerning way, the jester was in one of his ‘moods’ and that alone was bad enough to cause concern.

A tired sigh left Toadster’s mouth, setting the piece for a current trap he was working on aside. He hadn’t realized how draining it was when a criminal was a former friend.

It hurt. It honestly hurt. Bittergiggle knew the consequences, yet he still chose a path of evil. For what? To get the sick satisfaction of hearing someone laugh? To prove something?

Toadster honestly couldn’t understand why Bittergiggle would throw away everything they built for this kingdom. A place they could call home when the humans abandoned them down here. It made him wonder if the jester never really cared, and was just waiting for the right moment to strike and cause massive amounts of chaos…

No. That wasn’t right.

His eyes went down to his vest, touching the fabric that felt odd and yet fit perfectly against him.

“Ta-da! A sheriff vest, silly! I made it just for you! Yeah! You’re a cowboy, right? Well, a sheriff is still a cowboy. And every cowboy wears a cool-looking vest! Especially sheriffs! I know you’re pretty great already as you are, but I thought that this would help you look more professional and really drive in the point that you’re the sheriff around here.”

His fingers traced the gold trimming as the old memory subconsciously surfaced in his head.

Bittergiggle had always had an odd taste for fashion. He had never liked any of the outfits the humans had forced them to wear and was always defiant when they tried to force him to wear something he deemed as gaudy.

Of course, he could understand why Bittergiggle wouldn’t wear those types of outfits. His ‘canon’ outfit was… something.

Maybe that was why the jester had always scraped together anything he could find, crafting outfits for his own and sometimes for his friends. Toadster was never sure where he found all the necessary material to make enough clothing for himself, or how he managed to get his hands on enough green and purple fabric, but the outfits he made always seemed to fit better than what they originally were supposed to wear.

And Bittergiggle always wanted to make his friends feel comfortable.

A soft faint smile crossed his lips before he quickly shook it away.

Bittergiggle wasn’t that type of being anymore. He was more dead set on making the queen laugh than thinking about fashion.

If any, he could bet that Bittergiggle was already working on something.

Something horrible.

🧪

Eyes were narrowed into slits.

The gaze of scrutinizing analyzation, observing every detail in sight.

Twisted and turned, the object was exposed at every angle.

A deep frown of disapproval grew as the eyes continued scrutinizing the object, coming to one conclusion after a long moment.

“You’re too naked, kid.” Bittergiggle huffed as Scylla blinked in his hold. “You’re butt naked and that needs to change. Stat.”

Scylla blinked, letting out a small coo.

“Exactly!” Bittergiggle nodded his head, heading for the closet. “Babies shouldn’t be naked! And it’d be wrong to leave you like this without something to wear!” He held her up, examining her carefully. “Hmm… a bow would look nice on you. A nice, big, poofy bow. But what would look good with a bow?” The jester hummed as he opened the closet, searching through the limited fabrics he had. “Guess we’ll have to see what we have first and go from there.” He said with a shrug, grabbing every fabric that he had.

Once the fabric was laid out, Bittergiggle went straight to work.

He had some basic idea of what he wanted for Scylla.

A simple little dress. Something cute but simple that would have a nice bow to compliment her looks.

That was easier said than done though.

As soon as he finished making a bow, he instantly realized he couldn’t just do simple after putting it on Scylla.

Seeing her the bow set something off in him, and before he could stop himself, Bittergiggle spent hours drawing out new designs of clothing and already managed to make three outfits before forcing himself to stop. He only had so much fabric, he couldn’t waste it!

But Scylla.

Scylla.

The jester nearly fainted as he looked at the mini-jester, feeling his heart swell at the sight.

A tiny jester outfit, one he crafted into a little dress, was comfortably fitted on Scylla’s small body. Her outfit was almost matching to his own, except hers was less extravagant and more simple. Even the big bow somehow tied it all together, and Bittergiggle couldn’t be more proud of his handiwork.

“Look at you~” Bittergiggle cooed as he scooped Scylla up, fawning over her. “Daw~! Now you look like a real jester! Just like me!” He nearly squealed. “Oh I’ve got to show this to Toadster! He–!” Bittergiggle stopped, his excitement dimming.

There was no way he could show off Scylla to Toadster. Not when the sheriff only saw him as the Kingdom’s number one outlaw.

If anything, Toadster would probably be mad that he would dare show his face anywhere near the Kingdom just to show off his secret kid. Who SHOULDN’T be known to anyone except him and Syringeon.

Frowning deeply on his one side, Bittergiggle sighed.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” He grinned with his other side, hugging Scylla to his chest. “You’re cute enough for me to enjoy alone.”

<Previous/Next>

[cannibalisticskittles]

He’d had her pegged as an easy mark from the beginning, so quick to forgive a knife at the neck as she was. Quick to offer that neck for a bite, too, and to defend his continued presence to the rest of the group. 

True to form, it had only taken the suggestion of an evening to themselves and she was hooked – all wide eyes and hitched breaths, reduced to stumbling over her words as her face slowly but steadily flushed from its usual purple to a deep plum. Even through today, she’s had trouble looking him in the eye, flushing faintly each time he’s entered her line of sight.

But it still comes as a surprise when, the very moment that the first of the tent stakes breaks ground in camp, Amity stands up and declares, “I’ll scout the perimeter. And Astarion will go too.”

Eager.

He’s almost impressed – he didn’t think she had it in her to be quite so bold. A little annoyed, too, if he's honest. He isn’t as prepared as he'd like to be; so much for setting a scene. But he'll manage. Let it not be said that he isn't resourceful.

And she's already started scurrying to the treeline around camp, heedless of the eyes on her back, so – why not?

Astarion – far more aware of the presence of prying eyes, but uncaring – follows.

It takes some effort to catch up with her, though it isn’t exactly difficult; as far as she’s gotten, she is anything but subtle, and the sound of her movement is a beacon leading him straight to her. There won’t be a twig left unsnapped by the time she's done here.

She’s out of breath when he finally matches stride with her. Amity doesn’t even fully turn to look at him, just glances askance and returns to forging boldly – and loudly – ahead.

Where exactly does she intend to go? There’s nothing but dense trees in this direction for – miles, most likely. He hadn’t had the opportunity to find a nice, secluded spot like he had intended, but as far as he’s aware, she never had the opportunity to slip away from the group to find one, either. Unless she’s been sneaking away in the middle of the night, only to return before dawn and make a show of sleeping in later than any of them – but no, those snores of her always seem genuine. And consistent. 

They’re unlikely to just stumble upon a clearing, blundering through the underbrush as they are. All this accomplishes is taking them further and further from the relative safety of the camp. With this in mind, when she next reaches up to push aside a low-hanging tree branch, Astarion catches her wrist gently before she can duck underneath.

She looks back. Her eyes flick to his, briefly, and then away again. 

“Now, Amity, dear, don’t you think that’s far enough?”

“Is it?” She peers around, as though there’s anything to see but identical trees in every direction, then lets go of the branch. “You’re probably right. It’s been a while since I've done this. And I suppose distance is sort of arbitrary at a certain point anyway; covering enough ground is at odds with covering a manageable amount of ground, and it can be difficult to know how far is too far as opposed to not far enough, and–”

He can feel another outpouring of words beginning. She’ll go on at length like this for far too long, he knows. If he lets her. 

So he won’t. Luckily for him, he has recently discovered a way to still her speech. Still holding her wrist, he strokes a thumb over the delicate skin there, feeling the way her pulse flutters in response.

Whatever words she meant to say die unsaid. “...well. Um. As long as we stay alert, I’m sure it’s fine. Even a small perimeter is useful, once it’s been secured.”

“Hmm.” It’s almost a hum; a tuneless little noise. Is that really what’s on her mind now? Or – is she just putting on a polite front? Difficult to tell when she refuses to pull her eyes away from the greenery surrounding them. “I can’t make any promises about that, darling.” She angles her head, and he answers her unspoken question with a soft chuckle. “We’re finally alone, after all, and I would much rather focus on you.”

Immediately, a deep flush creeps up her cheeks. How easy it is to elicit a reaction from her. 

“Oh,” she says, “I–” Though she struggles for a moment to put voice to that particular thought, she seems unable to. “Oh,” she simply says again. “Well. I… see.”

There’s a slight pull against his hold as she leans back, and he releases his grasp on her wrist obligingly. She immediately sweeps that hand through her dark hair, pushing it away from her eyes – though she still does not meet his gaze directly. In fact, she locks her eyes somewhere off to the side. The motion reveals the remains of her gift from the other night – puncture marks, faded from that initial raw red to a fainter pink around the edges, though they do look just a touch raw even now.

Astarion takes a half-step closer. Amity tenses, her breath stuttering, but she does not move away – and, for the first time tonight, she looks at him and nowhere else. Her eyes are golden and wide – at first. Then her lids flutter as if in anticipation of his touch as he moves closer again, a mere hairsbreadth separating them.

“I think,” he murmurs, raising a hand to trace the column of her throat, feather-light, as she shivers, “you would prefer that, too. Wouldn’t you?”

“I…”

His fingers come to rest over the marks. He could freshen those up for her. Astarion knows she’s aching for that, if the way she squirmed beneath him that night is any indication – and of course it is. 

“I think,” he says softly, “you would. I think you want to be the center of attention tonight. You deserve it, after all. I think you want to be seen. To be known. To be tasted.”

She swallows hard. “I… want…” He angles his head ever so slightly closer, and for a moment, her eyes slide shut. “I want–” 

And then she shakes her head and seems to find the will to open those heavy eyelids again, though the act appears to take a great deal of effort on her part.

“–to… talk to you, actually. About that. I want – to clear things up.”  Amity straightens and ever-so-gingerly pushes his hand away, then quickly clutches her hand close to her chest. She draws in a deep, bracing breath. “Astarion, you don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me.”

…what? “Is that what you’re worried about?” He tilts his head as he regards her carefully. 

She frowns, then nods. “Before, you said… you said you wanted to repay me.”

“Darling, that was more of an excuse than anything. Think nothing of it.”

“I – I have to think of it,” she protests. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me. And I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do out of a sense of… obligation towards me.”

Astarion tsks his tongue. “Obligation? Perish the thought. No, darling, I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for far too long. If it makes you feel better, then fine, don’t think of this as repayment, think of it as… an indulgence.”

“An indulgence?” She repeats, looking fully befuddled. 

“In you, my dear. In each other.” Gods above, she cannot truly be this naive. 

“No, I – I gather that, yes,” she says. She pinches the bridge of her nose briefly before continuing. “What I mean to say is – why?”

“Why does anyone do this sort of thing?” he asks breezily. “For fun. Isn’t that what you want?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for her to flush any darker, but she does now. “That’s – besides the point, and also, not what I meant. Why do you want… me?”

Now, what kind of a question is that? “Can’t you imagine why?”

She shakes her head firmly. “I cannot.”

Of course she can’t. He huffs, but is quick to paste a charming smile on his face once more.

“Well,” he says, “where to begin? After all, you're a vision. You really are something to behold.”

His mind kicks into overdrive. Now, what is she most likely to be receptive to? Bearing, general demeanor; something about finding that irritatingly persistent streak of charitability irresistible? Or… perhaps it’s better to single out something present from the very beginning. People do like feeling special after all, and to be seen immediately taps into that sense quite nicely. So, then, what? Complexion, eyes, hair – well, hair might be a difficult one; it looks like someone has haphazardly taken a knife to those curls. Assuming she recognizes that fact, she’s likely to see through that one. But the rest should be easy enough to inspire some honeyed words. 

Eyes are always a safe bet. The window to the soul, and all that. 

“…your lovely eyes, for one,” he says. “Such beauty could not be overlooked.” 

“My… eyes,” she repeats flatly.

He pivots smoothly to the next point. “And how could I ignore the temptation of that finely-crafted body of yours?”

“Hmm,” is all she says. 

It’s difficult to parse the expression on her face; her brow is slightly knit, as it was before, and her eyes, pupilless as they are, reveal nothing. But… it’s a far cry from the enraptured, doe-eyed look she’d given him the other night, so perhaps a change of tactics is required; a move away from specificity.

“But really, there’s just something about you – it’s difficult to put into words, but I knew from that first moment that you would ruin me.” The flush returns; her brow unknits. Good. He’s on the right track at last. “It should come as no surprise; I’m sure I’m not the first to be drawn in by your particular charms.” Though perhaps they, too, were driven off by the intensity of her questions, if she demands this level of reassurance from all her would-be lovers.

“The first–” And she frowns deeply. “…Astarion, what are you playing at here?”

He blinks. “What?” That’s… far from a warm reception. 

“Where is this coming from? The – want? And the, the flowery words?”

His pulse cools. “Coming from? Whatever do you mean? All I intend is to share a night of depraved carnal lust with you, is that so hard to believe?”

But the hard line of her brow does not soften. “Yes.”

A flicker of frustration. Why must she be so – obstinate? It’s not as though she’s been particularly discerning about the nonsense she accepts from anyone else throughout their travels. Why does she have to choose now to grow a sense of doubt?

“If words alone aren’t enough to prove my desire,” he says, as slowly and patiently as he can manage, “why don’t you allow me to show you?” 

“I – n-no. No, I don’t want that. And I – I – I don’t think you really want that either.” In an instance, all that hesitation turns to fury, as she turns now-accusatory eyes on him. “So what do you want? And don’t say it’s me.”

“What am I meant to say, then?” he snaps. And where on earth is this hostility coming from? “I don’t know what more I can say to convince you–”

“Oh, so you didn’t have more pretty words prepared?” Amity snorts. “What, weren’t you going to compliment my horns next? My fangs?” Her voice takes on a singsong, mocking tone he’s never heard her use before. She reaches for her tail, and lets the length of it slip through her fingers. “My tail? Come off it, Astarion, what do you really want?”

“You–” The word comes out in a hiss he hadn’t intended, but it’s too late to pull that back now – particularly when he sees how her lip curls into a smirk at the sound. “–are infuriating.”

She lets out a short, sharp laugh. “That feels honest, at least. Go on, then; tell me how you truly feel.”

“I think I’ve been quite clear about that already,” he snaps. “And yet here you are, demanding still more from me. What will it take to satisfy you? How much praise do you demand?”

“To satisfy–” She chokes on the words.

“Yes, dear, something I gather you have trouble with, hmm?”

“You–” She gapes at him. “You’ve done nothing but spout trite lines! What am I meant to think of that?”

“And you were hoping for something else then, is that it?” Irritation flares hotly in the pit of his stomach. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“And what did you mean, exactly? What more would you ask of me?”

“I don’t know, something other than – than–” She throws out her hands. “–than whatever in the hells this flattery is. Astarion, you can’t really expect me to believe that you knew from that first moment I would ruin you? That you really were lost in my eyes when you were sizing up the angle you needed to press your knife to my throat? That’s absurd. So – some honesty would be nice!”

He laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “You want to talk about honesty? How about this for a start: what exactly were you expecting to happen, hmm?” Astarion waves a hand, gesturing broadly around them. “That we would come out here and… talk?” The word comes out sickly, stickily sweet. “Really?”

Her mouth opens, but no sound emerges. She blinks once, twice, a third time. When she finally speaks, her voice is reproachful. “…yes?”

This time, his laugh is drawn out – and markedly harsher. “And that merited coming all this way? Leaving the camp behind? Wandering into the woods to be alone with me, all so you could – divest me of the idea that I owed you?” He adopts a slight lilt for this last phrase, a tribute to her own way of speaking. She does not seem to appreciate the gesture, if the way her eyes narrow is any indication. “And then everything would be right as rain, and we’d… walk happily back to camp together? 

This time, her answer is a touch less reproachful and much more hesitant. “…yes.”

“No, no, no.” He points an accusatory finger at her. Amity’s gaze flickers to his hand as her mouth twists into a scowl. “You shook and shivered like a leaf in my arms and now here you are, acting as though you’re so above it all.” There’s a slight twinge of satisfaction in the way his words make her lips twist. “So unmoved by my trite lines. And yet…”

Astarion begins to lean closer. As before, she tenses but does not move away – but he can see her breath quicken, and can almost hear how her pulse stutters in response. 

The more he prods at this, the more she shrinks back. She has a certain naivité about her that suggests inexperience, so he… ventures a guess. 

“...and yet you’re here. Seems to me you weren’t just hoping to talk, were you? No, you wanted something more – you’re practically aching for it. But you're frightened.”

The baring of teeth this remark earns feels like it’s hit its mark, and spurs him on to continue. 

“You were looking for a reason to back out all this time, weren’t you? And now you blame me because it isn’t whatever grand romance you’d built up in your head and you can’t bear to admit that. How’s that for honesty?”

“I – you can't be serious,” she blanches. 

“Oh, but I very much am.”

“Astarion, that’s–” She frowns, but something softens in her expression as she shakes her head. “That is not what’s happening here.” Her words are gently delivered – unbearably, patronizingly comforting.

It's awful.

“Isn’t it?” Astarion tilts his head, watching her closely. “Maybe you’re right.” Something like relief crosses her face at his words. “Perhaps… you don’t even know what you’re after. Is that it, then?” The relief in her expression disappears. Good. “Has anyone ever measured up to your lofty expectations? Or have you been too uptight to let them get close? Too… needy for your would-be lovers?”

Her first attempt at a response only elicits a strangled, reedy squawk. “You really think that I – that I–”

The fact that she can’t even bring herself to finish that thought convinces him that yes, he’s got her figured out.

“Oh, yes, I very much do think ‘that.’” He pulls back and pretends to examine his nails. Though – ugh, there is some dried viscera there. “If you’d told me earlier, dear, I wouldn’t have bothered. I don’t often make a habit of defrosting frigid little ice queens; I do have better things to do with my time, you know.”

“You are such a–” She bites back whatever she was going to say next in lieu of a scowl, but he can’t help but to goad her on.

“Such a…?” he prompts, a hand cupped around one ear to better hear her answer.

“Bastard!” She bites out.

“Why must you be so – so–” She hisses out a breath through her teeth, drawing herself up to her full height – though this still isn’t nearly enough to raise her past his eye level. “Vexing!” And then she huffs, turns on her heel, and abruptly stomps off deeper into the woods.

He doesn’t bother to quiet his laugh at this rather uncharacteristic display of vulgarity from her.

“I was just trying to help, and you – you –” She hisses out a breath through her teeth, drawing herself up to her full height – though this still isn’t nearly enough to raise her past his eye level – and then she huffs, turns on her heel, and abruptly stomps off deeper into the woods.

He calls out after her as she goes, falsely cheery. “Ta-ta, darling; maybe you’ll find someone more to your liking out there!” He doesn't let his smile drop until he is sure she is well out of sight.

So much for that plan.

[v-ternus]

Reflection

A lil ficlet about mean Omega getting Terzo nice and riled up. They may or may not be infront of a mirror, and Terzo may or may not be having a bad good time.

| MDNI | 18+ |

800+ words

“I told you to keep your eyes open,” Omega’s words are warm, breathy against Terzo’s ear, but it's a challenge. Everything stopped making sense long ago. He’d lost track of time, they could’ve been at this for 2 minutes or 2 hours. It made no difference, he was struggling nonetheless.

The slow twists of Omega’s hand around his cock suppress his breath. His body tenses impossibly harder and the solid chest he’s leaning on offers no refuge.

“-m sorry, sorry” His tongue is useless just like the rest of his poor body. He picks his head up off of Omega and manages to crack his eyes open— and the sight before him is enough to make Satan himself blush.

They’re in front of a mirror. Omega has him between his own thighs, with his legs spread and knees bent. He’s a nice shade of pink from his face down to his chest and his nipples are damn near blue from Omega’s insistent pinching and pulling at the sensitive buds. But the real prize is where Omega’s hand moves slowly between their legs, toying with his weeping cock. It's all he can think of and it's all he can feel.

His dick is slick with an absurd amount of lube and each drag is decadent. His cock slipping through Omega’s closed fist fills the room with obscene, wet sounds. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it my star?” Omega punctuates the question with a swipe of his thumb over the head of Terzo’s throbbing cock. He’s been denied for so long that the head is almost purple. It's a pretty color in Omega’s mean little mind. The sensation is sharp and it knocks a garbled noise out of his half open jaw.

Omega drags his hands down and squeezes the base. The firm grip is just painful enough to make him whimper, he sounds whorish. Omega brings his free hand up to his chest, grasping and kneading. His other hand dips lower to cup  Terzo’s heavy balls. 

“You like it like this don't you?” The question flows out easily, maliciously. What he means is the misery, the pain. Terzo loves to be taken apart, and he only ever lets Omega debase him like this. He gives a few hard strokes. He holds one of his sore nipples between his thumb and his forefinger and gives it a sudden twist just to drive the point home. Terzo’s breath hitches.

“Please. I need… I need—“ 

Omega knows what he’s asking for. But he’s not getting it tonight. He’s just there to give the ghoul a play thing. 

“I'm sure it hurts little one” Another stroke from his warm hand. 

“Do you need it, or do you want it?” He twists his hand this time. 

“I cant anymore… please,” His begging is cut short by Omega working just the tip, dragging his finger over that sweet spot right under the head.

“How about a little game? If you can hold on for 10 more strokes, I’ll make you feel so good.” There’s a suspicious lilt to his voice, but he knows Terzo is too far gone to notice. Almost delusional, Terzo manages a quick nod. As a small show of mercy Omega leans down to place a soft kiss on Terzo’s neck. He can smell his desperation from being so close. 

“I want you to count them,” 

Omega strokes loosely from root to tip and feels Terzo shiver from it.

One. 

He tightens his grip this time and speeds up just to get Terzo back on the edge. 

Two. Three. Four. 

He’s twitching now, ripe with anticipation. But Omega cant let him get too close.  He forms an ‘O’ shape with his thumb and forefinger and strokes. the touch offers the barest of relief. 

Five. Six. 

“I’ve been good Omega. Please,” They’re staring at each other through the mirror. Omega can see the tears welling up, collecting in the corners of his eyes. Oh he can't wait to lick them up. 

“You’re almost there,” 

This time, Omega strokes him with a sort of pinch grip, a finger on each side. The sensation feels like jolts of electricity through his body, but it’s far from enough. The tears have fallen now, and they’re leaving a nice path down his face. 

Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. 

Omega wraps his whole hand around again and Terzo’s hips rise to meet his fist. His movements are gentle but firm and Terzo can almost taste his release. The idea has more tears falling. He hiccups and stutters out,

“I can cum now right? I was good, I played your game,”

Omega can’t help but laugh. He leans down and presses his tongue against Terzo’s wet cheek, tasting the results of his cruelty. He licks a trail up and places a chaste kiss against his temple, nuzzling their heads together for good measure. The softness is a startling contrast to the events so far. It’s a lovely moment, and Omega is happy here gets to shatter it. 

“Oh little one, I said I was going to make you feel good…” The sentence has Terzo boneless against Omega’s chest. His breath quickened. 

“— I didnt say I was going to let you finish.”

[made-by-marlow]

The Pomegranate Tree [sdv Elliott x male farmer oc] Part Four: The Dandilion

ao3 version

Masterlist | First | Next

There was a part of Hazel that made an effort to look at bartenders and baristas as they worked. It was his favorite form of people watching. A girl with cropped blue hair and a red dress looked completely focused on her work. Cooking the food, filling drinks, running around the kitchen. Her movement was swift, with the appropriate amount of rush. Fast, but not overwhelming. The job seemed enjoyable. The blue-haired girl slid what seemed to be her tenth beer to an older woman with fluffy blonde curls.

The saloon was filled with strangers. Some he knew, such as Lewis and Robin. Robin could be seen in the distance dancing with what he assumed to be a husband or partner. The rest were all strangers. This seemed like the perfect time to get to know everyone.

At the same time, it was all so overwhelming. Hazel made his way to a corner, next to a man seemingly in his late 20s, a scratchy beard stained with alcohol.

"Hi-"

"I don't know you. Why are you talking to me?" The expression on the strangers face seemed more confused than mean. As if he genuinely didn't know why a total stranger would go up to him and introduce himself. And you know what, he had a point. It was hard to guess whether or not each person actually wanted to be approached. It was a thought that made him not want to approach people at all. Alas, he needed friends. This was his chance.

"Ah. I'm sorry."

The forward stranger returned to his drink, blocking out Hazel. He made a mental note not to approach anyone alone with a beer. A social rule he learned a moment too late. Instead, he made his way over to a pool table. Three kids appeared to be teenagers, but each had a fruity looking drink. Either they each had a fake-ID, which would be hard to get away with in a small town where everyone knows everyone, or they were really of age.

The kid with fluffy blond hair tosses his stick to the side in agony, feigned or not. A boy across from him with violet hair, dark enough to almost look black, smirks as an 8-ball is tapped into the proper hole. A girl with bright purple hair sitting on the couch doesn't seem to care about the other's victory.

"The new farmer!" The girl springs up from the couch, sitting up straight rather than having her feet at the arms of the couch as it was before. Her cherry cocktail was gently placed on the table beside her. "Hazel, is it?"

"Hazel," he confirmed.

"Hazel. Help me." The blond pushes a pool stick into the other's hand. "Two against one. It's fair because he is too good."

"You know most people introduce themselves before begging for help," the other boy says. He meets Hazel's eyes. "Hey. I'm Sebastian. This is my fifth time in a row winning."

"Makes sense."

"And...?" Sebastian waits for the other to introduce himself.

"Sam."

"And Abby," the girl with purple hair chimes in as well. "Abi gail . But just Abby, please." She gets up from the couch, pulling all the balls from the table and setting them up in a triangular form. "If I don't do this part, whoever does is accused of cheating."

The smirk on Sebastian's face returns as Abby backs away.

"Loser goes first," he says.

Living in a big city with a lot of bars, pool was a secret talent of the new farmer. Slowly but surely, his coordination got better as he went on. But really, he was more like Sam. Losing each time. The secret is simply not to care and have a good time whoever wins. Sometimes, losing means you get to laugh at yourself.

Sam manages to strike the white ball, hitting some of the balls on the right and sending them in random directions. Hazel manages to strike the middle, allowing for a more even spread of the balls.

Sebastian strikes a solid colored ball into one of the holes. Sam grows frustrated once again. He attempted to strike a striped ball, missing and knocking one of the solid colored ones into a hole.

As Hazel made his way around the table, he looked up to find the whole crowd of the bar once again. People dancing, chatting, having fun.

In the distance was Elliott.

Talking to a girl.

Of course he is straight, why wouldn't he be? He's charming enough to already be taken, by a girl who appears to be perfect for him. A female version of him. The same orange-blonde hair, only hers was twisted into a side braid that she played with as she talked to the other.

Oh, to be rejected by someone one hadn't even got to know yet.

"Hazel?"

"Yeah, sorry."

Hazel managed to strike a striped ball into the table.

★

There again, was the stranger. He faced the ocean, a red trench coat and flowing orange-blond hair the only thing visible to the farmer.

Frantically, Hazel searched his bag for something to give to the other. Wood, stone, dandelions. Field snacks, tools. Fuck.

Maybe the stranger appreciated the beauty of flowers. For some reason, women seemed to be the only ones who did. Nervously, Hazel clenched the dandelions, took a breath, and approached.

"Hey."

"Farmer Hazel!" There was a strangely off putting tone in the man's voice. Excited. In a way that seemed too good to be true. Hazel swallowed the thought, hoping all of that excitement was genuine.

"Hey," Hazel said again. "I remembered you from earlier, and..." The dandelion, slightly crumpled from Hazel's nervous grip, was moved from his pocket to in front of him, the flower between the two of them. "I got you this."

Elliott's expression changed. An odd mix of confusion and disappointment. It felt like he saw the dandelion as a rejection, unsure of how to respond to it.

"It's... a weed." Hazel had finally realized what he had just done. The dandelion was an insult.

"Oh... I thought it was a flower." Elliott finally let out a nervous laugh. Hazel, still stunned that someone doesn't like flowers, did the same. Penny liked it, why not him?

"I'm sorry, I suppose that was a rather rude response," Elliott said. "I appreciate it, really. But uh, here." Elliott reached into his own pocket and pulled out a crumpled up paper. “I found this. I don't know who wrote it, or why they know what I like this well, but it's pretty accurate."

The note was placed into Hazel's hands. Scratchy handwriting wrote about each of the single men in the town and their interests. How to get to each of their hearts.

"There are only a few 'older' bachelors in town, and none of them are perfect! Harvey is really anxious and weak, but I know he would make a loyal and devoted husband. He likes coffee and pickles.

Elliott is a bit foppish and melodramatic, but he does have a nice chin. He likes crab cakes and pomegranates.

Shane is messy and anti-social. But I think his gruff exterior is a defense mechanism, insulating his softness from the world. He likes Beer, Pizza, and Pepper Poppers."

"Foppish and melodramatic, huh?"

"The things I enjoy are the parts that's accurate. The rest is a matter of opinion." Elliott nervously pinched the skin of his chin between his fingers. "I like to take care of my appearance." He began to mumble to himself. "I hope my chin isn't that big."

"It's a nice feature," Hazel said.

He looked up at the ladder, and sure enough, he did have a nice face. Typically, a chin isn't what one looks at the most when looking at a person. It made a part of Hazel want to draw the other.

"I'm sorry. About the dandelion." Elliott twisted the flower- no, the weed- in his hand, and nervously smiled.

"It's okay. It's the thought that counts." A smile grew on each of their faces as they went separate ways once again.

[trueshellz]

Caress

Part of my Invisible Illness Series

Warnings: arthritis, sore joints, comfort, hugging, steroid side effects, body image issues

Summary: Aone hates seeing you in pain...

A/N: My arthritis knowledge comes from family and friends, obviously one size doesn't fit all.

Tagging: @dacidolly

Coming home from his shift at the construction site, Aone dropped his bag on the floor and removed his shoes. He could hear you humming in the kitchen when he came in and frowned... why were you doing housework? Picking up the hoover and placing it back in the cupboard where it usually went, the noise of the door closing making you jump and turn to him with a bright smile, he walked over and took your hands in his.

"Hi, handsome. How was work?" He nodded. "I made dinner, y'know that dish your mum usually makes? That one."

He frowned again when you pulled your hands away to stir the pot, your knuckles red and swollen, you were wearing a brace on your knee and he could see the heat patch on your back under the cropped t-shirt you were wearing. Clenching his jaw tightly, he reached over to turn the gas off and took the pan off the stove off before carefully picking you up bridal style.

"Wait! Aone- dinner! Hey! Put me- babe, put me down."

You honestly had no clue what had gotten into your husband it wasn't often that he acted like this and you were a little worried since he hadn't eaten dinner yet. Another day off work since your joints were constantly in pain today, working from home made it a little easier and the medication you were on for the inflammation helped a little but you were self conscious about their side effects. The new stretch marks everywhere, the weight gain especially on your face and the stomach, on top of the fact that your boyfriend was built like a Greek god made your thoughts all the more dark.

"Aone, put me down. You'll injure yourself for God's sake, I'm not as small as I was before."

That made him pause, his forehead in a scowl as he looked at you. You could see his eyes tracking down your body, the way his hands held you close to him and he bobbed you up and down as if he was gauging your mass before shaking his head and sitting you both on the sofa. You tried scrambling off his lap but a thick muscular arm banding around you stopped any movements.

"Stay."

"Babe, listen-"

"No."

"Look, I know I've put weight on ok? My clothes don't fit, I have these purple gashes where I've got new stretch marks and no matter what I put on them they don't go away. I'm always in pain somewhere, the amount of money we spend on my medication is insane. Sometimes I just wonder why you even married me."

You sighed loudly, while Aone was quiet usually, when he was adamant about something you had no choice but to listen and to be honest, you loved hearing him speak. But at the point, sitting like this exposed, after you had spent all day at home while he worked to provide for you made you upset. The small comments you got from people sometimes hurt too, the assumption that it's all in your head or that you were being over-dramatic with your pain.

His large hands taking yours, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles which were a little inflamed after your impromptu cooking session and his lips kissing them gently before he held your face in his hands. His intense stare as he held you close, he has noticed all the things you were talking about. And while a fickle lesser man may care, he did not. To him you were still as beautiful as you were when he met you and nothing would change that.

"Not heavy." You scoffed, shaking your head to stop the tears that were threatening to fall down. "Being ill doesn't make you less beautiful and I've never cared about what people say, why would I start now?"

"But-"

"No." His thumbs wiping away the tears that had managed to escape, arms circling you and pulling you close.

"You can't keep saying no to me."

"Watch me."

[danceswithsporks]

A BIG shoutout to @6oceansofmoons for the brilliant suggestion of a FIC like Warm but with Wrecker! Now this isn’t a definitive plan to make this a full fic but if the interest is there then I may!

They also may have made my mind go “oh but you could do an entire SERIES for all the batchers!” So ya know. That could become a thing.

But for now, enjoy a snippet of what I’m calling

Calm

A Wrecker x Seamstress Reader fic

You felt the excitement building as you cleared the final step of the mountain and spotted the diving point you’d climbed up to. Over that edge was a sixty-foot drop into crystal clear lavender water. The large pool of water in front of you that fed the falls glowed in a soft purple hue. The smell alone was enough to calm you in a way you adored. Turning behind you, you smiled at the large clone carrying the picnic basket and blanket.

“You brought the rope and that ascender thing, right?” A smile rested on your lips as you watched Wrecker place the basket down and pull out said items. “Perfect, there’s a good tree to tie it to over here.”

Wrecker watched as you walked towards the edge of the waterfall and looked over carefully. Something inside him tightened as he watched you kick a small rock over the edge followed by a whistle of surprise. “You should back up.” Left his lips before he could stop it. He’d agreed to this. He told you he could do this and he would. But seeing you like that, so close to falling over. It didn’t sit well with him.

A small laugh left you as you backed away from the edge. “Don’t worry. I was just making sure nothing changed.” Smiling, you turned and looked at the big teddy bear behind you. Your smile dropped as you took in the worried look on his face. “Hey.” Moving quickly, you returned to his side and took the rope from him, dropping it to the ground. “We don’t have to do this. We can just enjoy a nice picnic up here and wade in the water. The pool was shallow enough at one end that you wouldn’t be swept away by the current.

He felt your warm hands in his but his mind couldn’t seem to focus on your words. It was as if his mind had switched to protection mode and all he wanted to do was keep you close. It took you saying his name three more times for him to refocus. “W-what?”

“I said we didn’t have to do this…and that you’re squeezing my wrists a little too tight.” Instantly his hand released you and he took a step back. You could tell he was fighting those thoughts again. “Wrecker, my bear. Everything is ok, I am ok. You are ok.” You took a careful step towards him and slowly slid your hands back into his.

He wasn’t sure how you managed to always find a way to recenter him, but you did. “I’m sorry, goddess.” Carefully he lifted your hands and placed gentle kisses on each of your wrists. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.” A hum came from you as you felt his gentle lips against your skin. “Now, let’s eat some lunch.” Stepping forward you placed your chest against him and tilted your head up. “Relax in the water and you can admire my new bikini.”

Wrecker shivered at the feeling of your fingers moving under the back of his shirt and slowly up his spine. “N-new bikini?” That pulled him out of his thoughts.

With a smirk, you nodded and took a step back. “My aunt on Coruscant sent it. She said it’s the latest fashion.” Reaching up to your neck, you undid the knot on the top of your dress and allowed the clothing to slide down to the ground with the help of a little wiggle. Wrecker's eyes widened as he took in the swimsuit and you knew his mind was officially on you. “Do you like it?”

The black fabric shimmered with red crystals as you turned slowly for him. The fabric crisscrossed on the front and wound tightly around your neck before moving under your breasts where the bottom part showed a daring amount of skin. Two more strips of black fabric crossed from the top of your ribs, across the front, and down to your hips connecting with the bottoms that accentuated your ass beautifully. A shaky breath left Wrecker as he watched you bend over and pick up your dress. “L-love it.”

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked. “Good. Now.” Turning you walked to the picnic basket and placed your dress down before looking for the blanket. “I packed sandwiches and dessert. Which would you like first?”

There was only one dessert Wrecker wanted to have and it wasn’t whatever you had in the basket. He moved faster than he intended and was soon behind you. Slowly his hands snaked around your waist and he pulled you close.

“Oh.” You giggled as you stood and placed your back against his broad chest. “Or we can have dessert now and dessert later.” Reaching a hand up, you placed it against his cheek and pulled his face into the crook of your neck. “What would my big bear like?”

Stars, he wanted to rip this bikini off of you and take you. Bury himself in your warmth and enjoy the safety and grounding that only you could give him. “Whatever you prefer, my goddess.”

You weren’t sure what it was about the way he called you goddess but it always did something to you. A shiver ran down your spine and you fought the urge to give in to him. “Well we did climb up here to enjoy the lavender water, so let’s relax in this lovely pool with some wine and maybe..” with a final wiggle of your ass, you stepped away. “I’ll let you enjoy some desert in the water.”

“I…” Wrecker had always wanted to fuck in a pool like this. He was a simple man with simple desires. He watched as you took your boots off and moved towards the shallow end of the water and away from the waterfall. The waterfall that you’d planned your entire trip around. “I want to enjoy the falls.. as we planned.”

“What?” You turned and looked at your clone in surprise. “You don’t have to do that, Wrecker. We can build up to it. There’s no rush.”

Wrecker shook his head as he bent down and picked up the rope. “I want to enjoy what you enjoy. If that means jumping from super high up and into the water below.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Then let’s do it.” A small smile crept on your face and that alone gave him the courage to go through with this.

“Ok. I’ll go first and you follow me?” Quickly you packed everything back into the basket before grabbing the rope. “You can lower the basket to me once I’m down there?” Then you could enjoy your date at the base of the falls instead. Maybe screw under the falls themselves? It was a promising idea.

“No.” Wrecker helped you tie the rope to the large tree before tying the other end to the basket. “I-I’ll go first.” He removed his boots and pants quickly, trying to get the jump out of the way before he chickened out.

You cooed at him playfully before stepping over and placing your hand on his chest. “I know where to jump. Follow my lead.”

Wrecker grabbed your wrist and stopped you before you could head to the edge. “W-what if I chicken out?”

“You won’t.” With a smirk, you stepped back to him and stood on the tips of your toes. “Because I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom. Naked.” Placing a quick kiss on his stunned face, you turned and sprinted for the edge. With a happy squeal, you dove off the edge and into the waters below.

“Mesh’la!” Wrecker ran to the edge and looked down, terrified that he’d see your mangled corpse against the rocks.

A few moments went by before you finally broke through the surface, a large smile on your face. You adored the rush you got when cliff diving. Looking up, you waved to Wrecker who tentatively waved back. The worry and fear were easy to see on his face. Keeping your word you unclamped the top of your bathing suit and shimmied out of it. A happy smile rested on your lips as you held the piece of clothing up for him to see.

He didn’t need you to show him your bikini. The water was crystal clear and he could easily see your nude body wading in the deep water. The desire to have that against his skin overpowered the fear inside him. With a toss of the basket over the edge, Wrecker jumped as well.

A loud splash echoed around the waterfall as he made contact with the water, his large body causing the water to ripple and push you toward the edge. A giggle left you as you swam towards him. Even before his head broke through the surface, his arms were around your waist and pulling you into him. “Wrecker!” You gasped as he finally broke the surface and pulled you into a tight hug, his lips pressed firmly against yours. His kisses always made your head spin. With a hum of delight, you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” Came as a whisper as your forehead rested against his. Below the water, one of his hands held your thigh tightly while the other helped you two wade.

Wrecker moved his head and buried it into the crook of your neck as you spoke to him. While you may have been proud of him, he had been terrified. Your fingers ran gentle circles at the base of his neck as he quietly sobbed into your skin.

You knew this had been a big step for him. The fear of falling, the fear of being hurt or worse had been something you’d had to convince him would be ok. “Shhh, it’s ok. We’re ok. You did it.” You felt him shake slightly as a few scared sobs left him and you simply hummed as you continued to hold him. “I got you, Wrecker. I’m here.”

——

Gonna pop my Taglist in to grab their feedback!

@rndmpeep

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@queenariesofnarnia

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@bambambunny

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@motte-the-goblin

@rintheemolion

[zeeamoe]

The Boy That Sits Alone In The Front Row Always Wears A Black Sweater

part 3 of this post click here for the previous part

At this point, I’ve gotten used to seeing that bundle of messy hair over the black sweater in the front row of the classroom. And since he was leaning against the wall, I could see his phone screen over his shoulder. As always, he was playing another game.

Did he wear the same black sweater as yesterday? Or did he grab a new one for today? I didn’t see his bag anywhere. There was only a half empty water bottle in front of him. Did he really come to class without bringing anything other than his phone and a water bottle? Come to think of it, wasn’t that yesterday’s bottle? 

I pulled out my phone, typing up a message.

- Is that the bottle I bought you?

I looked ahead. Since I was not too far behind him, I could see the pop up of my message on his screen, obstructing his game.

Then, I saw him swipe the message off, and he continued to play without a care.

What the…? Outrageous. I immediately typed in something else.

- Hey I saw that

- Don’t ignore my message

When I glanced up again, I saw him clicking on the message and started typing something. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.

Skunk: No texting in class

- You were literally playing a game

Skunk: Why do you care?

- I don’t care

- I’m just bored

A small description at the bottom of my message said [Read], but he didn’t reply to it. I looked up to see that he had gone back to his game. I typed something up again.

- How was the chicken yesterday?

Skunk: It was alright

- Lies

- It was the best chicken you’ve ever had

- Now nothing you eat will ever amount to that chicken

[Read]

He didn’t reply.

I tried to see his phone again. The screen was filled with neon blue, and occasionally there were some dark colored shapes. Everytime his finger tapped on the screen, something square bounced to avoid the other shapes. So, a game where he had to navigate obstacles?

The screen kept moving forward until the square reached a wall. Right after that, something popped up, filling the whole screen, and I could make out three yellow stars. Does that mean he cleared a level or something? Huh.

He tapped something, and the screen turned purple. The weird shapes appeared again.

Interesting.

I watched as he controlled the tiny squares around the shapes flawlessly. He didn’t make any mistakes. I slowly turned my phone on and typed something.

Once I saw the wall showed up on his screen, I pressed send.

- Hey

His little square hit an obstacle and something different popped up. This time, I managed to read those big letters. [Game Over]. He clicked on my message.

Skunk: What

- Nothing

[Read]

Again, no reply. He was back to the game. The screen was still purple, so he definitely had to replay that level.

Just as before, I waited until he was nearing the end, and sent another message.

- :) 

Skunk: What are you doing?

- Playing my own game

[Read]

He ignored it and resumed playing. I wonder when he will catch on? As he kept replaying the same level, I kept sending meaningless texts right before he completed it.

- Dude

[Game Over]

- Zzz

[Game Over]

- Bro

[Game Over]

By the fifth time, he turned his head around and glared at me. I replied by holding up two fingers in a peace sign.

Skunk: Stop that

- Stop what

Skunk: I know what you’re doing

- I don’t know what you’re talking about

[Read]

He shifted his position so that I wasn’t able to see his phone screen anymore. His right hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, then his fingers curled up, leaving only the middle one pointed.

- Rude

[Read]

He restarted the level.

Hadn’t he learned his lesson at all? Even though it was harder to see now, I managed to find an angle to get a glimpse, timing to send my message again.

- Yo

But, this time the message didn’t pop up on his screen. Instead, a window featuring the three stars popped up, which meant that he cleared the level without being disturbed.

He must have muted me.

Ah, no fun. I turned my phone off and sighed.

I had taken the time to look through his pointers last night. The problem was, it was actually helpful, and I could actually start on the project right away. I was even able to make the outline for the paper in three hours.

Hmm, that won’t do.

Right after the class ended, I said goodbyes to my circle of friends and walked up to him.

“Hey, come with me,” I said.

He was just about to leave, but stopped when I called out. He glanced around to see that my friends had all gone out of the classroom.

He asked, “Why?”

“Lunch! Let’s get kebabs in the cafeteria.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Even if I’m paying?”

He paused to think a bit. At least he was a little bit tempted.

“Yeah, nah.”

“Aw, come on. I’ll go in line, so you just have to wait at the table and play your games or whatever.”

“Why aren’t you going with your friends?”

“They all have other classes and blah blah something else to do.”

He looked at me weird.

I sighed.

“Just accompany me for lunch before I go to the next class.”

“Hmm… fine.”

“Yes!”

I walked out of the classroom as he followed behind me. Once we reached the cafeteria, there was a sea of students and I wasn’t able to see any empty seats. Other than that, almost all the food stalls had long lines of people. 

I turned to see that he already had a tired look on his face.

“Find a seat. I’ll wait in line.”

“...Mkay.”

He should be fine. I noticed that he wasn’t the type to be particularly uncomfortable with crowds. So, I guess his problem wasn’t related to his social life. Or maybe I was judging too early.

After I managed to get the food, I searched where he sat amongst the seats in the cafeteria. It wasn’t that hard to find. Most of the seats were big enough for four people, so he stood out by sitting alone at an empty table.

I put down two kebab wraps and two water bottles.

He grabbed one of the wraps and glanced at the water bottles.

“You didn’t have to buy the water, I still have some left.”

“That will literally finish in like two sips.”

“I’m going home after this anyway.”

This guy didn’t even try to be convincing. He didn’t have a water dispenser, and considering that he brought yesterday’s bottle to today’s class, he probably wouldn’t buy another bottle unless he was thirsty.

I chose not to point that out, though.

I asked instead, “You don’t have any more class today?”

“No.”

He opened his kebab wrap and started munching on it. I started to eat, too.

Why did his schedule sound so lax? Didn’t he have the whole day off just yesterday?

“On which days do you have classes?”

He finished swallowing his first bite before answering.

“I have double classes on Mondays and Thursdays. None on Tuesday.”

Oh, it wasn’t that much different from mine. I knew we had only three classes that overlapped. Today was Wednesday, so he only had one class in the morning.

“My day off is on Friday. Doubles for today and tomorrow.”

“What? That schedule’s so much better than mine.”

“Hehe.”

We both had six courses. But of course, having no classes on Fridays was much better than no classes on Tuesdays. It gave the impression of a long weekend.

It seemed that we both had two classes tomorrow, but we only overlapped on the first course.

I finished my kebab quickly and crumpled the wrap. He still had less than a half left. Probably because he was eating while playing another game on his phone. I ignored him and pulled out my laptop. And when I took out the notebook he gave me, he gazed away from his phone for a bit..

“Are you working on the project?” he asked.

I opened the draft, and replied without looking up.

“Yep. By the way, your pointers really helped. Thanks.”

He shrugged.

“How far have you worked on it?”

“I finished the structure.”

“That’s it?”

“In three hours.”

He made a perplexed face. What did he even mean by asking ‘that’s it?’ His pointers were just three pages long. Now I’m kind of offended. Then, he insulted me in a calm tone.

“Are you slow?”

“What the hell? I was proud of this!”

“A structure is something that can be done in 5 minutes.”

“No, it’s not? I’ve never done that.”

“Because you’re dumb.”

“Hey!”

He put down his kebab wrap and tapped on my laptop.

“Let me see.”

I turned my laptop towards him with a glare on my face.

He chewed another bite into his kebab as he read the outline I made. I couldn’t read his expression to see what he thought of it. He mumbled something, but I could hear it clearly.

“I thought I gave you some pretty good notes. Why is the structure so generic?”

I really wanted to hit his head with the empty water bottle. I inhaled deeply.

“Give me a break. I was tired, and it was late.”

“You had a three-hour nap.”

“Shut up.”

He ignored me and turned the laptop around. His finger pointed towards a part of my outline.

“Delete this bullet point,” He scrolled down and pointed at another part. “This one too. And the two below it. You were repeating what will be explained in the second part. It can meet the minimum length, but it will be unnecessary and you will just lose points.”

“Oh,” I immediately pulled the laptop towards me and started to do as he said.

He bit down the last bite of his kebab, and opened up the new water bottle I bought. After taking a sip, he continued.

“For the first part, add some theory from the seventh chapter. You can take a look from  the notes I gave you, and pick the ones that fit your topic the most. Also, add a bullet point in the third part for other cases. It works for comparison.”

“Mhm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

I focused on typing on my laptop as he was spouting tips. It took less than five minutes until we finished revising the outline of the structure. 

Once we were done, I read the outline again. It was way more comprehensive than what I came up with in three hours.

“Whoa.”

I looked up to see his face cheerfully. However, this guy only looked bored.

This much was nothing for him. It was such a waste of talent, so I had to use him somehow.

I grinned, “Wanna work on my project? I’ll pay you.”

He scoffed and got up from the table, with both of our crumpled wraps in his hand. I thought he was going to leave, but he only went to the garbage can to throw out the trash.

I yelled out to him, “Please? You already know my structure anyway! You’re halfway there!”

He grumbled as he walked back, “Halfway my ass. I’m not going to work on two projects at once.”

“You haven’t even started yours. You can just finish mine quickly and use it for inspiration.”

“I don’t need to work on yours to get inspiration. I know what I’ll be writing.”

Surprisingly, he sat back down at the table. I thought he would go back home after he finished eating. By now, the cafeteria was less crowded, because it was past the rush hour for lunchtime. And I still had about half an hour left until my next class. Was he going to stay until then?

He lazily rested his chin on his hand while the other took out his phone. Playing a game again, I guess.

I looked down on my laptop and started to type. But, my fingers stopped not long after. I had to go back and forth between websites and his notes just to progress and write another sentence. I didn’t even know where to start for each part.

The project weighed a lot on our final score, so the minimum length was a lot as well. I knew it would take a long time to put this project together. Yet, this guy in front of me didn’t seem to care.

Even if this would be easy for him, shouldn’t he start from now considering the length?

I asked out of curiosity.

“Why haven’t you worked on it? The project.”

His eyes never left the phone screen. “There’s still two months left.”

“You have to write 3,000 words for each part, and a presentation file.”

“I’m the type to finish it the day before.”

I clicked my tongue. Of course, I was like that too. I never had the motivation to do any of my work until there was only a day left. It was just that this project had a ridiculous requirement, and my passing grade was on the line.

Either I get an A on this project, or I have to redo this course.

After typing up a few points in one part of my draft, I turned the laptop towards him again.

“Can you take a look? What do you think?”

He was still on his phone, “...Mm wait.”

After a few seconds, he put it down and read what I worked on. It didn’t even take long until his face frowned. Did he even read it properly?

“Why would you use this theory?”

“In your notes you said it was best for this kind of case.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

He was so confident that I had to pull out the notes and flip to the second page. I held up the notebook right up to his face.

“See? This framework suits the type 1 case!”

I was already half getting up from my seat.

He only skimmed the page once and looked at me confusedly.

“What are you talking about? Your topic is type 3.”

…

I took the notebook, read it, and put it down. Then, I took my laptop and scanned the topic I picked. I spent a few minutes reading. He didn’t go back to his game, and was watching me instead.

I see. I made a mistake when I chose my topic and misclassified it. Well, this happened a lot. Only this time, someone noticed it before I submitted the assignment or was almost finishing it.

His face that showed annoyance slowly softened. Well, now he knows why I got 36 on this course.

He spoke carefully, “Do you… not understand the types of cases?”

“Hmm. I don’t know!”

I was uncomfortable because he sounded like he was genuinely worried, so I answered in a cheerful tone. For some reason, he took that as a pass to reply back sarcastically.

“Are you even paying attention in class?”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who plays games in class.”

“I’m not the one with a failing grade here.”

He didn’t say the last sentence sarcastically. And he wasn’t wrong. I wouldn’t pay attention either if I had perfect scores all the time.

I rubbed my temples with both hands.

“It’s not like I’m not trying.”

I had another uncomfortable feeling when I saw his face softened again. But, then he opened his mouth.

“No, you’re just purely dumb.”

“Are you trying to comfort me or insult me?”

“I’m just stating facts.”

It was impossible to make peace with this guy, so I gave up. I went back to my laptop and fixed the parts I just wrote. Seeing that I didn’t ask him further about the part, he went back on his phone. 

I glanced at the corner of my screen. There were a few minutes left until my next class. I still had time, but I closed my laptop and started to pack my things. 

He was still staring at his phone even when I stood up from my seat.

After thinking for a little, I asked.

“Can we make a deal?”

“Hmm?”

I don’t know if this would work, I tried it anyway.

“I’ll clean your place every once in a while, and you help me with my project.”

“We had this conversation already.”

I hit his head with the bottom of my water bottle. Lightly. He got distracted from the game and missed the level. I continued my point.

“You won’t be working on my project. I’ll do it myself. Just… review it from time to time.”

He was rubbing his head where I hit him.

What a baby. I didn’t hit that hard.

What I didn’t expect was the words that came out.

“Hmm… kay.”

“Really?”

He just nodded.

Holy sh*t. It worked?

“Yes! Eat lunch with me again tomorrow. I’m going to class now. Bye!”

I left him before he could make another remark or take back his words. Only when I reached the elevator did I look back to the seat in the cafeteria. And it was already occupied by other people.

At least I had more excuses to see him now.

Click here for the next part ^^

[sxddekarios]

Invisible String: Ch 2

More therapy babes!

AO3

“Am I supposed to drink blood?” Aspen asked indignantly. She’d been like this – a vampire? – for 2 months. She hadn’t drunk blood once. But she also had regular IV hook ups to keep her electrolytes balanced and pain managed. She ate regularly. So she couldn’t be a vampire, could she?

But then what was she?

Her therapist looked caught off guard for once. That wasn’t a great sign. “Typically, yes. But your case clearly isn’t typical, though that doesn’t come as a surprise to me at this point. We’ve still been giving you small amounts of Astarion’s blood – he’s the one who turned you. He works here, actually,” he added.

Dr. Silverbough ran a hand down his scarred face. “Your appetite has been fine though, and you’ve kept all of your food down. Which is great, it’s just… unprecedented. It’s something we’ll have to continue to monitor, along with your blood intake.”

Aspen blanched in disgust. What was she supposed to drink from? She knew the ‘humane’ thing to do is drink animal blood, but she’d personally rather drink from a consenting human than an animal. Maybe she would need to talk to Astarion about that. Her sire, of sorts, should be more equipped to answer her. She grew anxious at the thought of meeting another man.

She became used to her only contact with a man being within these four walls covered in paintings of nature, the room complete with a worn green couch for her to lounge on while she recounted her trauma. Tissues were sitting in a leafy box on the table next to her.

She cried often during their sessions, which had been mortifying at first. She sobbed so hard that she couldn’t speak for the whole hour – she’d just sit there shaking and blowing her nose. But Dr. Silverbough comforted her through it all. He said it was just as important as the talking part of their therapy. Emotions didn’t only come out through words.

“How do you feel about that?” Dr. Silverbough asked. He respected her struggle with verbalizing her feelings, yet he made sure to give her the space and coaxing she needed to open up.

Aspen sighed and took the chance to re-situate herself. This time, she laid on her back with her legs straight up. It probably looked ridiculous given there was no wall to rest her legs against, but it was comfortable. She blew a strand of dark hair out of her face before answering. “Weird. I guess I’m glad I don’t just have to drink blood… but it’s confusing. And I don’t even know the person who turned me. I’ve been consuming his blood, for Selune’s sake.”

The professor offered her a slight smile, though she was staring up at the ceiling. He had painted a soft blue sky on it to make it more comforting for students. “You can meet him, if you’d like. Whenever you’re ready. He’s a dear friend of mine, and I’m sure you two will get along swimmingly. He’s certainly excited to see you in less dire circumstances.”

Aspen laughed at the thought. “I doubt he’ll even recognize me when I’m not a bloodied pile of bruised tissues trying to hold together broken bones.” Her entire body was still covered in bruises, which was more unsettling now knowing that she had vampire blood coursing through her. It’s known for its healing properties, and here she was with dark purple and red marks taking up the majority of her skin.

Dr. Silverbough was thankfully used to Aspen’s coping mechanisms by now. He let out a small chuckle of his own, mentally conceding to her point. There was no way Astarion could recognize her if he didn’t introduce them.

There was no face to see that night, no features to correlate to the soul he’d brought back to life. He wasn’t going to verbalize this though. The girl across from him already had a pretty damn good idea of how she looked when they met.

He glanced down at his watch to see it was almost 4 PM. Their sessions normally started in the late afternoon, since Aspen needed to spend most of her day sleeping, and lasted until she was talked out for the day. Often times, they would speak again for another hour after dinner, or before she went to sleep. Or tried to, that is. Her insomnia was wickedly cruel to her.

They had been talking for over 2 hours. She needed to eat. He asked, “What are you thinking about for a snack?”

Aspen turned her head to grin at him. “One of your amazing acai bowls,” she replied dreamily. The fruity sweetness was the only thing getting her through most days. She wanted a change though, so she decided to go for it. If he trusted her progress enough to tell her why and how he brought her back, maybe he trusted her enough to go on a little adventure with him.

Dr. Silverbough returned her smile and stood up, grateful that the ceilings in the castle allowed for someone of his height to move around without incurring head injuries. The words, “coming right up,” were just leaving his mouth when he noticed Aspen’s mischievous smirk. He raised an eyebrow as he paused in front of his chair.

“Can I come with you?” Aspen pleaded with wide eyes. “I want some fresh air.” She had to see some of what surrounded her. And she seriously did need to go outside and touch grass. It was good for her, and her therapist knew it.

He hesitated while taking in her hopeful expression. “Are you ready for that? We won’t go far, but I’ll take you outside and around one of the kitchens if you’re up for it.” He didn’t want to push her, didn’t want her to feel panicked by a new space and new people. But the route he was planning on shouldn’t be busy at this time of day, and he’d be there for her in case she needed a moment.

She gave him a tentative smile. “I think so,” she spoke softly as she lowered her legs and sat upright. She winced at the pain in her side from some of her stitches pulling with the movement.

Dr. Silverbough had been holding a hand out for her. “I told you not to do that,” he frowned. Aspen just smiled before finally grabbing his hand to help her up. It was time to get a better look at her new life.

[messinwitheddie]

What is tallest Red’s thoughts on being measured? Was Purple with him at the same time? What are the aftercare routine for such a stretch?

I wonder how they can breath with those really tight corsets. I think their organs are crying out for help.😅

How does one move up a rank from a starting point of being a service drone to becoming an advisor?

Since the control brains have new vessel bodies and taken full responsibility of the empire. Where does that leave the tallest? Will there no longer be more of them after Purple’s reign is over?

After Spork was eaten and the whole empire went into lock down, Red was a little surprised that he and Purple were summoned to Jugmentia for a second measuring that time around. Excitement quickly set in. They were locked into their personal quateres (A tiny apartment) on the Viral at the time, as the Massive was not officially launched and inhabitanted yet. There were forty or fifty other drones close to their height, but apparently not close enough.

On Jugmentia all finalist are measured separately. Red was THRILLED when he was informed he measured up to tallest stature. He was ignorant of any real challenges and responsibilities that comes along with being a tallest. He was just excited for the power, luxuries, fame and snacks. He and Purple made a pact to promote the other to a high rank and keep in touch, whichever of them was measured tallest.

He was very upset to find out he would have to fight Purple to the death for the title. The red brain initially refused Red's request to rule as one unit as his plea seemed to be based on pure emotional attachment, but luckily, Purple managed to present a "logical" argument, which was Red and Purple both lacked life experience and in the categories where Red's personal stats were subpar, Purple excelled and vice-versa. Therefore they could rule the empire better as a duo. The control brains reluctantly accepted the argument.

The recovery period and aftercare for the surgical limb/ spinal stretching/ lengthening process is shorter than any drone would care for. Their PAKs pump enough pain killers into their flesh vessels to make it bearable enough for them to live through the lengthening process and the first binding/ adorning of imperial robes. Recovery also involves a lot of deep tissue massages and stretching exercises.

Besides that, being tallest is a pretty sweet deal. Especially if you're a drone that likes power, lounging and attention.

It takes a few months of binding/ wardrobe changing sessions and conditioning before Red and Purple could move normally or feel natural in their formal robes. They looked damn good and tall on their public debut though.

It IS hard for a tallest to breathe in their robes. (head canon) Their spooches are compressed. But again, they always look sharp in public even if prolonged periods of wearing corsets/ hovor belts can cause all kinds of injuries and physical complications. Luckily for Irkens, they can intake small amounts of air through their eyes to compensate.

To become the tallest's personal advisor, you would just have to apply for the job online by sending the red brain your personal stats when he updates the public occupational listings. They're constantly updating, depending on the position, so you just have to keep checking. Many drones don't know this, but even if there are no available positions for a job you would like, you can still submit your stats/ request to be put on a waiting list for first review.

To become an imperial advisor requires jumping through the same hoops you would to earn any occupational promotion. If you have already been encoded as an "unskilled" service drone, your name may be shoved to the bottom of the potential hire list. BUT, it never hurts to apply. The empire has its flaws but at least it's pretty easy to find a job and the option to transfer out for a better one is there, provided you have no criminal record and you apply in time. Unemployment is almost nonexistent there.

If the red brain considers you a possible fit for the job you will be required to take a series of holo-visor tests at your nearest red control brain hub. There may be a number of hours of required VR training too. Sometimes the tallest won't bother, but for a position on the tallest's personal staff*, you may have to attend an in-person, face to face interview with the tallest before the red brain officially hires and encodes you. (*advisor, coordinator, imperial medic, imperial pak technician, personal frylord ect, ect...)

Don't be intimidated about applying if you're short. Tallests actually prefer to keep shorter drones on their personal staff. Surrounding themselves with short drones make them look taller by comparison during live streams.

As for the control brain's next major upgrade, it WILL eliminate the position of almighty tallest. Purple is dethroned/ disgraced and forced to go into hiding.

The Control Brains never intend to measure another tallest after him. They will move about freely and have full control over the empire AND all PAK wearing drones.

(unless a drone's PAK has been altered or modified to stay severed from the control brains telepathic stronghold.)

Their ultimate goal is and has been to recreate the Irken race as a pure hive-mind with unwavering obedience and no room for defective behavior. It was just a matter of expanding the control brains' own mental capacities/ capabilities enough to perpetually process SO much incoming data at once. It took time, but to them, worth the wait. ( Not ALL Irkens are on board with this new regime for obvious reasons.)